AN: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*

AN2: A fairly explicit and lengthy Lemon later on, it'll be labelled. Idk why I felt like I needed to write it, but there you go.

-:-

Chapter Thirteen: Answers

The body of Captain Fletcher was sent to his son's keeping in Cheshire that morning; Harry had a great deal of respect for the man and was in a mild state of grief at his passing. It had been months since the last attacks at Christmas time and as the days and weeks had gone by Harry had been distracted from his grief by both Hermione and the escalating situation at Hogwarts.

It seemed surreal for both the teens to be going back to their normal routines, daily training, classes, and preparation for exams. They were still on apparently and Harry was privately glad; the students needed something to get their minds off the fighting of the day before. The younger students had been returned to the castle and once again it was bustling with life.

The morning paper had brought a bit of a shock, while they had been fighting at Hogwarts the remaining Death Eaters had attacked the ministry and eleven aurors were dead along with twenty seven of Voldemort's forces. Harry had no idea if they were elites or simple recruits and mercenaries but either way two blows had been dealt against the darkness, but the cost to the forces of light had been far higher.

The thousands of undead that had spent themselves on the castle, while only inflicting a single fatality, had otherwise wreaked serious havoc. Dozens were still recovering from wounds, aurors and regimentals both; furthermore the castle's wards had been felled and were barely functional. All of this perhaps paled in consideration to what had happened at the ministry, while Harry mentally thought of Voldemort's forces as expendable infantry that the madman threw at his objectives in a war of attrition, the eleven men and women who had given their lives to hold Magical Britain's seat of power all had families who would be bereft now.

Harry flexed his hand and felt his magic respond, coalescing into a tight skin around the appendage before he released the wandless spell. It was a habit he had picked up last year in the summer to gauge how his energy levels were at any given time. Typically, when he was rested and feeling fine, his magic responded instantly and created an indomitable shell. Now in the aftermath of the battle it was sluggish and honestly somewhat weak. While he could still perform the wandless magic, that being a feat in and of itself, it was noticeably less potent, and that worried him.

Hermione as per usual was the answer, she flicked a series of thoughts at him showing evidence that he would recover fully with a few days of rest and good night's sleep. The rest he would be unable to get, but the good night's sleep was more important anyway.

Along with the morning Prophet Hedwig had glided down and relinquished a letter from Emma and Dan, pictures of Emma's baby bump and copies of the ultra sounds had stunned them both for a moment. So caught up had they been in their preparations for battle they had completely forgotten about their gestating baby sibling. The two teens sat in silence and wonder for several moments as they looked through the photos and ultrasound scans. Eventually though their idyll was broken by the arrival of Fred and George.

"Morning you two, Dumbledore sent us to find you, there's a debriefing going down in his office in about twenty minutes, he wants Harry there."

-:-

There were many times where Hermione felt the sting of discrimination, wizarding Britain was after all anchored in the Victorian era, and each she felt keenly and deep. The summons for Harry and Harry alone however did not bear that same sting, she understood the reasoning behind it, it was the same reason that Parvati would not be there. While both of them were members of the Regiment's command squad alongside Harry, he was the quintessential leader of the unit, and in the closed in mind of the wizarding world debriefings and other such meetings would be obviously held between the leaders of each faction involved in the defence, similar to how barons would attend the king or queen of the age in times of war.

From there Harry would have his own debriefing with herself and Parvati, and from there Parvarti would debrief the other squad leaders. It was a simple chain of command that worked well and even though it separated her from Harry, Hermione could understand and appreciate its worth. She rapidly reassured Harry that she would be waiting for him in their quarters; it would be a good time to read more of Lily's journal.

Hermione had had little time of late to peruse the incredible Grimoire of magical knowledge and understanding of the Potter man. She looked forwards to curling up on their bed with the book and going over more of Lily's observations as to the personality of her husband. If there was anything Hermione had learned from the journal it was that Harry shared a great number of his father's traits, though his mother was mixed in as well: Where James was mischievous, Harry was thoughtful; where James was boisterous, Harry was reserved; and the most important one to Hermione and her understanding of her man: Where James had been raised in a loving household, Harry had been abused nearly his entire life.

It was still a raw point of contention for her on some days, especially when she saw the evidence of his beatings on his back in the evenings as he lay face down on their bed and she massaged the ache from his muscles. It was less cold here now than it was in winter and Hermione was eternally grateful for that as Harry hadn't had an incident since returning from the Christmas holidays. The stiffness in his back, born of the matted scar tissue, remained however and probably would, no matter the weather, for the rest of his life.

It was nothing magical in nature, simply the tightening of old wounds after exercise that left him stiff and painful the morning afterwards, not incapacitated by any means, but still drained of vigour. Hermione knew that as damaged goods went Harry was the pick of the crop, but she loved him regardless, she especially loved it when he took charge of her and let out to play the powerful man that was lurking in his soul. It wasn't a sexual thing, though she suspected it would be one day, rather it was one of respect and trust: Hermione trusted him and respected him totally. There wasn't a single thing, including her life that she wouldn't put into his safe keeping.

She wanted to search Lily's journal for any reference of James having the same quality and how she handled it in their marriage: The idea of Lily Potter nee Evans, a woman renowned for being incredibly independent and fiery of temper, could relinquish control of herself to another was one that Hermione found hard to believe. She knew that she would never be able to trust herself with anyone else had Harry not been in her life, there was just something about him that engendered the most incredible feeling of safety and protection, like he was a knight clad in armour standing over her with a shield raised to deflect all attackers; an indomitable wall of strength and courage that would never falter so long as she needed him.

