The Ball (part 2 of 2)

(...)

Their dance is over.

He takes a step back, smiling sincerely. And it shocks him to see a brightness in her eyes, as if she wanted to cry. But she smiles and bows curtly. He does the same. Having no idea why, he takes her hand again and they walk together out of the dance floor. All eyes on them.

Hermione keeps tugging at his hand while they go through the sea of people and he lets her guide him wherever she wants to. He feels like a willing hostage. As they go, he spots Tom and Bellatrix and prepares himself to talk with them, but Hermione takes a sharp turn, entering a wide hallway and guiding him away from the crowd and her parents.

Frowning, but not stopping, he intertwines their fingers and she turns her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder with a smile. He wants to ask where she's taking them, but it shocks him to understand that he'll go with her regardless.

And as they keep walking, he sees many rooms, open spaces and something really close to a training arena, which he recognizes well since he trained endless hours in one of these. He wonders if Hermione did the same. Wonders how similar they can possibly be for totally different reasons.

He stops abruptly when they're going by the kitchen. He never saw a kitchen this huge. And filled with so many house-elves. Hermione clicks her tongue, her eyes on what he's looking at. There are at least fifty elves working there. So, that's how glasses of champagne pop up in thin air.

"This is sick." She hisses and he turns to her, seeing anger in her eyes. "They shouldn't be explored this way." He can see real concern in her words and face. But before he can say anything, Hermione shakes her head and resumes her walk, leading him.

"Where are you taking me?" He finally asks.

"Somewhere we can talk in peace." It's the only answer she gives.

"Do we… need to talk?"

She stops and fully turns to him, close. Her eyes go from his mouth to his eyes. "You think we don't? After what just happened?"

Harry can't quite grasp what she means. He has no idea if people thinking they had perfect harmony is some kind of big deal, but his whole life his grandfather kept him away from these kind of gatherings and traditions, so he can't be sure if Hermione is overreacting or not. He cocks his head.

"I'm not sure I fully understand what happened, Hermione." He says gently. "It was just a dance."

Something swims in her eyes and she recoils a bit, but shakes her head, more to herself than to him and tugs his hand again. They descend some stairs into a place where he knows a guest shouldn't be going. Harry doesn't protest and they keep going down and down. Is she taking me to a dungeon?

However, the place she finally stops is a dim lit room, just as big as a ballroom, but more like a storage room. He can see many objects laying about, forgotten things. Old. There are no windows and she closes the door behind them with a wave of wandless magic. He can tell no one will interrupt them there.

"What is this place?" He asks.

"It's my father's version of a basement." She shrugs. "And I guess he has a hoarding problem too." She waves her hand to show her point.

He wonders if there's valuable information inside this place, his heart beating fast at the thought of finding something to use against Tom Riddle, anything.

But Hermione is stepping into his personal space, so close that their fronts touch. And all his attention goes to her. She takes his breath away. It's probably the tenth time tonight that he thinks she looks absolutely stunning. He's mesmerized by her eyes, even prettier with the heavy makeup… and the look she's giving him raises the hair on his nape, chills running down his spine in intense anticipation. Without effort he could lean forward and kiss her, or raise his arms and pull her to him, crashing them together.

The air shifts around them, something heaving on both as they don't talk or break this moment.

The tension is almost concrete - as if he raised his hand he could touch it. He can see in her eyes. And he knows his show the same thing. The same desire. The same lust.

"Maybe dancing together was a mistake." She says.

"You think so?"

This close he can see her lips gently pressing together and his focus on other matters is indeed totally gone. There is only her lips. Her eyes. Her smell. He's bewitched. And the truth is that he wants to be. He wants to get lost in her arms. He takes a deep breath.

Hermione raises a hand and touches his face, her warm palm on his cheek. He leans into her touch, kissing her wrist. He can see her chest moving up and down fast, her eyes darkening.

Harry closes his eyes.

Am I able to keep resisting? The question sounds ridiculous to himself. If there's something he has been doing since he stepped inside the Ministry, that something is thinking of her. And each time he tried putting a distance between them he failed. In sick jokes of the Universe, they've gotten even closer.

But he can't let go of his revenge, especially now after what he's seen and heard at this Ball. Getting closer, intimate with Hermione is the recipe for his failure-

"What are you thinking?" She asks.

Opening his eyes, Harry decides.

His hands move up to her waist and he lets himself marvel at how perfectly they fit when her arms close around his neck. He shouldn't even like Hermione. But that doesn't mean he has to deny all his desires. If they keep this - whatever this is - strictly physical, maybe he can have both: her and his revenge.

"How do you see this thing between us, Hermione?"

She averts her eyes from his briefly, thinking.

