Author's Note: Updated as of January 2020 (still being updated a little bit).
Chapter 19 ~ The Reason for the War
ECOTS
It had taken her all of ten minutes to figure it out.
Breathing heavily, her mousy hair strewn about, she again rose her leg to drive the full force of her weight against the mahogany doorframe. The sound reverberated throughout the room, echoing from the ancient stone walls in a way that mirrored her increasing, self-directed anger.
She should have known.
Cursing she stepped back from the unmoving entryway, her feet stumbling clumsily across the uneven floor boards. Her dark eyes swept the high rafters criss crossing the cylindrical tower, at a loss.
Dumbledore had long since earned the title normally reserved for Remus alone, for that 'damnable man' had thought of every conceivable escape attempt and blocked her progress at every turn. One thing was certain: The Headmaster was surely against anyone knowing of his plan, and from the looks of things she would not be escaping any time soon. Certainly not in time to alert anyone before it was too late.
If only she had realized! Then she wouldn't be trapped like some mythical Rapunzel caught in a hellish fairy tale.
Her eyes landed upon the dark window frame, her mind briefly mulling over the possibility of growing her hair into a long enough plait to send Emily scurrying down.
She snorted. Even if the Bothans were not under an enchanted sleep Kenneth would surely skin her alive before allowing her to turn his daughter into an impromptu acrobatic chimpanzee. Of course Emily had seemed rather taken by that exhibit at the Phoenix Park Zoo...
As if reading her thoughts Kenneth growled a little.
Men... She thought angrily. Even in their sleep they shot down her ideas!
Turning her attention to the door frame she did the only thing she could think of, and rearing back her leg she charged. Only this time the door swung open as if in sync with the gods of clumsiness, and she found herself sprawled across the Headmaster's emptier office.
Rolling onto her back, flopping like a fish on the floor, her dark eyes fixated furiously upon her cousin.
"You..." she roared, kicking the door to the study shut with her feet. She was not eager for Kenneth nor Emily to hear this if they awoke at this rather untimely interval.
Regulus gazed down his nose in astonishment. "Cousin were you really waging war on his study door the entire time? You do realize that is hand-crafted mahogany?"
Growling she scrambled to her feet, "I swear to Merlin Regulus...you tricked me! You allowed him to..."
He scoffed loudly. "No one allows Albus Dumbledore to do anything cousin. He merely does it whether you are in concurrence with his decisions or not. Surely you would be aware of that by now."
"He's right you kno..."
"Shut up Crusantheus!"
Regulus cast an unnaturally sympathetic look at the door as she again rounded on him.
"He made the Unbreakable vow didn't he?" she demanded. "He's going to trade himself for Hermione Granger if he can isn't he? And you let him!"
"Like I could stop him? Besides, it wasn't that bad of an ide..."
"You could have refused to stand witness!" she hollered. "He couldn't have done it without one!"
Regulus' eyes roamed the room curiously, as if she were an inconsequential bug, before his eyes finally landed upon a small cabinet. "Well..." he commented, walking towards it. "If not I he would have found another person to..."
"The Order needs him Regulus!" she shouted, tailing him closer than a shadow. "We can't survive witho..."
Regulus spun to face her. "Don't devalue yourself cousin. From what he said he may have founded your little aviary organization, but he is no more important than the rest of you within it."
She gasped. "You jest?"
The perfect image of stone glowered back. "Do I look like one to jest?"
Her breath came in furious puffs as he began rummaging through the contents of Dumbledore's deceptively small liquor cabinet. A considerable time passing before he emerged, a tight, satisfied line straining his mouth, and a garnet hued bottle in hand.
She was barely collecting herself, her wand arm twitching dangerously as she seriously contemplated whether or not her cousin was an alien species.
"Le Vin de Chateau Latour..." Regulus commented admiringly, ignoring her as if nothing of significance had occurred. "Dix-neuf soixante-dix, une belle année."
Her teeth ground so hard she swore to God he would be receiving the dental bill.
"For the less refined in the room," he continued, his unfaltering eyes never leaving his recently procured prize, "nineteen seventy was an excellent year."
A loud pop resonated within the room, the rising hue of her cheeks evidencing her increasing blood pressure. Merlin...she was getting as bad as Kingsley with that!
"This particular vintage," Regulus continued undeterred, "Presently runs over one hundred and twenty four pounds a bottle. Just imagine what it may have run once fully matured. A shame this Latour takes ten to fifteen years..."
Between her gritted teeth she managed a growl. Regulus ignored this, painstakingly choosing a rather worn and bright orange mug from Dumbledore's limited glass selection. His nose crinkled in distaste as the mug's emblem Go Cannons sparkled up at him.
"Allowing his vintages to go to waste..." Regulus grumbled disapprovingly, pouring the opaque, yet red fermentation into his mug moodily. "I would have thought better of the old man..."
"That old man has more moral fiber than you could ever wish to possess," she snapped.
"I don't doubt that," he replied evenly.
Her eyes widened furiously. "Why in the hell would Dumbledore take you into his confidence? You were a cowardous traito..."
Regulus' glass slammed down, shattering.
"NEVER PRESUME YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT NYMPHADORA!" he roared, eyes igniting dangerously. "I am far more familiar with each one of my treacherous, traitorous acts than you shall ever be. But know this..."
Regulus' bearing rose, despite his already rigidly erect posture.
"If it were not for those cowardly deeds of mine then the Muggle world would have been wiped out a long...time...ago," he hissed quietly. "My cowardly nature preserved the knowledge of what could have happened...keeping it safe until it was needed again..."
"You should have come forth with it sooner," she challenged. "As soon as you heard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back you should have..."
"Oh?" he snapped condescendingly. "And how was I supposed to know that my former slithering Lord had crawled back from the grave whilst in the Muggle realm Nymphadora? Particularly when those of you at the Ministry do your best to isolate our world from the Muggle realm? Well congratulations Nymphadora! Because despite Voldemort's best efforts at mayhem and misery your precious Ministry has done its job well! Not a word of his return leaked to me, even though I was listening for word!"
Seething venomously she leveled her wand at him, eliciting a derisive laugh. "Where's Dumbledore?"
"Why at a meeting with that slithering serpent of a Dark Lord I suspect. Surely you could have guessed that at least."
Her heart thudded unnaturally.
"Let me out Regulus."
"I wish I could cousin," he said, turning back to the wine. "But it was his desire for neither of us to leave until the deal was complete. Something about pesky, meddlesome, bullheaded Aurors..."
She growled, resisting the urge to attack.
Regulus merely snorted. "I would think that you, being part of his little aviary society, would by now realize that he knows what he is doing. Even I know tha..."
Swearing loudly she kicked the wall, rattling Phineas' portrait, forcing their long dead relative to hang onto his frame's edge for fear of being dislodged from it.
Regulus mouth twitched wickedly, ignoring the choice words that came flying their way as he addressed his cousin. "Now if you want to destroy the portraits then by all means, do so Nymphadora. However, in the interim it seems that your best bet is to relax and have a drink, because you clearly need one."
Scowling she slapped the proffered glass away.
Now it was Regulus' turn to regard her as if she were an alien species.
ECOTS
Elsewhere in the castle Remus had discovered that he had developed a shadow, one with a distinct limp and a blinding shock of red hair.
"You're sure about this?" Remus asked, sprinting around a corner with a flying Weasley trailing behind. Ron had just finished recounting what he had overheard the adults speaking about as he and Ginny had feigned sleep in the wing, and Remus was left with an uneasy feeling of coldness.
Not only were Harry and Hermione missing, but so was Kalliandra. Ron had had no information regarding Tonks, and knowing her profession...