All of that aside Hermione was also an incredibly independent person, she wanted to get a job, have a career, maybe in the ministry, or maybe a charity under the Potter name one day. She was lucky that Harry respected that about her, that he would give her free reign to do as she pleased with her life so long as she stayed by his side. But it was more than that; Hermione knew instinctively that he would uplift her, encourage her, cajole her and wrestle her insecurities into submission so that she could realise her full potential, it was just the kind of person he was.

James was very much the same according to Lily; as a muggleborn she would have had few opportunities for advancement on her own but as the lady of a prominent house leader in the Wizengamot and the wife of James Potter she was so much more. The journal detailed situations where James would break down barriers of discrimination for her, where he would cleanse her worries away with a few thoughtful words, where he would inspire her to do even greater things.

That seemed to be one of the greatest of the Potter traits: The ability to inspire. Hermione saw it first-hand yesterday when her man rallied and inspired the defenders of Hogwarts into repelling a force many, many times their number. She had seen it in his ability to assuage the doubts of even the most timid person and give them the courage and confidence to master even the most difficult of tasks.

He was awe inspiring; it wasn't so much his actions, or words, though they definitely were so. Rather it was his presence, an aura of indomitable courage and resolve that inspired from mere proximity. Many times Hermione had seen members of the regiment stand straighter just from his passing, men and women alike looked up to him as a leader, and he barely had to try, it came naturally to him and Hermione loved him for it.

Shaking herself out of her reverie she realized that she was already back at the suite, her feet having carried her with little conscious instruction and she noted with amusement that Hedwig was looking rather sullen; they hadn't had much use for the post owl for several days and with harry spending more and more time away from their suite, or with Hermione, the owl who had previously had attention lavished on her appeared rather neglected.

Hermione called softly to the bird as she sat on the bed and petted Hedwig fondly when she fluttered over. The bird had been Harry's only companion in that… house, for many years and the young woman often felt a debt of gratitude to the snowy owl for her role in keeping Harry sane. As she petted the bird Hermione looked out over the castle grounds through their window and pondered what was to come.

They had defeated the army that much was obvious, what was now uncertain was where the next strike would be; Hogwarts had proven itself a fortress, not a single undead had passed the quad, just as Harry had vowed that morning. Where then would Valmortis strike next? The shopping centres would be deserted this time of year with people in the middle of their working period, St Mungo's was always a potential target, but strangely the necromancer hadn't attacked the hospital yet despite there being every opportunity for him to do so.

The only real targets of any note left were the homes of leaders on the 'light' side of the conflict, and the ministry itself. Hermione suspected the former was more likely, Valmortis had shown no compunctions about attacking innocents, slaughtering them even, and she was sure he wouldn't stop now.

But there was another aspect of this war, one that she realized that people often forgot about. Voldemort was still biding his time, Valmortis' attacks might simply be a drawn out distraction, a means of bogging down their resources whilst his boss loaded the big guns. Hermione dreaded what would happen if Voldemort should attack the school. A horde of undead they might be able to deal with, but the greatest sorcerer in history? While their wards were down and everyone was exhausted from the battle just passed? It would be a massacre.

She sent a thought to harry making him aware of her concerns and he acknowledged with the mental equivalent of a grim nod. She mulled over the topic some more and concluded that while Voldemort could probably slaughter a great many of the students and staff he would ultimately be cut down if he attacked, Harry and Dumbledore were still running on essentially full juice even after the battle, Hermione had made sure Harry had slept well and was confident that their fitness levels would replenish their reserves before anything could be mobilised.

On top of that there was still an army here, most of the auror's had left but there were still dozens of regiment members who, while they might not be able to handle Voldemort mano e mano, would be more than able to fire volleys of sorcels into a fight between the 'dark lord' and whoever he was duelling. Furthermore reports suggested that Voldemort's fascination with the prophecy had not abated and even with a failed attack on the ministry Dumbledore fully expected him to remain focused on that goal.

Lastly Valmortis himself was still fresh, he hadn't been seen in the battle on Hogwarts at all and he was an unknown quality. No one had engaged him in any kind of protracted duel as of yet, and the one time they had fought him after the world cup he had displayed no skill that the teens didn't now possess.

He seemed to lead mostly through his servants, undead who could be counted on to follow orders and not rebel. That suggested a lack of charisma, and an unwillingness to get his hands dirty, perhaps personally weak on the battle field but possessing of stores of necromantic knowledge? Hermione didn't have enough information to lock in her hypothesis but it was, she thought, probably fairly accurate.

Of course there was always the chance that he was every bit as powerful as Voldemort and simply was loath to enter combat himself she couldn't be certain either way. Hermione didn't know next where this war would go, but it would go there, and quickly.

-:-

The day progressed apace and all too soon Hermione found Harry back in her arms as they settled down for the evening and cuddled naked under the covers. Umbridge had scheduled a meeting for the next day to discuss several points of interest and they would meet with the Regiment in the morning to debrief. They would have done so today but many of them were still in the hospital wing recovering from exhaustion or injuries. The two bond mates had visited the hospital wing earlier in the day to personally see their friends who had been injured in the battle. There had been a tense moment when Parvati had launched herself at Harry beating at his chest in her upset at Padma's injuries.

In the end though she had ended up sobbing in his arms thanking him for keeping them all alive, even if they weren't perfectly safe, Hermione understood; if Harry had been crippled in a similar way to Padma then she would have obliterated whoever had caused it to happen. Daphne, Tracey and Susan had all insisted in giving Harry a kiss despite his protests and Hermione's amusement; during the final minutes of the battle they had been surrounded by the remnants of the Vampire elite and only Harry's personal intervention had saved their lives.

