January 24th, 2006
Potters' abandoned house
Stepping inside is overwhelming.
The house is exactly the same way he and Hermione left it. Harry closes the back door and stays frozen for a moment. Then, with wobbly legs, he sits on the couch.
Taking deep breaths, he relaxes and lets some tears fall down. When he came with Hermione he couldn't show any true emotion, but now there's no one else there, just him.
He leans back and looks around the living room. Maybe he should bring his aunt some day, show her the place where Lily lived the last few years of her life, maybe let Petunia search for things she might recognize from her sister. It would be nice.
He smiles despite the odds. The first masterclass he gave at the palace days ago was special. Every children, every teenager and also every adult were paying attention, giving Harry an importance he never felt he truly deserved.
And he was in an incredible good mood because he'd just spent the previous night with Hermione.
The way they had sex that night was… intense. A shiver goes down his spine while he remembers how she raked her nails through his skin. How she kissed him desperately. She was insatiable. And she had three orgasms. Something he's kinda of proud.
But as always, it was hard separating in the morning. He hugged her tightly and for the first time he felt that she really didn't want to let him leave. She groaned in frustration when he got up from the bed and started dressing himself. She was in a bad mood, pouting angrily. He showered her with kisses to make her smile, but Hermione kept pouting.
He said that she should have agreed with the two dates per week and she rolled her eyes, then he kissed her some more and said he would talk to her through the coin to set things right for their date. She finally opened a tiny smile and held his face while she kissed him.
Harry left with a heavy heart.
But also with some kind of… hope.
Maybe these dates are just what they need to break this last barrier between them, exactly what they need to finally meet at the other side of the last line they could cross.
He won't give up on them.
Sighing, he stands and walks to the big bookcase. He takes his time.
It's filled with both Muggle's and Wizard's books and Harry lets himself imagine which one was his mother's favorite, which one his father used to read for comfort… his fingers travel through them. He's looking for the white one. The one he saw inside the memories. He noticed that his mother read it more often than his father.
He stops and puts both hands on his waist. The book is not there. He's sure. It's huge and he wouldn't miss it. The photo album is not there either.
Harry looks at the kitchen and with a wave of his wand, he opens all drawers and cabinets at once. The book's not hidden inside any. He closes everything and enters the corridor. There's nothing else at the ground floor and he moves to the stairs.
Before entering his parents' room, he takes a turn and goes to the other room. Maybe a guest bedroom, or even the room he used to sleep when he got a bit older. Harry opens the door and finds nothing inside. It's totally empty.
Even so, he goes in and starts tapping his foot on the wooden floor. He covers every inch, but there isn't a single loose board or something of the sort. Then Harry starts banging the walls, looking for a hollow point.
Nothing.
With his wand he tries a few revealing spells. There's nothing.
He can't help wondering where his parents hid everything about him. All concrete proof of his existence vanished.
And as he walks to their bedroom, he comes to terms with what Sirius said, that if James and Lily wanted to hide something, they wouldn't be able to find it.
Harry stops at the threshold, pocketing his hands. There's some faint sunlight invading the bedroom and he goes directly to the books at the corner, to the bookcase from which Hermione took that one book. He makes a face when he concludes that there's nothing there either.
Clicking his tongue he sits on the edge of the bed. Harry takes the coin from his pocket and sends a message to Hermione:
Do you like popcorn?
He smiles at his own question and sighs, crossing his arms. He's planning a nice evening for their first date. Since they can't be seen outside, his options are heading into Muggle London or leaving the country and going somewhere they won't be recognized, but these are bigger plans for future dates.
He wants the first one to be more intimate. Just the two and nothing else getting in the way. So, he decided to watch a Muggle movie with her at his flat. Harry already got hold of a projector and he's still thinking about what movie to watch-
The coin turns cold:
Yes
He can't swipe the silly smile on his face. So, popcorn and-
What are you up to, D'Angelo?
He snorts softly. Hermione clearly hates surprises. Not being in control is torture for her and since he came up with the idea of dating, she has no other choice than wait to see what he has in store for them. He knows curiosity is killing her, but he won't say a thing.
You'll see later
He chuckles. She must be fuming, wherever she is right now… probably with Pettigrew. Harry tries not minding the pain in his chest. But it's a bit suffocating. Knowing that she's with that stronzo.
He shakes his head to dismiss the thought. Hermione didn't say how she got rid of Pettigrew for the night and the next day, but Harry doesn't care. He just wants to be with her and that's enough.
