"Life is a serious thing. Insecurity is the price of living."
~ Alija Izetbegovic
Chapter 70 ~ The Ripple Effect
ECOTS
January 2nd, 1997 ~ Near Dawn
Harry stared at the sprawling map and contemplated punching something.
Then he slammed the list of names down, having finished perusing the entire thing. "She's not on here." Hazel Scott was apparently buried somewhere in Highgate cemetery, yet Voldemort's little crush was missing from the official roster of the dead. His sarcasm practically bled, "Can't imagine why."
"Ah yes, because the Dark Lord is prone to drawing us road maps to any and all items that could ensure his untimely end." Black paused around his glass of scotch, looking bored. "He removed her name from the roster so that the location of his horcrux could not be found. Obviously."
Harry shot Sirius' ghost a black look and wondered if Slytherin house taught courses on pissing other people off. It'd go a long way towards explaining him, Malfoy and Snape.
He, Kaylens and Black stood in the cottage's study, a floating candelabra and the crackling fireplace their only sources of light or warmth. Dobby had been sent off to get some obscure provisions Black had requested, the two birds being of no use and sleeping in Ariana's old bedroom.
Harry frowned. "You're sure the Scotts couldn't tell you her burial plot-"
"No." Black grimaced. The moment they'd told him where Hazel was buried Black had grabbed Kaylens and stormed back to the Scotts' front door, demanding precisely where her plot was within that 'sprawling mistake of nineteenth century Victorians.' Only the Scotts had curiously been unable to tell him, as if the information had been expunged from their minds.
Black scowled around his second drink of the night. "Those fools could spout off the graveyard her corpse lay in, yet haven't been to visit their daughter since the forties. Apparently they just hadn't had the urge. Odd how they never pondered why."
"Voldemort."
Malice bled from the three syllables like an open wound, Harry's gaze darting to her out of sheer concern that she might grab a knife and actually try to track the bastard down. Hell, he actually looked at her hands to ensure they were free of sharp objects. They were.
It still didn't stop his chest from lurching.
Ever since they'd gotten back from the Scotts she'd been quiet. Given what they'd discussed, given they'd promised her a family, a chance at a different life if she left the wizarding world and everything in it behind, he wasn't sure whether he was happy about her remaining silent on the matter or not. All he knew was that his girlfriend stood there, alongside him, looking exhausted. Her hair hung limply around her face, firelight making the colors of it dance, her eyes downcast as if she would rather do anything other than deal with the actual world. Only the scents of hot wax and burning pine seemed to be keeping her awake.
It'd been a long, long day.
"The Dark Lord did it. My…what an astounding display of deductive reasoning," Black drawled caustically.
Kally hissed a furious breath, determinedly not looking at Black, gaze boring a hole through the table. She was still pissed at him for obliviating the Scotts, on the thready basis that it would buy them more time if Death Eaters showed up to question them. "You're an asshole," she said firmly, adding, "I didn't even know you could manipulate someone's mind like that."
Harry shot Black a warning look to keep his next sarcastic comment to himself, then glanced back towards Kaylens. "It wouldn't be hard," he said a hell of a lot more gently than Black would have, thinking on something Hermione had once babbled about. The moment they'd found out about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place she'd researched everything she could about how it was hidden. She'd even pulled up old tomes on other methods of hiding things, and hadn't shut up about it. He and Ron had been trapped in Grimmauld with her at the time, and drug pillows over their heads at high noon to try to drown her out.
They'd failed, naturally.
Harry leaned forward, hands gripping the table for balance as he talked, automatically explaining for Kally out of sheer habit. "It's similar to a fidelius charm," he told her, trying to remember what the hell Hermione had actually said, "just without the secret keeper. You can't spell people into forgetting a location exists - the fidelius can't even do that - but you can spell them into remembering only the approximate area, even if they can't remember exactly where. So you could leave someone wandering aimlessly around Surrey, but they won't know where in Surrey to actually head."
Unnatural golden eyes glinted in the candlelight, meeting his. "So how do you know it's not the fidelius?"
Harry shook his head, dark hair falling over his forehead. "Easy. People remember where something is with the fidelius. Problem is once they show up they just can't find it." It was why the Death Eaters had been able to lay that trap for them outside of Grimmauld Place. They couldn't find the Order headquarters, so they'd just blown up half the street. "This seems like they just can't remember. Plus, with the fidelius it has to be a dwelling, like a house, for it to work."
Kaylens stood alongside him, gnawing on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Isn't a grave just a dwelling for the dead?"
"Hardly," Black scoffed, earning a half-furious, half-confused look from Kally. His girlfriend glanced between the two of them with open question, Harry tensing at the reminder of how little she actually knew.
Black was no help. He was studying the list of the buried cemetery occupants, as if Harry had missed something.
Harry suppressed the temptation to punch something, preferably Black, but he wasn't picky. He'd be perfectly fine if Voldemort showed up, gift wrapped and hog-tied. But he didn't get that. All he got was a questioning look from his girlfriend. He let out a sigh.
"The occupants have to be living for it to work," he told. He tore his eyes away from hers to stare blankly at the crude map. It was a blown up version of the one passed out on tours. "My parents…soon as they were dead Hagrid and Dumbledore were able to find me. Snape," gagging on the word, "found us. They could, even though Pettigrew hadn't given them the location. He'd only given it up to Voldemort." His heart pounded and he shook his head. "Besides, if it was the fidelius we'd be screwed. You could be right on top of it and still not find it. From what the Scotts told you and Black, sounds like he used a forgetfulness spell, so they could still stumble onto it, but it just makes it difficult."
At least he hoped that was the case. Harry didn't want to think on the nuances of the fidelius; it'd failed his family. It'd failed him. Thanks to the fidelius, to his father being a moron and trusting the wrong person in yet another long line of bad decisions, his parents had both wound up dead.
And he'd wound up with this scar on his head, with a death sentence ticking away inside him.
Abruptly Harry felt his stomach clench. His grip tightened imperceptively on the table the three of them stood, gathered around. Black had abandoned the list of names and was again studying the map, marking off likely areas to search, whilst Kaylens studied him with a look of such naked concern that his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
He shook the sensation off, spine stiffening. "Riddle probably followed it up," he forced in continuation, "with a spell to make them lose interest in ever looking, like a variation on the notice-me-not spell." He swallowed, acutely remembering the last time he'd personally cast a notice-me-not spell. It'd been with Kaylens, after he'd died. He'd shoved her into the second floor window, spreading her legs to get close, physically taking her. The way her fingers had clung to his shoulders, his own grasping at the two sides of her shirt, tearing it open-
He swallowed. He'd taken her. He'd claimed her as his. That'd been nearly a half year ago for him, but for the version of Kally standing right next to him it hadn't happened. Not yet.
Harry let out a rough, needing breath, reminding himself of what the hell they were actually doing. They were looking for a horcrux. He didn't have time to let his utter drought of a sex life get in the way.
Still didn't stop him from reaching out and snaring her hand in his, his callused fingers growing brutally tight between hers.
Kaylens said nothing. She simply shifted closer, wiggling her fingers between his to send that static tingling radiating across his flesh. "Sometimes," she said quietly, clearly talking about Voldemort's abuse to the Scotts, "I hate what magic can do."
Black sat his quill down and snorted derisively. "The things a dark wizard can do to an unguarded mind are innumerable," Casper told coldly. "Those fools probably never saw it coming."
A brief look of upset flashed in Kally's eyes, Harry clinging to her hand and glaring at Black for causing it. "The bastard killed their daughter and most likely turned one of them into a dog," he said. "How about we don't call them fools and reclassify them as victims, yeah?"
Next to him Kaylens shot him a grateful look, Harry forgetting how irritated he was for a brief, brief second.
Right up until Black opened his mouth and talked.
"Of course. How silly of me to think that anyone who would allow someone to curse them into forgetting any interest in their own spawn's grave could be anything other than shining intellects."
Harry glowered across the table and dropped Kally's hand, taking a step towards the bastar-
Slender fingers seized his sleeve, Kaylens giving him a blind tug back with a murmured, "Harry, you can't kill him."
Black let out a derisive scoff. "I have as much to fear from him as I do a teething niffler."
Harry shot him a black look, before turning his attention back to his girlfriend, dumbfounded. He stared at the hand wrapped firmly around his sleeve as if it were an alien object. "Why?"
Despite the fact that they were planning a literal grave robbing, despite the fact that they were talking about her potential last living relatives having been cursed, and despite the fact that he was perfectly serious about murdering Black right there in Dumbledore's private study, Kaylens' lips twitched up. "Isn't it obvious?"
"No."
"You'll get blood on the map."
At that the ghost of Sirius Black scowled.
Harry just glared. "You're ruining my fun, Kal."
"How absolutely horrid of me," she said, sounding totally insincere. Then Kaylens' fingers slipped from his sleeve, falling to lay flat on the table's surface. "Thirty seven acres…" It was like watching a switch flipped. One moment she'd seemed almost shaken over the fate of the Scotts; the next all vulnerability was gone, the non-witch running her fingertips over a section detailing the Highgate mausoleums.
Kally leaned forward, scrutinizing the map Black had stolen from a lax guard whilst faking interest in a tour. Her long, golden strands swept down, swinging gently against the fine parchment, sounding like crinkling leaves, her nose scrunched in thought.
The cuteness of her nose was probably the only thing sparing Black from being decked right in the face.
"Thirty seven acres…oh good," Regulus drawled into the candlelit room, "it is even bigger than I had recollected."