There were similar stories all across the wing, people thanking him for being there, for protecting them, even if they had ended up injured, exhausted, or nearly killed. Despite the wounds people saw him as the reason they were still alive, and Hermione couldn't fault them because in many instances her man was personally responsible for saving the lives of nearly two dozen students and aurors that day, and it could be argued that he was single headedly responsible for bringing the defenders together to survive and win the day.

Harry had been strong throughout the day, keeping his emotions at bay to present a strong front to the wounded of the Regiment, now that night had fallen and the candles had been extinguished however he had nearly broken down in her arms, distraught at the wounds inflicted on his friends.

The size and scope of Harry's love for all those around him constantly astounded Hermione, barely a day went past that Harry did not offer issue with the wizarding world and it's close minded attitude to just about everything, but the people within it he could not bring himself to loathe and indeed he could not avoid caring for every one of them and feeling personally responsible for their injuries under his command.

Many times over the course of their friendship, and especially their relationship, Hermione had comforted Harry after times of great unrest. She considered it an honour and a privilege to be the person he turned to for comfort, to be the only person he could open himself to in such a raw vulnerable state. She cherished every moment with her man, but sometimes she cherished these moments more than others, because they truly showed her the heart of her man. His compassion and care for all living things.

As his trembling finally settled and he turned to her in the darkness she felt her breath hitch; the moon's faint light through the window was the only thing illuminating the teen in her arms, and even then only his deep green eyes were visible and they speared right to her soul. There was a need there, a hunger for absolution in her arms. Unbidden she heard her own voice in the darkness.

"Come to me my love."

-:-Lemon in this section-:-

He rolled atop her and pressed his lips to hers in the same smooth motion, laying his claim on her body with a husky growl in the back of his throat. She gasped into his mouth as he kissed her with a hot hungry passion that she rarely felt from him; typically their lovemaking was sweet and slow but this…

Her hands fisted in his locks even as one of his did the same in hers, the other reached between them and cupped the apex of her thighs, trapping the heat there. She moaned into his mouth as one of his fingers slid into her, she was ready for him the moment he moved atop her and claimed her for his own and he knew it. Hermione could feel his length pressing into her thigh and in that moment she wished dearly that his birthday was just a few months earlier. She was already sixteen of course but their self-imposed deadline seemed so silly now that it was only a few months away.

She broke the kiss and looked up at him with hooded eyes, her hips riding his hand, begging for something bigger than his finger to plunge into her. She bumped against his mind with hers and they fell together seamlessly exchanging nothing but pure emotion as they moved together in the moonlight. For several seconds no words were exchanged between them as Harry slid another finger into Hermione's core and began to insistently thrust into her, commanding her wordlessly to come undone around him.

She yearned to obey him as her body curled around his, arms locking around his back, legs around his thighs opening her to him fully as her head tipped back and her eyes rolled. She felt Harry separate their minds slightly so that he could truly appreciate what he was about to do to her and Hermione felt a rush of feminine longing, a desire to merge with him, not in mind as they usually did, but in body: To have him deep inside her thrusting away at her sex with abandon as she clenched around him.

She felt the pressure build in her core and begged him to keep going, the words tore from her throat before she could even consciously summon them but to her dismay his insistent thrusting slowed. She panted against his throat, thrusting her hips against his hand frantically trying to release the pressure. His lips curled against her neck and she felt him suck hard as his fingers began to circle her clit.

She sobbed in frustration and fisted one hand in his hair; the other grabbed his arse and tried to pull his hips to hers so that he could complete her at last. He resisted and merely kept her on edge with his fingers and lips as she tried to press harder against him, desperate for some friction. His lips moved from her throat to her ear and his husky voice, rough from emotion, reached her.

"Are you close love? Do you want me to finish you off? Claim you as mine? Sink my cock into you and pound you into the mattress?"

Never before would she have guessed that dirty talk was a turn on for her but those words shot straight to her core and all she could do was moan piteously as two fingers slid back home inside her. Her hips bucked against him, hoping for some kind of fulfilment to his sinful words. Then she felt his lips at her throat again and gasped as he bit down on the skin there hard.

The effect was nearly instantaneous as she felt him claim her with his mouth; putting a mark on her like that seemed to flick some kind of switch within her that broke the wall of pressure instantly and for several seconds she had no concept of time or space, focused only on the fingers in her core and the teeth at her throat as she bucked against his hand and sobbed his name.

She came down from her high in his arms, clutching at him like a lifeline even as he held her firmly to himself. Her thighs were sticky with the fluid that she guessed had gushed from her like a broken dam. Her breathing was shaky and uneven and the occasional tremor still ripped through her abdomen in the aftershocks of her little death.

Soft words of comfort and reassurance flowed from him, sweet nothings of love and support whispered straight into her ear; he was there for her, he had her, she was safe, she was his. She calmed slowly and when she felt she could move she pressed her lips to his, kissing him hard in unspoken thanks only to have his lips dominate her utterly and soon she was panting against him again cursing the lateness of his birthday.

Aware of his need she reached between them and took him in hand, pumping his length with the long firm strokes she knew he loved. He must have been on a hair trigger from the previous activities and quickly spilled himself between them groaning and holding her close as he thrust into her hand; she grinned at him before slipping down between them to clean his abdomen with her tongue, enjoying very much the taste of him as she licked away the evidence of his orgasm.

When she finally looked up it was to see him watching her with something approaching wanton animal lust. She smiled coyly, suddenly shy, and ducked her head.