Pocketing the coin he lets himself observe the room. Every inch of it. It's the same he saw in some memories, the same window, the same bookcase, the same table at the corner, the same bed and rug-
He frowns and taps the rug with his foot. Of course. The trapdoor. Harry stands and pulls the rug with exaggerated force. At first he sees nothing. The wooden floor is the same as it is at the rest of the house… He kneels on the floor and brings his eyes closer to it, searching for a clue-
He finally sees it. The slight difference between boards. Gulping, he uses his wand to reveal a medium size door. Harry is shaking now, his heart beating extremely fast. His parents hid him inside to save his life, to try to give him a chance at surviving…
With trembling fingers, he opens the door.
The space is not small, but not big either. And it's not empty. Some tears fall from his eyes directly into the fluffy blanket inside. A baby's blanket. Harry takes it, observing the faded green color and the initials - H.P.- sewed onto it. His mind has a hard time understanding how Matteo left that behind… someone could have found it.
He chews the insides of his cheeks and folds the blanket with care, his eyes already searching for something else… apparently there's nothing more. Harry sighs. And he fists his hand to knock at the wood. He goes into the hole up until his shoulder.
When he's about to give up he hears a different sound and frowns. Harry leans further inside and sees something that might be another tiny door. Using his wand, he opens it, the wood giving away at his strong spell.
And he lets out a gasp of surprise. The phoenix. The toy, is there. And the photo album.
The phoenix is much smaller than he thought. At the memory, when he saw it in his tiny hand, it seemed huge, but now it fits perfectly on his palm. It's such a nice and detailed toy. Its eyes and feathers look real, the same as its colors that are bright and alive.
Harry presses his thumb against the beak. A sudden anxiousness takes over him. A long forgotten memory. He'd done this before. The same movement. It gives him goosebumps. He swallows a lump on his throat. Something pulls at his stomach.
He blinks a few times. Inexplicably he knows he needs to protect this toy. Keep it safe. Hidden from others.
Harry pockets the phoenix and takes the photo album. Then he stands and closes the trapdoor and puts the rug back where it belongs. He sits back on the bed, still shaking a bit.
For a few minutes he breathes. Nothing more. The blanket is folded by his side and the photo album is resting on his lap. Harry puts a hand on the hard blue cover.
It's not big. But it feels monumental.
Then, he finally opens it. The first picture is of his parents. Young. Probably when they first met. Both look fifteen. They're side by side in a friendly way, his dad's arm around Lily's shoulders. James shows his tongue in a playful way and she laughs. The image keeps repeating itself. Harry is transfixed.
The next pictures are also of James and Lily, but at each page, they turn older, their expressions not so carefree anymore, their eyes a bit lost. Until- Harry chokes and sobs.
It's them. Harry as a newborn and his parents. On this one their smiles are brighter, their eyes full of life. James moves to kiss Lily's head and then Harry's.
He can't believe this picture exists.
Harry closes his eyes. Fuck. He got lucky no one found out about him. This photo album was right there, under the rug. Any Auror could have found it a few days later. But deep down he believes that no one came back to the house. From what Harry can imagine, on that night their only goal was to exterminate James and Lily. Riddle didn't care about the house or anything else. He just wanted them dead and after he got his wish, he left with the Aurors.
Why bother coming back?
Harry exhales heavily. There are many more pictures of him as a baby. But then… he raises an eyebrow. There are gaps. Pages that were surely filled with pictures but are blank now. There's no way of knowing what happened to the photos. Maybe his parents took it from the album way before they hid it.
Maybe…
The coin turns cold inside his pocket. He brushes his tears away and fetches it:
I'll be free in an hour
Sighing and being sure that he won't find other things right now, he hugs the blanket and, clutching the photo album, he apparates back to his flat.
Harry's flat
He hears the knock on the door at the exact moment he finishes preparing the popcorn. Harry smiles. He prohibited Hermione from apparating directly inside so she wouldn't see what he's planning right away.
Checking the projector and the couch that he enlarged for them to lie down comfortably, he walks to the door and opens it.
Hermione raises her eyes to him. There's a smile playing on her face, but also some… irritation. He breaks out in a laugh.
"Pissed with all the secrecy?" He asks, provoking and taking her hand, pulling her to him.
She's dressed casually as he instructed her to. Just some jeans, boots and a white sweater - his own clothes are similar to hers, the only difference is his black sweater. But there's some light make up on her face, and her hair looks even softer and prettier than ever.
