AN: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*
AN2: Super mild lime, there'll be a warning, it's barely sexual, more sensual and intimate.
-:-
Chapter Two: John
"Emma's gone into labour!"
The excited shout caught the attention of the dozen or so Regimentals still about the foyer after the return of Seraphim squad and a few immediately went in the direction Hermione had shot off in at the news. Harry had barely registered her leaving his side as she dashed for the rooms set aside for the birth of the Granger's son. The house elves have already moved Emma there to be joined by the family; the Regimentals would wait in a separate lounge for news.
He followed on at a more sedate pace, doing his utmost to reassure his girlfriend that everything would be fine. A spike of anticipation rose in his gorge at what was to come; the little baby boy who would be his adoptive brother was about to join them. Excitement triggered a burst of adrenaline and Harry experienced the strangest sensation of hyper awareness while walking and mostly calm. He could almost pick out the dozen or so sources of birdsong currently serenading the manor and Hermione's excited chatter a floor above.
As he mounted the polished oak staircase that dominated the rear of the foyer Harry sent a strong flood of calm emotions over their bond, overwhelming Hermione's panicked state and letting her cling to his emotions and use them as an anchor to steady herself. The rush of gratitude back from her caused him to smirk; no matter how much they changed Hermione's ability to panic over things that were under control stayed the same.
Turning into the west wing Harry made the short journey to the maternity suite and quickly located Hermione where she was staring out the window over the well-kept gardens. He approached quietly and slipped his arms around his clearly still nervous bond-mate. He leaned down and whispered against her hair soft words of comfort and reassurance, reminding her that the Potter elves would never let anything happen to either Emma or the baby. She leaned back into his embrace, clearly taking great comfort from the strong and affectionate circle of his arms. Her hands folded over his at her stomach and she nuzzled against his chin that was now rested comfortably atop her head.
"Thankyou"
"Anytime"
They stood there together for what could have been millennia, gazing out across the grounds, as they waited for news. The maternity ward was silenced to prevent distressing sounds from reaching the rest of the manor and while Harry understood why, he questioned the validity of that decision; the near silence was eerie and it was doing nothing for Hermione's nerves. Softly he pressed a kiss against her head and whispered once more.
"Everything's going to be fine."
-:-
Hermione felt like a coiled spring as she stared blankly out over the gardens. It was pitch black outside and only the tiny groups of fairy lights gave any hint to the immaculately kept environs of the Potter family seat. In the first couple of hours she'd been calm, mostly due to Harry's constant and untiring presence in her mind, reassuring her, keeping her calm, generally just loving her.
But with the onset of fatigue both she and Harry had retreated somewhat into the bond to comfort one another after both a harrowing day and the stress of the extended wait. Their closest friends from the Regiment; Sirius, Parvati, Tracey, Susan, Amelia, Neville, Fred and George were around them in chairs and on couches, silent as the two still figures at the window.
There had been murmured conversation at first, tense and stilted, as if the participants were afraid to break the silence for fear of missing some vital aural clue. Soon enough the feeble attempts to pass the time had faded and each of them had retreated inwards to their own thoughts. Hermione watched the group behind them in the reflection of the window and turned her gaze upon each in turn.
She had no doubt where the twins' minds were. Molly Weasley was a well experienced mother and it was hard to think about motherhood without her name coming to mind, never mind that the twins were her sons.
Susan and Amelia were still conversing in low tones; obviously distracting each other with mundane discussion about various ministerial bits and bobs. Neville honestly looked like he was bored out of his mind and Hermione couldn't really blame him. While he had become close to Harry in the last few months, she and the boy hadn't conversed more than a handful of times. There was still some lingering prejudice, she thought, in the pureblood male.
Parvati's eyes were slightly damp with unshed tears, Padma had dropped by earlier and they had spoken in low tones before leaving again. The glint in their squad-mate's eyes hinted to Hermione that Parvati was happy rather than distressed but it was hard to tell with the changed girl. It used to be that Hermione could read Parvati like a book so open was the girl with her emotions. During her training and work with the Regiment something had shifted, monumentally so, in the former gossip queen of Hogwarts.
The blossoming friendship between Parvati and Hermione was one long in the making, but slow in the coming. They had shared the odd conversation in the dorms before but nothing series, only the most superficial of discussions. After third year though everything had changed, the intensive training that Mad Eye had put them through had emboldened the young witch and given her a measure of self-confidence and inner strength that let her shrug off the need to be the centre of attention. Moreover it had taught her how to take her time with things and think them through; bringing out the tactical mind that had been hidden behind layers of makeup and gossip.
Smiling softly Hermione turned her gaze to the last member of the reception: Tracey was curled up in her seat gazing at the two of them, or more likely Harry, but her eyes were blank and glazed indicating deep internal thought. While Seraphim squad's affection for Harry had always been the worst kept secret in the Regiment, Hermione also shared a fairly strong friendship with all three… with both of the girls. Tracey had initially struck Hermione as a very typical fan girl, albeit wearing silver and green rather than red and gold, or yellow and black.
But after getting to know her better Hermione realized that the girl was more than that; while she was obviously really very attached to Harry she also held a great deal of esteem for all the members of the Regiment, the command unit especially. Hermione figured that the girl punched way above her weight when it came to dealing with a lot of the stress and terror they had all faced of late, especially in that she was often the steadiest person who any of the Regimentals could go to if they needed a friendly ear.
While she didn't have the courage of Daphne or Susan Tracey did possess one thing in spades that neither of those girls had much of; trust. She had seen her best friend cut down next to her but still trusted Harry to get her through this alive, she had born witness to his infirmity but trusted Hermione would keep him safe. She trusted Susan to feed her targets in the thick of battle, and she trusted the Regiment as a whole to capitalise on the openings she made.
