A/N: Chap 3 review responses are in my forums as always.

Chapter Four: Lab Rat

"You know this is so profoundly illegal we could all go to prison for a very long time," Edwin Granger said the morning after the train crash.

"Yes, I know," Sir Marcus said in a flat tone.

"That could be one of our girls in there," Edwin continued. "That could be Hermione, or Justine. Or Denise Creevey or any of the others."

"We have to know our enemy, Edwin," Sir Marcus snapped. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continued. "One wizard, who according to Hermione's research was bonded almost to the point of being a squib, almost put down my best tactical team bare-handed—one dead, one permanently disabled. A fifteen-year-old boy blew up a bloody train! The forensics team said the explosion was the equivalent to ten pounds of PE4! In fact, that's exactly what the Home Secretary is telling the PM. How can we fight people who can move about by magic, make themselves invisible, and are apparently twice as strong as we are?"

"By enlisting the help of other people with the same abilities," Edwin said with a shrug. "Such as our daughters … And possibly Mr Potter. And possibly the young girl in that room."

Through the observation mirror, fourteen-year-old Luna Lovegood squatted down in a corner of a padded white room clad in a pair of elastic-waist pyjama bottoms and a plain white shirt. Her pale blonde hair looked tangled and her face drawn and pale.

The door opened behind the two men and Samuel Watterson, Sir Marcus's top agent in his unit, stepped into the observation chamber. "The witch we hired is gone, sirs," the man said. "Says the boy's curse has been healed, but that the wound itself will have to heal on its own. She dosed him with one of those witch-draughts and said he should be out for a day or two. I paid her in cash as you agreed."

"Are our girls in the other wing?" Edwin asked.

"Yes, sir. Your wives are with them; they have no idea what's happening."

"Good," Sir Marcus said. "Sam, please stay just outside. Don't come in unless you believe I'm in immediate danger."

"Yes, sir."

Sir Marcus left the observation room, stepped into the hall of the country manor they were using as Unit Headquarters and safe house, and walked down to the secure, computer-coded cell door. He entered his passcode, pressed his thumb to the scanner, and then stepped into the room.

The air felt electric—filled with ozone slightly tinged by sweat and fear. Sir Marcus immediately became aware of how the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up at the ozone he smelled, and the sheer magic the girl in the corner was putting off. She was without her veil, and as such her eyes had a strange, shimmery silver cast to them that, mixed with her astonishingly pale complexion, made her look fey and inhuman.

She looked at him for just a moment before shrinking into a ball, arms holding her knees to her chin and her eyes averted. "Please," she said in a breathy whisper. "Please let me see Harry."

"Perhaps," Sir Marcus said in an encouraging tone, as if he were speaking to a child. "But we need to talk a little before I can promise you anything."

"You don't understand," the girl whispered. "We're newly bonded. I need to be with him—it hurts. Please…"

"If you cooperate, then you can see him," Sir Marcus said, keeping his tone level.

"I want Harry now!" the girl screamed suddenly. The air crackled and Sir Marcus stumbled back as if struck, while around him the walls exploded in violent, brilliant waves of psychedelic colour. When he felt an odd touch of air, he looked down in horror and saw he was wearing a bridal dress of off white, studded in pearls. The sound of sizzling behind him made him think their observation camera was gone as well.

"Please," she whispered again, shrinking back down into herself. "Please let me see my husband."

Fighting off a touch of panic the likes he'd not felt in years before he watched one wizard incapacitate half a tactical unit, Sir Marcus turned and left the room. The moment he was in the hall again, the dress seemed to melt back into his trousers, shirt and vest. By the time he made it back to the observation room, there was no sign of his changed clothes.

The walls in the holding room, though, looked as if Andy Warhol's head had been blown up by a rainbow-coloured artillery shell.

"I'm going to talk to Hermione about bonding," Edwin declared. The other man appeared to be as shaken as Sir Marcus felt. "If she's actually in pain, then I can't support this. She isn't the enemy, Marcus. Neither is Potter, I think."