He kisses her gently in greeting. "You look beautiful." He says in a low voice. And she smells amazingly. He has no idea what she did, but she clearly did something. "As always." He kisses her again and her arms go around his neck. Hermione sighs against his mouth, practically melting in his arms.
Harry pulls away to close the door and she looks around his place. "You can't do this with a curious person, Harry. I swear." But her tone is playful, light.
He hugs her from behind, his arms closing at her middle. Their left hands come together and both breath heavily at the tingle. There's no engagement ring on her finger. He kisses her neck and she leans back on his frame.
"Sorry, but it'll be like this with all of our dates." He says close to her ear. She shivers.
"Well, tough luck, I guess." She turns her head to kiss his cheek. "But can you fucking tell me already what we're doing tonight?"
He laughs and she chuckles.
"It's a movie night."
"A movie night?"
He moves and takes her hand, leading her to the couch. "Yeah. Have you ever watched a Muggle movie?"
She makes a face at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you seriously asking if Tom Riddle's daughter have watched a Muggle movie?"
He can't help chuckling. "Okay. Stupid question. Well, there's always a first time, right?" He winks at her. "Make yourself comfortable." He motions to the couch. "I prepared us some popcorn."
She sits and leans far back on the couch. "Why popcorn?"
"It's kind of a tradition. To watch a movie while you eat popcorn."
"A Muggle tradition." Hermione says. He nods and takes the big bowl he prepared. Taking off her boots, she asks, "What about you? Did you used to go the movies in Rome?"
"Ah, so you do know about the movie theaters." He says while he takes off his own boots and climbs the couch with the bowl. There's a nice blanket for them and Hermione is already settling herself under it. "And yes, I went almost every week. It's something I enjoy way too much."
He finally settles by her side, they're sitting with their backs on the pillow and their legs spread out in front of them. One of his arms goes around her shoulders, bringing her closer. Hermione goes easily and nuzzles his neck. They share another kiss.
"Do you miss it? Going to the movies?"
"I kinda of do." He shrugs. "But well, if I can't go to the movies, I brought them here." He gives her a peck. "And to watch them with a movie virgin." He teases her.
She laughs out loud. "I'm kinda of… excited." Hermione states, her expression showing she was not expecting this.
He kisses her again, their bodies very close. And the kiss escalates quickly. His hand already under her sweater, hers on his thigh, squeezing. They're breathing hard when they separate.
"Let's watch the movie first." He says in a hoarse voice.
"Okay." She whispers back to him, but her mouth goes to his ear and she nibbles his lobe, her hand moving up his thigh, to his groin.
"Hermione." He warns her.
She snorts. "I'm sorry. You're just too irresistible." She winks.
He chuckles again, groaning, maybe they can watch the movie later- he clears his throat and moves a tad away from her, not much, but enough for them to breathe. Hermione bites her lower lip while she observes him fetching the bowl and setting it on a little space between their legs.
"So, what are we watching?" She asks and takes a handful of popcorn.
Harry turns on the projector, all the rest of the lights dying around the living room. "I have to say that I've thought a lot about which one to choose. I mean, I have a few favorites and I surely wanted you to see one… but, I couldn't decide between two, so, it's your choice."
He summons two cases of DVDs. He can see how intrigued Hermione is. Really into what they're about to do.
"On the left," He begins, "it's my favorite animation. I swear, I've lost count on how many times I've watched this movie. I confess I was a bit old when it came out, but I don't know… the story talks to me." He shows her the case. "The Lion King. I remember watching it inside my dorm at Aurora." He laughs. Chiara used to watch it with him. But Hermione doesn't need to know this detail. "And on the right, a serious and deep movie about life and love," they lock their gazes, "And overcoming difficulties, accepting things as they are. This one is relatively new and I won't say a thing about the plot or else I'll ruin it for you. A Beautiful Mind." He shows her the case. "So, which one?"
Hermione crosses her arms and the wrinkle appears between her brows. She's thinking hard about this and Harry feels an overwhelming love for her. Not resisting it, he kisses her. Because he can. Because they're on a date inside his living room.
"What was that for?" She asks quietly.
Just because I love you.
"Because you looked cute thinking."
She chuckles lightly. "Well," She exhales, "why do I have to choose? Let's watch both."
He raises one eyebrow. "Are you sure? What if you don't like the experience and such?"
"Then we can just have sex the entire night." She winks at him and he holds back a grunt. "We can begin with the animation." She says, taking another handful of popcorn. "I mean, we have the whole night to ourselves and we don't need to be at the Ministry tomorrow, so, why not?"
