A/N: All I can say people is 'Sorry' regarding the delay with this chapter. The will was there, as was the muse (to a degree... it's having more fun playing with scenes planned for much later in the year) but the mood wasn't. I just... wasn't in the right frame of mind to write. You have no idea how frustrating that is...
Nevertheless, here's the next chapter. Hopefully the next won't take as long, as I have a pretty clear idea as to what happens. I'm not making any promises though.
Voldemort strode slowly through the halls of Malfoy manor, his thoughts inwards. So inwardly focused were his thoughts, he didn't notice his Death Eaters almost jumping aside to clear his path. None of them wanted to anger him by getting his way… not after he'd tortured and killed the last one who'd caused him to nearly stumble. The Romanian wizard had come around the corner and ploughed into the Dark Lord. He started to rudely berate him… before he realised just who he was talking to. By then, his fate was sealed. The Crucitus had brought the arrogant fool low, before a string of high-powered cutting spells had lashed down at him, too fast for the eye to follow. By the time Voldemort had stopped casting, the man's body and face was slashed apart and his limbs were scattered across the floor in several pieces… each. Somehow the mutilated torso and head still clung to life… before a flash of green filled the pain filled eyes. Voldemort had walked away, leaving the cooling corpse as a warning to the others.
Now, none of the foreigners dared tempt his ire. Even the Magi-SS men and their auxiliaries knew to step aside.
Turning onto another corridor, Voldemort thought, planed and re-planed, considered and remunerated. Nothing had gone right this summer. The loss to Potter of his godfather had been the only bright spot of that night at the start of June. Everything else had failed. Then, while he recovered after the fierce battle with Dumbledore and the aftermath of possessing Potter, the sudden, inexplicable pain that had seemed to have poured into his soul had been all the more terrible. The effects of that continued to hound him, as he'd lost a minor power tap that he'd not noticed till it was gone. He knew that somehow it was related to Potter, but for the life of him he could not figure it out.
Then there had been the attack on the Bones. Even that had failed, as Amelia Bones was still alive, and from all accounts now living under the protection of the Potters. Oh yes, he'd been informed of Lily Potter's return from the dead by his agents within the Wizengamont. Not that they had provided any new information: her sudden return was imprinted across the front page of the Prophet. What was more disturbing was the multi-house Alliance between the Potters, the Bones, The Blacks, the Longbottoms and the Greengrasses. That had the potential to really make things difficult for his political agents, as those five families had extensive power in the Wizengamont. Many whole follow their lead, just on principle. The defection of the Black Family block hurt the worst though, as it had been a staunch supporter of his agendas in the past. Malfoy was working his silvered tongue furiously, but so far he had little to show for it except that the former Head Auror Scrimgour was made Minister. So far he'd been exactly what Voldemort had wanted: a man more focused on his own image than actually doing anything.
The Greengrass issue really gave him a headache. Major Greengrass… was a problem. Sure, his men were excellent at their craft, and were objects of dread for the whole world. But… they were loyal to the Major, not to his cause. And the Major himself was displaying an annoying tendency to question every decision that Voldemort made. Was it really that hard to understand? He, Voldemort, was the Dark Lord. He was in charge! No one questioned him!
Taking a deep breath he reigned back his sanity. Voldemort knew he had to deal with the Major soon, but he needed him too much right now to deal with him in the preferred way. The men he commanded gave them the numbers needed to start more attacks. Plus he had never been confrontational about his questions. No, he had to have a valid reason to punish the upstart before he could inflict his… displeasure, on him.
Sadly, Greengrasses men were the only effective force he had right now. His own Death Eaters were seriously out of shape, and the foreign recruits were scum, truly the sweepings of the continent. The attacks on Potters friends had shown the failings all too clearly.
Even the Giant band that had agreed to fight for him were delayed, having stowed away on the wrong boat. Now, instead of landing on the welsh coast sometime early June, they were landing in Kent, just a few miles from Dover, now in July. He had to plan a whole new attack for them, as they'd never get to the original target without being seen.
Looking up, he realised he had arrived outside Snapes potions lab. Voldemort had no illusions about the man: he was a greasy, vindictive bastard who'd sell out anyone, even family, if it would be to his advantage. Looking in, he noted the shimmering potions that Snape was brewing. He knew that at that moment the Potions Master was dealing with some of his Hogwarts duties. It really was fortuitous having an inside man within Hogwarts, doubly so one who was Head of House. Hearing movement within however piqued his interest, and he confidently stepped in.
Almost right away the source of the sounds was clear. Draco was sat on the camp bed he'd been recovering on, breathing deeply. He'd not been seen since he'd been shot.
"Ah, I see you are recovered young dragon." Voldemort said quietly, his tone neutral.