"Fine," Sir Marcus growled. When Edwin was gone, Marcus turned to Watterson. "The healer witch was dealt with?"

Watterson nodded. "No trace. It took four bullets."

Outside the room, it took Edwin only a few moments to cross the manor to the other wing and go down two sets of stairs to the spacious first-floor balcony where his daughter and her friend were sunbathing while reading. Calliope sat nearby under an umbrella, drinking a glass of wine and reading a medical journal.

Hermione hopped up first, and it took an effort of will for Edwin not to trip. He loved his family more than anything else, but when his bikini-clad daughter jumped up just then, she did not look like his beautiful little girl. She looked like his wife did on their first day at the beach together so many years ago. Hermione was growing up far faster than he felt comfortable with.

"What are you doing on this wing of the manor, love?" Calliope asked. "I thought you and Justine's father were still busy playing soldier."

Edwin smiled wanly at his wife—she became rather sharp after a few glasses of wine, and the last month and a half of forced exile had been difficult for all of them. The manor was not just the headquarters of Sir Marcus's unit, it was the safe house they hid in while Hermione's and Justine's lives remained in danger.

"Had a question for the girls," he said, coming around before taking a shirt lounger to face the girls. Clearing his throat, he said, "Shirts on for this, okay girls?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Justine blushed and pulled on the large, loose shirt both girls wore out onto the balcony. "Thank you," Edwin continued. "So, I did have a question for you about these bonds of yours. I know about the magic-sapping from what you've already said, but what about those first few days after a bond? What are they like?"

"Well, it's supposed to make you feel quite happy," Hermione said. "Professor Hooch said it was just the feeling caused by a man's magic flowing into a woman's, but I'm not sure. Rather, I think it is a magical, evolutionary trait to encourage conception of young during the initial bonding. Similar to the feelings of pleasure at the sex act itself."

Hearing his daughter calmly discuss sex acts was difficult for Edwin, but he merely nodded. "So, say a couple is bonded. What happens if they are separated within that first few days?"

Hermione and Justine's mutual expressions of horror made Edwin feel very, very uncomfortable indeed. "Dad, you don't do that, not even the Sabbat would separate a newly bonded pair. I mean, dark covens might kill them, or kill one of them to break the bond, but to separate newly bonded is proscribed. It makes the couple's magic try to reach each other, and the strain can actually kill them. I read one account of a bonded couple captured by the Inquisition in Spain in 1782. The inquisitor was actually a squib with a deep-seated hatred for all things magical. He discovered the couple was newly bonded and so purposely separated them, placing each in a cell across a hall from the other. He then recorded what happened for the Church—the couple eventually died of accidental magic after screaming for seven straight days. They were my age. It's a famous account, and one of the reasons why Sabbats around the world are so very hostile to Catholicism, even those in Catholic countries. Think about it—there are some magicals alive today who personally remember when that happened."

Edwin swallowed bile. "I see. Thank you."

"Daddy, what are you hiding?" Hermione said, suddenly suspicious.

"Nothing, dear, go back to your bathing." Edwin turned and walked back out of the balcony, moving faster away than he did coming to them. As soon as he cleared the doors, he broke into a sprint, fighting down bile all the while. He reached the observation room at full tilt and found Sir Marcus and Watterson still inside, staring at the crying girl in the room.

"We have to end this," Edwin blurted when he came in. "Hermione said separating bonded couples is a torture so bad not even their Sabbat does it. Think about it—the Sabbat thought nothing of trying to murder our daughters, but considers something like this to be inhumane. We have to…"

The door security pad at the door blinked, sparked, and then went black. The door opened and Hermione stepped in with her wand out, still wearing her large white shirt over her bikini that hung down mid-thigh, and loafers. She wore her hair pulled into a rough pony-tail and held in place by a scrunchy. Justine stepped in behind her in similar garb, but of course she wore her hair at only neck-length.

"Hermione, Justine, you need to leave!" Sir Marcus snapped angrily.

"Oh Morgana, that's Luna!" Hermione whispered, eyes wide with horror. "Daddy, that's Luna Lovegood! She's a classmate of mine. What are you doing to her?"