They spoke little when making love, they rarely needed to communicate verbally with one another anyway but in the bedroom they seemed to understand one another even without their ephemeral connection. But this was one of those times when Hermione's deeply buried insecurities, the worries about her appearance, her bookishness, and so on, came to the fore. She had little to fear however as Harry pulled her back into his arms to spoon and held her intimately against his chest. His soft words set her at ease perfectly, just the ones she had needed him to say.

"I love you"

One of his hands cupped a breast while the other looped under her waist to hold her close and she sighed in contentment even as his lips pressed against the back of her neck. She needed nothing else in this world, at this point in time, life was perfect.

-:-Lemon ends-:-

Harry woke the next day feeling incredibly content, reconnecting physically with Hermione last night had been incredible, and much needed after the horrors of the day before that. Falling asleep with Hermione's soft body curled up against him had been the much needed balm for his ragged psyche. He pulled the covers back over them and simply indulged in the warmth and comfort his lover's body provided as he lay cocooned with her in the blankets. Soon enough she woke alongside him and shifted in his arms to face him with a soft, sleepy smile on her still bruised lips.

He looked down into those eyes and nearly choked at the feelings of love and adoration rushing through him and it was all he could do to simply tighten his hold, drawing her close against him even as her arms slid around his back. There were few moments where they indulged the simple intimacy of their relationship, but this was one of them.

He knew not how long they lay embraced in one another's arms before Hermione gently pulled back and looked up into his eyes as she laid one soft hand on his rough cheek. Her tender words reached him a moment later.

"I love you Harry. Last night was amazing."

He ran his hand up her arm and down again, caressing her skin softly as he mulled over a reply

"It was wasn't it? We've made love before but… that was something special."

Her lips moved up to gently press against his in a chaste kiss.

"It was special, just like you my love."

No more was spoken for many minutes as they melded together again in their minds, sharing their feelings and thoughts. Eventually however they parted, there were things to do that day. As he stood in the shower washing his lover's back with firm strokes he thought about the day ahead; the Regiment needed debriefing; many of the squads had nearly lost members and Aegis squad had nearly been destroyed outright.

They needed to see him and he needed to make sure none of them needed any psychological help, he had Hermione to cleanse his mental ills, few others had such a dedicated supporter. Furthermore an Intel meeting with the auror scouts still stationed at the castle was needed; they still had no idea if the undead had been wiped out to a corpse, or if some were still prowling the country side.

Harry briefly wondered what the result would have been if Valmortis simply let his undead wander across the country and spread out to infest the isles. How many would have died? Would the ministry be unable to prevent magic from being revealed to the muggles?

He shook the thoughts from his mind as he continued with his itinerary; Umbridge and Dumbledore both wanted meetings; that would be a mission and a half as he was sure Dumbledore wanted to talk to him about his use of sorcery in the battle and the fact that Valmortis would know his ability now. He had no idea what the Unspeakable wanted but if she wanted a meeting it couldn't be anything good.

Between that he needed to make sure Hermione wasn't bottling up any of her own stress, he was well aware of what she had done for him now and in the past, he was also aware that she would often put aside her own emotions to help him when he needed it. She was incredibly protective of him and he was certain that she would have been stressed throughout the battle in worry for him, if she was he needed to make sure she let go of the tension rather than hang onto it.

It was a constant source of worry for Harry that he was still inept at navigating Hermione's mind to identify what issues she was having. He had essentially an open book to her inner workings but still he couldn't wrap his head around the way her mind worked sometimes and it often hindered him from unearthing deep-set worries that they really did need to talk about.

Hermione's mind swept into his then, merging with him and letting him know that she was fine despite his worries. Seeing him command with confidence yesterday and obliterate everything in his path, literally, had assuaged many of her fears during the battle. She did promise to open up to him more and help him navigate her thoughts though, which calmed him.

Letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding he turned and let Hermione wash his back in return and quietly thanked her in his mind, her reply was typical of her.

"Always Harry, always for you"

-:-

A bit more than twenty minutes later saw the two teens in the Regiment commons standing side by side with Parvati facing the rest of the Regiment. The forty odd Regimentals were standing in their ordered rows, Padma was still in the hospital recovering but Parvati had assured him she would know everything that went on, and Daphne had one of her arms in a sling, her shoulder having been pierced by an enchanted spear, the wound was taking its sweet time to heal.

But apart from Padma they were all there, not one of them had been killed, and though Padma was severely injured she would recover fully with only a slight limp as a reminder of the battle. Harry was proud of them all, they had matched every expectation he had of them, exceeded most of them, and had been a huge part of what won the day.

He shared a glance with Hermione before taking in a deep breath to speak.

"Yesterday fifteen thousand undead tried to breach the defences of this castle. They marched across the bridge in force, and threw themselves at our lines. You did not yield. You held the line against a force over a hundred times your number. You faced horrors no teenager should ever have to face, you battled through exhaustion, fear, and a mortal threat I wish none of you had been exposed to.

You fought through all of that, and you came through the other side, alive, well, some injuries, but nothing you can't handle. All in all you did me proud, I watched many of you make the leap from childhood to adult hood that day, I watched many of you shed the covers of innocence and take up the mantle of experience.

You are, one and all, now blooded members of the First Hogwarts Regiment and I'm proud to say I stood by your side as you turned back the tides of darkness."

He watched as many of the people in front of him stood straighter at his praise and he even spotted a tear running down Daphne's cheek, though he knew not its cause.

"This is the beginning of the end of this war, we've shown the snake faced bastard and his lieutenants that they're nothing, even compared to a bunch of students, we've shown them that if we stand together, we can overcome any adversity, and surmount any obstacle. We are the First Hogwarts Regiment, and we do not retreat, we do not back down, and we do not lose. We only win, and we keep winning until there's nothing left to fight."