Draco's head snapped up, revealing that his brow was beaded with sweet. Looking closer, Voldemort could see the strain the young Malfoy was putting into his arms to hold himself. "My Lord." Draco replied, his voice shaky.
A hairless eyebrow rose. "You fear me Young Malfoy?"
Draco gulped audibly. "I only fear failing you master."
"As you should." Voldemort looked down at the youth, contemplating him silently for several long moments. "What is it you want Draco?" He asked softly, suddenly. Draco's head jerked up in surprise.
"My Lord?"
"It is a simple question. What do you want?"
Draco was silent for a moment. "I want to serve you Master. I want to be your right hand, striking down those blood traitors who defy you! Who deny your right to rule! I want to cleanse our world of all the muggle filth that has polluted it, and restore it to what it was!"
"Excellent, my young dragon." Voldemort smirked, pleased at the response he'd drawn from the young fool. Nodding slowly as his adjusted plans settled, he drew his wand. "Your arm, Draco Malfoy."
Lifting his head Draco looked at the Dark Lord, then to the wand in his hand. After a moment realisation swept across his face, along with growing pride and vindication. Stiffly he moved off the bed and knelt before Voldemort, drawing up his left sleeve as he did. Raising his arm, he bowed his head.
With practiced movements Voldemort traced the outline of the Dark Mark over Draco's pale skin, focusing his magic as he did. Thin streams of smoke rose from where the glowing wand tip passed, the skin a dark, angry red. He could sense that Draco was struggling not to cry out in pain, but so far he'd held his reaction to the Marking in… which actually impressed Voldemort, a little. Once the outline was done he raised his wand up before finally incanting.
"Morsmorde."
The spell bolt shot into Draco's arm inside the outline marked, and the skin within seemed to boil and writhe as it darkened. A small gasp escaped Draco's clenched teeth as the magic of the Dark Mark bound itself to his own, tying his life to it. He could almost feel the tendrils of the spell crawling up his arm, reaching deep within him and forever binding him to his Lord and Master.
Then the senses faded, leaving just an ache from the new mark that now stood proudly against his alabaster skin. "Thank you, master." He said shakily.
"You survived when most would not." Voldemort said as he sheathed his wand. "Now, you are to recover your strength. For your task come the start of term."
Draco nodded. "Yes. Kill Dumbledore."
"Excellent, you hadn't forgotten. Yes, kill him, and soon. But… I don't what it to be quick. Make him suffer. Draw out his pain and despair. And I want it public. If you can manage to do it before the whole school… even better. Do not worry about an repercussions. When the old fool is gone, the world will be mine for the taking… and you will be rewarded."
Draco couldn't fight the smirk that formed on his face. He would succeed!
Voldemort nodded to himself satisfied. Now, he knew what to do. Returning to his throne, he summoned both Macnair and Greengrass to him.
"You summoned me My Lord?" Macnair said as he knelt before Voldemort. Bearson Greengrass didn't say anything, just looked at him imperiously.
"Yes, I did. Macnair, the Giants had finally made landfall." He noticed the half-hidden shudder of disgust that rippled over the executioner, but decided not to call him on it. "As you are most familiar with such creatures, you will take of team of your choice and met up with the band in Kent. This…" He held out a photograph torn from a muggle tour packet. "… is your target."
Macnair looked at the picture for a moment before nodding. "When should we attack?"
"As soon as you are able, at dusk. The bridge will be filled with Muggles, ripe for the slaughter. Those that don't drown you may… deal with. Do try to bring back some pretty females though. We need some fresh blood for the chambers."
"Understood My Lord." Macnair rose and strode out of the chamber, leaving the Major and the Dark Lord alone.
"And what, pray tell, do you ask of me?" Bearson asked softly.
Voldemort gritted his teeth for a moment before relaxing. "It's time to strike at Potter himself. Thus, you will make your attempt to get him. I want him brought before me, alive. The muggles he lives with… kill them."
"Understood."
The doors to the Wizengamont chambers slammed open, drawing looks of astonishment. Those quickly turned to ones of alarm as Lily Potter stormed through, robes billowing behind her as her heels slammed down onto the marble floor. With her red hair crackling around her clearly furious expression, it was no surprise that the Ministry Workers jumped aside to clear her a path. None of them, despite her status, wanted to provide a target for her to let off some of the anger she was clearly feeling.
Lily however didn't notice as she continued to seethe after the latest Wizengamont meeting. 'Honestly! What a collection of feeble old men! They haven't got a single gram of sense!'
The problem was that nearly all the members were older 'pureblood'ed men, who while they may not outright support the Dark Lord, certainly had sympathy for his stated cause of ensuring the Purebloods were supreme. They glossed over the fact that his real goal was to rule the world, where one knelt and served him or died. As such, they were reluctant to do anything that would really hinder Voldemort's actions. No increase in the auror budget, no special effort against the Death Eaters, not even an investigation into known members. They were all so afraid of their own finances and homes being probed and searched. And of course, there was the always present, but never aired, threat of retaliation.