Justine, though, shook her head angrily and left the observation room. All the inhabitants turned to the window as the security panel failed before the young witch's magic, and Justine stepped into the white padded room. Through the low-tech speaker grills, they heard: "Luna? It's Justine Finch-Fletchley from school. Are you alright?"

Luna looked up and suddenly started bawling. She shot into the taller girl's arms, clinging to her desperately. "I need Harry!" she cried out. "Please, please let me see Harry!"

Even as she held the much smaller girl, Justine looked sharply at the wall where the observation window was. Inside, Hermione paled and stared at her father and Sir Marcus. "Harry?" she whispered. "My Harry? Is Harry Potter here, in this manor?"

"Hermione…" Edwin began.

"Is Harry Potter here?" Hermione screamed. Just like the containment room, a burst of accidental magic made all three men step back as the walls flashed red. A glass of water began to boil and suddenly caught fire—the glass itself burned until molten silica pooled on the plastic shelf, melting it as well.

"Hermione, stop this," Edwin said sharply.

Hermione's wand began to rise; Samuel Watterson reached for his side-arm, but Hermione dropped her wand and took a deep breath. "Is Harry here?" she finally asked.

"Yes," Sir Marcus finally admitted. "We caught them yesterday afternoon following a massive train derailment that Harry caused during a fight with a pair of unidentified witches. He was badly injured; we've treated his curse and kept him and his companion separated. He killed three people, young lady. Three innocent people."

"Hermione, we didn't know…" Edwin said.

Hermione huffed her breath angrily, left the men and walked into the room where Justine continued to hold the sobbing Luna. The younger girl looked up at Hermione and sniffed. "You couldn't be first, you see," she said. Despite her tears and the mess of a hard cry, her voice sounded oddly calm and mature. "The Covens would never tolerate a Muggleborn Dame. I'm sorry."

"When?" Hermione said. Though she sounded calm, her lower lip trembled.

"July 30th," Luna said. "The day before the Sabbat witch came. We fled to Dame Brannwen to be married, and they've been chasing us since. I think…they killed Harry's relatives. Daddy warned them to leave when the wards failed, but I think they rather hated Harry and did not listen to us and now… please help me, Hermione. It hurts without him. Please."

"Come on," Hermione said before turning to leave the cell.

Justine guided the younger witch into the hall with an arm around her thin shoulders. Watterson stood in the hall already there with two other agents who eyed the three witches with cool expressions—their fathers were noticeably absent. Hermione ignored the agents as she held up her wand and said, "Point Me! Harry Potter."

The wand spun on her palm until it led them further up the hall, to a room at the north east corner of the wing. The secured lock failed before another simple Alohomora to reveal the sterile white recovery room of Harry Potter.

Luna rushed out of Justine's hands like a bullet and did not stop until she was under the covers curled up next to the oblivious Harry. Hermione and Justine both stepped in and saw bruises covering his chest, and thick bandages seeping blood over his right shoulder. His left arm looked oddly blue, as if it had recently had a healed break.

"What happened?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Hit Witches found us on a train into London," Luna said. "We were trying to find a way to get to Harry's vaults. We had no money and we were hungry. Harry…he had a strange vision. He saw them come in and kill us just seconds before they actually did so. I think it allowed him to save our lives. He used a new spell—one he'd only read about, but it worked. It made one of the Hit Witches explode, but it also broke the Muggle train badly. He was hit with a dark curse I couldn't heal, but I can see its better now."

She sighed and laid her head down on his chest. "In all my visions of him, and all his visions of me, we never saw him being hurt so quickly after our bonding. Of course, I never saw sex hurting the first time either. Odd what Divination does and does not show, does it? When I saw you bonding him, you did not look like it hurt at all, but it made me cry. Strange."

Hermione's cheeks were flaring. "Harry and I are not bonded."

"But you will be," Luna whispered before she suddenly slipped into a deep, exhausted slumber.

