A/N: Apologies on the late chapter, but this one's grim, and I didn't want to let it ride for two weeks alone. As such, I'm dropping a pair of chapters today, and Ch 4 should closely follow this one.
For the non-canon spells, non-english phrases, and anything else that might be difficult to pick up on, I'll be posting a hopefully handy guide here at the top to reference as needed. I prefer it up here versus as a footnote so my readers have a basic translation in their mind before it comes up, rather than having to go searching for it later. I should mention that while my French is passable, my Swedish is horrifyingly poor, so I'm bound to make more than a few grammatical or spelling errors.
Phrases:
Désolé: [French] I'm sorry
ma petite lune: [French] my little moon
Vackra drömmare: [Swedish] beautiful dreamer
Mitt Hjärta: [Swedish] my heart
chère lune: [French] dear moon
Spells:
Mas Exciso: Castration Curse. Yellow. Very painful.
Pausa/Resumis: Pauses/Resumes a pensive memory.
dissamuli: Disguise Charm. Makes the user unrecognizable. Dispellable.
Disclaimer: I'm thankful for the opportunity to play around in the sand box that is the Harry Potter Universe. Apologies to those authors who's ideas I have unintentionally incorporated. Also, to whomever first authored the idea of the Piercing Hex, I've totally stolen that and used it, so thanks for adding that to the universe.
Please enjoy the third installment of Of Fae and Fervor!
Chapter 3 – Feeling Pensive
Hermione knew she had a problem.
If she was being totally honest with herself, she'd had it for years. It was her darkest secret, one she'd managed to keep from both Luna and Harry for nearly five years, despite their constant proximity. Her fix came four times a year, and she relished each and every opportunity. The sheer amount power she channeled during the Rite of Truth was better than any narcotic high and more pleasurable than any orgasm. Nothing made her feel more alive, more powerful, than the sensation of lives and magic not her own coursing through her body. Every sense, every emotion, every thought became a pillar of perfection, and Hermione craved it all, but coming off that peak left her emotionally, mentally, and physically drained.
Luna was always there to carry her back to a chair or bed once she completed the rite, and Hermione was eternally thankful for the younger witch's support and affection. She did her best to suppress the twinges of guilt that racked her exhausted frame, closing her eyes and attempting to shut out the real world, diving back into memories to relive the ritual time and again before they slipped away into the fractured recesses of her mind.
Hermione's emotions began to boil as her cravings returned and recollection of the ritual slowly faded into nothingness, like so many of her memories of late.
I can stop whenever I want, she lied to herself. I'm only doing this to protect Harry and Luna. I have to be strong for them.
Hermione felt an ugly rage build in her chest as she attempted to placate the rational part of her mind. She was the Brightest Witch of her Age! She'd handled the ritual without issue for five years, and she'd do it for fifty more if that's what she needed to do; if that's what Harry and Luna needed her to do.
The words of their most recent captive wafted through her awareness.
"Two. She was two," the voice said.
Blood pounded in Hermione's ears as her rage focused on the external target. The memory of their encounter with the Carrows sprang unbidden to the forefront of her mind. They'd raped and murdered an entire family of seven for their Dark Mark, the oldest child no more than 10. The siblings had laughed before Harry tore their souls from their bodies, dying with those demonic smiles plastered on their faces. All the memories she'd lost and that one never seemed to be far away. This one, this Death Eater, was cut from the same cloth.
"I bet that made you feel real good slaughtering an innocent child like that, didn't it?" Hermione said angrily, leaping to her feet and spilling a forgotten blonde witch to the cold stone floor.
"Did you fuck her too, or just her mother and maybe her father while you made her watch? Well? I need an answer or you're going to lose a precious friend."
The yellow-colored Mas Exciso curse lit the tip of her wand and she pointed it at the Death Eater's groin.
Say it, Hermione willed the captive. Admit it and I'll make sure you never violate anyone again.