Instead, they talked and bantered back and forth as the Death Eaters engaged in their 'game' of Muggle baiting. While it hadn't made the mainline news yet, the number of muggings, rapes and assaults in the cities had risen dramatically in the last two weeks, and was still increasing. Burglaries were also up, the most affected the rich and wealthy, those normally all but immune to such theft. But when one can magically bypass burglar alarms… There had even been a bank vault stripped bare, without the guards and cameras seeing a thing. They'd closed the vault for the last time one evening, with an actual guard stationed outside the door. When they opened the next morning however… everything was gone.
It was not until she reached the Atrium that Lily was able to, at last, get a grip on her temper. She'd always had anger management issues, even from a young age. Though it tended to blow out quickly, she'd always had a short fuse. In her early years she'd used various breathing exercises to try and help her control her temper. Remus had been a big help during her fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts, as his naturally calm demeanour and manner had acted as a foil for her, and he'd helped her develop the exercises more. But… she'd not kept up with them. Not since she'd started dating James. James had discovered a far more effective means to calm her down: He'd kiss her so passionately that her anger would be turned into lust. Once bathed in the afterglow, she'd been able to rationally consider what had trigger her anger.
But now there was no one who could help her that way anymore. Oh she'd already had many men try to approach her, some already married! But even if she didn't consider any liaison a betrayal of James, the light of greed in their eyes would have put her off anyway. Those few at the beginning who'd pushed had soon learned the hard way that do so was a 'Bad Idea'.
Calming, she looked up from her shoes… and instantly scowled again. Before her were the remains of the Fountain of Magical Brethren.
Ever since she'd first seen it, back before Harry was born, Lily had had issues with the Fountain. It had been billed as showing how the magical world was in harmony. But to her, it typified the attitude of the old Pureblood bigots. The Goblin, House-Elf and Centaur were all on lower levels than the witch and wizard, looking up at them as if they were deities. Something she knew both the Goblins and Centaurs would have had issues with. And the witch was lower than the wizard, looking up at him with such a sappy look of devotion on her golden face… it had riled Lily deeply.
Now, no one was willing to have it fixed. It seemed indicative of the current magical government; if it wasn't in anyone's own interest, no one bothered.
Feeling a familiar urge to 'do something' Lily drew her wand in a fluid movement. Jabbing it towards the pile of rubble and cheap gold, she started to chant in Latin, her wand darting back and forth. While she'd been a Charms and Potions prodigy, James had, during their Seventh year and after, given her extra tuition in Transfiguration way beyond NEWT level, the area of magic that he had excelled at. She'd reciprocated with Charms.
Now she put that extra training to use, as the broken stone and twisted metal flowed and changed, the forms bending as if natural. Around her ministry workers slowed to a halt, watching her as she rebuilt the Fountain… single-handed.
Finally the changes slowed, then ceased. After a moment her wand went through the same motions six times, and once more water began to be emitted from each statue. Stepping back, Lily looked over her handiwork.
The wizard once more stood tall and proud, only this time his pose was a little more lively, not as static as before. The witch however was no longer looking at him in adoration, but standing next to him, wand and gaze levelled out towards the world. The other three also had moved, not only to the same level as the humans, but also the same base, so the five were clustered on one side of the pool. The goblin stood to the wizards free side, axe in hand and raised in a ready stance. The meaning was clear: he was an equal, trusted to stand with the humans. The centaur had moved to be mostly on the witches free side, arrow levelled at a distant target. The House-Elf stood before the couple, arms spread in a ready stance, the expression on his face clear that any threat to them would have to go through him first.
"Well done Madam Potter, well done indeed." Turning her head, Lily regarded Albus Dumbledore sternly as he approached, his gaze on the new Fountain. "This would certain earn an 'Outstanding Plus' on any NEWT test my dear."
"It was not my intention to impress, Dumbledore."
The older man nodded his head slowly. "No, it never is. But it is what you have achieved." Only then was Lily made aware of the gathered onlookers. She looked about sharply, and the lower level workers moved along hurriedly.
Sighing, Lily turned back to the Headmaster. "What do you want Dumbledore? My son is expecting me home."
"Ah Lily, your devotion to Harry is commendable." Albus sighed deeply. "I wish you both understood why I did what I did…"
"It would help if you explained your actions simply." She snapped.
"True, perhaps. Nevertheless, we have to move forwards together to counter Voldemort, and save our world from destruction."
"Aren't those goals one and the same?" She asked bluntly.
"To some, yes. But the truth is a much more complex and terrible thing." Another sigh escaped his lips. "Madam Potter… Lily… I know I cannot redeem myself in your eyes. And my time is so limited now…" She watched as he tossed a galleon into the restored pool… then gasped softly as the state of his right hand registered.