Harry wondered what could possibly be good about a cemetery they needed to search being big. Granted, there was a wizarding only section of it, but there was no guarantee that Hazel Scott had been buried within it.
Hell, it'd make more strategic sense to have buried her amongst the Muggles. If history had proven anything, it was how good they were at missing what was right under their noses.
Kally's musing cut through his thoughts. "It's big but doable." Golden eyes shot up, peering at he and Black hopefully. "If we go on that tour we can see if Harry picks up on anything. Even if he doesn't, we could at least narrow the search area down that way." Her eyes flickered earnestly between the two of them. "We do that," she continued, "then there's less we have to search under cloak of night."
Despite himself Harry released a dry breath. "Cloak of night?"
She shot him a glare. "Would you prefer that or under gargoyle guard attack?"
Right. Gargoyles. Black had already filled them in on that trivial fact: the wizarding portions of the cemetery were guarded by two gargoyles, neither of whom had a sense of humor. Apparently grave robbing had been a real problem when Highgate had first been built, and wizards hadn't taken too kindly to tomb raiding.
Harry seriously hoped Hazel's ass was buried in the Muggle section.
"Harry."
He tugged his eyes off the map, Kally leaning over the table, studying him. Only this time he couldn't help but notice the cut of her shirt, her position making parts of her stand out that he really shouldn't be noticing right now. Like her cleavage.
Given that she was wearing another one of Ariana Dumbledore's jumpers, it occurred to Harry that had Ariana actually lived that Dumbledore may have had to commit homicide based on her wardrobe alone. Either that, or burn half his sister's clothes.
He clenched his gaze shut and swallowed. "Yeah?"
"Do you think you'd be able to hear it," she questioned, oblivious to his thoughts of stripping her, "if it's under the ground? I'm not sure how that works for you."
If anything could have yanked his mind away from what she looked like under Ariana's jumper that did it. Kaylens didn't have to explain further. She knew he could hear horcruxes; he'd told her.
This version of Black, however, hadn't been aware of that trivial fact, and he felt a stab of hostile annoyance rise up.
His gaze snapped open, finding Black oddly silent. The potion's master had fixed him with a disturbingly unreadable look. Harry shot him a scowl, before fixing a deadened look onto Kaylens. She wasn't sure how that worked for him… "Neither was Black, so…thanks for that, luv."
Her eyes widened imperceptively, darting from him to Casper. "But I thought-"
"You thought wrong," Harry bit, unnecessarily annoyed. Black eventually found out. Hell, Black found out just over a week from the timeline they'd left. The island had made sure of that. Yet the last thing Harry needed was his girlfriend making assumptions and accidentally broadcasting that he heard things in his head. If the Ministry ever got wind of it he'd be locked up in St. Mungo's in no time.
Great. Now Kaylens had closed her eyes and appeared to be counting to ten for him. Harry made no move to stop her, recklessly curious about what happened when she finally got to ten. But upon noticing their interaction Harry swore to undead things that Black's mouth actually twitched, as if humored.
Harry really freaking hated him.
Kally got to ten, taking a deep breath before fixing him with one of those patented looks only females were capable of. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said simply. "With your time traveling it's hard to keep track."
His eyebrows raised. "Black," he reminded, "is from your timeline."
She made a frustrated sound. "Can you just answer the question if you can hear them if they're underground, Potter?"
For a second he just stared at her, disliking the sudden caution he felt he now had to take around her. How the hell was he supposed to trust her if she blurted things out without thinking it through first? A small voice in the back of his head – one that sounded annoyingly like Hermione – was pointing out that this was exactly why abusing time turners was a bad idea.
Mentally he slapped an entire roll of spell-o-tape over his bookish friend's mouth and met Kaylens' gaze head on. "Haven't a clue," he responded cuttingly. "Not like this came with a guidebook or anything." Giving his scar a pointed tap, he pressed, "Then again, there could be one. Reckon Voldemort might have overlooked it given he was a bit preoccupied that night, what with trying to kill me and all. So what do you think? Should I owl him about the horcrux-club-handbook oversight or just wait until the next time he decides to abduct me to try to use my blood in a spell to get his body back?"
Kally stared at him for a second, lips parting as if wanting to say something, only for them to close. It was her habit, when she was at a loss for words, Harry so familiar with it that his only reaction was to restrain himself from outright seizing them. Even pissed with her he still desperately wanted her.
It was annoying.
Speaking of annoyance, she was fixing him with an annoyed look right now.
He couldn't blame her. He was being an ass.
He made no move to apologize, instead raising an eyebrow somewhat challengingly. She had been the one to let that slip to Black. Not him.
She abruptly looked away, her eyes glittering in the darkness at Regulus. Damn. She must be mad if she was willing to talk to Black instead of him. "What do you think?" she questioned, clearly dismissing him as if he didn't exist.
Black lowered the scotch away from his mouth, looking far too amused. "That Potter's mere existence is a testament to the human sex drive, given that anyone was willing to father him?"
Harry seriously wondered if he could find some way to bury Black alive, and one of the candles abruptly snapped, rolling off the candelabra and striking the table with a resounding thud. Kaylens absently reached out to pinch the still burning wick, snuffing it out before it could ignite the map.
"I meant," she calmly clarified, "what do you think about taking the tour and seeing if we can find any graves marked with Hazel's name or something similar, or any other ones that Harry gets a vibe from?"
Black's scowl faded, replaced with something far more thoughtful. "It would prove easier to weed our targeted areas out," he said slowly, as if adverse to any idea that involved Harry's help, "and it would lower the amount of time we would need to spend within the graveyard after hours." The wizard spun the tumbler of booze between his fingers. "In turn, that reduces our chance of encountering any of those confounded stone guardians, and I do doubt the Dark Lord has assigned any of his followers to keep an eye on Muggle tours, so…" he grimaced, "I cannot see how this would hurt."
Kaylens shot Black a bemused look. "Really kills you to admit someone else has a decent idea, doesn't it?"
"The word degrading comes to mind," he drawled. "Do try to not make serviceable ideas a habit."
"That the motto of your house?" Harry asked. "Surround yourself with morons and discourage anyone with two brain cells to rub together?"
Black merely took a calm sip from his libation. "Hardly, Potter. Though if you are not the strongest and smartest amongst your…I daren't say friends but cohorts, then the power scales are tipped a bit poorly out of your favor."
Harry cursed under his breath at how unbothered the bastard was and snatched at Kaylens' hand out of habit. The non-witch yanked her hand away with concerningly quick reflexes for someone who'd recently been almost-dead, earning a look. Right. She was probably irritated with him. "Too much?" he asked dryly.
Kaylens didn't even look at him, and instead settled on glaring at the map. "How about you both take the East section and I'll take the West?" she instead said, Harry making a mental note that she was purposefully separating herself from them and leaving them alone, together, in a cemetery.
Well, at least it'd make Black's body disposal easier. Idly he wondered if that was his Christmas present.
Black had apparently made note of the same thing. "In that case," he drawled, "you won't hold it against me when only one of us comes back, I presume?"
Kally hissed a breath. "Only one of you comes back, Black," she threatened, "and I'll be happy to show you exactly what us Muggles can do with rusty objects and an inconvenient orifice." She smiled sweetly. "Tetanus will be the least of your problems."
Harry made another grab at her hand. It resulted in a slight scuffle over the map, only ending when Harry succeeded in seizing her warm fingers within the confines of his. Wordlessly he gave her a tug closer, dragging a possessive arm around her waist, his non-witch only protesting a little. He'd consider it a win. Tipping his head to whisper into her ear, he muttered, "Inconvenient orifice? Damn Kaylens, you do care."
The non-witch he was in love with, and currently pissed at, growled a little.
Black looked bored, summoning a wine bottle and eyeing its label with interest, before uncorking and drinking directly from it. He paused only long enough to growl, "We should have that elf of yours maintain a lookout. There are anti-apparation wards on the entire grounds, but they do not apply to house elves, so if any of his followers show up we will at least have warning."
Kally stood stiffly alongside him, frowning at Black as if thinking of something else. "What do you think this horcrux is then?"
Black eyed her over the rim of the bottle. "Obviously the locket."
"No. I mean…" she actually glanced to him, Harry debating letting her squirm or actually helping her explain her meaning. He got what she was asking. Hell, it was a good question.
"Think she means what characteristic the locket has, Black," he bit. "That tree was innocence. One we get later as a group was his adventurous side. I'd think this one was obviously something to do with love or-"
Black barked a laugh. "You still assume he was capable of that. Anyone who gives a locket to their alleged beloved, for the purpose of powering it up before the kill isn't in love, Potter. Even I am privy to that."
Harry darkly debated how hard it'd be to poison all the alcohol in the cottage, on the off chance he'd get Black to drink it.
"If it isn't love," Kally posed, "then what?"
Black let out a derisive, unconcerned snort. "Lust? Obsession? Whatever twisted form of love he was capable of? The fuck if I know."
Harry felt his stomach drop. "Whatever it is, last time we acted on it." He'd cried, like a little child in the Forbidden Forest. At Blackbeard's ship they'd all taken insane risks, not having a clue they were doing it, the adventurous side of Voldemort nearly having gotten him killed. He'd wager one hell of a guess that the diary had been the manipulative friendship it'd offered to Ginny, and hell…
Harry already knew he was probably anger.
Like his father's name, Tom Riddle had no use for what he considered useless things, like emotions that would allow guilt when cutting the throats of anyone in his way.