He smiles. "Okay. You're right."
And flicking his hand, the disk goes flying into the DVD system. Harry pulls her closer again and takes a handful of popcorn for himself. Hermione naturally leans to him and he squeezes her. Harry can't describe how special the moment feels.
She sighs and he wonders if she's thinking the same.
The animation starts and he can almost sense her excitement. She can't see his face, but he's smiling.
"Merlin, why am I crying?" Hermione says when The Lion King ends. "That poor baby lion. What an awful uncle!" She's outraged. "To do that to a cub!" Harry is laughing softly, brushing some of her tears. Despite them, she's smiling. "And of course the female had to solve everything." She shakes her head.
Harry opens his mouth. "What do you mean? Simba came back and took his kingdom!"
"Yeah, just because Nala found him and made him do it! Honestly, Harry, Simba was satisfied living the good life and not caring about a thing!"
He frowns. "Well, Nala isn't the-"
She shuts him up with a kiss. Their lips are salty because of the popcorn. She moves to him, their bodies even closer. Harry steers her face to deepen the kiss, their tongues caressing each other.
He loves kissing her.
Harry pulls back. "You won't win this argument with a kiss." He says and she chuckles. "Simba was afraid of coming back and he thought things were fine with the kingdom. Nala was fundamental, of course, but he saw for himself that he couldn't keep living like that."
Hermione looks into his eyes and they share an intense moment. Harry gulps. Suddenly it doesn't seem like she's thinking about the movie. But then, she says, "Fine. Since it's your favorite movie I won't ruin it for you."
Harry pinches her waist and she yelps. "But did you like it?" He asks.
"I loved it." Her hand cups his cheek. "Thank you. For this."
"I'm just glad you liked." He says in a serious tone. He can see her chest moving up and down fast, her heart must be erratic. Because of him. Because of this night he planned for them.
Hermione hugs him, her face on his neck. His chest hurts. They should be together. They're perfect together.
"Do you want more popcorn?" He asks, kissing her temple.
"No, I'm fine."
And she levitates the bowl away from the couch. In an understanding, they lie down after drinking some water. Hermione hugs his side. Harry puts on the next movie, one of his arms behind his head and the other hand caressing her arm.
She takes his hand and kisses it gently.
"Wow." She says when A Beautiful Mind ends. Hermione is sitting on the couch now, awestruck by the movie. Harry is still lying down, observing her. "The mind is really something…" She waves a hand in front of her, seeking a word, "incredible. I mean he imagined all those things." She stops talking, thinking. "He was living two lives."
Harry tilts his head at her tone. There's a hint of something he doesn't quite catch.
"And again," She continues, "If it wasn't for his wife…" She raises an eyebrow to Harry, implying the obvious.
He laughs and pulls her to him. Hermione lies on top of him, their faces close. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Women are superior." He whispers and kisses her.
She smiles through the kiss. As if she can't hold back her happiness. Harry feels his heart swelling inside his chest. The knife, again, being plucked by Hermione herself.
When he feels her hands seeking his belt, Harry stops the kiss. "I have one more thing for you." He says.
"Oh, really? Another movie?" She asks, excited.
He laughs. "No. Maybe another day?" She nods, giving him a peck. He already knows one movie she'll like immensely. "What kind of date," He kisses her neck, "would this be if I didn't feed you?"
She snorts. "We're stuffed with popcorn." She says, kissing his jaw, her hips moving atop of his.
"I know. But what about something sweet?"
Hermione opens a slow smile. "I would like something sweet." She nibbles on his jaw and neck. "You."
Harry groans and squeezes her in his arms. Then he turns them over on the couch. "I don't think I'm that sweet." He makes a face.
"Maybe not. But you sure are delicious." Her right leg is going up and down his left leg, slowly.
"So I've heard." He says and she smacks his shoulder playfully. Harry leans over and kisses her. Hermione moans softly.
With some effort, he pulls back, extricating himself and standing. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way she's looking at him. As if she's about to devour him. With a wave of his hand, Harry turns the lights back on and walks to the kitchen, doing his best not to think about his erection.
Taking a few deep breaths and drinking some water, he moves to retrieve the dessert he kept inside the fridge.
Hermione is already there, sitting at the table and waiting him. There's a softness in her eyes that he's not sure he ever saw before. Magically, he summons the plates and spoons.
"I made it myself." He says when he sets it on the table.