There was little more the young Slytherin could do to make Hermione respect her, and she didn't need to, because simply having the guts to stick through everything that had happened and fight for what was right… that was enough to earn Hermione's respect.
Hermione's internal musings were broken off abruptly as the door they had been waiting around opened and out stepped Dan with a bundle in his arms. She barely caught her breath as he approached her and Harry who was still standing with her, and offered the bundle to her to hold.
"Emma's fine, do you want to hold your new brother John?"
-:-
The rest of the night passed in a blurred whirlwind for Harry as he did his best to keep Hermione's feet on level ground and prevent her from floating away from sheer happiness and joy. His own feelings felt muted. While in theory he was excited about a new brother being added to his family, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the little Granger.
It was an absurd notion, even he realized that, but Hermione's avid focus on the young child had sparked something inside him that was decidedly unhealthy. When the two finally retired for the evening and his fatigue finally got the better of him. The careful walls he'd erected in his mind to protect Hermione from his uneasy feelings came crashing down. He turned away from her in shame as he felt her shock at the emotions flowing over his surface thoughts.
Her soft hand on his cheek made him turn, with unwanted tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and surprisingly, Hermione let him.
"I'm so sorry. I don't know…"
She stopped him there with a gentle kiss.
"It's not your fault love. You're scared"
"I am?"
The shock in his voice was genuine, so disgusted with himself over his jealousy was he that he hadn't thought to search for the cause.
"Of course you are. You lived for years and years with almost no love in your life, then I come along flooding your world with affection, not to mention the love mum and dad have for you, and now there's this other being that has dragged our focus away from you. You're subconsciously terrified we'll shove you back in that closet."
He cast his eyes down, unable to admit the truth of that statement. Now that he thought about it Hermione was, as usual, completely on the nose.
"I'm not going anywhere Harry and neither are you. I love you, so do mum and dad. I and I know our new brother will as well. I'm bonded to you Harry, through love, I'm proud to be yours, and to have you for my own, and I'd never even think of letting you get out of arms reach, I need you too much."
He closed his eyes against the sting of tears as she leaned close and wrapped her arms around him where he was sitting up in their bed. Her mind swept across his, soothing the scars of his emotional neglect and bolstering his will against his fears.
"Come back to me Harry, please."
The soft entreaty for his attention finally coaxed him to engage with her, his mind meshing with hers, letting go of the fears his battered psyche had manifested in the face of the latest change in his life.
"I love you too sweetheart. So much, what would I do without you?"
"A lot less kissing for one"
He chuckled softly and slid down in the bed, wrapping his arms around his bond mate and allowing sleep to tug at his consciousness, and drag him down to slumber.
-:-
The Regiment's daily rhythm barely stuttered due to the birth of baby John and the next morning everyone was out of bed for their usual training exercises. After calisthenics and fitness training the units broke off and did their specific weapon and specialist training regimens; The infantry rattled rounds downrange, the snipers picked their targets out across the grassy hills of Wales and the Tyranny rumbled around the field set aside specifically for Tyrant squad to take it out for manoeuvres.
Originally fuel had been a concern when the decision had been made to refurbish and convert the tank to a magical fortress. But it had been easy enough to convert the engine to run on magic and simply reinforce the engine block so that it didn't damage itself running on empty. Now the tank could be heard all hours of the day crawling around its dedicated field as Tyrant squad developed more and more proficiency driving their vehicle, especially now that they were cleared for combat.
Harry was inside the surprisingly spacious tank with Tyrant squad that morning, observing their combat procedures so he could get a better understanding of how to integrate them into mixed unit tactics and battle operations. He quickly came to the conclusion that Tyrant squad had no concept of anything beyond where they needed to go and what they had to shoot, and the sooner he started mixed unit practise the better. They needed to learn to avoid friendlies.
It would be something to think about. He got them to let him out and head back to the manor so that he could reconnect with Hermione and see John, his new adoptive brother. He didn't overly like being inside the tank. When all the hatches were closed it did a credible job of blocking the connection between Hermione and him, and it was terrifying. Needless to say the embrace he received from Hermione when he got back to the maternity suite was one of her most intense.
-:-
For all the joy John had brought to the manor there was an even more pressing need on Hermione, and a far darker one. Fleur was still imprisoned in the manor. A dedicated room had been built in the vault level of the Potter family seat for the imprisonment of captives. It was centuries old and Hermione really didn't want to think about the darker side of the Potter heritage, but there it was.
When she finally summoned the courage to pry herself away from her newly expanded family and head down into the bowels of the enormous manor Hermione felt all the repressed anger flowing up within her. Harry, out of respect to what she was trying to do and the amount of concentration it needed, retreated from her mind at these times and it allowed her to let the anger she had at all manner of issues flush out of her.
First came the unwanted spike of anger at Harry's jealousy over John, she couldn't help it, it was there, an irrational response to a biological imperative. She let it flood out of her quickly, not wanting to wallow in the toxic emotion. Next came her anger at the Dursleys, Dumbledore, even Minerva, for perpetually allowing Harry to be put in such a horrible situation. That too she let flow away, useless emotions over things she couldn't change.
So on and so forth this purging of emotion went as she delved deep into the manor. She had to be totally calm for the ritual to have even the slimmest chance of success and even then the success was only minute, and temporary, requiring constant reapplication of the ritual to maintain and build upon the growing division between the souls, and the coaxing of Fleur's soul back into her body.