"I didn't do no such thing! I'm not a rapist! We just went in and killed the lot, all four, and then left! No Dark Mark, no rape, nothing, just in, out, and gone. Honest!"
Hermione glowered at the Death Eater, waiting for the telltale scream of pain indicating an untruth. When none came, the furious witch sniffed loudly and turned back to her seat.
He'll die screaming once the rite completes anyway, she thought grimly. He deserves it.
Her demeanor softened as she took in Luna's dazed expression, the younger witch attempting to climb back into their abandoned chair. Hermione quickly strode over and helped the bewildered woman back onto the expanded lounge.
"Désolé, ma petite lune," she whispered, kissing Luna softly before allowing the blonde's head to rest gently on her bosom, the rest of her body wrapped tightly around Hermione's still-damp frame. Hermione leaned back into the lounge and closed her eyes, her fingers gently tracing lines through Luna's blonde locks. Her recent outburst and magical exhaustion conspired to draw her to the realm of Morpheus.
Just a little nap, she managed to herself as her consciousness faded. Harry will be fine dealing with a few Death Eaters on his own.
"Mya."
Luna's voice whispered through the Ether, a gentle shake rousing the exhausted brunette from her slumber.
"Vackra drömmare," she tried again, "Harry's talking to the twins. Do you want to listen, or should I let you sleep?"
The twins? Couldn't be the Patils, they'd been killed attempting to flee the island years ago. Something about red hair then?
Right. Those twins.
Hermione forced her eyes open, still quite spent from earlier. Her eyes widened as she took in the unexpected scene before her. Harry had conjured two very medieval-looking wooden tables and bound the identical gingers to them. Hempen ropes ran from each limb to a corner where they disappeared into the wood, forcing their bodies to spread uncomfortably. Their heads were restrained by a leather strap across their forehead, restricting all movement and forcing the gaze upward, placing Harry permanently in their peripheral.
"Wha-" she managed to squeak before Luna's hand clamped down over her mouth, silencing any further utterances.
"Shhh," Luna said quietly, "this is important, I can feel it."
Hermione could only look on at the darkness before her. They'd become accustomed to death and killing, even the necessary torture from the ritual, but this was a side of Harry she'd never seen or even suspected in the seventeen years she'd known him.
She looked on as Harry stalked around the bound redheads, his firm expression projecting an air of ruthless control.
"I haven't forgotten," Harry said darkly as he paced around the racks, slowly tightening the ropes binding the gingers. "Night after night, for years, I woke screaming from the nightmares; nightmares that your family caused. Did you think I would move on? Forgive your betrayal?"
Fred was the first to find his voice.
"H – Ha – Harry," he stammered. "We were Imperiused! We didn't know! Y – You've got to believe us!"
"The Imperius defense?" Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "Did you really think I'd believe that lie?"
With a pair of quick diffindos, Harry deftly slit the fabric on each twin's left forearm, revealing two jet black snake-and-skull tattoos.
"I've done this almost two dozen times," Harry said, shaking his head in minor disbelief, "and I've heard nearly twice that many stories of how they each received their brand. We know what they are, boys, and we know how they're given. Not that it matters either way.
"You destroyed my family, cursed my beloveds, and annihilated my future," he accused, waving his wand menacingly at the twins. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slowly dismember the both of you."
Hermione gave a muffled squeak at the mention of the Weasleys' betrayal. She remembered the surviving family assaulting the trio back when they resided at the rebuilt cottage in Godric's Hollow, but they'd escaped without major injury, leaving the lifeless bodies of Ron, Ginny, and Molly behind. What, then, was Harry referring to?
"It was Ron and Ginny!" George pleaded. "It was their idea! We didn't know it was your home! It was just a misunderstanding!"
Harry jerked his wand towards George's head, a lavender light neatly severing his remaining ear from his body.
"Is that why I found you both cock-deep in Luna then?" Harry thundered over George's cries of pain, any thought to the women behind him lost in his fury. "And Ron and Percy raping Hermione right beside you? Perhaps the Cruciatus you were both holding was just a miscast charm?"
