Bright light assaulting his face brought Mike to the brink of awareness. He'd been sleeping so peacefully, so comfortably, that even still he didn't want to move. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that if the sunlight was bright on his face he'd slept in. That didn't feel important though.
As his mind wandered toward consciousness, he registered the sound of water, regularly splashing against the ground. A shore. This brought back a flood of memories, not the least of which, he realized, was lying pressed against him.
He could feel the gentle weight of her head, nestled into the crook of his arm. His fingers twitched against her bare hip. She was warm and unmistakably nude, the two of them beneath a thin blanket that had covered them throughout the cool night. Mike smiled, taking a deep breath of the fresh air, completely content.
The motion seemed to wake Hermione, who sighed and stretched. The feeling of her soft skin rubbing against his stirred him, something she seemed to realize as she came to full alertness for the morning.
For a second time, they explored each other. Without hesitation or reservation, and thoroughly. Without the cover of darkness to hide them, they remained beneath the blanket, but Mike found it no less satisfying. Both of them struggled to keep themselves quiet, neither wanting to draw attention on the off chance someone was nearby. They fought that urge and lost.
Hermione's soft panting turned to strained moaning, and finally a loud cry of pleasure that sent several nearby birds from the trees, at which point they devolved into a fit of laughter. For a long while afterward, they simply held each other. Eventually, the need to get ready for the day pressed them into motion and they dressed.
Hermione broke open the picnic basket, pulling out sandwiches that had lasted quite well through the night. This, along with pumpkin juice and an assortment of fruits, started their morning.
Mike's heart brimmed as he watched her get the spread set aside. She had the same look of concentration she got when she was studying. It was something he found undeniably attractive, that attentiveness.
As they ate, Hermione sat snuggled against him, her cheeks still tinged pink from their earlier efforts. He thought she looked happy as well.
Too soon for his liking, they packed up the blanket and basket and headed back to the school. There was still half an hour until Hermione's first class when they reached the castle.
"I suppose I shouldn't skip, and I really do need a shower," she said, running fingers through her bushy hair. He kissed her cheek, lingering as every moment of their night and morning ran through his head.
He pulled back, giving her a wink. "I'll catch up with you later," he said. She smiled, and then trotted off to go clean up before class.
Mike immediately felt a pit form in his stomach as she left. With the balled up blanket under one arm, he dug his hand into his pocket, grabbing his coin and running it between his fingers. He probably should clean up too.
A long, warm shower met him in the Gryffindor tower. As much as he enjoyed being out there with her, there was something undeniably satisfying about that clean feeling one got after a shower. A sponge bath, even one from an enchanted and thorough sponge, just didn't cut it. He stood in the warm water for a long while after he'd cleaned up, trying to concentrate on recent, happier memories.
When he stepped out of the shower and began drying off, Brad stepped in. As put together as always, if not maybe a bit older looking.
"Hey, Cap," Mike greeted, pulling his shirt over his head.
"It's good to see you up and about, Mike," Brad said.
They talked as Mike finished getting dressed. Small talk for a bit, but that didn't last long. Neither of them were the type to beat around the bush. It wasn't long before they sat and really caught up.
Brad told him about his experience at the graveyard. About looking for him when they realized Moody wasn't really Moody. How Hermione had handled things. He caught the name of the new team member, Sara Freeman. She'd been the one that shot Sirius in the ass, which was a big plus.
Brad told him all about the Ministry taking a dive, about the raid. Losing Neville and Jason...all of it. They spent a while after that talking about Jason. It still didn't feel like he was really gone.
Mike related his own experiences after that. His time at Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange...he paraphrased a lot of that. The details didn't do anyone any good. The presence of Howard Eden and his hunt for the Deathly Hallows. It was when they got to the raid on the estate that things boiled over for Mike.
"I heard you guys running past and I couldn't do shit. It was all bad, the whole time I was with them...it was bad, but actively fighting against you guys...Jesus."
Mike ran a hand through his hair, breathing faster. He looked at his friend who sat there silently. Not dumbstruck, not searching for words. Just listening.
"It still nauseates me...when I realized she had Hermione of all people. That's who was standing there. God! And then I drove. I drove, and she started cutting on Hermione-" he looked up and met his friends gaze, eyes too full to contain their burden, "-when you started shooting at me...fuck, I've never wanted something so bad as I wanted you to clip me in the head. Just fuckin' end it, anything to put a stop to it."