Physical appearance was the greatest indicator of change. While Voldemort's soul, twisted as it was, was still attached to Fleur's body, it created the horrendous creature known as a nosferatu. The process of expelling that twisted lump of spirit and replacing it with Fleur's own soul would slowly reverse the effects of the transformative process required to create a nosferatu and leave only Fleur's soul in her body.
It was ancient magic, and it was bordering on necromancy as what she was attempting to do was superficially close to bringing someone back from the dead, as Fleur had in fact, died.
But the rules were slightly different for magical creatures, and Fleur was after all, a Veela. They were susceptible to all kinds of dark rituals that twisted their bodies and minds, but at the same time their souls were also much more strongly tethered to their mortal shells. And even after death it was possible to bring back a measure of that personality.
The ritual she was using essentially swapped the darker soul inside the nosferatu's body for the purer, though not lily white, soul of the Veela. Fleur would still technically be a nosferatu, but her appearance, her mind, would be her own. It remained to be seen if the memories would return, or the fateful bond between the young woman and Harry.
That thought almost made her want to botch the ritual intentionally, on the off chance that such a bond, created from trauma, could still exist… It would be Harry's undoing if he was linked to such a creature.
Academically she knew it was unlikely. The Veela bond was one created between two bodies, rather than two souls and while Fleur's body was still more or less the same material, it had taken on an entirely different form.
She opened the door to the cell and stepped inside, quickly shutting the door and snapping her wand in a quick motion to light the magical lamps on the ceiling. She had to force herself to look at the creature on the floor in front of her. It was hard to look at a young woman she had once respected and see her in such a broken state. Dropping the emotion like a hot coal she raised her wand, and began the ritual again.
-:- Lime in this section -:-
When Hermione returned to their rooms later that night Harry was bent over his workstation in the corner, muttering imprecations at whatever mechanical challenge was vexing him. Silently she moved up behind him and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, nuzzling against him, revelling in the closeness.
His soft voice, scratchy from lack of use, washed over her, comforting and strong as always.
"Did it go badly?"
She was taken aback for a moment at the phrasing of his question.
"No, honestly it went well. Why do you ask?"
"You've still walled yourself off from me"
She gasped softly as she realized he was right, and the raspy quality of his voice was distress, not lack of use. Now cognizant of the absence that was the lack of Harry in her mind she immediately dropped the stern mental walls that her concentration and focus on the ritual had created. Instantly he was back, filling up that gaping wound in her mind where he should be, soothing her raw nerves and saturating her mind with peace and comfort. Sighing softly she relaxed, unaware of exactly how tense and wound she had been until her muscles had uncoiled in his presence.
"I missed you."
There was a slight hitch to his voice, she should have noticed it before and she was honestly ashamed that she hadn't. Once upon a time Hermione had prided herself in being able to spot any of Harry's emotions in his otherwise closed demeanour, but it seemed that being linked to them nearly twenty four - seven had dulled that skill to the point where she couldn't even notice his distress when she couldn't simply cheat and pluck the feelings out of his head.
She didn't get long to self-recriminate as Harry's mental statement stopped her cold.
"I still love you."
She couldn't hold back the sob that burst from her throat at that heartfelt declaration, it was what she needed, a reminder that nothing would push him away.
"I'm sorry, I can't…"
"You forgot, after concentrating on something so hard for so long all you wanted to do was see me, hold me, it completely slipped your mind that you needed more then that, you needed this connection."
She merely nodded against his hair as her tears flowed unbidden down her cheeks. The intensity of the moment was a little much for her. Turning, Harry stood and drew her close into his arms, his hands pressing against the small of her back as she buried her head against his chest, his thudding heart reassuring her once again.
"Come to be with me love, I think we both need a bit of alone time."
She felt almost childlike in his arms as he swept her up and carried her to the bed, emotionally, physically and magically drained it was all she could do to help him get her out of her clothes and curl up under the covers. The moment he slid under them with her she wrapped herself around him, clinging to him and weeping softly in relief and guilt against his chest.
She was so lucky that he was hers, that he was so understanding, patient, loving, kind. She was so lucky that he was exactly what she needed in such states of incredible vulnerability. She loved him.
Softly he husked out a lullaby against the top of her head where it was nestled against his chest, she loved listening to his heart almost as much as his off-key singing. She was exhausted, but for some reason sleep wouldn't come to her in the inky darkness of their bedroom, his nude form wrapped around her not the usual aphrodisiac that it was to her, but rather a comforting presence, like that of a duvet; heavy, warm, safe.
She tugged him a top her as insistently as she could in her drained state and he obliged, shifting his weight over her, resting on his elbows and peppering kisses along her jaw and upper chest. Humming in contentment she found his lips, kissing him back with fervour. Her hips rising to meet his as she did so. There was a need within her, an ache to be held by him, protected by him, loved by him. It wasn't carnal, or lustful, but when his cock stiffened and rubbed insistently against her folds she hummed against his lips, revelling in the sensation of another part of him touching her, heavy and thick against her folds and stomach.
He grunted against her lips, his arms trembling with effort as he resisted the urge to thrust deep into her and she marvelled at his control. Her arms came up and wrapped around his hips, holding him close to her and encouraging him to lay himself atop her, resting his weight against her body. He did so carefully, lowering himself inch by inch until her breasts were crushed against his chest and his arms were around her shoulders, his chin in the crook of her neck and their legs intertwined. Cock pulsing hard against her belly.