"What happened to your hand Dumbledore?" She asked with real concern.
Dumbledore smiled sadly as he looked at his blackened and withered right hand. "I, alas, underestimated Voldemort's cruelty. I retrieved one of his… 'treasures' over the weekend. Sadly, it was cursed far more than I expected, and as it was an object that I have long searched for… I'm afraid a life-long obsession over-rode my own common sense." His thumb jerkily tapped a ring that adored his finger. A ring of heavy gold with a black stone set in the centre, on which Lily could make out some fine lines scored. A thick crack ran through the ring itself.
"It's destroyed?"
"Oh yes, once I broke the ring it died. But a curse was still active on it." He sighed once more as he slid his hand back into a pocket. "But here and now is not the time to discuss such matters. Instead… I wish to ask of you something." He finally turned to regard Lily. In that moment she was struck at just how old he looked, how he seemed to have aged years in only a few days. "When Harry and his friends return to Hogwarts… what will you do?"
Lily frowned lightly in thought. "I'm… not sure really. There's only so much I can do here…"
A small smile flickered across Dumbledore's visage. "I expected as much. I understand you wish to remain close to Harry…"
"You can bet your bony ass on that!" A chuckle was her only reply.
"Minerva has notified me of the requirement of a set of married quarters for Harry and his… entourage. I assume you will take up the option to stay in those same quarters?"
"It is my right as his mother." Lily's eyes narrowed. "Get to the point."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "My apologies. At my age, one tends to ramble… but I digress. I find myself once more searching for a new Professor."
Lily smirked. "The DADA 'Curse' huh?"
"No actually. I have already filled that place." At her look, he pushed on. "No, instead I find my Muggle Studies Professor has decided to retire suddenly. He mentioned something about visiting America for a few years…"
"What's the bet that he had a visit from a Death Eater or two?"
"None. I can tell."
Lily's eyes narrowed. "I bet you could."
"I did not read his mind, if that's what you're implying." Dumbledore said sternly. Lily shrugged off his tone, unaffected by it.
"So, you need to fill his post."
"Yes. Sadly, it is last minute, and I fear I will get only a few applicants. And of those, I expect them to be even less qualified to teach the course that the previous professor was."
"Hermione has made mention that the course is nearly two hundred years out of date."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I was afraid of that. But I am also afraid that the recent generations of wizards are 'losing touch' with the muggle world, and are underestimating them."
"If they did, it would be their last mistake."
"I know. I had intended at some point to make the course compulsory, but it would need to be kept up to date with the muggle world. And the only way to do that is for the Professor to be fully in touch with the Muggle world."
Lily waited for a moment, then recognised the look in his eye. "Wait… you want me to teach the course?"
"You are well versed with the muggle world. And you would be in the castle anyway…"
"Now hold on a minute…"
"That last was not my many reason for offering you the role Lily. I apologise for the implication. But I am serious about the offer. My time is nearly up. I fear I will not live to see the end of the school year." Lily gasped at this revelation. "As such, I wish to do what I can, in what little time I have left, to repair the damage I have, inadvertently, caused, and to ensure our world survives. As a professor, you will become more well known to the student population. They will respect and follow you, just like they follow Harry. And we must make the new generation aware that treating the muggles as inferior is wrong. The Statute of Secrecy was put in place to save ourselves, not the muggles."
Lily looked at Dumbledore for a long moment. "Can I think about for a day or two?"
"Of course. But please, no longer than that. If I am to get a replacement professor in before term starts, I have to advertise soon. If I have not heard from you by the weekend, then I shall assume you have no interest in the position. Good day Lily."
Lily nodded as the aging man turned and walked away. It was several minutes before she too started towards the floos, her thoughts once again inwards.
The mood was much lighter at Potter Manor as Daphne lead Harry out into the summit garden of House Greengrasses new home. The two had been on a tour of the newly refurbished 'mini-manor' starting from the open plan entryway and intimate study before moving up into the light and airy living spaces above. The same elegant touch that he'd noted in the Greengrasses old home were here too, slightly lost at some points with the far more open and expansive spaces, but still having a powerful effect. The elder Greengrasses had clearly drawn heavily on their family roots and had played to the vertical arrangement of the building. Pine and teak panelling lined the walls and floors, with the main other colour being a deep, rich green. Large windows and skylights allowed a lot of natural light to fill the rooms, even the deeper recesses that were dug into the hill side.
They had come across the twins laughing and playing happily on the second floor. The pair of them had almost mobbed Harry, climbing all over him as they thanked him again and again. Harry had found that he'd not minded their attentions at all, and he'd willingly been dragged to see their new bedroom. It was twice the size of their old room, giving them much more space to themselves. He'd blushed when he saw the half-size poster of himself on the rear of the door, but had understood Daphne's whispered words.