Mike buried his face in his hands. He heard footsteps and felt Brad sit down beside him, felt a hand on his shoulder. Mike reached over and grabbed it, grateful.
"In the end, you did it, bro. You put a stop to that bitch, you got yourself and Hermione out of there."
He was right. It didn't heal things, didn't make it all better, but it did help. He'd been strong enough to do that much, at least. Eventually.
"You're out of that shit, bro. You're home, and you've got me, and Eric, and Hermione...fuck, I can think of a dozen people that have your back...a hundred percent. Whatever you need." Nothing but confidence in that voice.
Mike took a deep breath and stood up. Brad followed suit.
"I know, thanks." He had good people in his life.
"We're inactive right now, so it's not like there's any rush, but…" Brad clapped his shoulder and then walked over to his locker, pulling a bundle of cloth away. He looked at it for a moment.
"Here," Brad said, pushing the bundle against Mike's chest. "I snagged this. Thought it'd be a good addition to your kit, maybe it could do some good now."
Mike opened it. He immediately recognized the knife. The blade had been used against Hermione...and also ended Bellatrix.
"I wanted a shot at her," Brad said as Mike stared at it. "She killed Neville, but if anyone else was gonna do it, I'm glad it was you."
Mike smirked. "Yeah, she's not hurtin' anyone else, is she?" He didn't like the memory, killing her. But he didn't think it was one of the memories he'd lose sleep over. She was a sadist, she relished harming others. He didn't, but that was the job. He did bad shit so others didn't have to, not because he found it pleasant.
"Thanks," he said. Brad was right. It was a nice knife, and it would be put to a much more honorable use now.
Colonel Sumner sat down at the table. His computer screen showed General Thomas, President Harris, and several others. Crystal orbs held the disembodied heads of Rufus Scrimgouer, Madam Bones, and a multitude of Ministry officials. In reality, only Dumbledore was physically present with him.
"Ladies, gentlemen," Sumner greeted, eying Dumbledore warily. The man had always looked ancient to Sumner, but never so much as he did now. He looked haggard and exhausted, and he appeared to be favoring one of his arms, which was wrapped beneath the arm of his robes.
"I appreciate your patience," Sumner said. "Sorting through and obtaining our information has been trying, at best. Minister Scrimgouer, I'd like to thank you for your support. Veritaserum proved extremely valuable."
He paused for a moment as both Scrimgouer and Madam Bones nodded their heads in affirmation, the latter being the one who physically provided said support. Sumner hated these political games, but such was life. Now to drop the bomb.
"I won't beat around the bush, the news we've obtained is game changing. Namely, Voldemort is no longer a part of the equation."
In the shock of this revelation, decorum was briefly left by the wayside. Aside from Dumbledore and General Thomas, everyone began talking, each demanding their own questions be heard over the other.
He wasn't sure, but he liked to think that his disapproving stare is what quieted them down. They did, in quick order, quiet themselves, allowing him to continue.
"We have independently verified this, through the use of Veritaserum, on three separate Death Eaters. During their interrogation, each reported being present at a meeting shortly after the raid on the Ministry building, during which Eden usurped control. He apparently...sucked Voldemort into a portal of demons. Their words, not mine."
"This is phenomenal news!" cried one of the Ministry officials, opening the floodgates for several others. Scrimgouer remained stoic.
"Colonel," he said sharply during a lull in the celebration. His tone quickly quieted the din. "Continue, please."
"Sir," Sumner said by way of thanks, "Eden is now running the Death Eaters. All of our recently captured Death Eaters reported that he is now their leader."
"So, the uncharacteristic lack of action by the Death Eaters is due to a change in management, then?" Madam Bones surmised.
"That stands to reason, yes," Sumner agreed. "We have no information on what they are planning, but we can be certain that Eden is planning something. He's ambitious. We have information from Sgt. Matthews that he is searching for the Deathly Hallows. If accurate, that might prove our best bet at pursuing Eden."
It wasn't lost on Sumner, how Dumbledore shifted with the mention of the Deathly Hallows.
"It's absolute rubbish," the celebratory wizard from earlier grunted. "They're children's tales, nothing more."
Sumner, not familiar with the tales, made a mental note to have his people look up everything they could find on the subject.
"That's irrelevant. If Eden believes they're real, he will act as though they are real, and we can use that to our advantage."