Remus had felt slightly ill at the idea of any of them suffering while he had strolled leisurely down the castle's corridors, unable to go faster for fear of leaving the sick ward's escapee behind, which was precisely why he had thrown a levitation charm at the young man, sparing Ron the trouble of having to fight with his self-sizing crutches.
Molly Weasley would have him shipped to St. Mungos in individually plastic wrapped pieces if she ever caught wind of this.
Ron's face, screwed in careful concentration as he attempted to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, shot him a withering look.
"My friends are out there Remus, and I don't intend to sit idly by while the Order hems and haws over what the best course of action is. I want into the Order, and I want to help."
"And if they vote against that?"
Ron grinned tensely. "I'll threaten to give them a friendly nip on the leg. After all, I've missed dinner tonight."
Remus nearly laughed, caught off guard. "Entertaining cannibalism are we?"
"Nah, Snape hardly qualifies as human so I seriously doubt it would count as cannibalizing. Especially since he's likely the only one to vote against me."
"You're forgetting your mother."
Ron paled considerably, his freckles standing out. "She'll just have to understand," he growled determinedly. "About Ginny too, she'll bounce back, and when she does she can help me find the bastard that Imperious-ed her."
Remus smiled sadly. Ron was more alike to Sirius than he would ever know. Perhaps that, more than anything, was why he had agreed to take Ron with him to give Dumbledore his shabby report.
As Ron had said, the good werewolves had to stick together, and he deserved to know of the underground werewolf activity as much as anyone.
The other werewolves could still out there...
The thought spurred him into a faster sprint, and ignoring the Gryffindor's sudden protest Remus began dashing down the stone corridors, his concern rising exponentially at the unnatural quiet upon the school.
Snapping the password he and the floating Ron mounted the stairs to Dumbledore's office, a riotous argument increasing in volume as they approached. Forgoing formality he set Ron down hastily, grasping the door handle and tugging.
It was locked.
"Headmaster!" he shouted, pounding upon it fiercely. "Headmaster I ne..."
"Remus!"
At the voice his fist froze, inches above the cringing bronze Crusantheus, the argument within the office grinding to an unceremonious halt.
"Tonks!" he shouted with barely concealed relief. "Tonks wha..."
"Oh thank God!" interrupted Crusantheus, moaning. "They've been going at it for an hour! I can't take it anymore!"
Remus was about to inquire as to 'who' precisely had been going at it when Ron's confused mutterings interrupted him.
"Since when did Dumbledore get a talking door knocker?"
"Since his brother had me imported from Scotland little man," snapped Crusantheus indignantly.
Ron bristled, "Little?"
Remus dropped a staying hand upon Ron's shoulder. "Best not to engage in conversation..." he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Crusantheus' own dropped wide. "I heard..."
"We know!" shouted two voices simultaneously from the opposite side of the door.
Remus' ears reflexively picked up, the familiarity of the unidentified vocalizations unnerving. "Tonks let us in," he shouted, frowning.
"We can't!" He heard her moaning, "Dumbledore made an Unbreakable vow and has left to speak to You-Know-Who and he's locked us in here! We can't get out and no one can get in!"
It took a moment for her words to process correctly, and apparently it did for Ron as well because simultaneously they both voiced aloud their thoughts.
"What?"
A distinct banging could be heard from within the office, as if someone had taken to kicking random objects.
Again, the unidentified masculine voice floated beneath the door. "You might as well tell them..."
"Tonks who is that?" Remus interjected.
There was a pause.
A very long pause.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me," Remus insisted.
"Later Wolfy."
He groaned, while Crusantheus snickered. In response Ron grabbed the knocker and began banging vigorously, only ceasing the hostilities when Crusantheus nearly bit off his fingers.
Remus ignored this. "Tonks tell me I misheard..."
"You didn't," she groaned. "Hermione Granger is missing." Ron paled considerably, his shoulders stiffening at the reminder. "You-Know-Who has got her, and Dumbledore thinks it's to lure Harry into telling him the prophe..."
"WHAT?" Ron shouted, clearly having been deprived of this knowledge. "Tonks did they find Harry? He can't do tha..."
"Remus what the hell is Ron Weasley doing with you? Isn't he supposed to be in the..."
"Hospital wing," Remus supplied.
"I'd like to put him in the hospital wing," Growled Crusantheus menacingly, snapping eagerly with his jaw's hinge.
"Bugger off you rusted piece of..."
"RONALD!"
Crusantheus bronze tongue began clinking out a gleeful tune, clearly ecstatic at Tonks' reprimand. "Aha! Better stifle it Fingers or Ms. Windpipes in there will shut you up for me before you can say Hoggy, Hoggy, Hogwa..."
Remus finally gave in to the urge to silence the damn thing, unable to think. Crusantheus' sudden silence earned him a loud exclamation as the unidentified voice from within began praising the lord and maker.
He knew that voice...
"So Nympahdora you want to tell them or should I?" asked the man, sounding as if he were clearly enjoying something.
Behind him Ron made a strangled sound of realization.
"Sirius?"
A loud thump evidenced the unidentified man's displeasure.
"If I get mistaken for Sirius one more time I'll hex that door knocker ..."
Crusantheus began pounding his handle furiously, a panicked look in his bronze eyes.
Tonks, on the other hand, sounded like she was tap-dancing. "Ah-ha! I'm not the only one who made that mista..."
"You're my cousin! You have no excuse!"
"Bugger off! We thought you were dead!"
"Really Nymphadora you have no creativity..."
Really...You Gryffindors have no creativity...
Remus' mind spun, an echo from the past striking a dissonant chord.
Staring at the locked door something clicked.
"Regulus! " he growled, smashing himself against the door. "I swear to God if you've harmed her..."
"Nymphadora were you and your friends hit with a paranoia charm? You can answer me honestly with full faith that this conversation will remain confidential."
"Oh yes, don't mind us!" chimed in several unseen portraits.
"So you're a psychiatrist and a physician?" Tonks spluttered.
"Tonks?" he shouted through the door. "Tonks! What the hell is going on in there?"
"Apparently an epiphany," drawled Regulus lazily.
"Shut it both of you!" Tonks snapped furiously, the sound of stamping feet reaching his perked ears.
He withdrew his ear from the door just in time, its entire frame shuddering violently as she kicked it from the other side, rendering Crusantheus cross-eyed.
Mahogany door or not, Remus suddenly wondered if that were thick enough to protect him from whatever hex the pissed off Auror had in mind for him. He knew her far too well to entertain any hope of escaping completely unscathed.
Sneakily, with stealth indicative of the low marks she had received on the Stealth and Tracking portion of her Auror examinations, a wand tip snuck beneath the crack between the door and floor.
Remus stared at this odd action, puzzlement the name of his expression. Unfortunately he hesitated just a second too long, for a hot stream of searing sparks suddenly ignited his trousers, a vindicated Ah-ha resounding from the pink haired wonder witch as Remus hopped around, nearly tumbling down the winding staircase in his attempts to douse them.
"Made her angry did you?"
As Ron snickered he had to forcibly restrain himself from snarling in the Weasley's general direction.
"Tonks," he groaned hoarsely, leg still steaming. "What on earth is wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong?" she clipped with disbelief. "You show up after nearly a month and..."
"Two weeks," he corrected, re-approaching the door as if it were a shark.
"Fine...Two weeks and..."
"Did the idea of talking it through like rational adults ever occur to either of you?" Regulus' muffled voice interjected curiously.
"Stuff a sock in it Reggie," she barked. "The fanged wonder has emerged from his self-induced isolation and now he wants to know what's wrong."
Another loud thump shook the door, his stomach wrenching as he practically felt her leaning against the other side.
Cautiously approaching he ignored Ron's startled stare, pressing his hands against the rough grain. "Tonks..." he whispered gratingly, "I...We don't have time for this now..."
"Gee, what a surprise!" she exclaimed sardonically. "Wolfy doesn't have time for me, who would've thought?"