Softly she whispered soft words of love in his ear as his muscles fluttered and shook with want and need, her own abdominals clenching in desire as they held one another, him his heart, and her, her protector. They rested in that pose for what felt like an eternity softly whispering to each other in the darkness, reaffirming their connection to one another and revelling in the intimacy of the extended moment. Eventually she felt him relax as his mind fell to slumber but for some reason Morpheus' realm wouldn't claim her that night and she lay awake under him, caressing his back and running her hands through his hair, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have this wonderful young man call her his own.
-:- Lime ends -:-
The morning dawned grey, the typical Welsh rainclouds rolling in with little warning and blanketing the plains in thick torrential rain. Harry woke on his back with Hermione curled against his side, her hands absently trailing over his stomach and chest. He opened his eyes blearily to see her gazing past him out the window, her eyes unfocused, clearly lost in thought. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips before withdrawing slightly to watch as her gaze locked to his, her lips curling in a soft loving smile and the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly in happiness. She closed back in to kiss him more deeply and out of instinct his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to his body out of a desire to be close to his love.
Eventually they parted and simply lay together, exchanging thoughts back and forth across their link in a relaxed, unhurried manner, simply enjoying the moment. Her soft words caught him almost by surprise, so engrossed in the depths of her mind was he that he nearly didn't register her surface thoughts.
"I scared myself last night."
He nodded slowly, waiting for her to finish her thought.
"I don't ever want to be that disconnected from you again, but at the same time…"
"You have to be sometimes?"
"Yes"
He scrunched his nose in annoyance at the obvious conundrum and voiced a further thought.
"You also miss being able to read me like a book."
She blushed violently and buried her head against his chest in embarrassment
"Yes"
This time, rather than the calm agreement, the word came out as a sqeak.
He stroked her hair absently as he waited for her embarrassment to subside. When it did, and she pulled back slightly to look at him again, he responded with a desire of his own.
"I miss being able to read you too. While our bond is a blessing, it's made us both a little lazy, we don't pay attention to each other physically nearly as much as we used to. Moreover, you're presence in my mind is something I'm beginning to take for granted. Your love, is something I'm beginning to take for granted. I don't like that. Every moment with you used to be special, cherished, now I can barely remember half of them without delving into my memories to dredge them up."
Her gaze softened slightly and he was certain that she understood.
"Me too… Last night… Having you hold me like that, cover me like that… It reminded me of days past when you were the only safety net I had against the dangers of the magical world, dementors, werewolves, basilisks, dark lords… Now I have this… army, out there ready to throw down their lives for me, it's made me complacent, lazy even. It's made me forget what's really important about our relationship."
He cocked an eye at that statement, he could pluck the reminder of her unfinished statement from her mind but he felt that she needed to voice this.
"More than anything else, I love you because no matter what you make me feel safe. No matter what the situation is; war, horror, terror, if you're with me, I can survive it, I can triumph, I'm safe. No one else makes me feel like that, no one has the ability to set me completely at ease with a touch, or a thought, or a kiss. I love you because no matter what you will always be my safe haven, the port I go to in a hurricane. I can trust you to never let me down, to be there for me always, to love me unconditionally, and annihilate anyone who threatens me."
He felt his heart in his throat at that litany, it was a powerful statement from such a typically independent woman, that she would look to him for safety, for succour. That he alone was the person who she needed, always. He forgot just how devoted to him she was sometimes, and vice versa.
He opened his mouth to reply, to give his own affirmation, his vow, but she pressed a finger to his lips, and a mental one to his thoughts.
"Shh, I know, I can feel it, you've always been better at expressing your emotions to me non-verbally, this is no different. I understand."
Something about the gravitas in her voice set him at ease, reassured him that she did in fact know exactly how he felt. Almost weeping with the emotion of it he tightened his hold on her, drawing her close to his chest where she snuggled in happily. It was her favourite spot after all.
"I love you."
"I love you too. Shall we stay inside today? Just… reconnect?"
"That sounds perfect."
-:-
The Potter elves had made a point of informing the rest of the regiment that it was an informal holiday of sorts, a time for the squads to relax and socialize, but Tracey couldn't do it, she couldn't sit and chat and play cards while the rest of Britain was at war, Daphne wouldn't have been able to either.
So here she was, out on a soaking tarp on the hills around the Potter manor, sighting downrange at the automatons Harry had set loose around the place. It was strange, yesterday if she had never seen another rain soaked tarpaulin again it would have been too soon, but now she was here, sitting in the filth and wet, shooting things. It was comforting, cathartic, a symbol of the war, a connection to her fallen friend.
As she worked the lever of her rifle and ejected a spent cartridge into the box beside her weapon Tracey reflected on past events. Seeing Susan reconnect with her aunt had been something of an eye opener. None of the Regiment had been home in over six months, not since last Christmas at the earliest, for some they hadn't been home since the previous summer, like her.
She hadn't mentioned to Susan or Daphne, or Harry for that matter, exactly how opposed her parents had been to her 'fraternizing' with the boy who lived. It had come as quite a shock to her when the Davis patriarch had disowned her in private; she still had the name, legally, but the rest? Gone.
She didn't miss her dad much; the man was a cold businessman who had little time for family. Her mother though… Lucille Davis had been Tracey's confidant for the longest time, and then to have her mother turn her back on Tracey... It had driven her to tears thinking about it many times.
She angrily swiped at her eyelids with the back of her glove before leaning back into the stock of her weapon, staring through the scope trying to find another target, trying to ignore the prickling feeling rising in her gorge.
The Regiment was her family now, Susan and Hermione her sisters, Harry her awkward sort of brother/crush/thing, she needed to sort that title out at some point. She felt bad for Neville, he was a good man and he clearly loved Sue, but Tracey knew that the buxom redhead just couldn't muster the same emotion for the withdrawn pureblood. They'd experimented with a relationship around March but it had disintegrated after Daphne's death.