"You're more than just a brother-in-law to them Harry. Now your both a big brother and a hero in one."
The middle floor had a set of guest rooms… or future family rooms, Daphne had teased Harry lightly, prompting a blush from him. Though he got back at her when he asked if she intended to fill all the rooms herself. Once again Harry had marvelled at how lucky he was to have gained the favours of so many beautiful women, as Daphne's flushed cheeks had complimented her long blond hair and elegant frame contained within an airy summer dress.
On the floor above they had encountered Lord Henerick and Lady Eleanor Greengrass sitting together in the expansive living space. Both had risen to greet their lord, welcoming him to their new home. Harry had tried to brush off the formality, but neither of the older Greengrasses were deterred, and continued to pay him the respect they knew he deserved. Daphne watched from the side-lines as Harry – slowly – settled into the role that he would one day have to fill. Lord Greengrass promised to go over with him the intricate details of what a Lord of an Ancient and Noble House actually meant. Harry eagerly accepted the offer, though suggested they wait until the whole Voldemort issue was dealt with. Henerick had smiled, and proclaimed that already he was showing the signs of a great leader; knowing when to defer, and what to focus on.
Seeing that Harry was rapidly becoming tongue-tied, Daphne had gently pulled him away, leading up to the final level, the one that was on the same level as the embankment that the manor was built into. This last floor had been turned into a place of more active relaxation, with a small spa and sauna fitted. A large area was roofed in glass as well, adjoining the sauna and steam room. The interior of the greenhouse was humid, with several tropical plants that thrived in such a climate. Much of the floor was of teak, with breaks for hot tubs and bathing pools.
In contrast, the garden outside was almost cold, certainly cooler than the grounds elsewhere in the Manor. Daphne giggled lightly at the confused look on Harry's face.
"What's the matter Harry? Too cold for you?"
Harry turned to look at her, smirking. "Not really, just surprised. Besides…" He snaked an arm around her slim waist. "…I've got you here to help me stay warm."
Sighing happily, Daphne allowed him to draw her into a hug. "It'd be more me needing you to warm me Harry."
Harry nodded slowly, recognising the truth of her words. Daphne was dressed in a thin, sleeveless summer dress that clung to her frame. In the direct sunlight it had turned translucent, highlighting both its thinness and her figure. A curvy figure that was now pressed up against his own body… Once more he was amazed at his fortune. Life had certainly turned around for him.
Looking around, Harry took note of the foliage. Up here the plants were themed once more, this time to a colder climate such as Sweden. The trees were nearly all thick conifers, and the ground was mostly bare earth. "So how'd you get the chill?" He asked softly, enjoying the contact.
Daphne grinned at him. "The same way your ancestor did the lake, only backwards."
"Ah." Harry nodded in understanding. "So this is what you needed my permission for then…" As the land was effectively Potter Land, to raise any kind of ward on it needed the approval of the Head of the Potter Family. Daphne had asked him quietly the other day, though had managed to do so without revealing exactly what she intended. Harry had granted her, and the other families, free reign to place wards about their homes, as long as any ward would not compromise the security of the Manor grounds itself.
Drawing back from him, Daphne pulled on one hand. "Come on. I want to show you something in particular." As she lead him through the foliage a hint of nervousness emerged in her tone. "I designed this feature myself."
"Really?" Harry asked, glancing back as the manor's top floor, which from this angle appeared more like a Scandinavian house than anything else, disappeared into the evergreen cloak. Looking forward once more, he managed to repress a small shiver as the air temperature dropped a little more… but then why was the ground feeling hot?
Turning a corner, they emerged into a small grove. Ringed by thick conifers, the rock edged pool was completely hidden away from all but directly above. Steam rose in wispy curls from the slightly cloudy water which bubbled gently in a few spots.
"Nice… what is it?" Harry asked, feeling like a fool having to ask.
Daphne smiled once more. "Our own natural hot spring. The water's refreshed constantly, with plenty of natural salts and the like."
Harry squatted down to dip a finger into the water, snapping it back on contact with the surface. "Whoa. That is hot! You could boil in this!"
Musical laughter resounded from behind him. "No you won't silly! A proper hot spring is good for you, and with this one we don't have to worry about the water changing temperature on us. Here… I'll show you."
Harry turned only to get Daphne's dress land on his face. Clawing it away, he watched spellbound as she stepped over to a lower section of rocks stark naked. Harry's jaw dropped a little as she slowly stepped into the pool, emitting a pleasurable sounding sigh as the cloudy water lapped up her pale thighs. Leaning forwards she slowly swarm across the pool, her body half obscured. Reaching the far side, Daphne dunked her head under the surface for a second before turning to face him, a warm and sultry smile on her face. "Why don't you join me Harry?" She asked, allowing herself to rise up in the water enough that the top surfaces of her breasts rose up above the surface.