Fred and George had identical grins, Purepower squad was looking proud and slightly smug, the Vixens were fierce, looks of defiance and pride were on every face, Harry felt an upsurge of emotion for this brave people who had stood by his side.

"The school sorts people into different houses, Lions, Puffs, Claws, Snakes. We're divided from the moment we walk through the front doors of this castle, pitted against one another in Quidditch and day to day academia. But you've all put that aide, broken through barriers of distrust, animosity and even hatred. You've come together as a single unit of brave, intelligent, cunning and loyal warriors of the light, and I couldn't be more proud of each and every one of you."

He closed his eyes, feeling Hermione's pride rolling off her in palpable waves. When he opened them the entire regiment was standing at attention and Harry was nearly bowled over by the expressions on their faces, respect, trust, pride was on in full force as they looked at him, their leader, and saluted him.

"Squad leaders come forwards to get debriefing documents to hand out to your squad. Training at oh six hundred tomorrow, you've earned a day of rest. Nothing further, Regiment, dismissed!"

He turned to Hermione and saw her grinning at him with unabashed pride and felt his heart do flip flops in his chest. The Regiment's respect he could take in stride, just, but Hermione's respect and pride always floored him. Always did, always would.

-:-

The Debriefing documents had instructions for each member to make an appointment with Madam Pomfrey or one of the Auror medics if they needed to talk about what had happened, and a personal request from the command squad that if anyone needed to talk to a friend then they would be there for them.

Harry was many things, but a psychologist was not one of them. While he and Hermione might be able to work out each other's stresses because they had intimate knowledge of each other's minds, the same could not be said for the rest of the regiment and neither Harry nor Hermione thought it was a good idea to offer mental help for them when they barely knew what they were doing themselves, better they go to a professional to deal with that and come to Harry and Hermione if they simply needed someone to talk to about it, a friend.

There was little time immediately though as the two of them headed towards Umbridge's office for the meeting she had requested. They stepped through the doors to the room and saw the ageless woman in her usual reclined state with her legs crossed. No matter how many times Harry observed the Unspeakable he was always filled with a feeling of dread and slight intimidation. Maybe it was to do with the breastplate that she never removed, or the forbidding clothing that was slightly reminiscent of an inquisitor from the Middle Ages.

He had noticed yesterday that she was something of a non-combatant, she didn't contribute anything to the defences directly, but rather inscribed soul traps in the cobbles to disable many of the undead that were advancing. It was a curious thing; though she was personally very intimidating he'd never witnessed her actually use an offensive spell.

Her incongruously sweet tones broke through his musings.

"Thank you both for attending this meeting. I asked you here today to discuss four things, two of which are important and mundane, the other two are important and personal, but for different reasons. Two of which are good news, two of which are bad, which would you prefer first?"

Harry shrugged and Hermione answered for them as they sat down.

"Good news first, we could use some of that these days."

Victoria gave her typical per functionary nod and moved to the map table where she pointed at an area of terrain some dozen kilometres south of the grounds.

"Valmortis was spotted here moving south by one of our scouts, he's magically drained and unable to apparate, probably due to whatever he was doing to keep that army in one piece and under control during its march. He's not vulnerable due to an extensive body guard of what appear to be the last of the elder vampires, many of them bear wands. It would be folly to attack them, but the fact that for the moment at least, he has to travel on foot, means that we have time to regroup."

The young wizard gave a sharp look to the map table and nodded once.

"That is a piece of good news indeed, what of the other?"

"The death eater remnants attempted to attack twenty seven homes of prominent wizarding families, probably hoping for hostages, they were summarily wiped out to a man by auror response teams, Voldemort's henchmen have been finally eradicated, the number of his followers can now probably be counted on the fingers of two hands."

Exhaling loudly Harry sat back in his chair and squeezed Hermione's hand.

"So we're on the up and up then? We decimated the undead army here, the attack on the ministry was thwarted and the rest of Voldemort's forces have been cleaned out. What bad news could you possibly have for us?"

Her expression grew bleak then and the normal slate grey colour of her eyes became a much darker shade akin to that of a storm cloud.

"This is where the more personal issues come into play, the first is an issue of my own; I'm dying."

Harry nearly choked at that bald statement he stammered out the question.

"How long do you have?"

Victoria's reply was curt, but it expanded into a much more in depth monologue.

"One year at most perhaps, now hush. I was born thousands of years ago, and have lived in two incarnations since: My mortal life was a short one, barely eighty years of a possible nine hundred such was my magical strength. In my youth I lusted for power, much the same as Voldemort, or Grindlewald before him; my name was Morgana."

Beside him Hermione gasped and shared thoughts and images started stampeding through his mind.

"I was barely a teenager when I met the man who would become Merlin, he was a passionate bright and powerful young wizard, and he sought knowledge like water seeks to level itself: Darting in and out of libraries all over the known world, absorbing knowledge as fast as he could; then moving on to the next store of arcane tomes.

I freely admit that I was fascinated with the soul then just as much as I am now, and many times I journeyed into the deeps of what is now Africa to uncover the secrets long buried within. I emerged and returned to Britain as her first dark lady, and proceeded to terrorize this country for thirty years.

Myrrdin and I were inseparable for many years, he cared little for the terror I inflicted upon the populace of post Rome Britain so long as I made sure to give him all the books he could read, and lent him my bed at night. But as time passed he became aware of a sickness within me, a taint of my soul that was draining my power, he was convinced it was the magic I wielded and out of his love for me, tried to strike me down, tried to free my soul from my body so that it could heal."

Harry was rapt with attention, it wasn't often a two thousand year old witch decided to tell you her life story.