"What do you mean?" She returns the question, wanting to know what he feels before exposing herself. Always so clever.

"It's obvious we share a… mutual attraction." He says.

She opens a seductive smile and her fingers go through his hair. "I guess."

"And you have a boyfriend."

She moves her head slightly, her red lips coming to meet the pulse on his neck. Hermione plants gentle kisses there, and he tightens his embrace, breathing shallowly. "Hmm, I do. Yes." She says between two kisses. "And? Your point?"

"Don't you feel guilty cheating on him?"

"Am I?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Cheating?"

He wets his lips, chuckling. One of his hands move all the way down her back, he almost groans as he gets his wish of trailing his fingers down her spine, smoothly, until he reaches her butt and squeezes her flesh the way he's been wanting since forever. She fists his hair, smiling, a glint in her eyes. "Aren't you?" Harry leaves his hand there and she doesn't complain.

"Maybe." She kisses his jaw. "But, I'm probably marrying Asmo." Harry raises an eyebrow not understanding her train of thought. "And I'll have to be with him for the rest of my life." One of her hands moves down from his hair to his chest. "You and I." She moves a finger between them, "this is pure, unadulterated lust, isn't it? Because as far as I know," Her hand keeps going south, reaching his belt, "you'll ask Sally to marry you. Aren't you cheating on her too?"

"Am I?"

Her hand moves past his belt to his groin and she slowly strokes his already hard cock through the fabric of his trousers. His breath hitches. "Aren't you?" She opens a devious smile, her hand not stopping, still moving slowly, oh, so slowly.

He grits his teeth. He can't let her play with him like this. The hand that was resting happily on her ass moves to the slit that has been driving him crazy all night. Understanding what he's doing when he squeezes her inner thigh, her hand stops stroking him and she closes her eyes, her forehead resting on his shoulder.

Harry was not prepared for the fact that she's not wearing any underwear and he actually moans when his fingers find her folds, opening her up to him. She's incredibly wet.

"Fuck, Hermione."

He wants her. Badly. But he controls himself and, still wanting to tease her, he massages her clit gently, making her squirm in his arms, then one finger goes inside her, two… abruptly, he stops. With both hands again fisting his hair she pulls his head back, her eyes meeting his. "I don't like to be teased, Harry."

He's so very hard for her. "Tough luck, then." He says when he retreats his hand and, never breaking eye contact, sucks on the fingers that were inside her. She opens her mouth, her eyes extremely dark now while she watches him. "You taste wonderfully, Head Riddle." Just like I've been imagining since we met.

Hermione seems to be at a loss of words. Then she inhales sharply and he takes a moment to react when her lips crash on his. He groans when she bites down on his lower lip. It's more a battle than a kiss. And he doesn't want to think about the softness of her mouth or how easy they seem to understand each other. He wants to focus on their desire. On the way they fight for dominance with their tongues. It's not gentle, not loving, it's just a part of what they really wanna do: fuck.

With a hand on her nape, he steers her head to explore her mouth with his tongue and she sighs while he tries devouring her. He's already dizzy from a lack of air and from how inebriated he feels because of her smell and taste, but when he traps her lower lip between his teeth, Hermione moves back, opening her eyes.

But he can't. He can't look into her eyes. It would be too much to stop and think about what they're doing. So, averting his, he holds her waist firmly and lifts her from the floor in that position while she supports herself with both hands on his shoulders. Harry walks them to the nearest wall, putting her back down and leaving kisses on her neck.

Her hands starts to unbutton his shirt and vest, fast and determinate. He bites her neck, not caring if it will leave a mark, not caring if he's hurting her. At the moment he feels crazy, wild. He can't believe what they're about to do, he can't believe he's betraying years of training and studies because he can't resist her. She finally opens all buttons and sighs, turning her head a bit to kiss his temple, his cheek, whichever part of his face she's able to while her hands explore his torso and his back, her nails scrapping him, digging into his flesh. His mouth goes back to hers and they kiss sloppily, ugly, tongues and teeth.

He presses his hips against hers and she exhales a moan, closing her eyes in bliss. He can't take this anymore. Fumbling with his belt he shoves down his pants and underwear, freeing his cock. Hermione licks her lips, their eyes meeting.

"Just sex." He says harshly.

"Just sex." She says back to him with a guttural voice. "Fuck me, D'Angelo."

"As you wish, boss."

And he turns her around in a swift motion. He can't look at her face. Hermione supports herself on the wall, spreading her legs a bit and pulling him to her by his hair. He kisses her earlobe while his hands ride her dress up and to the side. His heart is beating so fast he's a bit afraid it might explode the moment he enters her. Harry tries not thinking how that will feel. It's only sex. Convincing himself, he brings her back with a firm grip on her stomach, she's ready for him.