"Or maybe Ginny and Molly murdering my daughters was just misunderstanding too?" Harry ranted, smothering the feeble protests from the two horrified redheads before him. "And to top it all off, you destroy any chance of a future by sterilizing the only two people who could ever love me.
"I should be thanking you, though," Harry continued, his voice calmer but his emerald eyes blazing with unbridled hatred. "You've saved me years of hassle. I killed Ron, Ginny, and Molly in Godric's Hollow that night, and tracked down Percy a year later at the Burrow. With Bill, Charlie, and Arthur all dying in the war, it just leaves you two, and you came to me. You may have ended the Potter line, but I get to end the Weasley one on my terms."
Harry's wand lit with a bright green light and he pointed it at the twins. "Who wants to die first?"
Two grey bolts of magic shot past Harry on either side of him, punching a ragged hole through the leather strap, forehead, and wood backing of their targets. Startled, he slowly turned to view the aggressors, his anger fleeing as he took in the scene.
Hermione and Luna stood teary-eyed, wand-arm outstretched and quivering. They slowly lowered their wands once they were certain of their targets' demise, each taking ragged breaths as they collected their thoughts.
"Why don't I remember?" Hermione croaked, falling to her knees, her wand dropping forgotten to the floor. "Why did—"
"Harry," Luna said quietly as Hermione's voice trailed off and she curled into her own hands, sobbing quietly. "What happened to us?"
Luna gingerly stepped toward the kneeling witch and softly stroked her bushy hair, reaching out with her other hand toward the petrified wizard.
"Harry," she said again, "we deserve to know."
"I can't," Harry protested. "I can't lose you both again."
"Harry," Luna tried a third time, but Harry gently cut her off.
"You don't understand, Luna. You were both gone. Alive, breathing, but just not … there. I don't know if it was the assault, or losing … losing …"
Harry trailed off as painful memories resurfaced before regaining his composure. "I couldn't leave you like that. You're both so important to me, so I did the only thing I could think of: I obliviated you both. The entire previous year. No children, no attack, none of it. It brought you back, but I don't think I did it very well. I'm sorry."
"That's why I have a hard time remembering things, isn't it?" Hermione said weakly from the floor, tear streaks marring her face as she looked up at Luna and Harry. "And why Luna has her moments as often as she does?"
"I think so," Harry said quietly, bowing his head in apology and moving to turn away from the two witches. "It's my fault. I broke you both."
Luna stepped forward and tightly embraced the raven-haired wizard before he could turn away from them.
"You saved us, Harry. You brought us back, but you have to let us know everything. You don't have to live with this alone."
"Luna's right," Hermione said, rising to her feet. "It wasn't your fault. It was theirs, and they're gone now. You've kept this to yourself for more than five years, it's time to let us in."
Harry looked into pairs of chocolate and silver eyes, and saw only love and compassion reflected within.
"Alright," he said in both surrender and relief. "Let's go get the pensive."
The trio moved into the castle greatroom and sat at a round oak table near the fireplace, Hermione, Luna, and the pensive on one side and Harry on the opposite. Drawing his wand, Harry placed the tip on his temple and concentrated on the painful memory, tears welling as he drew a dull silver thread from his mind. Reaching across the table, he placed the strand gently into the steel grey bowl before sagging back into his chair.
"Just one thing before you drop in, please? No questions afterward. I don't think I could handle it right now." Harry pleaded.
Luna and Hermione each gave Harry a small apologetic smile in understanding before turning to each other. A small firm nod was all that passed between them before they quickly submerged their faces into the swirling fluid, their minds meeting in a floating grey mist. The two witches took in the surrounding fragmented memory as flashes of people, places, and events fluttered around them in chaos.
"I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for Harry to pull this memory," Hermione commented at the anarchy surrounding them.
"I'm a bit surprised he was able to pull it at all," Luna replied calmly, "but I have faith that we'll see it eventually. Harry's stronger than he gives himself credit for."