"He succeeded in the end, after ten years of bitter conflict between us, for I was not ready to die. While I was obsessed with the soul and the necromancy that it entailed, he was versed in all magics, and eventually he slew me with the aid of Arthur Pendragon and his knights, one of whom was Sir Galahad, your ancestor. However I was not allowed to rest, barely a year hence was my soul pushed into a mortal body once more, a babe named Victoria de Alençon, a witch.

Without memory of my former life I grew to a powerful witch with the same fascination with soul magic, unwittingly I followed in my own footsteps and travelled to Africa when I came of age to learn many of the same magics. My old lover however heard whispers from south of the Mediterranean of another witch following in the footsteps of Morgana le fey and tracked me down. When he learned of the power of my soul he knew exactly who I was.

Seeking to avoid the same sickness that I fell under before he took me in as a student and tutored me in all kinds of magic and explained the sickness of the soul that can come from using magic tainted by darkness and its inherent allure and what it did to me before, it did not avail me.

The sickness was in my soul and by the time of my fiftieth birthday it was quite clear that I was already losing my strength, in an effort to preserve my souls he sacrificed himself, disintegrating his body and draining his soul of power, flooding my own and forcing the sickness to abate. Never since that time has the soul of Merlin had any power like what it did previous, but I am eternally thankful for his sacrifice.

The power he imbued me with has allowed me to live for nearly two thousand more years; I have seen the rise and fall of muggle civilizations. I have seen wars, plagues, catastrophes both natural and manmade. I witnessed the discovery of paper in the west, the steam engine, the wand. I've suffered injury and madness and many other ailments besides, but Merlin's power always dragged me back. But now it has faded, and my magic is leaving me."

Once more Harry sat back in his chair and let out a heavy breath, it was a lot to take in, he felt like he should bow.

"Why is this important? I have been draining the magic of many things, absorbing it into myself to sustain me, I even briefly considered stealing your souls to sustain myself, and such is your power that I might have lived for two thousand more years. But I did not because my magic is not just going to disappear, it has not been vanishing into the ether; it has been sucked into a… pocket, for want of a better word, which has contained the sum total of both my own soul, and the soul of my lover. It is a potent force, one that you sorely need and one that I am going to gift to you."

So quickly did it drop Harry's jaw would have smashed into tiny pieces on the floor if it had not been attached to the rest of his skull. Hermione's jaw wasn't even a microsecond behind it.

"I have lived a life longer than any other being on this Earth, I have spent more time alive then many souls have spent dead, my time has come, passed, and gone, and it is your time now. This power will be greater than any other that has ever been held before. So long as your magic remains pure the two of you will live for eons. It is the greatest gift I can give you, and I give it gladly and without restraint. When I die, your power will begin to increase, and it will do so until the day you die most likely. Even if that time is ten thousand years from now your power will still grow. I only hope it will grow enough in the time left to you that you may defeat the foe that is coming."

Harry stood up and then almost immediately bowed at the waist.

"You honour us greatly with this Professor. And it is a gift that we could not hope to repay, but nevertheless we thank you, as a bonded couple this means the world to us, that we might have one another in this life for a long, long time. It may sound insensitive, but while this may be bad news for you, I cannot help but think that overall, it is a good thing."

The wry smile he got in return would make him chuckle for years to come.

-:-

Hermione couldn't believe her ears, the power of Merlin and Morgana combined? Thousands of years on the earth with Harry? This was like a dream come true, she couldn't help but agree that though Victoria was dying, the overall effect was to the good. There was more to come however and Hermione felt that this was the easy blow, the one backlight with a silver lining to soften the impact of whatever was coming next.

"There is one more piece of news we must discuss, the identity of the Nosferatu that seems to be Valmortis' personal companion, and the powers and abilities of Nosferatu themselves."

She turned back to the map table and seemed to ponder something for a moment before turning.

"In the attack on Hogwarts castle by the recently obliterated army of undead many corpses were identified as previous victims of Valmortis' attacks, several skeletons have been correctly identified as muggleborn students and some Inferi as parents of students or alumni. One corpse that was not identified was that of Fleur Delacour."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the name. It was not a name that either Harry or Hermione often indulged in even thinking so painful were the memories it dredged up.

"Several hundred of the undead were disintegrated completely by various magics of yours Mr Potter, and at first we assumed this was the case for your former friend, however, the scouts who observed the body guard of Valmortis submitted to me their memories for your perusal in a pensive, Dumbledore was kind enough to lend me his. I ask that you view them with me."

With rising dread at what they were about to see Hermione and Harry joined Victoria in the pensive and found themselves on the ridge of a hill, looking down on a swiftly moving company. The image zoomed awkwardly as the view of the scout sharpened due to a spell and suddenly they were in the middle of the company of vampires floating along rapidly as they ran.

In their midst was Valmortis himself, tall and lean, but possessing a terrible aura of power. And next to him was an almost equally tall, elegant and beautiful creature. Her long silver hair was straight, much as it was in life, and her figure was almost identical, but the face had changed greatly in whatever foul ritual had warped Fleur Delacour.

This creature's open mouth revealed rows of needle like teeth and a many forked tongue, her eyes were blood red, not just the irises, or pupils, or sclera, the entire eye was a pulsating crimson. Beyond that there were a myriad of scars that adorned the creature's once beautiful face, they looked self-inflicted.

But despite all that it was most definitely their old friend, her face was different but there was no mistaking her hair, her body, and even with the changes to her face it was still unmistakably Fleur. She felt a mixture of emotions surge across Harry's mind and gripped his hand tightly; fear, anger and disgust were paramount, whether they were towards Fleur or what had happened to her she could not tell, but deeper there was nostalgia, regret, even longing.