Regulus emitted a low whistle, clearly closer than before. "Trouble in paradise Lupin? Honestly isn't she a little young for you?"
The distinct sound of someone being smacked echoed through the door and down the stairwell. The heavy sensation within his chest failing to improve.
"At risk of being hexed..."
Remus turned, eyeing Ron with barely concealed annoyance.
The Gryffindor swallowed loudly. "Harry's still out there and we have to find him. We could send Hedwig..."
"Dumbledore already sent Fawkes," Tonks muttered. "He's a step ahead of us as always, yet kept muttering about how Harry could fend for himself now."
Remus' brow furrowed. It was not like Dumbledore to leave someone unaided. Not at all.
"Slow to catch on as always Nympahdora," Regulus remarked condescendingly. "Did it ever occur to you that in lieu of sending a potentially slow scout..."
"I am not slow..."
"Of course not," Regulus snorted. "But rather than letting a search party gallivant around the area, risking further loss of life, he did the smart thing."
"Which is?" Remus could hear Tonks practically hiss through her teeth.
"He sent the fastest messenger he could," he responded smugly. "Surely you don't fancy yourself in the same class of speed as a phoenix, do you cousin?"
Remus' eyes widened in understanding. "He sent them a portkey."
"Exactly..."
Suddenly everything came together, and it gave him an idea.
"Ron, Tonks..." he stumbled to explain. "I have to..."
"We know," Tonks muttered. "You have to go."
He hesitated.
"What's the hold up Lupin, you're quite good at that so get on with it already."
Cringing inwardly he turned and ran for the owlery.
"I'll just stay here then?" Ron yelled sarcastically after his retreating figure.
On the other side of the door Tonks growled, dropped cross-legged to the ground, banged the back of her head against the door, and extended a pointed hand to Regulus.
Her cousin smirked, filling her a well needed glass.
ECOTS
Harry saw it in her eyes before he heard it.
A single, feral growl cut through the wind, and instinctual alarms went off in his head. The frigid air snaked around them, biting bitterly at their skin, whipping Kaylen's soaked hair around her ashen face.
She looked right past him.
Harry already knew. In an instant his hands clenched down on her shoulders, fisting the soaked folds of her torn sweater, the wizard trying to think.
They were alone, in the Forbidden Forest, and a werewolf had just found them.
There was nowhere to run, but they had to try.
Thunk, thunk.
Like a phantom sound upon the wind came the smacking of monstrous claws against the muddy ground. It was running right at them, aiming for his back.
It was the telltale sound of a beast bent on savagery as it stalked its prey.
What happened next took less than thirty seconds.
Harry locked eyes with her, and Kaylens' visage screwed into that of grim resolve. She couldn't hex, she couldn't fight back, and looking at her as she stood there in the center of the storm, Harry knew he had no choice.
He loosened his grip on her quietly heaving shoulders, watching the bloody bandages binding his palms sway in the wind, and he ground out a single command: "Run..."
She did.
Kaylens wheeled around and took flight, mud splattering beneath her feet as she fled for the tree line, her tattered sweater billowing in the wind as she went. It was too big for her; it occurred to Harry that all her sweaters seemed too big for her.
Lightning flashed and lit up the clearing, sending her shadowy silhouette stretching across the matted length of grass separating them.
Tensely he watched her, standing his ground.
He refused to follow.
Around him the power of the storm surged, thunder shaking the entire forest. Harry didn't move; he didn't run; he just reached into his pocket, wrapped his fist tightly around that fateful phoenix core, and tugged it out so that his wand arm hung loosely by his side.
And then Harry Potter simply stood there and flat out waited.
Blinking the water from his eyes, he watched in muted fascination. Kaylens became aware that she was alone about five paces from the tree line and she abruptly tried to stop, that sending her into a tumultuous skid across the mud.
She wasn't able to stop until she slipped beneath the forest's threshold, grabbing onto a tree that nearly knocked her down. It didn't. She just spun around, the dripping canopy throwing shadows across her countenance as she stared back at him in blatant shock.
Harry couldn't help but smirk. Maybe he was a little Slytherin deep down.
The non-witch was realizing what he'd just done; he'd bought her time to get away. With the detached sense of an onlooker observing an unstoppable calamity Harry watched as her form went rigid.
Beneath the branches her eyes flashed dangerously,
She knew there was no time to reach him. His ploy had worked.
Merely six meters separated him from her, yet the distance was un-crossable.
It was how he wanted it.
Thump, thump.
The swift approach of the werewolf's claws beat against the suctioning ground.
The wolf was charging him, yet he did not move.
Silently his eyes plead with Kaylens, urging her to run.
Thump, thump.
She did not. Her glorious eyes regarded him with profound hurt and anger, reflecting the lightning shocking through the heavens.
If they both survived this he was going to physically shake her.
Thump, thump.
Harry stood still and wondered what the fuck was wrong with him. Hermione had been right; he needed psychological help. He could feel death's swift approach behind him, the wolf charging his exposed back, and all he did was fucking stand there like a good little piece of bait.
It was stupid. It was brash. It was the act of a true Gryffindor.
But Harry had known that there'd been no time for them to both run, so he had sent Kaylens unwittingly to what he could only hope was relative safety.
The key word there was hope.
Thump, thump.
If he survived this she would surely kill him, and an odd smile crept upon his cracked lips at the absurdity of the thought.
Thump, thump.
All of it transpired in less than a second, Harry's eyes flying wide as the sky split open, roaring as the gods themselves sent their electric fists hurtling down to join the fray.
He threw himself down.
Lightning struck as he hit the ground, ducking as he felt the wolf spring to seize him. Jaws snapped around thin air, right where the back of his neck had been a second before.
It missed him, barely.
The wolf's rear claws slashed out, grazing his back, tearing straight through what was left of his shirt and shredding it, raking a bloodied path across his right flank. A pained moan shot from his mouth, but it got swallowed by the booming sound of lighting. That fiery bolt of electric death struck the tree line with fearsome intensity, and a branch exploded in a hundred shrapnel-like splinters.
He was already screaming for Kaylens to move.
A carnal growl emanated before him, the werewolf's flight ending as its colossal form crashed back onto the earth with one sickening splat of mud and rain, its colossal form skidding on the slick ground as if upon ice.
"Kaylens move!" he bellowed, watching as a fiery shower of embers rained down from the split trunk and onto her.
Her golden head disappeared behind a wall of smoke, a burning tree limb crashing down to where she'd just been standing.
Harry's stomach lurched, a sound tearing through him as he lunged to go after her-
The wolf reared around and sprang for him.
He dodged at the last second, and it wheeled around, slinging mud and muck from its large paws. The wolf reared back on its hind legs, preparing to spring, and it curled its snout back to reveal bloodied teeth, unleashing an unearthly snarl.
But more importantly it was between him and her.
The forest continued to burn, wood crackling and snapping. Kaylens was there. He couldn't look for her or go to her because there was a wolf in his way. She could be burning to death and there was a wolf.
It lunged.
Harry's eyes darkened in rage. Behind his rain streaked glasses they went practically black, his wand arm flying out at the exact second it lunged, a cutting hex ripping from his throat as he dove to the side, rolling in the thick sludge.
A pained howl signified that his aim had been true.
Harry was on his back and rolling, rising into a crouch right in time to see the wolf's head twisting towards the tree line.
Inside him something exploded. "Get the FUCK away from her!"
He let another cutting hex fly, and then another, and then another. He aimed in three different directions so there'd be no possible fucking way it could dodge all three, and Harry followed them up with an onslaught of silver particles as he staggered to his feet, stumbling backwards in a frenzy as two of his spells struck.
The wolf howled, the animal's brutalized pelt sending it recoiling to the ground. A soul wrenching whine, a dog's whimper escaped it as the silver particles lodged within the open wounds, the metal toxic and infiltrating its bloodstream, slowly killing it.