Harry had to take a moment to focus his mind. "But… I don't have any swimwear here."
"Neither did I. Didn't stop me now, did it?" She lifted a hand out of the water to crook a finger at him. "I'm waiting Harry…"
Shrugging to himself, Harry quickly disrobed, laying his clothes over a convenient rail that rose up to one side. As he moved to join her tentatively, Daphne allowed her eyes to roam over his body, marvelling once more at the complete turnaround of her own thoughts since the end of term. Back then, close encounters with boys was to be avoided at all costs. Far too many were concerned only with getting into a girls panties, and the examples in Slytherin House… well, she imagined the sight of a naked Goyle or Crabbe would be enough to have any girl switch to being a lesbian in seconds.
Harry however… he was both wiry and built. There was almost no waste or excess fat on his lean body. In fact he could probably do with a little more feeding, but this toned, sleek form was certainly worthy of being classified as eye candy by the young witch.
Harry gasped as he stepped onto the bottom of the pool. "Ouch! That's really hot!"
"You get used to it." Daphne smiled as she started to swim back across towards him. Reaching him she looped her arms around his neck, bringing both their heads to the same level so she could kiss him. She felt his own arms go around her body as they both opened their mouths slightly, allowing him to taste the slightly tang to her lips before meeting her tongue with his. The world around them faded away as they clung to each other, eyes closed in bliss. A sense of peace and belonging stole over her, and Daphne sighed as they parted their lips for a moment. "I love you Harry…" She whispered softly.
For a moment Harry was frozen. While the affection and desire between each one of them was there and known, the actual words had not been spoken between them that much. Only Hermione had really come out and said it aloud. As his mind pondered this, he realised that his feelings for the witch in his arms were almost the same as they were for the witch that had stood beside him for the past five years. It would never be totally the same, but it was damned near close enough. "I love you too Daphne…" He whispered in reply, allowing his lips to graze her earlobe as he did.
Daphne shivered in a combination of passion and desire at his words, her own emotions spiking. She'd been slightly afraid from the start that Harry would never truly love her like he did Hermione, not that she'd expected anything else. Neither she or Susan had the history that he had with the brunette witch, it was only natural that she'd be first in his heart. For Harry to verbally tell her that he loved her though… Daphne had learned enough to read Harry now, and he was not lying. He did love her, just like he did Hermione.
Gasping, she used the leverage of her arms to propel herself up his body, bringing her legs forward to wrap around his waist. "Take me Harry, here and now!"
Remus nearly stumbled as he stepped out the front door of Potter Manor late that evening. It was only Tonks gripping his upper arm – and the heavy oak door beside her – that kept him standing. "Easy wolfie. I'm the clumsy one, remember?"
"Ha ha." Remus shot tiredly before groaning. "Merlin, I ache almost as bad after the full moon."
Tonks exhaled loudly as she leaned against the door. "I hear you. Those Army guys are something else."
Remus just nodded in reply. As part of the Army force's training, both himself and Tonks had been drafted in to 'assist', often as the magical assailants the soldiers had to defeat. The two of them, along with Bellatrix, threw every trick and tactic they knew at the soldiers; it was only the spell choices that marked the difference. At first their abilities had given them a decided edge against the soldiers, but more and more they were more often than not caught out and pelted with the foam pellets that the training weapons used. Or they were forced to defend themselves against a physical attack. Remus, with his werewolf enhanced strength was still superior to all but the pair of Royal Marines in the force, but both Bellatrix and Tonks had to fight dirty to even stand a chance to escape such grapples. The soldiers had quickly picked up on that witches and wizards were not fans of 'dirty physical combat'… and were in fact downright lazy. Tonks, as an Auror, was fitter and more active than most, but still she found herself over matched by these hardened men.
As such, each evening after a day of training the army force, the three of them staggered back to Potter Manor, covered in bruises and aching all over.
"You know Remus…" Tonks said softly as they moved away from the main Manor down the gravel drive. "…I almost feel sorry for those Death Eater bastards that have to face our guys."
Remus nodded slowly. "I wonder if they would even have a chance against Voldemort…"
Tonks considered the matter carefully. "If they can surprise him, maybe. But he's just so powerful that I would not bank on it. And you know how good he is. As good as those guys are, I doubt they could evade all the AK's he'd throw around, not to mention all the other exotic spells he clearly knows."
It was true. Voldemort was not feared just for his power alone, though that was pretty high as it was. No, it was his presence, his skill in battle that really terrified others. His almost lackadaisical casting of the Killing Curse, a spell notorious for both its high power use and mental requirement. Remus had been terrified just to watch Harry's memories of the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore in the Ministry. How Harry kept going after having witnessed that first-hand… to say nothing of being determined to actually step up to that level…
"Just what is that guy's deal though…" Tonks words cut into his thought process.