"Absolutely," Hermione emphatically agreed as the mist began to coalesce around them. "Looks like its starting now. Stay with me?" she asked as she reached out and grasped Luna's hand tightly.
"Always, Mitt Hjärta."
The mist cleared, revealing the well-lit living room of a two-level cottage. A wooden whitewashed crib sat in one corner, nestled neatly between a comfortable-looking light blue loveseat and a large picture window looking out onto the small front yard. A younger Hermione Granger, dressed casually in a lavender camisole and warm brown drawstring pants, bent over the crib railing, cooing gently to a small squirming bundle inside. Across the room a beaming Harry Potter, himself garbed in pair of loose-fitting blue denim jeans and burgundy-and-gold rugby polo, sat easily in an ivory-toned padded armchair near the fireplace holding a half-full bottle to small pair of babbling lips, rocking the swaddled infant as she fed.
A bright-eyed Luna Lovegood, garbed only in a paisley smock, entered the room from the kitchen portal, a concerned frown adorning her face.
"Harry," she began, walking over to the raven-haired wizard and smoothly taking the feeding infant from his arms, "we're getting low on supplies again."
"Already?" Memory-Hermione inquired, addressing the new arrival, the small bundle below her gurgling in protest. "Mummy's right here, Rosie," she admonished as she reached back down to pick up the complaining child. She straightened and turned back to the speaker. "How are we out again? I thought we just filled our stores last week?"
"We did, but Ron's been over twice since then, and you know how much he eats," Memory-Luna said as she lifted the infant in her arms to her shoulder and patted her gently on the back.
Memory-Harry rolled his eyes. "You'd think he'd start bringing his own food now and again. It's hard enough to feed the five of us anymore since the Ministry Taboo-ed the Gemino spell. Whose turn is it to go out and scavenge?"
"Technically mine," Memory-Hermione admitted, "but little Rosie here needs to eat, and you know how much she hates the bottle. You don't mind going for me, do you?"
"Not at all. No, Luna," Memory-Harry cut off Luna's attempts to interrupt, gesturing to the now slumbering infant in her arms, "you're still recovering from recasting the Fidelius when Ron was here last. Besides, Iris looks so comfortable, I wouldn't want to be the reason she wakes up grumpy. I'll go."
"Take my bag with you," Memory-Hermione motioned to a beaded bag resting on the loveseat. "We're expecting the Weasley clan tonight for dinner, remember? It is Halloween after all."
"Right," Memory-Harry said dejectedly, grabbing the sack and slinging the strap over his head. "Forgot about that. Guess I'm off then."
Memory-Harry gave his each of his beloveds a quick kiss, placing a gentle peck on the top of each of his daughters' heads.
"I love you," he smiled to the four before turning on the spot to apparate away.
"Pausa!" Hermione panicked, halting the memory just as Memory-Harry began to spin, tears flowing freely as she committed the vision before her to whatever memory she had remaining. Confident she'd done the best she could, she turned to the still-frozen form beside her.
"Luna?" she asked releasing her grip on the witch's hand. "Go, Luna. You want to just as much as I do."
Luna moved forward as if in a trance, her eyes never leaving her memory-self or the small infant sleeping her arms. A feeling deep within her core grew and expanded as she approached, accompanied by a warmth she would never again forget.
She wasn't broken here.
Her daughter was perfect in every way. Fine black hair adorned her head, and her closed eyelids hid bright sliver irises flecked with deep emerald green. Somewhere deep inside Luna's intellect a severed connection found its mate, and feelings of pure love and protection filled her soul. She reached her hand forward gingerly and traced fingers through her daughter's hair, a name emblazoned on the inside of her mind.
"I'll always love you, Iris Pandora," she whispered to the memory.