Since then Susan had become much more withdrawn, only really talking to her (Tracey) and the command unit. As a result Neville had been pushed to the side and had eventually given up on a relationship; as far as Tracey knew preferring to simply love her from a distance, much the same as Tracey loved Harry.
She pondered on that for a moment, was she really 'in love' with Harry anymore? Or had that desperate crush simply devolved into a very deep familial connection? She didn't really care, he wasn't unattractive and she'd never turn him down if he was single, but Harry had found his soulmate and she'd never get in the way of that. Not when they obviously so deeply cared about one another.
Growling at her melancholy she squeezed a bit hard on the trigger, pulling her aim off and sending the high calibre shell whistling off into the rolling Welsh hills. With a sharp grunt of frustration she slumped forwards, leaning her forehead on one arm and simply lay there, contemplating where her mood was stemming from.
Bitterness? No, honestly she'd never been more content with her lot in life, if there wasn't a war on she'd be happy. Was that it? The war? Restlessness? Impatience maybe? She definitely wanted it to be over, and the raid she and Susan had performed was barely enough to whet her appetite. Was she bloodthirsty? Not really, while she wanted to get revenge for the fallen, and wanted to wipe out the Knights to keep her home safe, she wasn't eager to kill. Nor was she particularly eager to fight.
Rather she was sick of waiting, the tense nervousness between battles was the worst; always wondering where the next strike would be, who they would be fighting to defend, what the odds would be.
So far the odds had been stacked massively in their favour, even the Litch, while deadly, wouldn't have been enough to take out the regiment. As evidenced by the fact that despite losing Daphne they thoroughly annihilated it while fatigued from fighting a pitched battle. Only the battle of Hogwarts had been a fight they could have lost, and even then it was mostly just extraordinarily draining.
But these Knights… They represented a whole new aspect of the war, Valmortis' elite shock troops trained to slaughter both magical and mundane soldiers, not to mention the daemons they brought along for the ride.
Add to that the threats from the continent, a Veela army was nothing to sniff at after all, and things were looking decidedly grim. It was the first time after fleeing Hogwarts Tracey had truly feared for her life.
She sighed; there was no cure for this as far as she knew, not until the war ended at any rate. She'd just have to find productive ways to channel her anxiousness. The new recruits represented an opportunity, Dan had already talked to Susan and her about the likelihood that they would be training the next sniper squad or squads, she out of all the regiment had the most experience with the sniper rifle they had access to, and Susan was without a doubt the best spotter they had, if only through practise. Only Hermione and Harry were a better sniping pair then they were, but they cheated so it didn't really count.
The thought of having to train someone, being responsible for their success or failure in the Regiment, it was a scary proposition, and one that she wasn't sure she was ready for in all honesty. As an added point she and Susan would be moving from a purely sniper role into more of a retinue role for the command squad. With the new recruits they wouldn't have to be relegated to the sniping role in every combat, though they probably often would due to their proficiency, especially in open theatres.
But there was also a strong likelihood that they would be following the command squad into battle in close quarters, something she wasn't sure she was ready for. But with the Knights and their daemon cohorts the threat focus of the battles would change, no longer would they be applying pressure to beleaguered infantry, but rather fighting a pitched battle with experienced and elite veterans and their supernatural auxiliaries.
She thought about that a moment, no longer would she be isolated from the fighting, safe behind the scope of her rifle. She'd be in the middle of the melee fighting for her life. Was she ready for that?
Of course not, none of them were, but they had to make do, they would make do. The regiment had started out as a means to protect themselves, then others, eventually it had become a way of hitting back. Now it was an army, prepared to defend and attack, repel and assault as needed to wipe out the foreign invaders, for they were foreign. The primarily German knights of Walpurgis were an invading foreign force, as were the Veela fighters inbound from France, as were the Russians baring their teeth from Eastern Europe.
For her the Regiment had always been about Harry, keeping him alive, fighting his fight. Now it had evolved, she was fighting more for herself now, for Daphne, for their family. Set in those terms it made it quite plain. Yes, yes she was ready to fight for her life, for the lives of her friends. She could do little else and sleep soundly at the end of all things.
-:-
Time passed quickly and slowly at Potter Manor during the next couple of weeks. The Knights Walpurgis were quiet, the attacks that had typified Valmortis' actions over the last couple years had ceased completely. Was the snake coiling to strike? Or was there some other impetus behind the cessation of attacks?
The lack of action had the entire Regiment on edge, tempers were flaring and a couple of them had even threatened to leave. Things were so tense Harry had considered disbanding the Regiment and fighting the war himself. That kind of thinking was short-lived however, Hermione was always quick to remind him that Valmortis was probably holding his forces back in a deliberate attempt to break the Regiment up, or lull them into a false sense of security. The only thing they could do was train, wait, and prepare.
As Harry's birthday approached he got more and more nervous, the lack of activity coupled with the approach of Voldemort's favourite date to fuck with him (after Halloween of course) had him on edge and worried that something horrible was approaching. On the other hand Valmortis might not care even a little bit about his birthday, the war against Voldemort had been a very personal affair, the weight of prophecy hanging over them. But with Voldemort's death at the hands of the Knights Walpurgis everything had been thrown up in the air. Did the prophecy ever matter? Was Voldemort the dark lord mentioned?
He had no answers, and an even bigger question; would Valmortis target Harry and his the same way Voldemort had? Or would he perform a more traditional takeover of Britain, aiming for the nerve centres of society and politics? His actions to date held no answers either; he'd struck fairly randomly at muggle population centres, but also at country capitals. Aside from all of that the attack on Privet Drive had clearly been a strike directly at Harry.