Harry turned and wrenched himself from the memory, yanking her along with him and a moment later they were standing in the defence classroom once more and he was holding her close, trying to banish the phantom of their dead friend.

Victoria joined them a heartbeat later and they all stood in silence for a moment, the ancient witch looking off into the distance in polite disinterest. Eventually the two teens separated and harry drew a shaky breath, it was all Hermione could do not to cry out in rebellion at what had happened to the once graceful and beautiful young woman.

"That's her alright, what happened to her?"

Victoria shook her elegant head slowly as if in disbelief.

"No matter how many times I see this it is still one of the most disgusting uses of necromancy in existence. She was turned into a Nosferatu, an undead creature specifically created from the corpse of a pure being. Nuns were popular a few hundred years ago, and the vestal virgins before that. Nowadays it is popular to create them from the corpses of bonded Veela. The ritual is complex, requiring the blood of a powerful magical being, and a master to tie the Nosferatu to.

The blood is injected into the heart of the Veela corpse and infuses it with power; the master then binds the soul of the creature to themselves by force, essentially chaining them to this plane of existence. The body is reanimated, and controlled by the soul of the dead creature, in this case Fleur Delacour. But the soul does not actually exist within the Nosferatu; this creates a terrible hunger for souls that the Nosferatu will seek to sate, draining them from its victims and storing them within itself.

This hunger is not something that can be fulfilled and the creature will continue to gorge itself upon the souls of magical beings until it is slain, growing in power exponentially as it does so. Because of the chained nature of its soul the Nosferatu will continue to obey its master faithfully and will continue to do so even after its master's death. The only way to free the soul of the Nosferatu is to destroy both it and its master.

The victims of the Nosferatu are called thralls, this is because their souls are shackled to the Nosferatu's just as the Nosferatu's soul is shackled to its master, and the thralls serve the Nosferatu in much the same way. However there is another bond to consider. Typically speaking the magic creature whose blood powers the Nosferatu is fed upon by the undead at the time of its creation, bonding even more power to it through the creature's soul.

Judging by this Nosferatu's appearance and your report from last year it is fairly safe to guess that Voldemort's blood powers this creature, and this has interesting implications; firstly Voldemort is not dead, this we know and the interaction between the two will be antagonistic at best, as the creature will constantly thirst for Voldemort's soul. Secondly Fleur Delacour's pure blood was used to resurrect Voldemort from his limbo, I suspect because of this the Nosferatu will retain much of Fleur Delacour's personality, maybe even her memories, but I cannot say for certain.

Either way this creature is a formidable foe, it will not wield magic like a wizard or witch, but it's endurance and self-regenerative abilities will increase with every kill, and judging by the number of thralls in the army we wiped out I would guess that this creature's power is already unfathomable. Furthermore it will possess superhuman speed and strength greater than that of a vampire's."

Hermione mulled over what they had just learned for a moment before querying in a quiet tone.

"Is there any possibility that we can turn her against Voldemort?"

Victoria shrugged

"It is likely, certain in fact, that the Nosferatu is slaved to Valmortis' will, his motives are still uncertain at the moment, but with all who desire power they must both know that it cannot be shared. Even if we lose this war Valmortis may turn on Voldemort in the end."

They fell silent in contemplation for a few seconds before Harry asked in a slightly choked tone.

"Why does she look like him?"

Umbridge took a long drag of her tonic. The two teens still had no idea what the purpose of the liquid was, and suspected they never would, but it was as always, ever present.

"We have discussed in class the connections between the body and the soul yes? How the body creates power, which is then trapped by the soul, only to be redirected back through the body to create magic. This is the typical nature of living beings. Undead are slightly different. Their bodies come in three kinds: Organic, that is of this world, Inferi, vampires and the like fall into this category. They will appear much the same in Undeath as they did in life.

The next kind is the ethereal: Their bodies are insubstantial, an embodiment of the ectoplasm their souls, still trapped in this world, are made of. Ghosts, Wights and Poltergeists fall into this category. Finally there are the Enchanted: Their bodies are created entirely from magic, and as such are a physical manifestation of the souls that power that creation. Nosferatu will have a mixture of appearances between their own organic selves, and the being whose magic gives them their power, in this case Voldemort.

An extension of this effect is Mr Potter's altered appearance when Voldemort's soul was embedded in his scar, because his soul had no body of its own it inflicted it's nature upon Mr Potter and altered his appearance. And Quirinus Quirrell's altered appearance was of course due to Voldemort's possession of him at the time. Ginny Weasley of course, was having her own soul commanded by another's, and wouldn't have been physically affected.

Hermione raised another query

"If Harry Quirrell were both affected in appearance by Voldemort's soul why did it manifest differently? And why wasn't the appearance change more in line with what Fleur's appearance is now?"

Umbridge took another sip of tonic before continuing

"Voldemort's appearance on the night of Halloween in nineteen eighty one was certainly identical to what it is now, however it was an appearance born of mutilation, his original body was one of human proportions and nature. It's natural state. This influenced the effect it had on both Mr Potter and Quirrell. His body now, in its reconstructed state, is made entirely of magic, much in the same way that a Nosferatu's is. As such his tainted soul has altered the core nature of his being, and as such the magic powering the Nosferatu's body shapes her appearance to the more tainted one that we see on Voldemort today."

Harry sat back in his chair and raised a hand to his forehead.

"This has been a lot of talk, but what does it really tell us?"

Umbridge jabbed a finger at the map table.