Harry stood there, dripping wet and covered in mud and blood, his torn back screaming in pain. His shirt hung off him in tatters, but he didn't notice. He was too fixed on what was happening. The wolf's body jerked, as if seizing, every muscle in it contorting and twisting, but Harry felt no pity, only agony as his head whipped around in time to see a fiery tendril coiling straight up from the ground, the ground where Kaylens had been standing, the fire finally igniting the soaked canopy.
She was burning to death.
"Kaylens!" he thundered, and he didn't recognize the sound of his own voice.
Harry bolted for the tree line, watching in horror as the smoke plumed upwards.
It was his fault. He hadn't seen it in time. She'd been watching him rather than running away. He should have fucking known she'd do that. He might not have trusted her before, he might have had major issues with her, but she didn't back down from things. She'd taken on Remus when he'd changed; she'd outed herself in public; hell, she'd even hexed him. He should have known!
And now she could be dead.
He had sent her there.
Harry reached the tree line but the undergrowth was ablaze and burning, the wizard skidding to a halt, trying to find a way to get in but there wasn't any! The wind whipped past and hurtled the noxious fumes directly into his face. Harry choked, his lungs giving a hard seize, and the wizard looked and looked and looked, shouting her name, but all that came out was a ragged cough.
His glasses had been lost, dirt and smoke particles replacing them. The harder pieces of floating ash cut against his retinas, a numbing sensation overtaking him. He couldn't find her. He couldn't find her!
He did not see the blow coming.
A massive paw struck him down, sending him hurtling face down into a puddle, and Harry's entire world morphed into a watery brown blur.
The force alone knocked his wand right out of his grip, the wooden piece of weaponry skidding out of reach as Harry made a grab for it-
A weight slammed down atop him, the creature literally on his back, the pressure forcing Harry's body to sink down, making a new imprint in the malleable earth. He threw a punch backwards but all it hit was two hundred pounds of hard animal muscle, and in the next instant a paw slammed down on the back of his skull, shoving his face straight down into a puddle with crushing force.
Harry choked as the thing tried to drown him.
Shallow water lapped around his ears, Harry's mouth flapping and tasting soil. He tried to hold his breath but the weight on his torso alone had driven the wind from him and his entire body gave a traitorous gasp.
He sucked in more water than air.
His entire body jerked, spasming as Harry sputtered, his traitorous lungs trying to expel both smoke and water and just inhaling more water.
The spine-crushing weight of the creature was suddenly dispelled, his head snapping up to gasp for breath, his hand blindly summoning his wand to it. The wandless act was lost upon him as a beastly forepaw smashed besides his aching head, an inch shy of shattering his skull.
Above him a new wolf growled venomously.
Flipping onto his back, rolling out of the way, he saw a tree limb lash out, striking the beast hovering above him with a sickening crunch.
The second werewolf, the one he had failed to see in time, fell limp to the ground.
Emerging from the burning alcove of trees Kaylens callously threw the branch at the creature, ensuring another blow to its head as she appraised her handiwork. A second later her burning gaze was fixated on him, a furious expression crossing her soot stained face.
Harry sputtered on the ground.
"What the hell were you thinking Potter?" she shouted, her voice a harsh rasp. "This is the same stunt you pulled in Hogsmeade! Are you that daft!"
Still gasping for breath, he realized he'd been right: she was going to kill him.
A ridiculously warm sensation flooded him. "Y-you're…"
"Pissed!" she hissed, clearly irked more by him than the wolves who had attempted to make a meal of them. "You are single handedly the most brash, idiotic, self-centered, suicidal individual that I have ever met! Next time, I'll let the wolves eat you!"
He blinked exhaustedly up at her, chest heaving with pained exertion as the disheveled, slightly charred girl above him ignored the insanely mud-ridden, werewolf-infested, ablaze world around them, contenting herself with staring him down.
He couldn't help it: a small, relief filled smirk tugged at his lips.
"What," she grunted wearily, "could you possibly find funny about this?"
He grinned. "A lot actually."
Her jaw dropped, flapping soundlessly as the wind sent smoke billowing up in a dark cloud behind her. Her hand instantly lifted to shield her eyes from its thick residue, and Harry was fairly certain that she'd only bothered so she could continue to glare at him.
"Kaylens," he said, wiping mud from his face, "you're a rather angry person, you know that?"
For a second she appeared to stutter.
Then she got control of it.
"Potter," she said in a seriously dangerous tone that would have sent saner men running, "I'm going to kill you."
He nodded solemnly, gingerly up-righting himself. "Well," he grunted, pain searing his shoulder and back, "get in line."
"Screw that. I get the first crack at-"
Her words ended in a grating cry.
A chameleon-like hand had shot out of the billowing smoke, snatching her thick hair within its pitiless confines. Her soaked tresses got used as an anchor, the disillusioned man grabbing them and snapping her head back to expose the slender flesh of her neck to the splintered wood of a blackened wand.
Rain droplets splattered eerily in mid-air against the unseen adversary.
"Drop it Potter," growled a voice as dark as the night.
The guttural growl sent something dangerous stirring within him, his forest colored eyes remaining glued to Kaylens'. She was cringing, a wand shoved so deep against her neck that he could physically see her carotid pumping around it, blood already welling up from a broken off splinter.
His brow furrowed as a strange idea began to take shape. His fingers loosened around the holly coated wand…
"Potter don't-" Kaylens' sharp cry was cut off as she was shoved forwards, nearly thrown from her feet by the Death Eater's swift prodding.
The Death Eater was holding her ahead of him, using her as a shield.
"I said drop it boy, or I'll make sure she stays dead this time."
Harry's hand went rigid, his wand falling into the mud.
"Attaboy."
The counter of the disillusionment charm was muttered and the villain advanced through the coiling smoke, holding Kaylens ahead of him like some type of door prize. The flames behind him cast an orange light, throwing the Death Eater's visceral face into stark focus.
Harry's blood ran cold.
He recognized him.
Broussard's companion, the same one Harry had struck down that same afternoon, the same one whom he had left for dead in one of Hogsmeade's back allies after hitting him with a killing curse, now stood shepherding Kaylens in front of him.
The dead man was alive and well.
"Ah, so you do remember me," the man said, and his eyes gleamed madly. "Perhaps you remember my brother, Broussard. I do believe you slashed his throat."
Kaylens hand shot up, yanking at the Death Eater's vice grip. "No less than he deserved you filth!"
A violent knee to the spine sent Kaylens crumbling to her knees, her form suspended by the callous grip on her long locks. Her neck was tilted at such an extreme angle it was a marvel it hadn't broke on the spot.
The Death Eater scowled down and looked disappointed.
In that moment Harry hated him with his entire being.
"To lose one's remaining family," the bastard continued with deadly calm, "in such a manner does not endear one to mercy."
Kaylens made a pained sound, but it didn't stop her from opening her mouth.
"Now you know what it feels like," she practically spat, her hands clawing at the man's massive forearms.
The Death Eater ignored her and shoved her forward through the smoke and rain. She was clinging to the bastard's arm, and it occurred to Harry then and there that that was the only reason she wasn't already dead – she'd grabbed ahold and it'd kept some of her weight off her vertebrae. It was the only reason her neck hadn't snapped.
She was smart. Kaylens was smart. He chewed on that knowledge and his heart about burst from his chest, something hot and hostile and dangerous rising up.
"Let. Her. Go," he growled.
All it would take is a single jerk and she'd be dead.
No. No that wouldn't happen.
The Death Eater ignored them both, his foul gaze fixing on Harry. "You're a foolish boy Potter...dabbling in Unforgiveables. I'd kill you if I could..."