It was maddening, trying to divine the motivation behind the invasion. Were they trying to actually take over Magical Britain? Were they searching for some arcane store of knowledge that could help them perfect their craft? The manor was shaken up slightly on the morning of the Tuesday before Harry's birthday when Sirius called the command squad and Seraphim squad together for a meeting.
-:-
Harry looked anxiously around the table; Hermione was at his side as ever, Parvati on his other side. Tracey and Susan were across the table from them and Sirius and Umbridge were at the ends, both holding pretty thick looking files. Lastly Fred and George were standing in the back of the room with four heavy looking cases leaning against the wall next to them.
He was very curious as to why they were being called together like this, especially after the cessation of hostilities that had occurred of late. What had happened?
He didn't have to wait long, almost the moment everyone was settled around the table Sirius began speaking.
"Late in April Mad Eye left for the continent, he was tracking an agent of ours who he suspected was either a double agent or simply a traitor. He tracked the agent known as 'Black' to Poland, specifically Warsaw. He last reported in a bit over two weeks ago, since then we've had no word and he's four days overdue for a check in."
His attention now grasped firmly Harry leant forward in his chair, his eyes locked on Sirius.
"That's Witch Hunter territory."
Sirius nodded at Hermione's words
"The heart of their territory, Valmortis hasn't left Britain, of that we can be sure, and it's likely that the entire Knights Walpurgis army is somewhere in southern England, they're likely using Riddle Manor as a base of operations. With them out of the equation it makes it highly probable that the reason we've lost contact with Mad Eye is because of the Witch Hunters. It's unlikely that they've killed him, he's a far too important source of intel for them to eliminate him out of hand. And without magical interrogation techniques it might take them decades to get anything out of him at all."
"So what do we do?"
His question was asked in a matter of fact tone but Harry was a little frightened; the Witch Hunters were no schoolyard gang and Mad Eye was a pro. Anyone who could have captured him was no one to be trifled with.
"We're going to send in a covert unit into Warsaw. Not to attempt an exfiltration, but rather to make contact with the Witch Hunters. We can't do so officially as it's technically a breach of the Statue of Secrecy to do so but… We're going to anyway. What intel we have suggests that the Witch Hunters have been tracking down the Knights of Walpurgis for decades now and they might be willing to join the war as a third party. At the very least their involvement would dissuade the Veela from outright attacking us; the repercussions would be more than severe for them if they ran afoul of the Witch Hunters."
Suddenly it clicked into place, and the realization of what Sirius was about to suggest did nothing to alleviate Harry's nerves.
"You're going to send us in."
With a grim smile Harry's godfather nodded once.
"Not all of you, but yes, we think that you four will be the best chance we have to make contact and end up with a resolution to the situation that benefits us more than not."
"Four of us?"
Another sharp nod
"You, Hermione, Tracey and Susan will be going in. Umbridge will travel with you to the outskirts of Poland where she will set up a communication's post to provide intel and exfiltration if things turn hairy. Parvati will be staying here. After you she knows the most about the workings of the Regiment and how you structure yourselves for battle. If something crops up while you're gone the Regiment will need her leadership to bring them through any engagements."
Harry shot a glance to Parvati who was looking decidedly pale. She met his gaze and seemed to gain a measure of resolve from the eye contact. After a quick breath she gave him an resolute nod. Hermione's approval was set in his mind, with side thoughts on how to preserve her progress with Fleur while they were out of country. So he turned to the last two members of the team. Tracey was fidgety but when he met her eyes there was determination there. Susan's gaze was more anxious than anything else. She'd known Mad Eye the longest, mostly because of her aunt but he was still an old acquaintance, if not quite a friend. She gave him an affirmative nod at his questioning look though, so he took that as confirmation of her participation.
Finally turning back to Sirius he gave a short nod and the Marauder waved the Weasleys over.
"The twins have been working on something, we figured you four could get first look at them."
Fred piped up first, his typically cheery and upbeat voice had a note of steel to it but the joking demeanour was present as ever.
"Right, we looked into the power requirements of the siphoning spell meant to deal with the daemons that the Knights will be throwing about. When we realized that it's kind of a big deal we did some speed tests and quickly made the discovery that even a whole squad working in tandem would be overrun before they could deal with even two of them."
Now George spoke up, identical in tone and cadence in every way, if Harry had his eyes closed he wouldn't have noticed the switch.
"So we started working on something that even the magically weakest of the Regiment could use to quickly incapacitate and destroy the smaller quicker daemons. We started off by converting the power siphoning spell into a runic array that could be activated with the same effect on contact. Issue from there was finding a suitable delivery system. Ordinary bullets are too soft to hold the etchings after impact and something thrown could easily miss and cause more harm than good."
Fred picked up the narrative again
"So we looked for something else that could fulfil the same role. Eventually Dan introduced us to shotguns, which, while awesome, are far too big for the Regimentals to carry around on top of their service rifles, packs, armour, etcetera. But a handgun would be perfect."
At this they hefted the cases up onto the table; each was made of lacquered wood bound in leather and was about the size of a shoebox, though perhaps less deep. A wave of their wands and all four cases clicked open to reveal four rather squat, nasty looking handguns. Fred pulled one of the weapons out of its case and presented it to Harry who took it with some trepidation.