"Huh? Whose?"
Tonks waved an arm tiredly. "That loner guy. I've rarely seen him in these exercises. He's like a ghost. I'd swear he can disillusion himself if I didn't know he was a muggle. And doesn't he ever smile?"
"Ah. Him." Remus said softly, instantly knowing just who she was referring to. The man himself was soft spoken, almost silent. But he moved with a lethal grace that made the Wolf within Remus cower. "I wouldn't try anything Tonks. Not knowing just what he is."
"Hmm, wolfie? Care to explain that?"
Remus smiled tightly. "Sports & Social."
Puzzlement was clear on her face. "What is that supposed to mean? We're getting whipped by a… a… a reunion event organiser?"
Barking with laughter, Remus was unable to answer for a few moments, very happy that the man in question wasn't with them at that point. Though he reckoned he might have seen the funny side to her comment himself. "No Tonks. It's how his unit is referred to. They don't hang signs saying 'I am a member of the top one per cent of the British Armed Forces' around their necks." At Tonks' still befuddled expression, Remus leaned close to whisper in her ear. "S A S."
Her eyes snapped wide at that. "OHHHH!" Then a blush crept over her cheeks as her hair turned red. The way the air moved over her ear as Remus had spoken had been delightful…
"Well, good night Tonks." Looking about, Tonks realised that they had reached the cottage where she was staying now. After giving up her flat when Madam Bones posted her to bodyguard Harry's women, Tonks had moved into one of the smaller cottages on the grounds. It worked in many ways, as not only was she close to her charges, but also close to her parents who had taken up residence in the next cottage along.
Turning to face her companion, she leaned against the doorway. "Remus… you what to help me with the bruise remover?"
Remus sighed slowly. "Tonks, we've talked about this."
"No, you stated your opinion and refused to listen to mine. I thought we were getting somewhere."
"There's no stopping us being friends Tonks. Even close friends. But…"
"…But that's not enough for me." Tonks took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Why?"
Remus shook his head. "You know why. The age gap between us… well, it doesn't look good. But you know that just being friends with me will reflect poorly on you, your judgement and such. If we were to… get close." He blushed slightly. "…You know that some people will push for your dismissal from the Auror force."
Tonks shrugged. "Well, thanks to Sirius, I don't have to worry about that. Let them try and get me fired. Amelia would fight tooth and nail against that anyway. Or do you think she'd bow to public pressure?" She arched an eyebrow at him.
"No. No she wouldn't. But still… I know you think you know and understand, but Tonks… you cannot ever understand what it's like to live with a werewolf… to be a werewolf, without being one yourself. And that is a fate I would never even think of inflicting on someone, no matter who they were."
"Isn't it my choice to take the risk or not?" She challenged. "Besides, that American Indian stuff on Animagi… haven't you been looking into that to help with your furry problem?"
Remus snorted in tired amusement. "Haven't had a chance yet. There's just so much going on right now…"
Tonks sighed. "I guess we'll be having this conversation again and again in the future…"
She looked so despondent that Remus had to try and cheer her up. "Tonks… I do care for you. But I'm… afraid, for you. If the wolf ever got loose… I'd never be able to live myself if something happened to you…"
She cocked her head, looking at him closely. "Maybe that's part of the problem you have with your wolf. You keep it so tightly leashed that it fights you, wanting to be free. And that fight is tearing you apart from within." Pushing the door open, she turned to look back at him over her shoulder. "Perhaps you don't know your own wolf as well as you think. When you get your head out of your ass, you know where to find me." With that she closed the door firmly.
Filled with a sense of rejection, Remus trudged down the path to the road, head bowed in thought. On pure autopilot he trudged into his own cottage, barely aware of the motions of undressing. His thoughts were in turmoil as he took the potions to heal his body after the battering it took after the day with the army. Lying down he tried to sleep, but Tonks words continued to roll through his mind.
Growling in frustration, he got up and pulled a dressing gown on before making his way to the kitchen, aiming to make a soothing cup of tea. As the kettle boiled his eyes landed on the book on the American Animagi theory's that Harry had all but forced into his hands. The whistle of the kettle drew his attention for a few moments, but even as he poured the tea his eyes strayed back to the book.
Almost nervously, Remus sat at the table, tea at his elbow, before pulling the book over and starting to read.
Vernon Durlsey growled angrily as he pulled into his driveway after a day spent trying – unsuccessfully – to retain his job. He and his family had been released on police bail a few days ago, pending a trial next month. The list of charges against them was longer than one of Petunia's shopping lists. He barely noticed the white van that was parked across the road from his home. Storming inside, he flopped down onto one of the sofa chairs, his weight causing the chair to creak and groan with stress. "Bastards fired me!" He snapped, his face a hue that previously only Harry could achieve. "After all the years of work I put into that company, they fire me over a bloody misunderstanding, and the words of a freak!"