Eden frowned at the shack before him. Tree branches pushed into open slats where the roof had fallen in. The skeleton of a snake, nailed to the door in years past, still hung there, dessicated.
He felt no magic around the residence. When he imagined arriving here, he pictured something...better.
It was a pureblood family. As best he could tell, the remnants of Voldemort's family tree. It shouldn't necessarily be Fort Knox, but still…
He pushed the door open and frowned at the swirl of dust kicked up by the action. He looked at the floor. This place had clearly lain vacant for a long time.
Still, his heart stuttered at the sight of shifted dust on the floor near the door, past where he'd opened it. Someone had been here, probably recently. He sighed, hoping that this wasn't a waste of time.
He yearned to see that stone. The Resurrection Stone. Fuck the stone, he wanted Bellatrix back. No one had understood him in the way she did and he was absolutely going to get her back.
Shifted dust near the door, footprints leading to an overturned floorboard...a gold box on the ground.
"Fuck!" Eden shouted. The yell echoed in the cramped enclosure. He didn't know Voldemort's past, but he had a hard time picturing the wizard growing up in this place. It was shit.
He walked into the dusty room and picked up the box. It felt...wrong. Some remnant persisted there. He placed his wand against it and searched. A powerful curse had been placed on it, that much he could tell. Whatever it was, it was gone now, but something nasty had been there.
He cracked the box open and scowled. A slot lay inside, perfect for holding a ring...the interior like any other jewelry box he'd seen.
"FUCK!" Eden shouted again, throwing the box against the wall. It broke apart, kicking up a plume of ancient dust.
Only one name came to mind. There was only one "most powerful" wizard in the world.
Fucking Dumbledore!
He was the one, that power-hungry bastard. He was the only one Eden could think of that had any chance at getting past one of Voldemort's defenses. Voldemort was a bigot, but that didn't make him any less powerful. There was only one wizard in the country that would dare confront Voldemort, and it was Dumledore.
With both the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone, Dumbledore would need to be taken care of. Sooner rather than later. Once he was defeated, Eden would have all three Hallows. He'd be the Master of Death. Bellatrix would be back. He could get his vengeance on those that had killed her...that Reaper.
Tony had done some digging around. A great man, Tony. Smart, useful. Figured out that someone going by Reaper had killed her. Whoever that was, they would pay.
Eden frowned once more at the shitty shack. It was a wonder such power came from this hellhole.
He apparated back to his new headquarters. It was shabby, dingy, pathetic compared to his previous estate, but it did the job. He supposed he could live in squalor for a while...until he was Master of Death, that was.
The room around him had been swept, dusted, and cleaned about a dozen different times and with an equal number of methods. Still, it retained a faint musty odor. It grated on him.
To his disappointment, he found Narcissa Malfoy there, standing in his office...and bedroom. Jesus, he'd fallen. But...
"Oh," she exclaimed, startled by his sudden presence, "I'm sorry, I-" she stammered, holding a cup of tea of all things. Unless it had a decent swig of Bourbon hidden in it, he didn't want it. But…
"Excellent timing, as always, Narcissa," Eden drawaled, gesturing for her to sit. The seed of a plan grew in his mind.
She obeyed immediately, setting the tea on the corner of his desk. By some strange, absolutely asinine twist of fate, her entire family had been away from the estate when it was raided. Three of his least favorite people, only around due to their connection to Bellatrix. Annoying...but perhaps useful.
"How can I serve you?" she asked, her eyes wide, her hands disconcertingly provocative between her knees, holding her skirt open just so. She leaned forward, showing a more-than-proper helping of cleavage.
He had to hand it to her, she read the writing on the walls. Bellatrix was the only reason she and her family were alive, and she knew it. With the death of her sister, she'd been searching for other ways to prove their usefulness...apparently she was desperate.
In the past, Eden might have pounced on the opportunity. He was only a man, after all, and men had needs. And, to be fair, Narcissa had inherited some of the same genes as her more beautiful sister.
But that was the past. Eden was going to bring Bellatrix back, and there was too much drama introduced if he took Narcissa up on this desperation. No, he needed her for something else.
"I have a plan to bring your sister back, and I need your help."
Narcissa's air of feigned flirtation disappeared in an instant, replaced by a determination that reminded him of her sister. "Anything," she said.
"I need to know everything you can tell me about the school. I'll want to talk to your boy, too. I need every detail."