He closes his eyes, hissing when he feels her hot entrance. He can't go slow. She wants to be fucked and that's what she's getting from him. In a thrust he's inside her. Hermione muffles a scream, biting down her own hand and Harry doesn't wait to move, he does it fast, his own senses going out the window.

She's perfect.

His mind betrays him while he moves in and out of her, slamming her against the wall, holding her waist so tightly he's sure he'll leave marks on her. But Hermione doesn't seem to care. In fact, it looks like this is exactly what she wants. And it turns him on even more.

"Faster." She says in a hushed tone, almost non existent, and he obeys, grunting and enjoying every second of it. She takes one of his hands from her hip and moves it to her clit with her own. Hermione shows him exactly what she wants and he learns fast, his thrusts moving in sync with his fingers. She rolls her head back, exuding pleasure.

He grits his teeth. He's insanely close to his orgasm now, he can feel all his muscles tightening, the pleasure reaching its peak. But he wants her to come first and he kisses her neck, her cheek.

"Come for me." He says in her ear.

And that's her undoing. Her back arches, her whole body tensing and then relaxing as she shudders in his arms. She moans a bit too loudly and he presses a hand to her mouth, silencing her. He's glad he didn't see her face when she came. It would be printed in his mind forever.

Closing his eyes he grunts while he comes inside her. She closes her walls around him, and it's pure bliss while he rides it out.

For minutes the only sounds in the room are their heavy breathes. They don't move, not daring to break the moment and having to deal with its consequences. But Harry decides he can't regret this. It was the best hook up of his life.

He finally moves back, clearing his throat and recomposing himself with a spell. In a second it looks like nothing happened. Hermione turns to face him and the way she looks so throughly fucked gives him immense satisfaction. He can't help chuckling and she narrows her eyes, laughing with him.

Something tugs at his heart.

She motions to herself. "Would you mind?"

He gets what she means and with a flick of his wand, her dress, hair, face, makeup, everything, is back as it was before they got there.

"Well, thank you, D'Angelo." She mocks and he bows a bit.

"Oh, no, I should be thanking you." They're both smiling like the cat who ate the canary. "I…" He chews the insides of his cheeks, "sure hope this wasn't a one time thing." Idiot.

She snorts a laugh, looking down and then back up at him. "Definitely not, I hope."

They sustain their gazes. There's a lot he wants to say, but he shuts his mouth and his thoughts.

Hermione suddenly frowns, her eyes at the far wall.

"What?" He asks, but she's already walking there, he follows and stops behind her. She's standing still, barely breathing, there's a… "It's a mirror. So?" He crosses his arms. "An old one for that matter."

He tilts his head. He can see their reflection. But Hermione is frozen on the spot. Then she turns her head to him. "A mirror?" Her voice is shaky and strange.

"Yes." He motions his hand in front of them. "Are you okay?" She's pale.

"And you see us?" She whispers.

"Yes, Hermione. It's us at the reflection on the mirror." He makes a face at her. Has their sex making driven her mad?

"You see just us?"

"Yes, just us. Why? Should I see something else? Is it magical?" He opens his mouth, understanding that maybe this is not just a mirror, but when he tries moving past her to check it out, Hermione holds his forearm and pulls him back.

"You're right. It's just an old mirror, Harry. We should head back to the Ball. They're probably wondering where we are." He agrees and they start moving back to the entrance of this strange basement. "Sally must be crazy looking for you." There's a hint of meanness in her tone and he shakes his head.

They exit the room and Hermione closes the door with magic, it turns slightly red. Blood magic. Harry leans on the wall at the corridor.

"You should go first." He says.

She nods. They don't share another look and he closes his eyes when she leaves.

Harry exhales. If it weren't for the spell he casted on both, he would be smelling of her now, of their encounter. "Shit." He crouches, hands on his face. "What the fuck have I done?" He shakes his head, it's not the time to freak out. They had sex and that was it. And if it happens again… well. Standing, he rests his forehead on the cold tile. It's not like I have feelings for her. Of course not, and he's a man, he has his urges, his needs…

Horniness won't stop me from ending them. He straightens his back and clears his throat. Time to head back to the viper's nest.

Right when he got back to the ballroom, after snooping around a few rooms - and finding nothing worthy of a second glance - many pairs were dancing, but not the traditional anymore, apparently this one happened while he was burying himself inside Hermione.

But the Ball is at full swing now, looking more like a party than an encounter of pricks. He searches for Sally or any face he might recognize, but the place is dark, a few lights dimly illuminating it, sufficient to discern people when pretty close to them.