"We don't know where they're going to hit next, Valmortis has us on the back foot, it looks like we had a victory here but he pitted a force worth almost nothing against us, and we took casualties, he left unharmed. He and his personal guard, including the Nosferatu, are still a potent force and they could hit anywhere.

WE don't know where, or when, but there is every chance that you're going to have to fight this Nosferatu, she looks like your friend, but she is not the same, you must remember this, or the both of you will die."

She sucked in a sharp breath before continuing

"The two of you are terrifyingly powerful. You've smashed to pieces every estimate we've had for your growth, part of it is your bond, part of it is your personal fitness levels, and part of it is your respective heritages. But even with all of that in mind you're still growing in power every day.

If that Nosferatu kills you, and entraps your souls, there is no chance we'll be able to come back from this, they'll wipe us out to the last man woman and child. That cannot be an option."

Harry shared a distressed look with Hermione, this was what they had been unconsciously dreading; the single threat that could be their undoing.

-:-

Exiting the defence classroom Harry and Hermione were wrapped in thought. Their minds were fully melded and thoughts were flowing between them like water. The information overload would have crippled Harry's thought process for days on his own as he tried to sift through it but with the benefit of Hermione's lightning quick mind he managed to keep at least abreast of her own thoughts that were travelling a mile a minute.

They returned to their quarters where Hermione settled in with a book and Harry tinkered for a while. They weren't really concentrating on their respective pursuits; rather their minds were slowly separating from the singular entity into their more individual personas. Eventually Harry sat on the bed next to where his love was sprawled out and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you sweetheart."

She looked up at him and smiled softly

"I love you too; now go see what Albus wants."

Hermione rarely let herself be in the presence of the old wizard. She still hadn't forgiven him for what he had intentionally or otherwise put Harry through. What he had done to make amends was barely a dip in the ocean as far as Hermione was concerned and while Harry had found it within his gigantic heart to forgive the old man she hadn't, and she was certain she never would.

The physical scars Harry bore from his time with the Dursleys paled in significance to the emotional and psychological ones. Only now, nearly two years after he had moved out from Privet Drive was Harry beginning to heal from the more debilitating mental and emotional scars. He still frequently woke from night terrors of the abuse he had suffered. His social issues had long since been solved between his friendships, the love of Emma and Dan, and of course Hermione herself.

Regardless though Harry had still lived more years in terror and pain than he had in happiness and safety, and Hermione knew that there were still many, many years ahead of them where Hermione would have to pull him out of almost PTSD levels of trauma relating to his early childhood. No, Hermione would never forgive Albus Dumbledore for what he had done to her man.

Harry pressed a soft kiss to her lips before turning and heading back out the door, time to go meet the old codger.

-:-

Hermione turned back to Lily's journal, it was always a wonder to her how Harry never noticed the leather bound book, but there it was. She was currently perusing an account of one of Lily's experiments with Mageflax seeds; a horrendously bitter seed that contained antiseptic properties of a potent calibre. The experiment itself wasn't overly interesting; rather Hermione was on the lookout for snippets that Lily wrote in the margins of her journal.

Lily was a woman who loved her family, at this point in the journal that family consisted of only her and her husband James. Hermione took great interest in the observations Lily made of her husband; they were typically very astute and shed many small pieces of insight into Harry's character as well.

It was no secret that Harry was like his father, same looks, same personality and the same traits. A fair bit of his mother spilled through but for the most part, he was his father's son. Initially Hermione's curiosity in Lily's insights into James' character had been from the perspective of a girlfriend looking to understand her man better. But now… now it was deeper. With all the discussion of souls and their effects Hermione was beginning to suspect more and more that the potter family magic was a little more than wards and invention.

-:-

AN3: Holy balls, a cliffy, more to the point, holy balls, a chapter. This took a long time didn't it? I'm sorry about that, Christmas does that to updates. Regardless, here's a chapter, enjoy. We're on the final stretch now and I'm finding that my writing is becoming more and more condensed, expect the next six or seven chapters to cover only a couple of days.

AN4: Review Responses:

ShadowDragon: Waaaaaaaaaards. So many wards. Yeah I've got some stuff under my belt don't you worry.

JKarr: Thanks

Ayra: Kay, first thing's first, this is the single best thing anyone has ever said about anything I've ever done. Reading this review gave me shivers.

Right, now let's actually discuss what you had to say: Firstly, yes Harry did create a directional black hole out of sorcery that then collapsed upon itself… Cool huh? And from here… I have very little to say as your Review simply becomes an extolling of the writing. Regardless thank you very, very much for what you've said, it means the world to me.

God Of All: Here's the continuation, a bit late because of the holidays but whaddayaknow.

Vegasman: This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I intended it to be, which is a good thing tbh, but there you go. I'll handle the evil side reactions in the next one…. Maybe.

Beyondthesea: Valmortis didn't make an appearance because he never expected the fight to be a 'victory' committing himself to the battle might have gotten him killed and he isn't interested in that.

Anotherboarduser: Thank you!

Ireadhp: Well I'm glad I can yank you out of your comfort zone and still give you something to enjoy, thank you for your review.

I don't often say this but thank you all dearly for your reviews. From the detailed and in depth, to the short, to the 'fan girls', all are welcome, needed, and frankly fantastic, can't thank you enough.

This chapter ended up being a lot more dialogue than I'm used to writing, typically I prefer description to speech but… it needs to be done. I also didn't get nearly as much covered as I want to, which is a good thing, because it means I can save more of my secrets for the next instalment of the series, because I have to use fewer of them as filler for this one.

Tune in next time for Chapter Fourteen: Flight, where the forces of darkness recap and the forces of light begin to divide. Thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!

LGreymark