"We first developed heavy tungsten rounds that were stern enough to maintain the runic array post impact. But they were too complex magically speaking for the elves to make en masse, so we had to look for a simpler solution. In the end we created solid lead slugs that deliver a titanium dart nestled in the centre of the slug. On its own the dart wouldn't survive impact with the runes intact. However lead casing collapses on impact creating an entry point for the dart to pierce into the target with minimal impact resistance. The runes on the dart then activate sucking the magic of the demon into the dart. Collect the dart afterwards and take it back to Victoria here so that she can destroy them safely."
Harry turned the handgun over in his hands and noted the extremely high calibre barrel. It was the kind of weapon that would take someone's arm off just by holding on to it when it went off. The muzzle must have been an inch in diameter at least.
"The guns themselves are breach loaded, you crack it open at the handle, load a slug, snap it shut and fire. With a bit of practice you can reload it maybe twenty times a minute. The recoil and sound are heavily suppressed via magic. You'll still feel the kick, but it'll be comparable to your rifles, rather than a tank going off in your hand. The slugs degrade pretty quickly in flight so you'll want to fire at fairly close range to guarantee successful delivery. Maybe twenty meters at the outside. That said the dart will fly true up to forty meters. While it won't be effective as a daemon killing round at that range you can still use it against anything that looks at you funny."
He reached into the case the weapon had come from and pulled a slug from the underside of the lid.
"Here's one of the slugs, they've got a thick brass cartridge that protects the firing mechanism from back blast. You'll need to remove it from the chamber after firing before you can load another slug. Questions?"
Harry spoke up immediately
"If the Knights and Valmortis are stationary in Britain why do we even need these?"
Sirius fielded that question with a snort.
"They're going to follow you. No doubt about it. The intel we gleaned from Susan's recording of the Walpurgis club get together indicated that they're organizing surveillance teams for all prominent members of the Regiment. The five of you all have your own two man teams assigned to you apparently. That's at least eight Knights who'll be following you to Warsaw, chances are they'll bring some pets with them."
Hermione had taken another of the weapons and was gripping it experimentally in her hands.
"The handle's a bit big; I don't think I'd be able to maintain a safe grip firing this thing as it is. Can you make it a tad smaller?"
Susan and Tracey concurred from the other side of the table where they were handling their own weapons. Fred and George nodded in tandem
"Absolutely, these are just prototypes, we have time to custom fit each of you your own weapon before you leave."
Harry raised his head and looked at Umbridge
"When do we leave?"
"In two days."
-:-
"I'm going to need to put Fleur in stasis."
"Oh?"
Hermione nodded against his chest from where she was sitting, curled up in his lap. They had retreated to their room while Tracey and Susan were getting their weapons fitted.
"I'll lose all the progress I've made with her if I don't; we have no idea how long this is going to take."
He nodded slightly and rubbed the small of her back with one hand.
"I'm scared."
She turned and looked up at him with concern at his statement. He felt her soft touch rustle through his mind and find the emotion, examining it carefully as she always did.
"Why?"
"Because they caught Mad Eye of all people. What's to say we're not just walking into a trap?"
She rubbed his chest absently with one hand while she mulled that over a moment.
"We could very well be, but we have to try anyway."
He frowned slightly at that, all evidence pointed to Mad Eye having been captured by the Witch Hunters, ideal bait to lure in some more witches for them to hunt. On the other hand Mad Eye's capture could be a way of getting them to the capital to talk without having to go through official channels. Abruptly he realized what Hermione was getting at, on the off chance that the Witch Hunters were using this as a way to call some kind of meeting they couldn't avoid the opportunity.
"Are we ready?"
"I don't know."
-:-
Fitting the handguns was a novel experience, they were instructed by the twins to hold the weapons steady in their hands while the twins created a magical cast of their hands. Then they were instructed to hold a standard service pistol in the same grip and another cast was made. The twins would then use the second cast to alter the first, and then use the first cast to magically alter the handguns. It went way over Tracey's head but it was pretty cool nevertheless.
They sat and chatted comfortably while they waited for the magical casts to do their thing and then watched the twins work their magic (literally) on the handguns, shaping them like putty to a more comfortable shape for the girls to grip.
When she held the customized handgun again it was very obvious that it was made to fit. She felt no discomfort whatsoever gripping the oversized handgun. When she held it in a firing positon it felt perfect.
Susan was clearly of the same opinion because she made quick work of breaking the breach open and gesturing for one of the slugs. A quick test firing on the range later and she gave her seal of approval to the newly minted daemon hunting weapon. Tracey took a slug of her own with a hint of trepidation, her sniper rifle had a smaller calibre than this beast of a weapon did and that kicked like a bitch. After firing it though she was astounded to find that it's kick was minimal, less than her rifle even.
Amazed she and Susan headed back for the barracks with their new weapons in their cases. Though the topic of their discussion was somewhat removed from what they'd just experienced.
"What are we going to do for Harry's birthday?"
"We need to talk to Hermione."
-:-
"I don't need you to tell me anything about the Regiment Master Auror Moody. We already have plenty of intel on that front: Thirty odd members, teens all of them but varying in age by a couple of years either side of the median. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are their leaders, although she might as well be called Hermione Potter with how closely she's bonded to the young Potter Lord. They're getting reinforcements soon from Hogwarts and they have a pair of adult liaisons to the Order of the Phoenix. Curiously, there's even a new born there now."
Moody couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, apparently Granger had finally given birth, about time really.
"No Master Auror Moody, what we need from you is information about Mr Potter himself. Speak to me of his character, his faults, his strengths, his dreams."
"No."
"Loyalty is admirable sir, but only when it's not pig-headed. We're here to help."
"No."
"You're going to be like this all night aren't you? Fine, I'll come back tomorrow, we'll try again then."