Harry's teeth ground, eyes flickering to where Black had gone oddly quiet. "Tell you what," he suggested, "we see you suddenly start going gooey eyed over a random Muggle, and we'll know we're close." It'd take a horcrux or a miracle to melt Black's heart.
"Perhaps I'll wait just long enough for you to begin snogging a Muggle to get Ms. Kaylens here to witness it," Black responded, ignoring him.
Harry glared. "I snog a random Muggle, and I give you permission to kill me as slowly as you'd like."
Besides him Kally let out a long suffering sigh.
Black's mouth actually twitched into a grin, a satisfied flick of his wand sending the map first triplicating, then folding up and rocketing into his pocket. "Highgate opens to tourists at ten," he said crisply. "We leave at quarter till. I suggest you both get some sleep prior to that." With that the wizard spun on his heel, disappearing from the room without a word, leaving the two of them alone.
Harry needed no other cue.
Kaylens was tiredly dragging a hand through her hair when he grabbed her.
He tugged her around with a roughness he should have tempered, but didn't, Kally slamming against his chest with a softly startled sound, the impact knocking her hair askew. Her nose crinkled in annoyance as she glared at him through the striped locks, and Harry made a mental note to ask Dobby exactly how long the festive charms would last given he liked them.
Then his gaze raked over her form to assure himself he hadn't just hurt her. She had recently suffered major organ damage, after all.
Judging from her glare, he hadn't.
A log on the fire popped loudly, the dimly flickering flames dancing across her countenance in a way that was damn alluring.
"Kally…" he muttered, not giving a damn that he was incensed with her. Not giving a damn that he'd have to watch what he said until this whole time traveling thing was done. Abruptly Harry's arm wound around her waist, forearm pressing hard against her lower back, trapping her to him in one quick, precise move. It pressed her hips firmly to his, Harry's belt buckle undoubtedly digging into her and eliciting that slight hiss from her lips. Smirking, he released her hip with his other hand so he could give her hair a pointed tug, pulling the green strand just hard enough for her to wince. "Should ask Dobby if you can keep this," he told. "I like it."
"Potter," she breathed, "you're bit of a git tonight, aren't you?"
"You're the one," he informed, "who decided to let Black know I hear severed pieces of Riddle's soul." He casually wound her hair around his fingers. "Like I needed anyone else thinking I'm unbalanced."
She ignored him, glancing pointedly at where he played with her hair. "How about," she posed, "I just shave it all off? Seems like a trend."
Harry stared at her in the dark, the fire flickering faintly. The logs had all but burnt down, the ever-lasting-burn charms fading. "I couldn't possibly," he said, "have pissed you off enough for you to shave your entire head out of spite."
Kaylens met his gaze unblinkingly, lifting her chin in slight defiance. "Oh yeah? Try me."
Ah, so she was trying to piss him off. Harry stopped twining the red and green tendrils around his fingers. "Go ahead. I'll just regrow it in your sleep." He widened his eyes mockingly. "It'll be almost like magic. Crazy, isn't it?"
Kally made an angered sound and tried to step back-
Harry fisted his grip in her hair, jerking her back. The warm and soft feel of her being so close, pressing against him, was maddening. "How about we skip right to the end of this," he suggested, as if he wasn't manhandling her, "and get in bed? It's four a.m. Gives us five hours."
Beneath his hands Kaylens had grown stiff, tense. It wasn't until he felt her relax, marginally, that he loosened his grip in her hair. Her breathing suddenly ghosted softly against his face, his non-witch shifting closer, as if deflating. "You're an ass, Potter."
"Not arguing," he agreed. "So how about next time you check with me before giving out pivotal pieces of information, yeah?" At some point his fingers had begun to rake slowly through her silken hair, his own pulse slowing within his chest.
"I assumed he knew…"
"Exactly."
Kaylens sighed against him, finally submitting and leaning fully into his chest. Harry's hands slid to her back, enveloping her where she stood, eyes drawn to her lips as she spoke. "You're not actually mad about that, are you?" she asked, trace of worry actually infiltrating her intonations. She glanced up at him, wetting her lips, quietly waiting.
Standing there, in the dark, Harry wanted to be.
But he wasn't.
He was just shockingly annoyed.
"No," he admitted brusquely. "Bastard finds out in a week anyway, once we're back. Just more…" he searched for a word, "irritated."
"I'm sorry."
Harry drummed his fingers along her spine. "I know."
Now mild annoyance flashed in her eyes. "So why are you being such a-"
"Haven't a clue," he interrupted, lying. He knew exactly why: they were going after another horcrux, and while she was blissfully unaware of just how balls up that could go, he sure as hell wasn't. It could go just as badly as it had on that fucking island, and they had fewer people this time. This time, instead of losing Bill or Diggles or someone else that mattered on the periphery of his 'giving a shit about' factor, it could be her that died. Even that tree in the forbidden forest had nearly killed Luna, and judging from how long Dumbledore'd been gone hunting that pocket watch, he doubted that'd gone smoothly.
Still, Harry wasn't dumb enough to tell her not to go. He'd lose that battle, so he wouldn't even try.
Then there was the trivial matter of the Scotts having tried to convince her to leave the wizarding world, that niggling fear that the second their memory was restored via pensieve that she'd take them up on it and leave himbehind acute as hell.
And that was all without mentioning how he'd been forced to look, just look, all damn night as she'd leaned over that overblown map, the subtle hint of her cleavage teasing him. If anything could make him even more tense,irritable, then the firelight's soft glow dancing across her warm skin had been it.
All of that had been weighing on his mind since Black had gotten back to the cottage with that forsaken cemetery map, spreading it out on the table to plan.
His scar gave a dull, familiar throb.
Kaylens' fingers played with the hem of his shirt. "Do you seriously," she questioned softly, "expect me to buy that?"
"No."
She inclined an eyebrow in silent question.
Harry didn't answer. He didn't answer her about why he was being such an ass, he didn't vocalize any of that shit he feared out loud, and he didn't answer the skeptical look she was currently giving. Instead he tweaked her ear, voice betrayingly haggard. "Can we just…let's sleep, alright?"
And then, as expected, even in the middle of bickering, Kaylens proved once again she was exactly the witch for him. Unlike Cho she didn't burst into tears or cry. Unlike the Patil twins or Lavender Brown she didn't throw a petulant fit at a boy not bending to their whims. Unlike Ginny she didn't demand attention. Unlike Hermione she didn't demand answers or that they 'talk it out.'
Instead Kally nodded, a sleepy, exasperated smile touching her lips. "Alright."
Merlin, Harry wanted to claim them then and there.
Kaylens stretched up on her toes, pressing closer, pressing to him, her lips brushing his chastely. Even that slight movement had her breasts brushing against his chest, her hips brushing against another part of him that had his insides clench. Harry summoned inner strength he'd not known he'd had and kept his hands determinedly on her back, his fingers digging against her spine as he repressed every sodding instinct he had with her.
Somehow he didn't reckon jumping and shagging the woman he loved on a rickety old table before eventually obliviating her would constitute as romantic.
Harry practically felt her long eyelashes flutter open against his cheek, peering up at him, embers dancing within her eyes. "Alright," she softly repeated, fingers curling against his shirt. For a long moment she looked at him, just looked, Harry drinking in the sight of her. Then Kally gave his shirt a light tug, a familiar feisty glint in her eyes. "But don't think this means I'm forgetting what a prat you're being."
His mouth twitched. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"Good." Her eyes narrowed in a glare he guaranteed she didn't mean, before she dropped back onto the flats of her feet.
Harry loved her.
He loved her even though he was pissed at her.
Somehow he reckoned that meant something, and it meant something good.
Moments later they were back in Ariana's room, Fawkes sending him a scolding look as Harry watched Kaylens strip out of the thick jumper, tossing it absently to the floor, oblivious to the way his eyes followed her every motion. The way she moved was shockingly fluid, like water. She slid silkily into bed, only a thin undershirt covering her form, her jeans kicked carelessly off onto the floor. The witch was like a hurricane, making a mess wherever she went, uncaring. Harry's cardiac muscles thundered loudly within his ears, a thought making him impossibly warm despite the frigid chill in the cottage.
One day their house, assuming they both survived this, assuming she didn't say no, assuming she didn't leave, would be chaotic enough to send Hermione into a apoplectic fit. Hell, it might even be enough for her to take kindly to house elves.
Oblivious to his thoughts Kally flopped onto the oversized pillow, a strand of golden hair sliding into her eyes, her nose once again crinkling in annoyance, in that precise way that he fucking loved.
Then her uncovered leg slid out from beneath the sheets as she got comfortable, the non-witch looking at him questioningly, clearly wondering why he was just standing there.
Harry gulped.
They only had five hours, and already Harry knew it was going to be a long night.
He joined her.
Kaylens passed out in a near instant, her leg carelessly tossed over his, her thigh sliding shockingly high up his own for someone who was supposed to be sleeping. Part of him wondered if she was doing this on purpose, feigning sleep, just to screw with him. It wasn't until she started twitching slightly, dreaming, that he realized she wasn't.
Harry lay there for over an hour, tense, holding her to him. His head bowed over hers, breathing her in, the smoky scent of the fire lingering in her hair. It calmed him.
Horcrux hunts never went well. Trepidation had been slithering calmly through his veins all night, waiting for an opportune moment to rise up and paralyze him, but as Kally's leg slid even higher on him a surprising thought grounded him.
Kaylens was startlingly flexible.
When they got back to his own time he'd definitely make use of that.