Visibly shaking, Hermione turned and saw her father in the doorway with Sir Marcus. "I have never, ever wanted to use magic against you, Daddy," Hermione whispered. "Until now. How could you not tell me he was here? Or that he had bonded with…" Unable to handle it any more, Hermione rushed from the room. No one attempted to stop her.

Into the silence that followed, Justine said, "Harry is our friend. He's my friend, Daddy. What the Sabbat ordered was bad enough, but for us to do this to him…"

"Us?" Sir Marcus said flatly.

"Us," Justine affirmed. "We are a part of this too, no matter what you think. If the Sabbat finds out what you're doing here, do you think they wouldn't kill me too? Or Hermione? Or Mum? We are all a part of this, and if you ever hope to win any type of peace, you will never, ever do anything like this again. Now please leave."

"Justine…"

"I'm going to stand outside the door," she said, "and I swear to Morgana I will curse anyone who tries to come in. The wards on this house override the trace, so no one will know."

"Come on, Marcus," Edwin finally said. "She's right, this was wrong. Let's give them some peace, at least."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Calliope Granger put the book down with a sigh. It wasn't very good to begin with, and a second reading did little to improve it. While her husband and Sir Marcus obtained a rather remarkable home to keep them safe, including comfortable if somewhat functional furnishings, it did not have a library but what she, Hermione, and Allison Finch-Fletchley thought to bring with them.

It didn't help that her husband, who she truly did love, had royally screwed the pooch.

The west wing of the manor served as their joint living quarters, with the top two of the three floors providing housing for both the her family and the Fletchleys above. The kitchen was on the ground floor, along with a nice exercise room converted from a solarium, and a formal reception room. Each floor had several bedrooms and a spacious study, and it was in this library on the first floor that she sat watching her husband typing on the computer. He sat hunched over, a physical expression of guilt she had rarely seen him employ.

"Are you going to talk to her?" she finally asked.

"She said she wanted to use magic on me, Cally," Edwin said without looking at her. "I think she doesn't really want to talk to me."

"And sulking at your computer is going to set things right?" Calliope asked pointedly. "Besides, Ed, I think you're missing something. Has Hermione ever written about any boy beside Harry Potter? Ever?"

"So?"

"She just found out her first crush married someone else, Ed. She's heartbroken."

He turned to face his wife and pulled at his ear absently, a trait she had not seen in her husband since they first dated while he was in the service. "Hadn't thought that, really," he admitted. "Cally—she burned through an access control panel in a second and made an actual glass cup melt just because she was upset. I thought Watterson was going to shoot—worse yet, I'm not sure he could've have taken her. I was afraid of our daughter. Sometimes I wonder if the religious fanatics have the right idea, that maybe he should…"

Her hand silenced him with a loud, hard slap. Calliope stood before him, looking as startled as he was. "Don't you say it!" she hissed, her eyes moist. "Don't you dare! Hermione is our daughter, our only child. Don't you even think it!"

"Mum? Daddy?"

Both of them spun around to see their teenage daughter staring at them, and neither could help the shudder that ran down their spines. Hermione had let her veil drop, and in the dimly lit room with twilight falling outside, her eyes looked as if there were a banked fire behind them, casting a light wholly her own.

"Did we bother you, love?" Calliope forced out.

Hermione stepped a little closer, and Calliope couldn't help but notice she held her wand in her right hand. "I want to know what you were going to do to Luna," Hermione said.

"Hermione, love, we weren't…" Calliope began.

Hermione's eyes flashed. They actually flashed with her magic, and Calliope fell silent. "What were you going to do to her, Daddy?" Hermione asked again.

"We were going to study her," Edwin finally admitted. "Not hurt her, Hermione. Never that. But we need to understand what we're facing. Sir Marcus has made inquiries and what he's found out is terrifying. And after school, watching that wizard…Hermione, we're out of our depth here. We need to protect you and the rest of Britain, but how do we do that when we don't know anything about who we're fighting?"

"You're not fighting my friend, Daddy," Hermione said coldly. "Luna Lovegood never hurt anyone in school. She was odd, yes, but that's because she was an Aether, just like…Harry. You were treating her like a lab rat."