Harry vibrated with repressed rage, eyes darkening. "Then why don't you?" he challenged, "Get rid of the spare, and it'll be just you and me."
The villain laughed bitterly. "I'm not as stupid as some of the other lackeys, boy. You'll have to improve your manipulations if you expect that to work."
"Fine," he spat darkly. "I'm unarmed, you're not. Care to let her go before that changes?"
"Wandless magic is a bit advanced for you bo-"
Something within him snapped, the unconscious magic he had drawn upon in moments of need finally cracking into place.
A shot of energy flew through him, the familiar wooden handle flying back to his hand, quickly summoned, drawn, and aimed.
Only where the Death Eater's heart had been now rested Kaylens, for the villain had yanked her forcibly from her knees to use her as a shield. Her cry of pain echoed through the clearing, rising above the crackling of burning wood, and Harry knew in that instant that he was going to fucking kill him.
"As intriguing as this is Potter, we came to deliver a message. Nothing more."
Harry's voice dropped to a low growl. "Since when did a message entail taking my head off?"
The man's lips curled into a snarl. "It didn't. That was just fun."
"A rather perverse idea of fun, don't you think?"
"Considering what you did to my brother, I'd say I'm in the presence of similar company."
"He's nothing like you!" Kaylens shouted, twisting.
A powerful yank sent her head snapping back, his insides lurching at the resounding crack.
"Quiet girlie!" hissed the wizard, spit dribbling as he spoke. "You're already an endangered species, I'd hate for you to go extinct."
Her eyes were scrunched closed in pain, but she managed a retort.
Of fucking course she did.
"Of course," she half-hissed, half whispered, straining against the man's arms. "And I'm sure your precious species collector would love that."
Shaking violently Harry watched as she writhed against her captor, the Death Eater glaring vindictively down. He hated this. He hated it! He couldn't do anything!
Hands coiling into tight fists, Harry began inching to the side, the sound of mud suctioning against his shoe soles masked by the thunder.
If he could get an angle around her, he could make his shot...
"And to think, I thought catching veelas was the worst assignment...but no matter..."
It took everything he had to suppress his outward horror.
A dagger appeared in the man's hand out of nowhere, the sharp blade plunged shallowly into the flesh of her shoulder.
Kaylens – the same non-witch that had faced down a werewolf and practically spat in this same man's face – screamed.
The Death Eater dragged the tip across her skin in a cruel, hard line. A second later the villain had a cylindrical vial held beneath her freely flowing blood, bottling it as her eyes scrunched in a painful grimace, her mind undoubtedly feeling history repeating itself.
Harry wasn't just going to kill him; he was going to enjoy doing it.
"There, that oughta appease my Lord in the event of your untimely..." The man was running his wand along her wound, a black light radiating as her flesh sealed beneath it. "Well...end anyway..."
Blinded by rain, Harry's eyes went white with anger.
"You won't lay a finger on her."
In the shadows the man smiled. "It seems I've already lain several."
As he stood there, the running mud curling around his feet, he felt sick. He was cornered. If he acted brusquely Kaylens was dead. If he failed to act, they both were.
Harry's eyes hardened, his chest rising with the stress, and the vile man continued speaking.
"All the Dark Lord wants is the prophecy, Potter, yet you continue this stubborn refusal. Keep it up and that little Mudblood friend of yours will wind up dead." The man grinned evilly. "And we all know you don't want that to happen."
His wand shook, so hard was his grip upon it.
"Just think...what has your stubborn refusal gotten you thus far? Certainly it did wonders for improving that blood traitor Black's current state, but-"
"Sirius was a good man," he heard himself snarl.
The man merely inclined an eyebrow. "Ah yes, I seem to remember him fancying himself as such even during our school years. He, the noble Black, always criticizing Broussard and I...the two Detreck brothers were worthless to him, even the one from his own House."
Harry felt unwell, anger and hate vibrating unceremoniously within.
"Your father was much the same...both never sparing even a thought for the noble Black's own kin," he continued, the same tone of superiority dripping from his words. "Sirius always wondered what finally sent Regulus to the ranks of the Death Eaters. Would you like me to tell you?"
Kaylens attempted to twist away, the massive man easily batting her attempt aside.
"The deciding factor you see, was Sirius' stubborn refusal to acknowledge his brother as an equal," he revealed. "The arrogant fool followed those resisting the Dark Lord blindly, never stopping to consider who was really in the right. He and the rest of those Gryffindor fools following Dumbledore never even understood our reasons."
"Oh?" Harry shot out. "And how are we justifying cold-blooded murder these days?"
The man's teeth glinted in the firelight. "There's no need to justify anything. The war hungry Muggles do that for us. They won't be content to leave our kind alone forever, Potter. It's kill or be killed. The Dark Lord is simply acting preemptively, before those filthy Muggles get the chance."
"And what of the anti-Muggle wards?" Harry asked scathingly, thinking quick. "If you're really as superior to them as you'd like to believe, then all of your 'pureblood' magic ought to prevent that, wouldn't you think?"
The Death Eater Detreck laughed. He actually laughed.
"Tell me Potter, with all of the inter-marrying between Wizards and Muggles, how would you propose keeping our world forever hidden when we cannot even convince our own kind to keep their legs closed? Eventually we will become exposed, and when that happens the Muggles will recognize the potential threat we hold."
Inching towards the heat of the fire, and its veil of smoke, Harry allowed him to talk, wracking his mind for a plan.
"Once that happens I'm quite sure they will be keen in showing us mercy. Perhaps the same kind that was given to the Jews of their second World War, or that which was shown to the indigenous people of the Americas when the new lands were discovered? Or to the witches of Salem-"
Kaylens cut him off.
"You can't possibly believe every Muggle is like tha-"
A dagger was thrust to her throat, silencing her words as blood prickled her skin. A sadistic look of calm crossed the eldest Detreck's face as he held it there.
"You see Harry, Muggles are unlike us. They have yet to conquer their animalistic natures, and for that they must be silenced, before they can silence us."
"And all of this entails killing Muggleborns how?" Harry pointed out, desperate to keep the man talking.
"Every war has casualties Potter, and in this one anyone sympathetic to those primitive creatures runs the risk of becoming one."
"They're not primitive."
"Yet they wage war upon other countries, killing their own kind without thought, acti-"
"Since Death Eaters do the same thing I guess you would know."
"Our killing is at least educated, and justified by more than wars over boundaries."
Harry's voice shook with suppressed rage. "That doesn't justify cold blooded murder!"
"You would know," hissed the man. "Once a killer, always a killer, or am I wrong on that Potter?"
He remained silent, watching as Detreck slowly lowered his blade from her throat.
"Despite what you think, you are very much alike us Potter, and thus my Lord has a proposal for you."
Watching the tension leave Kalliandra's neck, her face slumping gratefully forward without fear of impalement upon the knife's blade, he grunted. "So what deal is it this time? Join him and he spares my life?"
"No, simply reveal the missing part of the prophecy in exchange for your friend's family's lives."
"And Hermione?"
The man's eyes glittered evilly, acrid smoke billowing out with a change of the wind.
"In the Department of Mysteries, in the Hall of Prophecies, you remember the shelves upon shelves filled with the foretelling of seers past?"
"No," he said dryly, "refresh my memory: was that the one with the pastries or the one right next to the stuffy policy department?"
The wizard fingered the dagger lovingly. "I'd hold your tongue, lest I cut out hers. Now are you familiar with it?"
Harry went dead silent, grunting only a single syllable. "Yes."
"Then surely you weren't arrogant enough to believe that yours was the only foretold regarding this war."
His shoulders stiffened; he actually had.
From the forest's edge, scant meters away, resounded the cracking of a tree limb as it finally burnt away. It fell into the burning underbrush, sending a flash of fire bulging outwards on impact.