Dropping a hand on her thigh, the feel of her skin sending his heart thumping, Harry finally managed to close his eyes. Kally nuzzled her face against his chest, a sleepy murmur expelled from her lips, the sound unbelievably relaxing. He wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life. He didn't want to risk losing that. But he was risking that. In a few hours he'd be willingly taking her to a hostile cemetery to search for a part of the Dark Lord's soul, and Riddle wasn't exactly known for leaving those laying peacefully around.
Kally had nearly died on him, more than once. She still might again.
His heart thumped at the mere thought.
There, in the dark, with only the faint glow of a tiny, pest of a fairy to light it, Harry Potter realized that he was afraid.
His scar throbbed dully, almost as if the horcrux knew its brother was looking for it, and calling out.
Kalliandra nuzzled closer, Harry's arms winding tighter around her. The serpentine vice he had on her may have caused pain had she been awake, but Kaylens didn't stir. She just squirmed, another drowsy sound mumbled as she burrowed against him, Harry's chest twisting as if ready to explode.
It was a long, long time before his heart rate fully calmed. Then, finally, near five a.m., sheer exhaustion claimed him, and Harry fell asleep.
ECOTS
January 2nd, 1997 ~ 3:09 p.m. ~ Highgate Cemetery
"Alexander Litvinenko had to be buried twelve feet down in a lead-lined coffin! His death was the result of polonium 210 poisoning – and bear with me for the sciencey stuff," the pimple-faced guide looked at a note card, "but since that is a radioactive metal lacking a 'stable isotope,'" making hand quotes, "the fear of radioactive exposure-"
Kally considered kicking something, anything, to quell her rising frustration. She had scanned every nameplate on every vault here, but like everywhere else, Hazel Scott remained conspicuously absent. They'd been there for hours and she'd already taken variations of this same tour three times, listening to the various tour guides drone on and on and on.
She'd found and learned absolutely nothing. In fact, the only thing she'd learned after that many tours, beyond the fact that she found Highgate Cemetery and its strangely twisted architecture beautiful, was that they were screwed. This cemetery was a labyrinth, so finding Hazel Scott was going to be almost impossible.
Tugging on her knit hat she hissed a frustrated breath.
It probably didn't help that Potter had barely said two words to her that morning. She'd woken to find him rubbing his scar, a grimace on his handsome face, and she'd asked if he was okay.
That hadn't gone over well.
Harry's only response had been a grunt, the wizard out of bed before she'd even fully comprehended what had happened. It'd left her sitting cross-legged on the mattress, staring as he'd tugged his clothing back on almost violently before storming out of the bedroom to start an argument with Regulus.
That argument had continued all through breakfast, and until they'd gotten here, and still….Potter had barely offered a word in her direction. Last night she'd stupidly let slip that he could hear horcruxes to Regulus, a fellow Order member, not realizing the potion's master hadn't known...
The look Harry'd given her, as if he couldn't trust her, had gutted her. He'd been irritated. She'd known he had been. She couldn't blame him, and she'd felt sodding awful, but the way he'd drug her to him, held her, pulling her close as they'd slept…
Kally had thought things were okay.
Clearly she'd been wrong.
Kally eventually darted off, leaving an arguing Black and Potter to 'work it out on their own.' She didn't want to be around them, she didn't want to feel that twisting in her stomach every time Potter refused to look her way. Instead she'd found the next tour and all but shoved the four pounds the Western tour had cost into the startled guide's hands, grateful to get away from them.
Now, rethinking it, leaving an arguing Black and Potter alone in a place where it'd be extremely easy to dispose of a body probably hadn't been her best idea.
She hadn't seen either of them in hours.
She also literally had no idea what either Black or Harry currently looked like, just like they had no idea what she looked like.
A light breeze kicked snow off the headstones, sending it swirling around her face. It looked almost playful, but Kally felt like her stomach was in knots. To make it worse, it'd been nearly an hour since her last dose of polyjuice, and despite that the acrid, foul, terrible taste was still in her mouth. She'd need another one soon if she didn't want to transform back into her usual self mid-tour.
Polyjuice potion was literally the worst thing she'd ever tasted, and she'd been stuck drinking it all day.
Her shoes crunched against the gentle dusting of snow, Kally following the tour group at a sedate pace. Thick copses of bare-limbed trees surrounded her, snow-covered ferns lining the walking paths whilst brown leaves littered the ground. Whomever had designed the cemetery had created more of an arboretum than a place of the dead. Travelling its paths was like taking a casual stroll through a thick forest, only to stumble upon random graves and interspersed mausoleums that had been put there by a mad man.
Several tour guides had already told her that this was intentional. The entire cemetery had been intentfully designed so that you could never fully see where you were going.
That was going to make robbing it and avoiding the gargoyle sentries difficult.
Before they could even try they had to find Hazel's grave.
Those in her tour group moved ahead of her, Kally falling to the back as they descended icy, ivy-covered stairs into a depressed passage called the Circle of Lebanon. The slippery staircase resembled an ice-fall, it a wonder they hadn't forced them to sign liability waivers prior to proceeding, a blonde woman nearly slipping, holding onto the rail for dear life and laughing happily, enjoying herself as her bemused looking husband shook his head, carefully making his way up to her before wrapping an arm lovingly around her waist and helping her down the slippery aisle.
Kalliandra stood at the top, watching as they slowly disappeared before her eyes, walking around a corner, the husband's hand drifting boldly down to his wife's rear end. Kally let out a mildly amused breath at how little they apparently cared for the soon-to-be-traumatized witnesses, and grasping the rail slowly made her way down after them.
It was like descending into an ice bath.
Unlike the others Kally felt no giddiness.
The temperature dropped drastically, even though the sun still beat down. A surreal sensation slipped over her skin, like cool fingertips tracing every centimeter of exposed flesh, like a lover's caress upon coming indoors on a cold winter's night.
Unsurprisingly she thought of Potter, her chest clenching, pulse quickening as the decorative, gothic vaults rose higher around her. The century old tread on Ariana's boots actually held, keeping her from slipping to her death, and Kally found herself at the base of the stairwell, oddly alone, surrounded by the silent dead, whilst the voices of tourists drifted back to her like echoes of long gone ghosts. The sounds reverberated between the concrete mausoleums and rusting, wrought iron fences surrounding the larger family crypts, and she felt shockingly uneasy, shockingly lonely.
Every sodding thought was suddenly, inexplicably on Potter.
She was upset with him.
Yet suddenly she wanted desperately to find him, to touch him, to make sure he was still sodding hers.
Wetting her lips she tried to get ahold of herself, of this strangely sudden need. Running her fingers through her hair, Kally didn't want to think about him. Not right now. Not right then. Right now she could barely see farther than four meters in front of herself, the twisting and winding turns of this incredible place making it impossible, and that alone should make her uneasy.
It'd been the same everywhere here.
This would be a terrible place to be ambushed. She would know. She had already lived what it was like to have undead things trying to kill her at every turn, Dublin still appearing in her dreams now and again.
Quickly, arms wrapped around herself, she moved to catch up with the group, taking only enough time to review every scripted nameplate fastened to each of the family crypts. Had it been any other day, any other time, she'd have loved every moment of this. As it was…
She didn't. In fact, she felt a burning, building urge to escape, to leave.
Kally caught a glimpse of her reflection in a particularly shiny nameplate nailed to a crypt's door, the name Phillips embossed in aged, worn lettering upon it. Regulus' potion might have removed the red and green stripes from her hair, but despite having drunk that vile concoction the rest of her hair had remained determinedly gold, just like her eyes, even though her face had changed to mirror a girl she'd never met.
The girl looking back was far prettier than Kally ordinarily was. Her nose was just a touch smaller, her face now heart-shaped and more symmetrical, her eyes sculpted like almonds, her features all softer, less angular.
She also, despite it being a British winter, seemed to have a bit of a tan.
Whomever Black had nicked this hair from had clearly been pretty, a lot prettier, than her. Something in her strangely clenched, feeling unsettled, acutely glad that Potter hadn't seen her like this. A terrible, tiny voice within her head whispered that if he saw her like this, looking pretty, that he might wish she looked like this all the time.
The feeling was strange, unusual, not at all like her. And still, Kally couldn't help it. Not after this morning, after she'd barely been able to draw his eyes. Why her thoughts kept straying to Potter she had no idea. After so many days together, staying close, talking – just talking – the idea of him being upset with her was horrid.
The idea of him losing interest was worse. It felt like her heart was in her throat. Maybe he already had. He'd been sodding kind, but every time, every single time she'd thrown herself at him the past few days, unable to sodding not when he'd been through so much for her, when he was so close to her, looking, feeling like he did, he'd carefully told her no, to wait, and Kally…
An infinitesimally small, hidden part of her wondered why.
She tore her eyes away from her reflection. This…it was better than her last appearance at least, which had artificially aged her by at least three decades. Kally focused on that, not wanting to think on anything else right now.
Black had taken the liberty of creating several 'personas' for their little field trip, on the off chance a Death Eater happened to be guarding the place. So far nothing, but right now she had three tiny flasks stashed in her coat pocket, the vials practically frozen from the cold, all containing different variations of polyjuice potion. She'd been cycling through the appearances all day, it having allowed her to take the same guided tour multiple times without arousing suspicion. This tour though…this was a new one.
It hardly mattered. The potions had come in handy when she'd wandered away from her tour group earlier, traversing into a restricted area of Highgate cemetery before being caught and promptly kicked out. There was a reason that the Western half of Highgate was only accessible by guided tours – the many edifices and pieces of gothic architecture were old, unstable, damaged. They were dangerous and prone to collapse, and the owners were somewhat intolerant of anyone wandering off.