However, he spots Hermione easily. She's dancing. With Pettigrew. Harry averts his eyes fast. Maybe they needed that fuck. Maybe it will put an end to all the mixed emotions he has regarding her. Maybe he was confused in hating her because he felt attracted to her.

Or maybe now everything is going to be worse.

Before he can dwell on that, someone grabs his arm. "Harry! Where were you?" It's Sally. He thought she would be angry after what happened. After the dance and the way he vanished with Hermione, but no, she's smiling, her hand seeking his and pulling him to dance with her.

He smiles back at her and brings her closer by the waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. He doesn't feel guilty about fucking Hermione. He barely knows Sally, he may like her, but it's not love, it's not real affection. Not for her. Not for Hermione either.

Everything he's living here is a means to an end. Nothing more.

Her arms go around his neck, the music is very upbeat, something Harry would call an electronic rock. And as he lets himself be taken by the rhythm, he leans and kisses Sally. She corresponds immediately, her tongue opening his mouth as they share a slow and sensual kiss. He does his best not to think how Sally's taste has nothing to do with Hermione's. Sally tastes of pineapples and firewhiskey. Hermione is a mixture of champagne and strawberries.

Their kiss is long and he enjoys it, his hands roaming over her back and side, hers messing with his hair. And when they finally stop, Sally begins to sing along with the music, totally entertained and sure of herself. He laughs out loud, trying to do the same and messing up, making her cry from laughter. He feels light. Good. He kisses her again, bringing her even closer. And he takes the moment to pretend that he's not inside a mansion filled with people who wouldn't bat an eye to kill him. Filled with people who would most definitely make an example out of him. He tries not thinking about how much he hates Tom Riddle and how unfair it feels that a certain woman is his daughter.

Sally's hands move to his shoulder and they break the kiss. "Take this off." She's talking about his jacket. Harry agrees, it makes it pretty hard to dance with it. In one swing he throws it at a corner and a glass of firewhiskey appears in front of Sally. One of champagne in front of him. He shakes his head. He wants firewhiskey too. And his wish is granted. They down the drinks in one go like crazy people. And Harry has no idea what takes over him, but he kisses her again, a need to forget about what he shared with Hermione taking over him as his lips find her neck and she grinds her hips against his. He knows he's being inconsequential, he shouldn't be making out with Sirius Black's daughter in front of everyone like that. But he finds it hard to care. And she seems to think the exactly same.

They separate abruptly when someone bumps hard into them. "Hey!" Harry yells at the man by his side, someone he never saw in his life, his arms still around Sally.

"Sorry, mate! Someone bumped into me too!"

Harry looks further into the crowd of people and squints when he sees Hermione and Pettigrew at the same direction as the man who bumped into them. Did she just…? Hermione turns at this exact moment, her eyes finding his easily. She looks angry. Pettigrew positions himself in front of her, blocking his vision. Harry takes Sally's hand. They probably should leave the room. He should be investigating people…

Blinking a few times, he frowns. Something is wrong. Sally is still dancing in a frenetic rhythm. But he releases her hand and stops moving, his eyes scanning the room. Everyone seems to be lost in their own world, dancing, kissing, drinking. He spots Hermione again. She's saying something to Pettigrew, furious. Her hands on both sides of his neck, as if trying to get his attention. But from what Harry can see, the man is also dancing, a drink in his hand.

Harry looks up. There's a dense smoke in the air. Suddenly it's hard to breathe. He loosens his shirt and vest. They're being drugged. The whole room. For a while now. His eyes scan the french windows. They're tightly shut.

"Sally." He tugs her hand, his own brain slow, heavy. She doesn't turn to him and he fumbles for his wand inside his vest. Harry tries a spell to sober up, anything to take his mind off this sensation, but nothing works. He closes his eyes in frustration. He can feel himself falling further into an abyss.

"Here." He opens his eyes. Hermione is in front of him, one of her hands on his neck. She's using a healing spell and he can feel as it takes over his chest and mind, sending away the heaviness. He inhales deeply. Inadvertently his hands rest on her waist. "Better?" He nods to Hermione. "Heal her and make her leave, Harry." She's talking about Sally. "I have a terrible feeling about this. I'll try to heal the Aurors I can see here. Be prepared for anything."

He nods again. But before she can walk away, he cups her cheek. "Be careful." She bites her lower lip. Her eyes on his.

"Always am."

He brings Sally to him and sees Hermione walking away, heading to a corner where Ron is kissing his wife. Not wasting a second he begins healing Sally and he watches as she comes to herself, blinking in shock, scanning the room. "Merlin." She rests her head on his chest. "Did my father see us kissing like that?" Even with what's happening he lets out a laugh. Sirius is probably as drugged as they were.