In the sofa-chair next to him his sister Marge scowled over her teacup. "Told you that boy was trouble from the moment he arrived! Nothing but bad luck he's brought on us! When decent, honest people like us get arrested over such a rotten yob…"
In the kitchen Petunia stirred her own tea absently, her face lined and with bags under her redden eyes. Unlike her husband and sister-in-law, she was not deluding herself about the arrests. Seeing her sister again, alive once more, had thrown Petunia for a loop. But spending those days in a police cell had forced her to re-examine her life, what she had achieved with it. Her tears now were for opportunities missed, mistakes made from jealousy and anger. Her conscience, though stunted and weakened by years of neglect, had gained new like and had begun to torment her in her sleep. Again and again she'd seen Harry as an infant, his eyes begging wordlessly 'Why are you doing this? What do I do to deserve this?' even as Vernon pummelled the boy's body into a pulp. No matter how much damage the boy's frail, child body suffered, his eyes remained unharmed, watching her, accusing her. Even when the boy had been reduced to little more than a misshapen lump of torn, bleeding flesh his eyes… her sisters' eyes, had been visible.
Within Petunia the guilt and shame were building, reaching towards unbearable levels. The constant harping of Marge Dursley had not helped. In truth Petunia had not particularly liked Marge that much, even before her marriage to Vernon. Oh she was okay with short visits, but after she'd left each time Petunia had heaved a sigh of relief. Now, with her there constantly, Petunia began to wonder if this was how Harry had felt. Her thoughts were starting to contemplate ending everything; there was no chance for acquittal for any of them, and confessing would not make any difference.
"I say, where's dudders?" Vernon called out, having temporarily exhausted himself in his rant.
"Out somewhere. Tea with his friends I expect." Marge supplied. Looking out the window she scowled. "I wish that bloody van would move. It's an eyesore."
Vernon glanced over his shoulder towards the window, spying the van she was referring to. "Too right it is. Must be making a delivery. Wish they'd hurry up!" Turning away he paid it no mind.
In a sense, Vernon was correct; the van was there to deliver something. And Marge would get her wish.
Not that either would live to realise that.
Sat in the passenger seat of the van, Major Greengrass lowered the scope he'd been looking through. "You are certain the boy is not here?"
"Positive Major." One of his men replied. "No trace of any magical in that building. Minor ward traces, but they collapsed at least a year ago. We've only got three adult muggles in there right now."
"Hmmm…" Bearson frowned as he looked back out the window towards Number 4, Privett Drive. Potter wasn't here, though that could be simply because he was out. But then the Wards would still be up. The situation was not ideal at all. And they only had an hour or two before the locals would start investigating the strange van parked there. The charm on the outside kept the filthy muggles from being curious about the van, while still allowing them to see it… and thus not crash one of their cars into it.
The gear they carried within would not react well to such a collision.
Reaching a decision, he look over his shoulder into the rear of the rented van. "Strike."
Within the enclosed rear his men nodded before rapidly assembling the equipment. Once ready the two knelt, already aiming, while the third threw the side door open. With a pair of loud coughs the ordnance was launched.
Marge was just lifting her brandy laced tea again when motion outside caught her eye. "What the…" was all she had time to say before the first Model 7 RPG punched through the lounge window. The paired explosions ripped through the living space of Number 4, totally wiping out the furniture, transformed Vernon Dursley into a cloud of blood and meat fragments, and shredded Marge Dursley's body. The blast tore apart the ground floor's internal walls, and savaged the integrity of the outer walls that bordered the lounge. An outshoot splashed through the dining space, most of it expending itself into the conservatory out back, but some of it whipping into the kitchen area and sweeping the countertops clear of everything. Petunia was blown backwards off her stool, to crash down onto the floor by the sink. Mercifully she was already unconscious as she struck, or as the shattered china rained down on her still form.
A great gout of flame exploded out of the lounge windows, setting several of Petunia's prized shrubs and plants alight, and pealing the paint from the side of Vernon's car. As the flames drew back the building groaned before the whole front of number four collapsed in a shower of bricks. Flames erupted from the rubble, eagerly exploring the upper floor and loft. The fire spread, the dry grass of the front lawn smouldering as the eves that supported the roof began to blacken as the felt lining ignited.
Watching the first eruption of black smoke, Bearson nodded in approval. That should send a clear message to Potter and his allies.
In the confusion and panic, none of the residents of Privett Drive noticed the van that drove away from the scene.
A/N: I did say I had more in store for the Dursleys... There'll be even more explosions next chapter.