At least she'd managed to read all the names on those tombstones before being tossed out and scolded for acting 'unbecoming of a woman her age' – apparently older women should know well enough to now wander off into restricted areas - but none had belonged to Hazel Scott.
She hoped Black and Potter were having better luck than she was.
Black was allegedly using polyjuice, while Harry would simply shift his appearance whenever he felt like it.
Glancing at her wrist, the wristlet Harry had given her warmly resting alongside a watch, another relic of Ariana's, she realized that the last hour was almost up. She needed to drink more polyjuice before it wore off.
Far ahead Kally could hear the others ascending another staircase, leaving the depressed Circle of Lebanon to emerge into the greater cemetery and its maze of snow-covered trees. Kally hung back, not wanting to be seen. She still didn't know if the polyjuice did anything remotely, visibly magical or not. It was a deficit in her knowledge base she'd have to fix soon as she saw Regulus.
Besides, if she hung back a little, she may be able to feign having gotten lost. Then she could look around more. Maybe this time she wouldn't get kicked out if she pretended to be happy when security found her.
The wind gusted past, her hair swirling violently around her head as the crypts howled. The tours voices grew more distant, and the next tour hadn't reached their spot. Kally didn't wait. Rooting around in her pocket her mittened hand clasped the one she was searching for, tugging it out.
She hadn't even uncorked the vial when a hand launched out, grabbing her. She was forcefully drug between two small mausoleums, spun into the narrow space between the crypts, her back thudding forcefully against her assailant's chest. The potion's vial was knocked from her hand, lost in the snow, a gloved hand clamping over her mouth before she could cry out.
She wanted to scream, but some part of her, some part that worked faster than her conscious mind ever could, calmed instantly.
In fact, her heart raced with a sudden, inexplicable need.
The scent clinging to that glove, the glove pressed directly against her nose, was familiar.
Fear, tension, and adrenaline drained right out of her. The spark playing upon her fingertips died in a second, Kally letting out a semi-annoyed huff.
The man had gone rigid, his hold on her growing oddly tenser the moment she'd relaxed. For an awkward second they stood together, sheltering beneath someone's tomb, icicles hanging dangerously near both their heads.
Then the man's mouth dropped down, his warm breath misting against her ear, eliciting an unconscious shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. "Well hell…should I be concerned at how alright you are with being grabbed by strange men, or chalk it up to you still being pissed at me?"
Even though she was slowly being smothered by the wizard's glove, her annoyed breath still misted through his fingers on the cold air. Kally bit at his hand and Potter instantly yanked it away with an oath, but he sure as hell didn't let go of her.
Forgetting what she looked like she quickly spun around in his grip, thudding against his chest, finding herself face-to-face with a man at least twenty years her senior, with shaggy brown hair and ice blue eyes. Her breath caught, uncaring if he heard it. She wanted him, but she was upset with him, her voice a fiercely irritated whisper. "Don't know, maybe I just have a thing for older men."
Hovering there in that narrow space, Potter stared at her, his hands dropping to her waist, sliding along every inch of her along their way. Unconsciously she shivered, Quidditch toned hands flexing against her hip bones, the wizard who had barely lookedat her that morning holding her oddly close. His mouth opened, then closed, as if unsure he'd heard her right. Finally… "Do you?"
"Do you really want an answer to that?"
Harry's low growl echoed in the mausoleum's underhang, bouncing down the aisle between the crypts. His response was non-verbal, the wizard abruptly grabbing at the back of her head, fingers clenched painfully in her hair, her hat. Kally winced, but her face had been tilted up, Harry's unrecognizable eyes flickering with emotion she did recognize: jealousy. "Tell me," he half-growled, "Snape isn't your type."
Her breath caught, hating and liking this all at once. That strange, needing sensation crawled over her once more, Kally barely able to think on it as Harry's hips pressed tightly to hers. She nearly gasped, but didn't.
Potter didn't look like himself; he looked like a man with premature wrinkles. She ought to have felt completely and totally ill-at-ease pressed so intimately up against a stranger like this, but she didn't. Instead she wanted desperately to throw herself at him, to tear at his shirt, his belt…
She didn't. She only just didn't. Instead she allowed him to hold her close, part of her wanting to force him away until he explained why he'd acted like he had, why he'd all but shunned her that morning, but she already knew. Harry hadn't been himself; his scar had been hurting, and no matter how annoyed she was she couldn't fault him for it.
Kally wet her lips, her chest brushing his as she breathed there in that tight, constricted space between the mausoleums. "You know, Drake," she mused, desperately grasping at self-control, "sun damage really isn't a good look for you."
Potter blinked at the moniker she'd used in front of the Scotts, his icy eyes narrowing in a poor attempt at a glare. He looked affected. "How'd you know it was me?"
She volleyed it back. "How'd you know it was me?"
Unamused, he released her hair and lifted a gloved hand, wordlessly giving a lock of her golden hair a pointed tweak. He then inclined a bushy brown eyebrow in silent question.
Understanding coursed through her. Helga had said polyjuice wouldn't fully work on a Reach, the reason unknown. Kally too had noticed it, but had forgotten that Potter, Regulus….they'd know. Kally's hands slipped down Potter's chest, lingering at the base of his coat. It hung open, the Seeker cursedly impervious to the cold. "Your scent," she whispered. The hint of sweat that had clung to him had sent her pulse racing, breaths quickening, even now…
Seeing his strange look, she offered a careless shrug, able to now that his grip had loosened in her hair. Harry's fingers had begun to slowly comb through the long strands, his look almost reverent. And still, Kally looked away. The last thing she wanted to do while still irritated with him was admit that he smelled good; but he did. In the distance she could hear the tour guide droning on, moving deeper into the cemetery, entirely oblivious to having lost one of his flock.
A gloved hand found her chin, forcing it up. Icy eyes met hers, the line of a mouth she did not recognize drawing into something dryly amused. "You like," he accused, "the way I smell." It was not a question.
She swatted his hand away. "You have a shocking ego."
He grabbed her wrist, freezing her hand in mid-air. "Yes," he said. "Still…can't help but notice that you didn't answer the question."
"You didn't ask one."
He smirked in the mausoleums' shadow. "Then you didn't deny it."
"Your glove," she countered, doing anything to avoid admitting he was right, "smells like the nectar Frawkes drinks. If I didn't recognize the way that smelled by now then Casper did a piss poor job of checking me for head injuries."
Potter's mouth flapped at her.
Kally considered pulling away, then didn't. "So…" she wet her lips, heart racing, "are you in a better mood now, or should I be expecting you to storm off again?"
His mouth snapped shut, ire flashing in his eyes. "Last I checked, you were the one who stormed off soon as we got here, Karen."
The name he'd used for her at the Scotts rolled off his tongue far too easily, Kally closing her eyes in resignation. "I'll take that as a no." Once more she considered pulling away from him. Yet she still didn't move. She lacked the resolve, so she stayed right where she was, rooted in the snow. In the back of her mind she felt irritation rising, yet her free hand slid away from his jacket to absently play with the base of his shirt, exposing his skin to the cold as her fingertips traced across his stomach, feeling every hard line just as she had last night.
And Harry stood there and let her.
Potter hadn't morphed completely. He hadn't morphed his entire body. He looked nothing like himself, yet his body was undeniably his. The hard planes of his chest, the strangely confident movements, his abdominals…he was still her Harry.
But he wasn't, was he? Whatever had happened while he'd been time travelling had changed him. His jeans clung to his waist, his musculature taut, rigid. He'd filled out, Kally able to physically feel the slight changes in his form, the man's intensity startling.
That man was still holding her wrist, trapping her, fixing her with an unreadable look.
She wet her lips, eyes flickering to the hint of skin between his gloved hand and the end of his coat sleeve. It was smooth, untanned, just like his stomach felt. Her pulse sped up. "You forgot to age the rest of yourself."
He followed her gaze, non-flummoxed. "Too much trouble," he told brazenly, "for something only you're going to see."
Kally's eyes flew up at this, the Reach trying desperately to school her thoughts into compliance. "You-you're-"
His mouth turned in a smirk. "You're stuttering."
They stood there, alongside a statute of an angel, its head solemnly bowed and wings curled sadly in, yet Harry looked smug as hell. Idly Kally considered the 'shoving him into an open crypt' option. "Aren't you supposed to be on the East side?" she deflected, desperate to turn this away from her.
Harry shrugged, a bit of snow flaking off his shoulder. "I was. Then stumbled across that gargoyle Casper warned us about." At some point Potter's fingers had begun massaging the delicate inside of her wrist. "Our favorite ghost told me to get my ass over here to find the other gargoyle, so we know where they're both at. They apparently move, so might come in handy tonight."
Kally could only stare. "What do you mean move?"
He quirked a brow beneath his hat. "As in doesn't stay in the same place. Prone to shifting locations. Can't stay still." He looked mildly amused. "You'd tell me if you'd slipped and hit your head, right?"
She hissed a breath. "I mean it's a cemetery and they're statues during the day. Surely someone would notice statues moving about."
"Muggles don't notice a double decker bus careening around London and nearly running pedestrians on sidewalks over, or people disappearing off a train station platform. You'd be surprised."
Kally wanted to argue against that, she did. "But it's a giant statu-"
"Before Hogwarts, did you ever notice any of that?"