"You need to go." He says fast. Hermione already healed Ron and he's doing the same to Luna. She walks away and he can see she's heading to Draco and Ginny at the far corner. "Listen to me." Sally looks up at him. "Something is wrong. We're being drugged." She widens her eyes at him. "You need to leave. Okay?"

She nods and without him saying another word, she moves away from him. Harry pushes through the crowd to reach Hermione, Ginny and Draco. When he finally does, both are already very much aware of what's happening. "Where's Asmo?" Ginny is asking, her eyes falling on Harry and Ron who's coming behind him. The music is still pretty loud and as the minutes tick by, people are getting more and more out of control.

"He went to find his parents and mine." It's Hermione's answer. "We need to open those windows."

Draco nods. "Let me try." He raises his wand and murmurs a strong spell to banish glass. But nothing happens.

"Maybe an Alohomorra." Ron says. "But we need to get closer."

Hermione agrees and starts moving with Ron, but- "No." Harry calls to them. "No." He says again and Hermione gives him all her attention.

"What is it?"

He shakes his head. "This is a distraction." He knows it, deep inside. "We won't be able to open those windows and we'll lose time." He points out to the stairs. "Does your father have a safe room or something?"

"Yes."

"He's probably there already, but I'm almost certain that was the plan all along."

Harry sees when it dawns on them what he's saying. "Shit." Draco is the first one to move.

They all leave the crowd and the ballroom, their feet fast as they try to run up the stairs. He hears Hermione grunting at her 'useless dress' and he takes her hand to help her, her movements short because of the piece of clothing.

Instinctively they intertwine their fingers, the contact warm. Draco and Ron are already at the top of the stairs, Ginny behind them. "Can't we apparate?" He asks Hermione.

"It can't be done inside the whole manor."

Of course.

Harry is surprised by how much he wants to reach Tom Riddle. He should be exultant that someone is invading the manor and will certainly try to kill the Minister. But… He's mine. This fucker is mine. This revenge is mine. Not to mention that maybe Molly, Arthur, Sirius, Eleonora must be with him. And he has ambivalent emotions about this.

When he reaches the top with Hermione, Draco, Ron and Ginny are trying to tear down a huge door. "Move!" Hermione warns them and releasing his hand she goes to the door, her hand touching the knob and turning it red. Blood magic again.

It opens instantly and they enter the room fast. Indeed. Tom Riddle is there. Bellatrix. Peter Pettigrew. Lucius and Narcissa. Molly and Arthur. Sirius and Eleonora. Remus and Nymphadora.

But they stop at the entrance. There is one hooded and masked person with each one of them, their wands ready to strike.

"Finally." A voice says. "The precious Riddle heir."

Harry takes a step forward, putting himself in front of Hermione out of pure instinct.

"What do you want?" Hermione asks. He can feel the tension emanating from her and he wished he could stop her when she moves from behind him, her posture of someone who has nothing to fear. Harry sees Bellatrix shaking her head to her daughter, a clear warning of 'go, leave us'. But Hermione moves even further inside the room. A barren room with the clear purpose of being a safe haven and keeping people out.

"We want you, miss Riddle." The voice says. "Leave with us and we'll spare everyone else."

Harry's heart starts to beat faster, he sets his jaw, pondering. Hermione will strike this deal if she doesn't see another way out. He considers their options. They are in five. If they find a way of releasing the others from the intruders' grasp, they'll have the clear advantage. They can win this and bring this people to justice. He's sure she's thinking the same. And before she takes another step forward, her eyes find his and he knows what to do. He knows what she wants. What she plans. It tugs his heart how they truly share something… special.

"You can't think I'm this innocent, can you?" She asks in a menacing tone. "I need a guarantee that no one will be harmed."

"Don't do this!" Bellatrix says fast and the masked person by her side slaps her face. Hard. Hermione doesn't move. Tom Riddle is rigid like a stone too. Sirius is the only one who reacts more openly as he turns his head to check on his cousin, one eyebrow raised. He seems… amused.

"If you touch my mother again, I'll kill you."

Harry can feel the depth of the threat in his bones. It's hard to forget how powerful and dangerous Hermione truly is. And he's playing with fire getting closer to her, sharing secrets with her, protecting her… fucking her.

"No need for this kind of threat." One intruder, the one that has been talking since they entered the room, raises their hands in a clear sign of surrender. "I can Vow for their lives. If you leave with us, no harm will come to them."

Hermione steps forward again. Now she's pretty close to this person. Ron and Ginny exchange a few glances with their parents and Harry is sure Draco is doing the same with his. He hopes they're all on the same page he is with Hermione.

He prepares himself.

"Is that so? I have to say that I'm damn curious to know how you intend on leaving the premises with me as hostage." She says ironically but extends her hand. "Let's make a Vow then, and I'll come with you."