Hermione watched Luna slowly walk toward her memory-self before her attention was completely consumed by her own avatar. She looked herself over, noting that the dark circles under her eyes and worry lines marring her face were almost completely suppressed by a shining expression of love and contentment. The child in her arms was exactly how she'd imagined her back at Hogwarts, back when her feelings for Harry lay hidden behind the walls of 'best friend', 'Boy-Who-Lived', and 'can-we-survive-another-day-in-this-insane-world', with her piercing emerald green eyes and thick golden-brown hair already showing the hints of unruly wildness.
Hermione smiled sadly to herself. Her daughter would have been a heartbreaker for sure, if only she'd had a chance to grow and live.
If only.
"Luna," she said softly to her companion, walking over and wrapping her arms around the younger witch from behind, "it's only going to get worse from here, and we haven't seen anything yet. Do you still want to go through this?"
Luna nodded, her fingers still tracing patterns through her daughter's hair. "I need to know, no matter how much it hurts. I'm better here. I want to be better again."
"Alright. Ready? Resumis," Hermione stated and the memory spun away with a small pop.
Memory-Harry appeared in an abandoned alleyway a half a dozen villages away and immediately tapped his wand to the top of his head, muttering dissamuli as he did so. He strode purposefully out of the passage and down the street toward a nearby grocer, entering through the sliding doors and grabbing a metal basket, placing the beaded bag at the bottom, mouth open and waiting. As he began to move through the produce, taking what he could without drawing too much attention, his hand stilled, a feeling of unease sweeping though the scene. Hermione and Luna, following curiously behind the memory's motions, gasped in unison.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Memory-Harry grabbed the beaded bag and fled the building, the metal basket clattering forgotten on the linoleum floor. Luna and Hermione were unceremoniously dragged along as the memory followed Harry's path back to the same alley he'd arrived in before spinning away, depositing them in the front yard of the home they'd left not twenty minutes before.
The cottage was almost unrecognizable. The air was unnaturally cold and frost covered all the windows, each glowing with a hellish blood-red light. The front door had been blown open, splinters of the grey wood littering the yard.
Memory-Harry cried out in anguish and charged, wand out and at the ready. Hermione and Luna, lost for a moment in their surprise, each drew their own and ran in behind him.
The scene before them stopped all three in their tracks; the Weasleys had arrived early, and not as friends. Memory-Luna and Hermione had both been stripped of their clothing, arms bound behind them, tears streaking down their shaking frames. Memory-Luna lay roughly on her back across the armchair Harry had sat comfortably in only moments ago, one of the twins surging between her legs as the other forcibly muffled her cries from the front, each holding a wand over the quaking witch between them. Memory-Hermione fared no better, having been thrown across the now-destroyed crib, a grinning Ron Weasley furiously pounding her from behind while a satisfied Percy sank himself around her protesting lips and throat. Behind the depraved foursome, Molly and Ginny chanted in unison around a demonic black-stone altar, their unclothed bodies doused in dark red blood. Atop the altar rested two small, shrouded forms, each glowing with the same blood-red light that so fervently penetrated through the now-frosted glass of the home.
"You were always meant to be mine, mudblood bint," Ron said darkly to the weakly resisting witch below him, "and now I'll be the last thing you ever feel. Crucio."
The traitor's face filled with pleasure as the Cruciatus Curse impacted Memory-Hermione's frail form causing her to shake violently as every muscle in her body spasmed, her screams muffled as she struggled for a breath that never came.
The pure evil emanating from his former friend drove a stunned Harry to action, and unbridled rage and hatred overwhelmingly filled the memory. Without so much as a murmur, a bright green beam shot from Harry's wand, slamming into the ginger Secret Keeper, his lifeless body collapsing to the floor in a clump. Percy, seeing his youngest brother killed in front of him, pulled back and crouched behind the crib, using the still-shaking body of his victim as cover from the infuriated Boy-Who-Lived before firing a bone-breaking curse in his direction.
The dark blue curse was well aimed and forced Harry to dodge away, rolling into the kitchen. His motion brought him into full view of the perverted ritual in his dining room and he cast again without pause, another jet of green light leaping from his wand, snuffing out the life of his former crush and girlfriend. The ritual broken, Molly Weasley scrambled for her wand as two aqua curses shot through the opening between the rooms and detonated against the kitchen cupboards, showering Harry with debris, marring his face, arms, and clothing with dozens of small cuts and gouges.