In the cacophonous roar of heat and flame all parties scattered, the smoke clearing in time for Harry to see Kaylens still in the villain's vice grip, her apparent bolt for freedom hindered by the man's muscular arm which had tightened around her.
Her elbow to his torso went ignored, the massive man's muscles protecting him. Detreck merely grunted, hauling her to her feet as the smoke dispersed, the rain beginning to smoother the flames.
"We waste time. In the hall of prophecies there is another with your name on it, or did that decrepit old man fail to inform of you of its existence as well?"
Somehow he managed to avoid snapping his wand, despite the shaking of his fists.
"When you find that, and divulge its contents, only then will our Lord release your precious Mudblooded friend."
"You're lying," Harry spat, the acrid taste of smoke on his tongue. "If I told you, he'd kill her anyway."
The man's lips curled. "Perhaps...but if you had something else to offer him, something in addition to that...something he very much desired...than perhaps once you'd revealed the second prophecy, he'd return her if your word was given to reveal another once the exchange was made."
Harry shook his head disbelievingly. "Since when has ole Riddle trusted my word?"
"How dare you defile his name!"
Harry nearly laughed. "Defile? Just so you know, as someone well acquainted with his Muggle father's headstone, I fucking assure you that's definitely his name."
Kaylen's head was yanked violently back, the wand again to her throat. How the fuck he was switching from knife to wand so fast Harry didn't know and didn't care. All he knew was that all thoughts of baiting the bastard with mockery of its leader flew from his mind.
Harry's eyes anchored to Kaylens' pale, soaked face.
"What else does he want to know?"
The eldest Detreck leered triumphantly. "When you find the prophecy regarding 'the daughter of a man of power upon Gaelic soil' you will have what he is looking for. There is no name attached, therefore it may be seized by anyone."
Through the wind Harry's yell seemed almost faint. "And if I don't find it?"
"Then that Mudblood of yours dies, unless you find something better to offer."
With icy certainty Harry realized that the conversation was nearly over, Kaylens' fate hanging in the balance.
"You see boy, you may have defied our Lord thus far, but you can't forever. In the end he wins, you lose, and if Dumbledore's ill-thought resistance continues..."
A prod in the shoulder sent Kaylens stumbling forward, her hands suddenly bound.
"Then all these spares will meet the same fate as those noble parents of yours."
Kaylens' eyes flew up, surprise flitting through them even in the darkness. He met them, holding onto them, grasping for seconds through the downpour. Guilt was practically etched on her face, and he didn't look away.
In the past she'd made more than one comment about his mommy and daddy feeding his ego, but she hadn't known. She hadn't known that he was the Boy-Who-Lived-At-The-Expense-Of-Everyone-Else. She hadn't known that they'd been butchered when he was one. She hadn't known.
Just like he hadn't known a thing about her.
Harry offered a weak smile, so she could see that it was okay, so she could see how fucking sorry he was for all this shit. But right now…
Right now this bastard was going to kill Kaylens.
Harry had seconds.
Detreck had a wand aimed at her back, expression grim, eyes remorseless. He'd shoved Kaylens out in front of him, putting her between them so Harry couldn't hex him without risking hurting her.
But most importantly the bastard had let go of her hair. Her neck wouldn't break.
There was simply no time left.
Harry held her gaze for another second, and Kaylens golden eyes conveyed what he needed to know.
She understood.
Harry's jaw set determinedly and he re-aimed his wand. Only this time he aimed it directly at her.
"Stupefy!"
Kalliandra went crumbling to the ground, her limp form lying in a single mud-sodden heap, the Death Eater's face twisting in surprise and fury. A hot purple spell blasted out of the Death Eater's wand, but Harry acted fast. He was already ducking, a second stunner already shouted, all before that bright purple hex that had been meant for Kaylens buzzed just over his head.
It missed them both.
Harry'd done the one thing Detreck hadn't counted on: he'd been willing to injure a comrade, thereby removing her from the equation.
Harry's stunner struck the enemy directly in the chest, and the Death Eater's body went lifeless, dropping unconscious into the mud.
Harry crouched on the ground, glaring through the pouring rain, making damn certain the bastard wasn't getting up again. He waited one second, then another…
It wasn't until he moved towards Kaylens that a second, cruel voice resounded behind him.
"Crucio."
He'd never seen them coming.
Harry fell hard, his body impacting against the ground as a thousand white hot knives sliced brutally at his flesh. His vision was blinded, by mud, rain, and pain, yet he still saw the hairy man, half-way through the werewolf transformation, walking around him, reviving Detreck.
The werewolf Kaylens had taken out with that branch had woken up.
As he screamed, convulsing in pain, rolling in the slick stream that had become the clearing's grounds, he heard voices arguing.
"...belongs to the Dark Lords, not us...we can't harm him...leave it to him...dealt with in due time...orders were...deliver message...leave them..."
The never-ending agony suddenly lifted, his tortured nerves still spasming as Harry somehow rolled to face them. His hand flopped around pathetically, fingers closing without strength upon thin air, searching for the familiar holly wood he had lost a hold of during his convulsions.
His vision blurred black. His head screamed. He lost count of time.
And then it all suddenly stopped.
Harry lay on the ground and the entire world spun, his nerve endings screaming with phantom pain. There was a loud buzz in his ears, the rumbling thunder rendering him near deaf.
But through the mud slickening his vision he still saw the Death Eater crouch down in front of him, the bastard moving with predatory slowness. Dark black eyes looked at him without a trace of humanity, a sadistic smile touching their lips.
"You can waste time chasing after us, or her Potter. Think about it."
There was a sharp crack;the man was gone.
There was a splash, then the wet air resonated with a second sharp crack of disapparation.
It took another three seconds for Harry's muscular synapses to finally work, finally firing at his command. First his leg gave a hard, jerking twitch, and then his arm. With soreness outshining the most grueling trials of human endurance he thrust himself up, hands sinking into the mud, and he frantically scanned the clearing.
Kaylens was nowhere to be seen.
His heart lurched and he stumbled to his feet. Sliding, staggering, squinting, he peered through the darkness, summoning his wand from where it had sunk beneath the uprooted grass. Everything was blurry, his glasses gone.
Lightning flashed, casting an eerie glow across the water.
Kaylens lay face down, floating within it.
It was like an icy hand had plunged straight through his ribcage to clench.
Harry moved faster than he would have thought possible, plunging into the chest deep water. Quickly he propelled himself to where she lay submerged, floating just below the surface. Only her bound wrists, pushed upwards by the gentle waters lapping, remained emerged in the air, her hair fanning out behind her head.
His arms sought her, wrapping around her shoulders to pull her out, letting her dead weight fall hard against him.
His hand fell to her chest, his spoken words a whisper against the storm. "Ennervate."
The warmth spread from between his fingers, his unconsciously done wandless magic triggering no reaction in her. He didn't even notice what he'd just done. There was no time. Harry's heart was in his throat and his chest tight because nothing was happening!
The spell had been removed, yet she remained unresponsive. Harry had expected coughing, shouting, something.
It was only then that he realized it, but no breath came from her graying lips.
Defense lessons had taught him about more than countering spells, and he was already turning her limp form to face him, using the water's buoyancy to cradle her as her face lolled back.
His numbing, pained fingers quickly wiped the plastered hair from her lips, a sick feeling rising in his chest as his eyes flickered across the vacant grounds.
The Death Eaters were gone...they would not come back.
Heart wrenching, he acted, pressing his mouth against hers as he pushed precious oxygen in, breathing for her, listening to the odd hiss of his breath making its way through her air passages.
Pulling away, waiting for the rise of her chest against his, he felt nothing.
Panicked eyes flickered over her peaceful face before his mouth once again descended, capturing her icy lips with his own in another breath of desperation. One arm was tightening around her, the other cradling her head as he pinched her nose.