Harry can tell the others know what's about to happen. They don't have a choice. The moment the intruder raises their arm, Hermione wandlessly stuns him and Harry immediately does the same with the one that is holding Sirius, then the one holding Eleonora. The others act as fast as he does and soon the place is a mess of spells. Someone cuts the lights and Harry has a difficult time moving forward. It's hard to understand what's happening around him, but his main concern is… Hermione. He wants to reach her and-

A Stupefy hits his side hard and he flies through the room, hitting the floor and groaning. He barely has time to react, someone is on top of him, hands around his neck.

He's being chocked to death.

Harry struggles, moving his legs and arms, trying to land a punch, trying to free himself. Unsuccessfully. He tries reaching for his wand, not finding it.

Slowly he feels the air failing him, his lungs burning, his limbs heavy. But he's not that gone when whoever is chocking him leans closer and says into his ear:

"I would recognize you anywhere. Those eyes. Identical of that Mudblood. You shouldn't exist. Nothing more fitting than dying like a Muggle."

It's Lucius. Lucius Malfoy is killing him.

Inexplicably he feels his left hand burning. He can't die. Not now. Not like this. But he can feel his end, he knows it's near…

With his last breath he puts a hand against Lucius chest and…

Avada Kedrava.

He feels the curse leaving his hand and hitting the other man's body. The pressure on his neck is gone and he gulps for air, sitting on the floor. Coughing.

Harry stands fast, and even faster he puts distance between him and Lucius Malfoy's body.

I killed him.

A million emotions go through him, but he finds it hard to feel remorse. The man was killing him. He had no choice. We always have a choice - it's his mother's voice. He shakes his head.

He falls to the floor, still coughing with a hand on his throat trying to soothe the burning sensation. He finally realizes the room is more silent, the duels dying around. He summons his wand. It comes easily to his hand and he understands that after performing a Patronus and a killing curse without a wand, he might be able to do anything at all without it.

His left hand still burns and just as he's ready to get back into the fight, he feels soft arms around him. "Are you okay?" He sighs against her hair, her smell unmistakable.

"Are you?" His voice is barely there.

Hermione leans back and her left hand finds his. He can see her shape in front of him in the dark. It's bizarre how soothing the contact is. He exhales again.

"Someone tried chocking me. I almost died." He confesses.

Hermione clicks her tongue, her body moving closer to his. Her right hand touching his neck, her forehead against his. "But you didn't. It's over."

And just as she utters the words, the lights come back on.

Hermione moves away from him incredibly fast and he purses his lips. Pettigrew is entering the room, his eyes on her. She goes to him and they embrace tightly. Harry averts his eyes while he looks around. All the intruders are dead on the floor. it's a brutal scene. And then-

"No, no, no." Narcissa is kneeling besides Lucius, crying. "Draco!"

Harry stays frozen in place while the blond man walks to his father. Shock and anger on his face. Ginny is behind him, both hands covering her mouth in disbelief. The others finally notice what's happening. Harry stands from the floor, pocketing his hands and wetting his lips. There's a dark satisfaction running through his body. One down. He surely won't miss Lucius Malfoy.

But it unsettles him to see Draco and Narcissa crying, hugging each other and trying to understand what happened. Harry is almost sure no one saw him doing it and with everything happening at the same time inside the room it's only logical they assume one of the intruders is responsible.

While they all give a moment to the Malfoys, Tom Riddle is… fuming. Harry's eyes settle on his enemy. He stands still, but his hands are fisted so strongly his knuckles are white, his nostrils showing his utter anger while his eyes roam over the faces of the intruders. Riddle probably doesn't recognize any of them. Harry doesn't either.

And his voice invades the place. "I want to know what the fuck happened. I want to know how these filthy rebels entered my house and had the audacity of making me and my family hostage. I want to know whose fault this is and I want them dead." His voice is pure ice, detachment. He barely glances at Lucius. But Peter Pettigrew is by his side, his fat face and small eyes observing everyone. "Call the healers." And not turning to Hermione or Bellatrix, he leaves the room.

Harry watches in place while everyone else starts moving. Molly, Arthur and Ron stand with Ginny while Draco is still holding his mother, his eyes wide on his dead father. Remus and Sirius exit the room with their wives, probably ready to call for help, end the Ball, whatever it takes to give this night a closure.

Asmodeus is talking to Hermione, their faces close, his hand on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek while she sighs, extremely spent after such a thing. Harry knows she'll sleep with Pettigrew. Knows he'll be there if she happens to wake in the middle of the night with another nightmare. He'll be the one to hold her, kiss her, tell her reassuring words. And she'll kiss him back, she'll lay her head on his chest, inhale his scent and exhale in contentment for having him there.