Grunting softly in annoyance Moody let his head droop as the door slammed shut behind his interrogator. He'd given up nothing of substance, just titbits of no import her and there to keep the feeding frenzy alive. The longer they interrogated him about the wild goose chases he led them on the longer they didn't ask him the important questions, the ones a skilled body reader would be able to divine an answer from just from his reaction to them.
Questions like: Are they going to mount a rescue? Yeah, that one needed to be avoided.
-:-
The docks of Dover were seeing more visitors of a supernatural nature. When before they had been stern men clad in black, these were beautiful women clad in soft pastel blues. Dozens of them coming off the same cruise liner, clearly on holiday.
If one was to focus harder on each of these women however they would notice an avian sharpness about them, and an ethereal beauty that took the breath away. They made no effort to hide in the crowds and instead seemed to revel in the attention afforded them by the defenceless muggle men.
The Veela battalion's Vanguard had arrived, and they were making quick work of the locals. Though only hearts would be injured today, later it would be bodies.
-:-
Hermione opened the door to the cell in Potter manor for what would be the last time for quite a while. What met her though was a scene very different from what it had been weeks ago. Now the room was well lit, with a desk and bed, books filled shelves in the walls and her subject was lounging almost nude on the bed with a novel resting beside her, her eyes hungrily devouring the text.
Fleur looked up when the door opened and the light of recognition entered her eyes. Her voice was soft and scratchy from lack of use, but she spoke
"Hermione"
The young brunette witch felt tears well up in her eyes. She hated having to hide Fleur's progress from Harry but the shade of Voldemort was still clinging to her with a fierceness she hadn't expected. While the young Veela's soul was more or less back in its home, Voldemort's soul refused to leave and occasionally she would lapse back to the mindless killer it had made her into.
The return of Fleur's memories had been halting at best. She remembered Harry in perfect detail of course, and Hermione came part in parcel with that, but she barely remembered who she was, or what her life had been like. And strangely she only remembered English so far, French had been lost to her. Perhaps that was Valmortis' influence. The man had been her keeper for almost a year after all.
She moved close and sat on the chair across from Fleur. It still wrenched at her heart to be in such close proximity to the girl who had nearly destroyed everything. But at the same time her friendly affection for the forthright Veela was hard to ignore.
Tempering all of that was the ritual that she had been performing for weeks now, day in, day out. It was a strangely intimate affair and it had forced upon Hermione a sort of empathy for Fleur's situation. She just wished she could talk to the blonde about it rather than beating around the bush.
"Hi Fleur."
"Me?"
"Yes, you're Fleur, remember?"
The Veela seemed to struggle with that for a second, battling with half remembered truths and murky lies to glean understanding about her. Eventually she slumped back against the pillows and started to weep bitterly in frustration.
"It's so close."
Hermione couldn't help but feel her own eyes prickle in discomfort at that. Part of her wondered how much of her memory loss was the disconnection of her soul, and how much of it was her mind shielding her from the trauma of what she had been through, and what she had done.
She drew her wand and with a series of sharp, snapping flicks rapidly put the crying girl into magical stasis. No point drawing this out, she'd just have to work harder to shield the information from Harry in her mind later.
Soon, she promised herself, soon she would tell Harry the truth, soon she'd let him know how much progress his old friend… the traitor, was making. Maybe his presence would jolt Fleur's memory.
But did Hermione even want that to happen?
Or would she be quite happy if Fleur never regained her true self?
-:-
AN3: I initially attempted to narrate the labour of John's birth but found myself ill equipped for the task. I was worried I would either play up the discomfort of such an event too much, or too little, and lose the effect of the miracle of childbirth itself. Instead I somewhat copped out and you got the aftermath instead. I might revisit this later once I've done more research/gotten some tips from a female author, but honestly probably not.
AN4: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It's on the crux of a lot of different things happening and I really had a hard time getting the events in the right order. Either way, here it is, enjoy!
AN5: Review Responses:
R-2 Sweet Tooth: Gah, I'm sorry this took so long to update. But I am glad that you're enjoying it so much. Thanks for the kind words and your time reviewing!
Pianomouse: You're quite welcome, thanks for taking the time to read/review
Pairingmatters: It was a very close shave between Remus living and dying, but Sirius was always going to survive, he's become a pretty integral part of the plot.
The Viking Stranger: Great to hear you've got your ear to the net (haha), I hope this is up to snuff!
Anotherboarduser: There'll be a lot more of Fleur from now on, and Hermione's definitely having conflicting emotions right now. So expect more of the same!
Theflowofmusic: Absolutely! At the end of Web of Lies the Regiment had succeeded in luring Voldemort into a trap in the ministry of magic, his followers were wiped out (bar Draco and Ginny who was dragged along), Fleur/Epine was captured by the Regiment and Valmortis/the Knights Walpurgis cut down Voldemort with a hail of killing curses. The world powers are starting to move on a war battered magical Britain; the French and Russians are both baring their teeth while magical Britain's traditional allies scramble in the background to ready themselves. Hope that's all you need :D
Travisevans: It's not the end! I promise! I'm just really superduper lazy sometimes and I don't end up writing much for ages.
Beyondthesea: Lots to think about. At this point it's gone beyond just Harry's supposed crimes, now the Veela are actively looking for blood, and maybe new territory, even if Fleur was returned to her family she'd probably just be conscripted into service.
Okay Folks, that's it for another chapter! Tune in next time for Chapter Three: Renewal, wherein its Harry's birthday, and he gets a ton of presents, from a bunch of different people. Some good, some bad, other's pretty scary.
As always thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!
LGreymark