Harry jabbed his wand forward a third time, and a third green jet leapt forward striking the Weasley matriarch as her hand closed around her wand, her falling body snapping the magical tool in two. A single pop reverberated through the warzone signaling a fleeing Percy Weasley as Harry ran to the edge of the wall and peaked around the corner, spotting the twins cowering behind the overturned loveseat in the living room, the naked and shivering forms of his beloveds lying in front of them. Two grey piercing hexes shot toward Harry forcing him to dive back into the kitchen as they punched through the drywall where his head had been moments before. Rising swiftly he ran forward and crossed the open lane, blindly firing a lavender diffindo at the two remaining traitors, aiming high to avoid hitting either of the two incapacitated women.
His efforts were rewarded with a cry of pain as one of the twins, George, clutched the left side of his head. Harry peaked around wall again to gauge the twins' next actions only to see their two sickly yellow spells already flying, not at him but at the two prone forms on the floor. Harry's attempts to shield the witches came too late, the two curses striking their targets and causing the women to simultaneously scream in pain. Harry's tormented cry buried the sound of the twins' escape, their presence forgotten as he grasped the women's hands and begged for them to recover.
"Don't leave me alone," he pleaded to the two barely breathing witches, their eyes clouded and unseeing. "Come back to me. Please."
Hermione and Luna had been shocked to silence as they viewed their rape, assault, and Harry's battle with the Weasleys in its full and terrible glory, their feet rooted to the floor as they clasped each other for comfort and strength.
"Don't do it," Hermione pleaded to Memory-Harry as he drew his wand and pointed it at her memory-self's head. "There has to be another way."
Memory-Harry paid no heed to the two viewers. "I don't even know if this will work, but I have to try. I hope you both will forgive me of what I'm about to do," he resigned. "Obliviate. Stupefy."
Hermione's choked cry was smothered as Luna pulled her into a warm embrace. "It's ok, Mya," she said as she gently caressed the other woman's back, turning away as Memory-Harry obliviated and stunned her past-self. "It's over."
"Why? Why can't his life ever be easy? No," Hermione begged, her expression turning to horror as the events they had witnessed caught up to her. "No, no, no, no. They wouldn't, would they? Of all the …"
Anger quickly overwhelmed all other emotions and she pushed Luna away, her red puffy eyes filled with a fiery rage as she stalked over to the destroyed dining room, eyes unconsciously avoiding the altar at the center where a stone-faced Harry slowly and gently wrapped two small, unmoving forms in white conjured silk cloth.
"Luna, I'm going to kill them," she stated furiously. "Once we get out of this memory, I'm going to track them down and kill them, bring them back and kill them again. And maybe do it again for good measure. I knew that family was bad news right from the start. They shouldn't even have access to that ritual!"
"Mya," Luna said cautiously, "what are you talking about? They're already dead. You can't bring someone back from the dead unless they made a …" Luna's jaw dropped at the implication. "You think they made horcruxes?"
"I don't think, Luna. I know. Didn't you see they were all Marked?"
"No? I was a bit distracted by, oh I don't know, my own rape and sterilization, maybe?" Luna said hotly in response to Hermione's strange and inappropriate academic distraction.
Hermione took on a clinical, impassionate tone as she launched into a lecture, purposely ignoring Luna's incredulity. "We know that the Dark Mark is tied to their bearer's soul somehow, but we weren't quite sure how that worked exactly, right? Well, we just observed six people we knew quite well acting unnaturally. Well, maybe not all of them. The Carrows said that Ginny had been turned, what, three years before this?"
"Four," Luna corrected, the now intriguing postulate helping her overcome the terrible event they had just witnessed. "They got her at the start of my sixth year, when you and Harry were on the run."