He swallows the lump on his throat.

"I don't think we were properly introduced." A raspy voice says behind him.

Harry turns and narrows his eyes at Peter Pettigrew. "We weren't." He says sharply. He has no intention in being friendly with this man.

Peter narrows his eyes at Harry. He leans closer and Harry leans back to keep the distance between them. Harry is taller and he looks a bit down to meet the other man's eyes. "Lucius was my best friend." He states bluntly, a glint in his eyes. Harry doesn't move. "You won't get away with this. I know who you are and what you did. And I'll do whatever it takes to end you." Pettigrew whispers at last and then he turns and walks away slowly.

Harry's eyes follow the man, his heart squeezing inside his chest. He knows Pettigrew can't prove a thing, but he already had Asmodeus on his neck at the department, and now he's sure his father will talk about the Potters, talk about how he thinks Harry killed Lucius… and Asmodeus will make his life a living hell. His first tiny step out of line will be enough reason for an investigation on him. Fuck.

Harry has no idea how Lucius and Peter were so sure of his identity, no one was supposed to know that James and Lily had had a child… He chews the insides of his cheeks. What if someone knew? Then he's truly fucked. But if they did, I would be dead by now. He wonders if this will reach Tom Riddle, if the Minister will believe this absurdity. Because it is an absurd, isn't it? If the Potters had an heir, Tom won't accept that he didn't know, that he didn't kill the kid. Maybe his insane ego will be Harry's salvation, maybe he'll scoff at Peter and dismiss the subject.

But there's nothing Harry can do right now, he needs to play cool and wait. If he reacts first he may call unnecessary attention to him.

It's Ron who takes his mind out of these thoughts. "Can you come with me to check the wards? To see if there's something odd?"

Harry nods slowly and discovers that his feet are practically glued to the floor.

"What happened to your neck?"

"I- one of them tried to choke me."

Ron nods. Harry finally moves and they walk to the door. He can feel Hermione's eyes on him, her presence strong on his internal compass. But he doesn't search for her eyes, he barely looks at anything while he follows Ron.

They don't say a thing until they reach the huge yard. Ron stops and exhales heavily when they're all alone. Harry crosses his arms, sure that the red haired wanted to be as far away as possible from that room and used the first excuse he could in order to leave. He doesn't blame him. He also wanted to leave.

"This is fucked up." Ron finally says. "Lucius Malfoy is dead."

Harry looks at him, raising an eyebrow. His tone isn't exactly one of sadness. "Well…" It's all he manages to say.

To his surprise, Ron snorts a laugh. Harry widens his eyes. "He was bloody insufferable! I don't think even Narcissa or Draco will miss him much." Ron stops abruptly, turning to Harry. "Don't tell anyone I said that." He says fast. "I mean, he made everyone around him miserable. Draco never really liked his father and Narcissa never had the courage to divorce him." Ron shrugs. "I don't want to sound like a dick, but I'm glad my sister won't have to deal with that asshole anymore."

Harry clicks his tongue. He definitely likes the Weasleys. He hides a small smile. He never planned on killing Lucius, yes, he knew he had been pretty vocal about the Potters, had helped financing the investigation in order to find them, but Harry wasn't sure if he took part in the mission that actually killed his parents. Lucius wasn't even an Auror.

Maybe my biggest problem now is Pettigrew.

"I can't believe they invaded the Manor." Ron says. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to breach any Riddle security? His office at the Ministry is a fortress. And this is his house." Ron shakes his head. "He must be livid."

"They wanted Hermione." Harry says slowly, his mind replaying what happened. "They knew she was coming." He runs a hand through his hair. "I think she was the only one not affected by whatever drug they used. It was their plan all along." He knows he's right the moment he says the words.

Ron nods. "Who are they, Harry? That's the real question."

A heavy silence follows.

"Probably the same ones who attacked the Fair. The same who tried to kill her." Harry whispers, not sure why he's sharing his thoughts with Ron.

The Weasley turns to face him. "Look, mate. I like you." Harry frowns. "I hear Pettigrew talking shit about you every day, and maybe a few things are indeed… weird."

"What are you talking about?" Suddenly he's cold. From head to toe. Does Ron suspect who he really is?

Ron sighs. "You're Italian, mate. You're new here. And I confess I made a little investigation… your grandfather has some strong ideals regarding Muggleborns, Muggles and the mixture of bloods." Harry sets his jaw. Fuck, nonnino. "I know you're not him, but I have to say that… these things started happening the moment you got here, Harry. If you were me, wouldn't you suspect yourself?"