"Hermione…"

"If she died, were you doing to do the same thing to me? Or Justine?"

"Of course not!" Edwin snapped angrily.

"You're afraid of me," Hermione said. "You always have been, I think. I've been wondering for so long why the Sabbats would never let me be Harry's first wife; why they kill Muggleborns who could even potentially be a Dame. Before, I thought it was simply discrimination and fear. But after I saw Luna and realized what you were doing, I began to understand. The Sabbats won't allow Muggleborns into power because of you, our parents. You're a threat not just to us, but to all magical kind. How many parents have sacrificed their children for a greater goal? Is this the land of Moriah, and my father Abraham? If it meant destroying magic to save yourselves, would you even think twice about sacrificing me?"

Calliope's knees trembled and then gave out. Edwin caught her enough to cushion her fall, but only just. "How could you say that?" Calliope choked on the words. "Hermione, how could you say that to us?"

Hermione wept too, and her lower lip trembled violently. "I never thought I could, until I found my parents torturing a witch just like me, only younger."

"We didn't know!" Edwin's voice cracked. "We didn't know we were hurting her, Hermione. I swear we didn't. She said she was hurting and I came to you girls to ask, don't you remember? We were not going to let her continue to hurt. We would never hurt you either, Hermione."

"And that's why I could never be a Dame," Hermione sobbed. "You're a threat to me—to my kind, but I just can't let you go. I just can't. I can't let you go."

As if a dam burst, Hermione rushed into her father's stunned arms. Edwin stiffened at the overwhelming shock, which passed quickly into a flood of warmth almost as shocking that sent him and his daughter to the floor beside his wife. When the rush of emotion slowed to a trickle, Hermione said in a thick voice, "My friends aren't the enemy, Daddy. All witch-born aren't the enemy. Please don't let Justine's dad make this an inquisition. Please."

"I won't, love," Edwin whispered as he held his daughter close.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Harry sighed in relief as he and Luna fell into perfect stillness together. She remained on her side, spooned up against him, their skin glistening with sweat. "It doesn't hurt anymore," she whispered. "In fact, it felt quite nice. I was so scared before, but it's better now."

"Yeah," Harry whispered. It was more than just making love—it was a release of anguish, fear and the painful pull of their magic toward each other exacerbated by forced separation. Holding her close, he luxuriated in the feel of her body against his; the feel of her magic blending seamlessly with his own. "I can't believe Justine's father did that to you."

"He…frightens me," Luna admitted with a shiver. She pulled his hand tighter around her chest. "His eyes when they looked at me in the room were empty, as if he did not see me as anything but an object. I've seen some purebloods look at me like that too, when they find I am proscribed. He could have shot me with his gun and not thought twice about it."

"I can't believe he would do that."

"You didn't see his eyes," she said, shivering again. She rolled over to face him. "Justine and Hermione are both here. Mr Granger I think is much nicer than Mr Finch-Fletchley."

"I think it's Fletchley for him, Finch-Fletchley for his wife and Justine," Harry said.

"How odd. Regardless, Mr Granger was nice. But I think Hermione rather hates me."

"Why do you say that?"

Luna looked him in the face and said, "Because she loves you, Harry. Or at least, she thinks she does, and with magic, often just thinking a thing makes it so. She wanted very much to be your first."

"But…"

"But she could not be. I think she knows that now, but that doesn't make her pain any less."

Harry nodded and held his new wife closer. He could not believe how wonderful it was to make love to a girl, most especially now that she seemed to enjoy it a little—those first frantic, bond-driven couplings were anything but romantic. But when he woke from the potions with Luna at his side, they just naturally slid into each other, making love slowly and with gentle need. It was beautiful, wonderful, and he didn't want it to end.

Neither did Luna. She climbed on top of him, and said, "One more time, Harry, before they come for us. It's going to be a long, exhausting day. We need what comfort we can take."

Being young and mostly fit, Harry could offer no objection.

sp

sp

Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.