"Four years then. And Ron has always had jealousy issues, so his actions are somewhat expected. He's pined over me for years, so I'm not surprised that he took the one chance he had to get into my pants," Hermione deadpanned. "But Percy? Fred and George? Molly performing a blood ritual? Something would have had to change them drastically. They could have been Imperius-ed, certainly, but I didn't see any glazed-over eyes or resistive movements. A horcrux though, that would darken their souls, driving out any good that may have resided there. Now the real question is –"
"Mya, I love that you're able to set your emotions aside when necessary, but I think you might want to see this," Luna interrupted as the scene changed, Harry's memory having continued playing through Hermione's lecture.
Hermione's jaw snapped shut and her cold and aloof demeanor collapsed as she found herself standing in the familiar grounds of St. Jerome's graveyard. Memory-Harry knelt in the damp grass, a small square of freshly-tilled earth lying beneath a newly formed gravestone placed just to the left of the well-worn marker of James and Lily Potter.
Tears flowed anew as Memory-Harry drew his wand and began to deftly carve the stone in front of him.
Rose Catherine Potter & Iris Pandora Lovegood
b. 13 July 2001
d. 31 October 2001
Daddy will always love you
"I'll never forget you," he whispered to the grave. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you. I promise to take care of your Mummies however I can. One day we'll all be a family again, I promise.
"Take care of them Mum, Dad. I expect I'll see you all soon."
Memory-Harry rose slowly, trudging down the grass to a gravel path and gave one last lingering look at the tombstones before apparating away. The memory faded back into a grey, featureless void, leaving Hermione and Luna to their thoughts and each other.
"I," Luna sniffed softly. "I don't think he really believed we'd survived, Mya. To be alone, with so much evil surrounding him, it'd be worse than when I – when you – when –"
"Shhh," Hermione comforted the sobbing witch, "We found you then and we love you now, chère lune. You don't need to go back there."
"And we did survive," she continued, holding Luna at arms' length and capturing her gaze with her own. "And Harry did too. As long as we've got each other, we'll last long enough to see those Dark Dimwits burn themselves out. I know it. I know it."
Luna nodded weakly. "I'll see you out there, ok? I just need a bit of time here to gather my thoughts."
"Alright," Hermione responded, kissing Luna gently on the forehead, nose, and lips. "Don't be too long, ok? Harry and I might get bored."
Hermione caught the faintest of smiles before concentrating on pulling herself out of the pensive. She emerged quietly, her face deep in contemplation.
"Harry," she began, an inquiring expression blooming on her face, "I know I promised not to ask any questions, but, um, I'm not blaming you or anything, but, well," she paused and chewed on her lower lip nervously.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the unexpected reaction. "Yes?"
"Uh, why the Killing Curse? I know it did what you needed it to do, but what about the theory we had that it damages the soul?"
"Oh. I didn't even think about that, honestly. I didn't think about much at all. Just getting my family safe."
"I see," Hermione acknowledged quietly, falling back into her thoughts, an awkward silence filling the room.
Luna finally emerged from the pensive, her face a picture of passive consideration, and quietly settled back into her chair, making no move to engage either of the other two.
Moments became seconds, became minutes, and threatened to become hours before Harry coughed to break the stalemate.
"Why don't we all get some rest, eh?" he began a bit too jovially. "Sleep on today's events, and we can talk about this more in the morning. Come on, you two."
Harry held out his hands to help Luna and Hermione out of their chairs, but neither took nor even acknowledged the offer. He let his hands drop loosely to his side as the two witches rose wordlessly and exited the room, leaving him standing alone and hurt.
He raked a hand through his messy hair and sighed in exasperation.
I'll never understand women.
A/N: As promised, Ch 4 should be up shortly. This is the darkest we're gonna get, but it's a pretty low bar. Time to climb slowly and inexorably back to the light.
As always, thank you for reading. Reviews, comments, PMs, and everything else are greatly appreciated, although I'll understand if you hold off until you've finished the next chapter. Thanks again!