Ron has some pretty damn good arguments. And Harry himself can't deny these coincidences are… too much to be coincidences. He has no idea who's behind these attacks, but is almost like someone wants him to take the blame.

"I get your point." He says to Ron and sighs. "And I don't know if you'll believe me, but… I have nothing to do with these attacks, Ron."

Ron holds his gaze, his expression one that shows how much he's considering Harry's words and deciding if he'll believe him or not. To his surprise, Harry is nervous. He wants Ron to believe him, wants to have a friendly relationship with him… if not that, well, at least it's one less person to suspect him.

"Yeah, I believe you, mate." He says at last and pats Harry's shoulder.

"Well, there you are."

Harry turns to see Ginny coming to them. She stops by her brother's side and lets out a long sigh. Ron puts his arm around her shoulders and Ginny looks down. Harry imagines she's trying to hide her tears, but when he pays more attention he realizes she's… laughing a bit.

"That bastard!" She says. "To die like that!" She shakes her head. "I mean, Draco was so shocked with the way his mother was crying-" She stops, her eyes wide on Harry. She opens and closes her mouth.

"Ron told me he was a prick." Harry says to make her feel better for talking like that about her father-in-law just minutes after he died. Was killed. By me.

Ginny scoffs. "I can assure you he won't be missed, Harry."

Harry nods and pockets his hands. An exhaustion threatens to take over him. It's been a long day and an even longer night. He yawns. Ron and Ginny do too. They smile at each other.

"Did you check the wards?" Ginny asks.

"Oh, yeah, right." Ron says. Raising his wand, he searches for something strange. "There's nothing wrong with the wards."

They all make a face at that.

"How in the world they got inside?" Harry asks. "They were checking every guest."

"Someone let them in." Ginny says. "It's the only explanation. People were being checked at the entrance and there were at least twenty Aurors on duty. The wards are up. Nothing strange happened. Nonetheless, we were drugged. The Minister was made hostage inside his own mansion and the intruders wanted his daughter. We're dealing with people with connections. People who know how to plan. It's the same thing that happened at the Fair."

"Bloody hell." Ron says in a low voice.

"They're laughing at us. Laughing at how unprepared we are. At how low our guard is." Ginny finishes.

"Then we should raise our guard. Be prepared." Harry says. "I don't like being laughed at." Not to mention how these attacks might fuck up his whole revenge.

"D'Angelo is right." The three turn on their heels. Hermione is there, bracing herself. Exhausted. "We won't rest until we discover who's behind all of this, do you understand?" They have no other reaction than nod. "Good. Ron, Gin, Draco is looking for you."

Nodding a goodbye at Harry, brother and sister walk back to the mansion.

And he's alone with Hermione. Again.

Harry sets his jaw. He doesn't know what to feel. They lock their eyes and it takes his breath away. Hermione moves closer to him and he feels his skin reacting to her proximity. She looks like someone who needs a hug. And he wonders how it would feel. They never shared a hug, not really. Just when she was waking from a nightmare and in his mind it didn't count.

But he looks down. This thing with her has gone too far.

"Is there something you need from me?" He asks and she frowns. "I'm tired." He exhales. "If there's nothing I can do right now, I think I'll be going home." He communicates, waiting to see how she'll react.

But Hermione nods. "You can go then." There's a hint of sadness in her voice, something he never heard from her. And it cuts him open.

He nods, fully intending on leaving, but… He closes his eyes. And when he opens them, he takes the two steps separating him from Hermione. Not thinking much about it, he puts his arms around her, bringing her closer, one hand on her head, the other on her middle. She melts against his arms, her face on his vest. He inhales deeply, her smell engulfing him.

"I'm sorry about what happened." He says.

Hermione doesn't answer. Instead, she cries. She's crying in his arms, slightly shaking. He holds her tighter. I shouldn't be doing this. But he wants to comfort her. He wants to make her feel better. Wants to take away her pain… He chews the insides of his cheeks while his hand caresses her hair.

"It's okay, Hermione. It's okay."

"Fuck." She chokes. Sobbing. "I'm usually not like this." He smiles.

"I know. You're a badass." She chuckles. His heart swells at the sound. "Head Riddle, the badass."

"Should I change the inscription on my door?" It's his turn to laugh.

"Not a bad idea."

She sniffs and he can tell she'll move away from him. He kisses her head and takes the step back before she does. Hermione looks up at him. Stupidly he brushes a few tears from her cheeks. She leans a bit into his touch.

There's so much between them he doesn't understand.

"See you at the Ministry?" He asks as a way of saying goodbye. She purses her lips and nods.

And before he can make another stupid move - like hugging her again - he pockets his hands and walks to the open gate.

He doesn't look back, but he knows she watches him all the way until he apparates away.