Again he waited.
The rise in her chest as he had breathed had been barely discernable, and now there was nothing. A single thought flitted through his frightened mind: he was doing this wrong.
In that single moment of paralyzing horror he suddenly understood; her air passage was clogged.
He had to clear it.
He was already turning her limp form around, allowing Kaylens' back to fall against him as his fists sought her midsection. With a single, powerful drive he thrust them in and upwards, feeling her body spasm in a small shudder.
Again he repeated the motion, thrusting forcefully. He did it again, and again, and again. He needed her to breathe! She was fragile, thin. Harry felt like he was breaking her in half, but there was water in her lungs. It needed out.
He tried again.
Her limp form seized violently in response, her upper body falling forward as a racking cough shook her, the water expelling from her lungs. Harry lunged forward with her, arms wrapping around her chest, preventing her face from again hitting the traitorous water.
His forearms strained against her as she convulsed, choking on the wind, gasping as cough after shuddering cough shook her thin frame. It was like she was throwing up, only not. It continued until dry heaves shook her. Shivering in the frigid water Harry's pounding heart finally calmed; it calmed until Kaylens leaned loosely forward in his arms, gasping breathlessly.
Without a word he flipped her around and pulled her against him, clutching her quivering form flush to his own, her head falling against his shoulder. Her shallow panting caressed his skin, the rising of her chest against his reassuring him in an inexplicable way.
She was breathing. She was alright.
Slowly he fought to control the hitching of his own fast drawn breaths, for after everything he felt ready to crumble, only he suddenly found himself the pillar to which she clung.
Fuck, he wasn't cut out for this.
Resting his chin atop her head, peering into the night, he hoped like hell that what he had overheard was accurate. If he was really considered Voldemort's toy, needed to perform a task, then for the moment he was untouchable.
In theory they would again be safe, until Riddle decided to again 'chat.'
As of now, if he were wrong, then their only refuge would be the water they stood shivering within. Even if they used a bubble head charm to hide beneath its murky depths, hypothermia would kill them both within an hour. Now their only true protection lay within the veil of cattails rising high above the shimmering water's surface, obscuring them from all.
They were in a marsh-like pond, hiding in it.
Icy wind howled, sending the reeds around them dancing.
Breathing unsteadily, the scent of burnt wood filled his nostrils. The forest was still on fire, but the storm was slowly winning the battle against the blaze, extinguishing the aflame underbrush and trees, and the light of the flames was slowly dying.
Kaylens made a small sound, shifting and burying her face in the crook of his neck, and he clutched onto her tighter.
Harry did this, then tilted his face to better look at her, watching the fiery orange glow reflecting from her wet cheeks. It leant some warmth to her pale hue. Her pale, but alive hue.
He swallowed hard.
"Are you alright?" he ground out. His hands were shaking from a combination of the cold and the adrenaline wearing off, but he managed to make one of those hands move, Harry smoothing tangled, sopping strands of hair away from her face. She simply breathed against him, hair dripping across his shoulders, her entire form still trembling.
Tightening his arms around her, he again whispered his query, his questioning lips brushing along her earlobe. "Kaylens?" he murmured shakily, breathing against her hair. "You okay?"
In his arms she nodded imperceptivity, his trepidation for her alone sending his heart thumping. His relief was palpable, as was the feel of her beneath his hands.
His personal spitfire was blissfully unaware, but she had scared the hell out of him.
Raindrops continued falling, heavy and strong, splattering against the water with hypnotic melody. Somehow, without reason, his knuckles were rising, tracing alone her jaw line, a drowsy murmur leaving her pale, cracked lips at his touch.
Harry's muscles tightened at that merest sound from her.
Instinctively his strong arms began enveloping her ever tighter, pressing her to him needingly, his reasons elusive. Surprisingly her delicate hands were responding, rising along his chest, gentle fingertips brushing the bare skin of his pectorals where his sweater hung tattered and loose, courtesy of the werewolves' claws and the forest's snaring bramble.
Beneath the rippling water a gentle tingling was radiating onto him, traveling where her cool skin fell into contact with his own, as if tiny bits of static electricity were passing between them.
Somehow he understood, for he was feeling her true magic. Her telling signature trailing across him in a maddening way, just below the surface, veiled from his eyes.
Yet somehow, he could not look away.
It was enough to drive him mad.
Slowly, surely, the maddening sensation of her fingers tangling within his jumper drove the unconscious concerns from his mind, his bright eyes finally falling shut to the night, hiding beneath the dark, matted hair slung dripping across his scarred brow.
Upon his neck he felt her lips parting, an exhausted sigh escaping against his skin. His face dipped in response, burrowing within her rain scented hair.
Fuck, he couldn't stop touching her.
Kaylens was alive.
She nearly hadn't been.
Harry clung to her; he clung to her tight.
Water lapped around them and he tried to talk, voice so rough he barely recognized it.
"You know," he disclosed gratingly, a bloodied hand sliding down her back, "you may be more trouble than you're worth."
A soft laugh, scarcely there, sent his skin tingling.
"Oh?" she breathed, her hoarsely spoken words tinged with amusement. "And you're not?"
He snorted dryly, conceding the point. "Point taken."
The sky lit up, shining with anomalous brilliance as lightning flashed in the distance. The icy waters lapped against them, the wind howling eerily between the trees, and neither of them moved.
Truth was, numb as he was, fucking cold as he was, he didn't want to. He didn't want to risk moving, not if it meant he had to stop touching her.
Fuck.
"Potter..." she mumbled, and his hand automatically lifted, falling on the smooth skin of her neck at the sound. "What happened?"
Her voice was barely a whisper, trailing away as his fingers went trailing down the smooth skin of her neck, feeling her pulse beating with regularity beneath them.
It reassured him.
"Apparently," he murmured gruffly, her light breathing a feather tracing across his skin, "I can't leave you alone for a minute."
"I could say the same for you," she said. She was breathless, shivering as his hands rose along the contours of her form, first gripping her waist, rising along her sides, sliding to caress the skin beneath her breasts, covering her ribcage.
He didn't know what he was doing; he didn't.
His breath hitched with hers, her arms rising to encircle his neck, cupping the back of his head. Quickly her hands were becoming lost within his untamable hair, the same unruliness that he had so oft heard her criticize, yet now felt her reveling in.
They were both soaked; they were cold; they were bloodied and muddy.
The earthy scent of mingled mud and rain was somehow intoxicating upon her, drawing him in more than he could allow, more than he should allow. Yet he was, his lips already lowering to hers, the thickly strung tension of a thousand harsh exchanges vibrating between the two as his mouth fell upon hers, capturing her lips as he had when pulling her limply from the icy water. Only now her mouth was moving against his, the taste of salty sweat lingering upon his tongue. Her taste was mingling with the refreshing rain pouring upon them, cascading down their faces.
Harry was kissing her.
His clothing clung wetly to him as his hands sought out her tangled hair. He frenziedly felt her deepening the contact of their lips, the rough stubble of his chin scratching her in the process. A slight grumble sent his own lips trembling against hers with laughter, her hands squeezing his shoulders in retaliatory fashion. His own mouth was parting again, gasping, never relaxing the pressure against her lips as he fought for breath against her, feeling her doing the same.
They gasped against one another, and Merlin…Harry liked it.
A second later he again seized her, Kaylens responding. His lower lip got tugged gently between hers, an odd growl coming unbidden from his throat. For a tempestuous moment she quivered with seeming amusement, before his agile hands responded, running along her neck's vertebrae, a startled whimper falling from her lithe lips as he gripped and touched and caressed everywhere his hands would let him.
"Kaylens..." he murmured, his arms desperately gathering her against him, his mouth deliriously relishing her taste. Suddenly he was ignorant of the rain pouring around them, of the water lapping at their bodies, aware only of the wicked onslaught of Kaylens' hands as they slipped beneath his shirt's collar, sliding along the bare skin of his shoulders, caressing his back.