Snow began to flake down from the sky, a barely discernable flurry landing on her cheek. She barely noticed, hating the reminder that she was all but a Muggle. It made her nearly useless here. "No," she admitted, solitary syllable so soft it was a wonder he'd heard it at all.
But he did. His grimace proved that.
Kally sucked in a shaken breath, quickly asking, "So…..if you're supposed to be looking for that poorly behaving effigy why aren't you?"
Despite his obvious mood Harry snorted. "Snuck in, saw your tour group and figured the hot chick resembling a galleon might know where it's at already, so snuck down here to, well…" His mouth twitched, his meaning of capturing her clear.
Kally shook her head, a bemused smile playing upon her lips at his description of her hair. "I haven't," she said. "The tours seem to only stick to the larger tombs and a few main highlights, so…" glancing in the general direction of the overall cemetery, she added, "honestly, it could be anywhere."
Potter looked like he was processing this. "You've been here for hours..."
"Your point?"
"We've already searched," he continued incredulously, "the whole Eastern side."
Kally gnawed guiltily on her lower lip. "There may have been a small issue…"
Potter's eyes narrowed, because he knew her. "Define issue."
"Well you know how you have to stick with the tour groups on this side?"
"Like you're doing an excellent job of now?" he drawled sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes. "They don't exactly cover the entire Western side and we'll never find her grave that way. So I snuck off, got caught, and may have gotten kicked out."
Both of Potter's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared beneath his scraggly hair. "So, sneaking around proved a bit too advanced for you?"
Kally scowled, suddenly remembering what a moody ass he'd been. "The security guard was cute," she bit. "Thought I'd get his number. You know, on the off chance this git of a boyfriend I have continues behaving like an immature ass."
Now it was Potter's turn to scowl.
Kally made no move to apologize, adding, "You might have met, actually. He's exactly your height. Black hair. Green eyes. Responds to King of Idiocy."
The grip on her wrist dropped, all trace of amusement disappearing. "Which security guard?" He sounded shockingly serious
Her lips parted, slightly aghast. "Seriously?"
Drake didn't so much as blink. "Deadly. Told you, don't like to share."
"Interesting," she countered, not ready to not be mad yet, "that after this morning you think you actually get a say in the matter."
The need in his eyes sent her shivering, Kally sucking in a breath as his hands slid slowly back to her waist, his movements measured, the wizard tugging her a step closer. The ice crunched underfoot. Harry stared at her intensely for a long moment. "Are you really," he asked, "that mad at me?"
Beneath that penetrating gaze, feeling his fingers tightening, then untightening rhythmically upon her side, it was all she could do to form words. "You stormed out," she whispered. And he had. "All I did was ask about your scar-"
Harry's gaze grew stormy, interrupting her. "Apologies, if I didn't think exposing you to that first thing in the morning was a grand idea." His shaggy hair remained slung across his brow, hiding the scar in question. Even shifting his appearance could not rid him of it. One night he'd told her that, telling her about training with Tonks, Moody, what it'd been like. Listening to him talk, enveloped in his arms, she'd felt close to him.
Right now she didn't know what she felt, but Merlin if she didn't want to be like that again. Standing there, with him, his fingers kneading their way up her side,Kally wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't wanted to expose her to Voldemort's effect on him? "Did it ever occur to you," she finally asked, eyes flickering over his, "that I might want to be?"
"Yes," he answered plainly. "Just thought you of all people would get why I might not want to chat when it is. Occlumency's hard enough without someone trying to talk to you."
It felt like a tiny knife had been shoved into her stomach. "That didn't give you the right to act like an ass, Potter," she countered, dropping the fake names. "If you're still mad at me about the Regulus thing, you should have just said it. Not….not acted like it was alright only to be…to be like that." Her hands fell away from his shirt with immediacy, that loss of contact seeming to get his attention. His eyes snapped to where her gloved hands now hung in the cold air.
They were fighting, in a small way. Even this was enough to make her feel sick. The way Harry was now looking at her, the eyes not his but the emotion definitely his, making it worse. Kally let him stare, making no attempt to touch him. His hands, however, remained determinedly on her. His grip had risen high along her ribs, his gloved thumbs brushing just beneath her breasts, her breath catching.
He didn't notice. Harry's jaw went through a series of movements, as if debating whether or not to talk.
To her shock he did.
"I'm not mad."
Kally's brow fretted, her lips parting to ask, "Then why have you been so-"
"Because," he said calmly, too calmly, "I think it can feel that I'm looking for it."
Instantly she knew what he meant by it.
Potter's blue eyes grew cold. "If I can't block that I compromise the entire mission. I compromise it, you could get hurt." His grip slid rhythmically up and down her sides, her coat bunching beneath it. "No offense, but I can't handle that happening to you. Not again. Last time, it-" He stopped abruptly, mouth drawing into a grim line, voice grating, "It just can't, alright?"
His hands flexed tensely on her.
Kally tried to process that.
Harry had been an asshole.
He hadn't been angry with her; he'd been one because he'd needed to focus.
He'd needed to focus because he was scared of losing her.
Because he nearly had.
"It won't," she promised, eyes desperately searching his. Her hands rose, curling against his jumper, feeling the hard plane of his chest beneath.
Potter didn't move. "You can't know that."
"Yes," she hissed, "I can."
"How?"
"Because you won't let it." Kally didn't falter, she didn't stutter. She looked up at him entreatingly, fiercely telling, "You haven't let anything happen to me, Potter. Not yet. Not even if it'd have been easier for you to just walk away and leave me. You're utterly incapable of letting me stay hurt, so it won't."
He'd saved her life more times than she could sodding count at this point. He'd all but brought her back from the dead; it was why his magic was so weak right now. Something warm squirmed within her chest, rising into her throat as she realized how sodding insane this all was.
They were seventeen, and already at the point of risking their lives for one another.
Kally was so impossibly in love with him she didn't want to even think about it.
Wetting her lips, nervousness racking her, she more quietly whispered, "You won't let it, Potter. Just like I won't let anything happen to you."
Potter was looking at her strangely, like he knew something she didn't. His gaze shifted from ice blue to green, not even noticing. "You have no idea," he told, "how true that is."
He said it as if she was missing something.
She was. For the thousandth time she wished she knew what he'd been through, what had happened. Champagne colored eyes flickered worriedly across his face. "I wish I knew what you were thinking," she all but whispered.
His breath released stiffly, his hands tensing along her torso as if debating crushing her to him. "No," he informed, "you don't."
At some point his face had lowered, his warm breath ghosting across her lips. Kally could barely think, -barely breathe. Harry's mouth hovered so close to hers, a dozen questions on her own lips, desperately wanting to know what he meant, what he was thinking. Kally had no way of knowing that he would soon cease to draw breath, drowning beneath the Atlantic sea. She had no way to know that his heart, the one pounding so hard beneath his chest at her merest proximity, would soon stop. She had no way to know that Regulus would pump his heart manually, rubbing it between his hands with magic for over an hour, trying desperately to keep him alive as she clutched onto his hand and cried, with no response.
Kalliandra had no way to know that she had already proven to Potter that she would do anything for him, tearing the life energy out of her own heart to give to him.
Kally didn't know any of this.
Her mouth opened-
He seized her lips for a long, long moment. They were cold. They felt different, the shape of his lips not his. Yet her heart still fluttered, that strange tingling radiating between their mouths, just as it did whenever his skin brushed against hers.
It was intoxicating.
It was sodding magic, his mixing with hers in a way few ever felt.
Harry didn't pull back for a long time, her eyes barely able to stay open. As it was, he spoke first.
"So…you didn't see the grave or the gargoyle then?"
The subject change threw her, the air misting between them, in front of their close faces. Kally pulled slightly back, finding a man that did not look at all like Harry standing there, holding her, lips swollen, hair mussed beneath his hat.
She struggled to pull her eyes away from his lips. "No. Nothing." Kally shook her head, the braided ties of Ariana's hat bouncing. "Though…I haven't been able to search much outside where the tour groups go, and they're not covering all of the West side of the cemetery."
Any vulnerability Potter had shown disappeared, an arrogant mask reappearing, eyes once more shifting back to blue. "Looks like you're in luck," he drawled, "now I'm here. Guess you get to go with me."
Kally wasn't fooled, but her eyes lowered, settling upon his chest. "You do realize the whole point of splitting up," she said carefully, "was to cover more ground, yeah?"
He shrugged. "You know where you've already looked. We go together, Kaylens, we avoid duplicative searching. Alright?" He looked at her purposefully, Kally unable to meet his eyes, or counter that logic. He had a point. She had been going in circles for hours on those tours, trying to sneak away to search larger and larger areas on each one. It was getting her nowhere.
She glanced back towards the path he'd tugged her off in the first place, seeing no one.
Then she glanced back at him, nodding. "Alright," she agreed reluctantly. Worry and concern for him filled her, swimming with the profound annoyance that only he was capable of eliciting. And still, despite her agreement, neither of them moved to search. Neither of them moved at all. They remained, hovering in that narrow space between the two mausoleums, the scent of ferns in the air. Potter's ice-colored eyes studied her, irises matching the sparkling blue on the snow, Kally never realizing that her polyjuice had been dropped, unconsumed.
It was like she suddenly couldn't breathe.
Ultimately he was the first to move.
He went slow, as if she were a skittish animal needing calmed. His hand slid beneath her jacket, his frost-covered glove touching her spine. Kally hissed, caught off guard at how unpleasant it was, but she made no move to move.
Kally wanted him touching her.
The glacial air snuck up her back, no longer protected by her warm layers as Harry's hand pressed to her bare skin, kneading along either side with his fingers. Kally no longer cared about the cold. Kally only cared that his gaze remained fixed upon her, the overhang of the mausoleum shadowing the intensity of his face, a face that wasn't his.
Kally's eyes clenching so she didn't have to see.
She didn't want some stranger touching her.
She wanted Harry.
His gloved hand moved up her spine so, so slowly.
It was like her stomach did sommersaults. "Harry…" she practically pled, trembling from exposure and his touch. The air was so frigid she could barely stand it. Yet she did, willing to allow him anything, anything he wanted, even as goosebumps prickled her skin. A shiver seized her, Kally reveling in this glorious torture if only to be close to him.
Her hands began to roam, sliding slowly over Harry, heedless of the horcrux they were hunting, heedless of the surrounding dead, heedless of the risk of discovery by tourists, security, Death Eaters, guides, or worse…Regulus.
Her fingers ventured to the bottom of his shirt, slipping beneath. No longer obeying they slid up his stomach, Harry groaning as the fleece of her gloves rose to play against his chest, his jumper getting drug up, exposing his abdominals to the frigid afternoon air.
The firm, solid lines made it hard for her to breathe.
Harry tugged her a step closer, Kally nearly slipping, only her boyfriend's solid grip stopping her from winding up on the ice-covered ground. He held her with crushing strength to him, her waist pressing hard against his, the feel alone driving a startled breath from her.
Harry's unnaturally blue eyes had closed, a breath hissed through his teeth, and Kally didn't have to ask why. She could feel why. Part of him had hardened, rubbing against her, Kally unable to reconcile what they were doing with all his protestations, all his counter-arguments, all his reasons.
Harry had shown her how far he'd go for her, to protect her. He'd maimed, killed for her. Taken his magic and given it to her.
She'd tried to be closer to him, to be with him, all but throwing herself at him.
Every time he'd told her no.
He'd obliviate her. He had to. She knew that. And it hurt. But Kally didn't, couldn't think about that now. Not with his head bowed over hers. Not with his hardening manhood pressing against her most intimate parts. Not with his breath ghosting against her lips.
Kally wanted him. Merlin she did.
He'd barely sodding touched her since she'd awoken, muttering that he didn't want her to forget anything, vowing that he couldn't do that to her.
Something had changed.
Kally shifted, breaths quickening, nudging her nose against his.
Suddenly everything escalated.
Potter's free hand left her waist, shamelessly groping her through her jacket. Her breast was caught, seized beneath his palm, Kally gasping, the wizard claiming her through her jacket. Harry was rubbing her, and even through her layers shots of sodding pleasure shot through her core. Not once did he kiss her. Anyone, absolutely anyone who walked by could stop and see them, if they only peered down the narrow space between the gothic crypts, the stone angel standing as disapproving guard, yet neither party cared.
Kally desperately wanted his mouth against hers, Harry purposefully denying her this as he let his mouth linger temptingly close, just feeling her. Nipples hardening beneath his hands, the cold enticing her to press closer, all she could think of was him.
Kally would allow him anything; she'd let him do anything.
She was his, he was hers. But he wasn't. He wasn't her Harry. Her Harry was back at Hogwarts, in the dorms, safe. Harry'd told her, honest, that they had already done this. That he had already claimed her as his, taken her. Her first time was with him. He'd told her she should wait.
Kally didn't want to wait.
Harry was alone; he'd been alone for so long. She'd seen the darkness in his eyes, even when his touch had been only gentle. She didn't want to think on what the timeturner may have done to him. She didn't want him alone. Not when she was right here. Not when she could fix it. Not when she could give herself to him.
Kally was capable of fixing at least one thing for him, and Merlin she wanted to.
She wanted this, even if she wouldn't remember it, because it'd help him.
With a desperate murmur she pressed closer to him, Harry groaning, hand abandoning her lower back and finding the backs of her jeans, tugging her close. The pressure sent a shot of sensation through her core, Kally making a small sound as Potter fell back against the mausoleum, dragging her with him. Kally leaned into him on sheer instinct, Harry's arm abandoning her breasts to envelope her in a constricting vice that combatted the cold.
Harry's hand slid to the base of her jeans, tightening, slowly pressing her up and against him in a slow, rhythmic grinding. Coherent, conscious thought fled. All she could think of was him, of how much she wanted him inside her, to be as close to him as was humanly possible.
Layers of clothing separated them in the cold, snow swirling around them on another gust, and she wanted every sodding layer gone. "Harry," she murmured, "Harry please…"
Kally didn't know what she was asking. They were in a cemetery, sheltering between two mausoleums, snow and statues and rusty gates surrounding them. She didn't know how, why or where, but…
Potter did.
She didn't have to ask twice.
Harry's cold lips assaulted her neck, his grip fisting within her hair. He yanked her head back rougher than intended, allowing him access, an unconscious whimper escaping her lips. Her leg slid up, rubbing between his legs as he moved, Potter cursing her name against her skin. A small laugh breathlessly escaped her lips, Harry growling and grazing her delicate skin with his teeth, biting, nipping. It physically hurt, a pained sound leaving her, her boyfriend just not caring.
It was like he'd been possessed, like she'd been possessed, neither caring about anything but satisfying the driving, urgent need to have the other.
Her hands slipped out from his shirt, lowering to the front of his jeans, finding his zipper…
Potter's entire form jerked, a guttural sound cutting loose from his throat. Kally didn't care; she didn't stop. But Potter…
Potter tensed. His lips tore away from her pulse point, finding hers with bruising force. Yet they didn't move. They remained preternaturally still as he practically smothered her. A second passed, and then another as his zipper was drawn down…
Hislips tore away from hers.
He jerked her around in a sudden move, slamming her to the stone wall. A startled sound escaped her, the impact of her body sending snow flaking down from the mausoleum's roof, an icicle cracking off and plummeting down and shattering. Beneath Potter's feet a glass vial shattered into a dozen pieces of glass, unseen and unnoticed as potion pooled in a puddle and rapidly froze.
Pinned to the wall, Kally's breath caught, dead ivy catching in her hair, coat, everything gloriously painful. He'd grabbed her hand, pinning it painfully to the jagged nineteenth century stonework, his breathing ragged as he stopped her from rubbing the hardest partof him.
And just like that Harry stopped. It was like a sobering draught had been thrown on him.
"Kaylens," he rasped, "I can't."
Kally felt his every motion, the way his chest brushed against hers as he gasped for air, her champagne colored eyes fluttering hazily open, finding one of a familiar dark green staring right back. Her heart clenched, confusion bathing her, her mouth parting in silent question, lips swollen and wet. She could still feel the way he pressed so tight, intimately against her, his jean's zipper digging against her, now hanging partially open.
He was no longer the stranger, no longer the person he'd masked his appearance with. Instead his eyes had changed, his shaggy brown hair having darkened back to nearly black, Harry nearly Harry again, too distracted by what they'd been doing to hold the false appearance for long.
Yet despite what they'd been doing he'd stopped.
Kally didn't understand, her breathing an unsteady whisper. "Why?"
Torment flashed in his eyes. "You know why."
Kally felt like she could collapse, like she was hyperventilating. "No. No I don't." Trying to move her hand, Harry abruptly forced it right back against the wall, a terrifying determination in his eyes. Regret. Upset. Need. It was all there, naked in his expression.
Kally's throat tightened in a small cry. "Harry…Harry this hurts."
Instantly the pressure relented, but he still held her there, his eyes clenching. "Please…Kaylens, we shouldn't…" His gaze shot back open, his nose shifting, turning back to his. Her wrist screamed in pain, her left shoulder throbbing, yet Kally was unable to look away from his lips, from his face.
Standing there, pressed between he and the mausoleum, Kally felt completely and terribly cold. "So why did you start?" she whispered. She was shaking, not sure if it was simple shivering or raw upset. Shifting, the vials in her jacket pocket clinked loudly. "Why did you-"
Her words died abruptly.
That clinking sound…
Realization hit her like an ice bath.
Harry looked at her with such raw desperation that she suddenly knew.
Kally stilled, no longer trying to free herself from his hold. Her stomach dropped. The sound had been like a blade straight through her.
Harry's hands also stilled. "Kal?"
Kally suddenly knew why Potter couldn't keep his hands off her, why he had relented for only a few moments. It was gutting. It was painful. That fear, that ridiculously stupid fear from before was suddenly warranted, validated.
"It was how I look," she said, stunned. This entire time, ever since she'd awoken she'd been all but throwing herself at him, Harry telling her no every single time. Yet now, here, when she'd been polyjuiced and…prettier, he'd relented.
He looked completely and utterly confused, but Kally wasn't. She'd never cared about anyone the way she did him, so she'd never felt insecure before. She'd never had reason.
But now, suddenly, she knew exactly what all of that felt like.
She hated it.
And she couldn't get away.
From somewhere deep inside came an incredibly upset, broken sound.
Harry's expression bent with concern, his hair darkening back to black before her eyes. "Kal," he grated, "what the hell are you talking about?"
Kally tried to yank her wrists away, and this time he let her. Harry stiffly stood there, zipper down, shirt rumpled, blocking her escape. His hand flexed emptily against the mausoleum's stone wall, where her hands had just been confined within his, looking like he'd missed something.
Kally tried to control it, but her words sounded raw. "You liked the way I looked polyjuiced better."