She was touching his bare skin.
Fuck, he didn't want her to stop.
Harry's hair dripped into his face and he let out a low groan that sent her laughing. He silenced her by pressing his mouth harder to hers, and with rushed breaths their ill-concealed passions radiated, their mouths moving in a stormy fervor.
Within his arms was the girl Harry had feared to have lost before he had known what it was to have, and he had no plans of letting go.
Slowly, panting breathlessly, Kalliandra pulled away. Her fingers still clung to him, the rain pouring freely upon her flushing skin. Water droplets were dampening her brow, and her fingers slipped out from beneath his shirt to linger upon his collarbone. He practically groaned at the loss. Unable to let her leave he leaned his brow against hers, cupping her face in his hands, feeling her eyelashes fluttering open against his cheeks.
His own eyes flickered hazily open, meeting the deep hazel ones regarding him. She was blinking against the rain, tiny water droplets clinging to her dark lashes, her confused eyes revealing barely concealed emotion.
He thought about talking; he did.
He opted against.
Breathing heavily he leaned forward, brushing his mouth against hers as a test. He'd given her a second, just a second to rethink this, but she hadn't. Harry was kissing her slowly. He was taking his time now, without the rush, without the desperation, without the fear of having nearly lost her. Thumbs running along her high cheekbones, carefully wiping the mud from her face, his lips moved needingly across hers.
Again they parted, her mouth moving in a soft, disbelieving whisper.
"You've lost your mind..."
"I know," he murmured, pressing his mouth to hers chastely. "You won't tell anyone will you?"
She smiled against his lips, shaking her head slowly. "No..." she whispered, amusement tingeing her intonations. "This won't leave the clearing."
"Good," he quipped, and he smiled deviantly. "I would have hated to obliviate you."
"What makes you think I would have minded?"
Burying his lips near her ear, he emitted a low growl, "You would have."
"Hmph."
Combing his fingers through her thick, mud-laden hair, he felt her slender form again began to shiver, her quivering more pronounced than before.
They should get out of the water.
They didn't.
Wrapping his arms tighter around her form, he murmured his curiosity, "Does this mean you've forgiven me for stunning you?"
She grumbled indecipherably for a moment, before suddenly growing tense, her face swiveling towards the visible clearing, eyes flickering with sudden recollection. "Harry," she whispered seriously, all lightness gone from her voice, "what happened to the Death Eate-"
"Gone," he assured softly. "They're gone. They won't be back. Minus the dead one."
Her eyes remained adverted, warily gazing through the rain into the darkness of night.
"How can you be sure?"
He smiled sadly, the warmth within him slowly dissipating as his war filled experiences, the ones that had taught him the rules of engagement, flew through his mind.
"Because," he said, "they delivered their message. They had their fun. For them that was enough, for the time being."
Her eyes flew to him, suddenly sharper, less hazy. She pulled away by only a scant few centimeters to better look at him, but he felt the loss. "So their fun was trying to drown me," she asked bitterly, "or threatening you with Hermione's life?"
"Both."
Her eyes flickered across his, her expression sending something wrenching inside him.
"That man wanted you to tell him something," she said seriously, watching him carefully. "Yet you wouldn't. Why?"
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple rising strongly within his throat. "My experience, if Voldemort wants something, giving it to him isn't exactly a good idea."
"Than what stopped them from forcing you to go with them?"
His hand rose, trailing across her cheek, her breath faltering at his touch. That he had that effect on her…shit.
Without reason his brow was again pressed against hers, their faces so close that he could see the brown flecks within her irises dancing with each flash of lightning.
"Even if they had," he whispered sullenly, "even if they had tortured Hermione right in front of me, I still wouldn't have told. The second I did we'd have all been dead." And admitting that…
It killed him.
Hermione could already be dead. The entire thing could be a ruse, just a fucking ruse to play on his weaknesses, to get him to do what Voldemort wanted him to. Yet…
Voldemort was collecting creatures. So why the hell had they left Kaylens behind?
Suddenly Harry wanted to scream.
Distant thunder shook the sky, Kaylens' eyes falling shut against the wet onslaught. His remained open, looking at her, never leaving her face as her chest rose and fell against his. Everything might have gone to shit, but the gentle rhythm of her breathing was inexplicably calming.
She was alive.
She almost hadn't been.
And she was oblivious to how much she had scared him.
She seemed to be thinking long and hard about something, and from the crease in her brow it bothered her. "He's ruthless…why would he have given you a choice about anything? Why didn't he just take you? Force you-"
He stopped her there. "Ruthless sure, but he's not a moron, Kaylens. Voldemort's played 'crucio-round the Harry' with me before. He knows taking and torturing me won't work. He knows torturing my friends in front of me won't work; I've already seen him do a hell of a lot worse." Cedric…he'd killed him right in front of him. "The bastard knows that even if he did take me to where they're holding Hermione, that I wouldn't talk. I wouldn't talk because the second I did he'd kill her, and he knows I fucking know that because he's already done it to me once."
Kaylens stiffened in his arms, but he didn't stop, words bitter, "By now he's figured out that his only chance in hell is to use them as leverage. He offered an exchange: Hermione for the information, at a neutral location. Rather brilliant considering that at least gives me the hope of them keeping her alive. And I'm okay with that, as long as there's a chance we can get her back." Harry paused, breathing hard, grinding out, "Besides….if they'd taken me now, then how the hell would I ever get back into the Ministry of Magic to get those other prophecies they wanted? I wouldn't. Voldemort's a psychopath but he's strategic, and by now he knows how I think." Given how much time the bastard spent traipsing around inside his head, he ought to.
The words had come tumbling out, and the entire time Kaylens had remained preternaturally silent.
Now her veiled eyes fell open, observing him guardedly, and of all the things to have latched onto she latched onto the one he really didn't want her knowing about.
"How could Voldemort possibly know what you're thinking?"
His fingers clenched and unclenched around her arms in a tense rhythm, but he didn't lie.
He just side stepped. Skillfully. "Riddle and I have been playing this game for a long time, Kaylens, and were both getting better at it."
Her mouth parted questioningly, and with a groan he pressed his face harder to hers, speaking against her lips in rough attempt to get her to stop. "Don't. Just…don't. I don't want to lie to you."
Harry's lips hovered centimeters from her own, a silent tension building in him, hoping, needing her to understand.
She did.
Against him she nodded, wet droplets cascading down her paling face.
Harry could have kissed her for that alone.
This time it was she who sealed the scant space between them, her slick arms winding around his neck, her body pressing flush to his. The water lapped around them, soaking his clothes and chilling him, Harry holding onto her tight to keep her as warm as he humanly could.
Kaylens made a sound that was so sinful it was barely human.
Harry Potter kissed her for all he was worth, and as her parted lips allowed his tongue entry, he suddenly felt more afraid than he ever had.
The stakes had been raised that day, for with his best friend gone he suddenly had so much to lose, and it was the girl he remained intertwined with that had sent fissures running through his heavily erected walls.
Pulling away, gasping fervently, he suddenly was unsure of whether to hate her or love her for that.
"You're infuriating..." he murmured, nose nuzzling her cheek.
"Likewise," she gasped breathlessly. Water-laden strands of hair fell over her eyes, Harry brushing them out of the way, simply because he wanted to look at her.
They remained like that, hovering within the embrace of the other, until a flash of red crossed the night, circling to rest upon the pond's edge.
Whilst she stiffened, Harry almost laughed in relief.
The fiery phoenix was watching them silently, something suspiciously like an old rag dropped near its feet, its feathery head cocked at a peculiar angle.
If Harry had not known better, he would have said Fawkes looked amused.