The entire time Harry, her Harry, had looked at her. Just looked. Confusion had swirled in his eyes.
Now lighting flashed there.
"How the hell could you think that?"
The dangerous note in his voice would have sent dark wizards running, but Kally just looked away, feeling incredibly small.
Potter looked like he was ready to break something, waiting.
Kally shook her head so swiftly her hat actually fell off, golden tendrils spilling around her shoulders. "This entire time I've been throwing myself at you, Potter. Every time you said no until…" Not finishing, not caring to, she brokenly whispered, "You didn't want me. You just wanted-"
Potter had been staring at her as if she'd grown a second head, like he didn't recognize her.
He didn't let her get any farther.
An angered sound burst from him, Potter jerking his hands away from the wall, grabbing her face and crushing his mouth to hers. She let out a startled squeak, Potter's lips all but assaulting hers. It robbed the breath, words from her, Kally only able to make an upset sound as she tried to shove him away.
He only grabbed her tighter.
Kally didn't understand. She didn't get it. Her jean pocket caught on something rusted and brass on the mausoleum, it ripping loudly. His hand fisted her hair with a restrained sort of violence, twisting it around his glove, pulling at her scalp. He didn't stop, he didn't relent, Kally unable to comprehend anything but his taste, the feel, the way he shoved her up against the crypt harder, lifting her and dragging her legs around his waist to hold her tight.
A shocked whimper escaped her, Kally grabbing on as her feet were forcibly drug from the ground, her freed fingers digging into his shoulder blades. There was no need. There was no danger of being dropped. Harry's hold was severe, clutching onto her like a Firebolt as he dove for the Snitch.
Kally wanted to scream at him. To hit him. To push him away.
But she didn't.
At some point she'd started kissing him back.
Harry kissed her for so hard, for so long that she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She tried desperately to gasp, reclaim air against his lips, failing, Kally lightheaded, things beginning to spin…
He broke violently away, gulping air, one arm supporting her weight, the other determinedly on her face. For a second he said nothing, grabbing air like a drowning man, before he gathered her body to his, refusing to let her down, words huskily croaked. "Kal…look."
At some point in the frenzy of his hands and hers Harry had moved, the mausoleum's shining nameplate now next to her face. It was fogged with cold, but reflecting within it was her face. Not the prettier girl she'd been polyjuiced as. Not someone else. Just her.
The potion had worn off.
Somehow Potter thought this would help.
It didn't. It didn't because he'd stopped.
Gaze flickering over the age-worn metal, the surname Ross was embossed upon it. "So," she breathed, eyes swirling with confusion, "you stopped soon as I changed back into myself?" Her brow furrowed, eyes flitting to find his looking resolutely back.
Harry thrust his brow against hers, heads knocking together, his words a hard, desperate grind near her lips. "Wrong."
Her pulse quickened. "Seemed logical," she whispered, "based on…well…"
She trailed off, the silence like a taut, elastic band, only Potter's hard breathing to break it.
Harry's frustration rolled off him in waves, eyes clenching, his head shaking roughly against hers. "You don't get it," he croaked, "but the idea of me not wanting you is fucking laughable." The hard part of his throat rose and fell in a thick swallow, muscles rippling as he held her body to his in mid-air.
His annoyed gaze cracked, irises of impossible green locking onto hers, Harry's chest rising and falling as if he'd fought in a dozen back-to-back duels. The look he was giving her…
A spasmodic shiver racked her thin form, heartbeat swiftening.
It was almost enough to make her forget.
Almost.
With a grunt he'd shoved her against the crypt, balancing her, not letting her down, a slight exhalation escaping as his face buried against her hair. She could feel how tense, rigid he'd grown. It was like being held by animated stone, warmth radiating from him like a furnace even as he grumbled furiously at her.
Kally could barely breathe.
He yanked his face back, dropping it once more against hers, words a rumbling growl. "I forget you're not mine. Not yet." His hand loosened within her hair, gloved fingers trailing through far, far more gently as he simply looked at her. "You don't know yet, but hell…planning to keep you…" His voice was a deep rumble, an impossibly warm sensation sweeping through her despite the cold. Potter wet his lips, Kally's own parting as she desperately tried to remember how to breathe.
She wasn't remembering, an urgency building in her chest that could only be solved if she just breathed.
She still didn't, and with a strange sound his nose nudged against hers, like a dog demanding attention, the gesture demanding, needy. Harry's hot breath traced over her lips, muttering hoarsely, "I love you, Kaylens, and I never want to hear you say that again." His grip slipped down her thigh, her entire form shuddering at the touch. "Promise me…"
Kally closed her eyes, shaking. From cold. From fear. From the way he was touching her. From thinking for even a second that she wasn't what he wanted. His head bowed low over hers, arms holding her as he muttered incomprehensible words against her face, lips grazing her skin, pink-tinged from the winter winds.
Her eyes slid shut, Kally at a loss, not understanding anything right then.
Potter growled at her non-responsiveness, Kally managing a shaken, "Okay."
He let her go. Her legs slid slowly down him until her feet touched the snowy ground. It didn't mean he let her leave, let her get far. Kally tried, only for his arms to wind further around her waist, his voice utterly ragged. "No."
He snared her face, her chin clenched tightly between his gloved fingers as he forced her countenance up. The intensity of his gaze shook her. "Soon as you changed," he vowed, "is when I lost any semblance of control." He grimaced humorlessly. "No offense to whomever that other chick was, Kaylens, she was pretty and all, but wasn't my type. She wasn't you."
It took her a second. It took her a long second.
Then Kally realized he wasn't lying.
The annoyed words they'd thrown at one another, only for them to suddenly end, Harry grabbing her….
Suddenly she felt unbelievably, undeniably stupid. Her eyes flickered, sparkling with upset. "So then why have you been-"
"Told you," he muttered, anticipating her question, hand sliding to the side of her face, "might want you, but you deserve better than a quick shag and a wand to your temple."
Kally understood. She did.
She just suddenly didn't care.
Harry looked at her pleadingly, neither caring about searching for the horcrux. Neither caring about how distracted they'd become. And neither thought about why, neither considering any possible reason, not for a second.
Kally just wanted the haunted look in his eyes gone. She wanted him to feel close to someone, to feel close to her.
Trapped between him and the mausoleum wall, she wet her lips. "And if I don't care?"
Harry's jacket hung unbuttoned around him, his chest rising as he pressed a hand against the wall behind her. Any trace of who he'd changed into was long gone, his expression conflicted, torn. "Of all the things," he ground dryly, "to argue about, never thought this would be one."
A small smile touched her lips. "Should have thought about that," she murmured teasingly, "before telling me you were alone for half a year."
Harry grunted skeptically.
In the distance she could hear voices drifting nearer, Kally entirely uncaring. This…there was no going back from this. She didn't want to.
She shifted closer, fingers straying lower, her breathing slowing. Her gloved fingers carefully, hesitantly tugged at his belt's clasp, Kally practically holding her breath as she waited for him to again stop her, to tell her no, to tell her they shouldn't, especially not now, not here.
Only he didn't.
Harry sucked in an audible breath. "Kaylens…" he sounded pained. "I can't…I won't be able to stop if…." The clasp came undone with a click, his words a harsh grind. "You deserve better than-than this."
She knew he was right.
"Maybe," she breathed, "you should stop being so noble and let me decide." Her eyes flickered up, peering nervously at him.
Green eyes, deeper than the forest, looked right back. Potter's brow creased so deeply the lines had to be permanently etched. "Kal….you shouldn't…" It looked like he was trying to convince himself, more than her.
She answered the question in his gaze with three simple words.
"I want to."
It looked like he'd died standing there, Harry having gone impossibly still. The wind kicked up, snow blown from the tombstones, swirling like a fine mist around him. Magic thrummed around them, thrumming through the crypts, so subtle, so unnoticeable that they never questioned it.
What he did next was burned indelibly into her mind, Kally uncertain of how any oblivation could possibly remove it.
Harry's fingers hooked into her jean pockets, pulling her close. Her fingers had gone still upon his belt, His familiar face lowered over hers, a solitary palm rising along her back. "Kaylens…I'm not sure I-"
"Stop being noble."
A low, throaty chuckle emanated from his chest, the sound strange, out of place. "Not sure I can."
"Course not," she murmured impishly. "You're a git."
His hand froze, a second, then another passing.
When he spoke it sounded like he hadn't spoken in days. "Okay."
Still he didn't move, Kally's eyes lifting up. He looked at her; she looked at him. Her breath hitched, as did his.
"Potter," she whispered as his face slowly lowered, his movements pausing to listen to her, "can you just…promise me something?"
Harry's close gaze studied her. "Anything."
"Put this in a pensieve for me?" The shadow in his eyes lifted, Harry seeming to realize that was even an option, Kally wetting her lips, heart pounding. "Promise me you'll show me later, when you can, so we-"
Kally never got any farther.
Harry grabbed her, shoving her backwards, his hand already fumbling with the crypt door. In the distance the next tour could be heard, Harry's mouth colliding with hers, the door not opening, Kally being crushed against it as Potter's mouth refused to lift from her own.
A disgruntled, frustrated sound arose from him, Kally blindly reaching back, fingers barely brushing against the mausoleum's rusted handle, a glow emitting that neither of them noticed.
With a click a door that had not been opened in decades unlocked, creaking open, ice flaking from around the edges.
Harry Potter shoved her in, Kally stumbling back into the dusty dark, neither thinking to question any of it.
The door thudded closed behind them with a grating screech.
Then the lock fell into place.