"Oh my, he also cooks." She says, pressing her lips together.
"I have many hidden talents." He winks. "So, this is my favorite Italian dessert. Tiramisù."
"Hmmm."
Harry serves her and observes while Hermione eats the dessert. He knows it's perfectly balanced. It was the first thing he ever learned how to cook. His grandfather made him go through all kinds of lessons and of course cooking was one of them. As Matteo used to state, 'if you know how to cook, you'll never starve.'
Which is true.
Hermione closes her eyes and makes an indecent sound while she swallows. She nods her head as if agreeing with her own thoughts. "Harry. Come on. This is heavenly."
"You sound surprised." He smiles while he eats some, happy that she liked.
"Well, it's like an orgasm." Her eyes set on his. Suddenly it's pretty damn hot inside. She licks the spoon, taking her time. "I loved learning about some of your favorites." She says slowly. "And I surely loved this night you planned." She stands from the chair and walks to him. Harry moves for her to straddle him. Their kiss is sweet. The taste of coffee and cream on their mouths. He hugs her tightly. Her hands on his hair. Hermione pulls back to look into his eyes. "Take me to bed, Harry." She says in a low voice.
He says nothing. Harry only stands up with her in his arms, her legs around him. He walks steadily to the bedroom while they share another kiss.
January 29th, 2006
Ministry of Magic
He narrows his eyes at the parchment in front of him. Harry is trying to find something in common between the attack at the Fair and the one inside the Ministry.
The investigation on what happened with Lucinda Summers and her daughter is closed - thanks to Hermione. So, that's something Harry doesn't need to worry about anymore. Of course the Minister didn't like this conclusion, but even Riddle knows that there's no way of finding legal answers if the Aurors have already been questioned and know nothing about it.
Harry knows the invasion at Riddle Manor was Sirius and the others.
Which leaves him with four questions. The Fair, the destruction of the Statue, the Muggle's assassination and the man who attacked him at the funeral.
Harry still had an hour of work and he couldn't be more bored, so, he decided to organize his thoughts. After the latest events - going to Italy, killing Lestrange, meeting his aunt, Hermione - he barely spared a moment on these things, but now, he feels like they're all missing something important.
He still thinks there's a traitor amongst them. And maybe this traitor, somehow, is making them look the other way, steering their investigations and fooling them.
Leaning back on his chair, he runs both hands through his hair. Most Aurors are saying their goodbyes, leaving for the day. Harry makes a face. Hermione is in her office. With Pettigrew. They've been there for hours and he knows he won't be able to leave before them…
Maybe Harry enjoys suffering. It must be it. Because he has no idea why he tortures himself so much. No idea why he feels a need to see her the moment she arrives and then the moment she leaves. And unfortunately, for him, since their date she's been spending every morning and every evening with her fiance.
And Harry noticed a pattern. When they undoubtedly get closer, right after, she finds a way of distancing herself, always spending most of her time with Pettigrew. As if she's denying the reality of things, as if she's trying to convince herself that she wants to be with Asmodeus.
Sighing, he looks back at the parchment.
If he didn't think the idea of Pettigrew killing Purebloods absurd, he would suspect the man for sure. Pettigrew knew beforehand all the protections and spells around the Fair. He knew Vernon Dursley was inside the Ministry and, being an employee, he had easy access, even in the middle of the night. Not to mention that the man who attacked Harry at the funeral surely wanted him to die… just like Pettigrew.
It makes sense.
But Hermione was a target at the Fair. Pettigrew wouldn't plan to kill her, would he? Harry frowns, chewing the insides of his cheeks. He remembers the few times he saw them fighting. Deep down, he fears for Hermione when she's with her fiance… as if Harry knows that the man could harm her out of the blue.
But maybe he's just making crazy assumptions. He doesn't really know what kind of relationship they share.
In no way Harry suspects Hermione on these attacks. Even if she had a score to settle with her father, he knows she wouldn't kill innocent people to do it… but-
He tilts his head. If she had any part in all of this… pretending to be a direct target would be genius. No one would dare suspect she'd put her own life on the line.
However, Hermione is extremely intelligent. Brilliant. And highly trained. Powerful. Harry looks at the closed door of her office. No. She wouldn't. The man at the funeral almost killed Harry and-
He remembers she said something made her go to him… but what if she knew he had been attacked because she had planned it all?
Harry feels cold all of the sudden.
And the door opens.
Pettigrew comes from inside the office, his eyes briefly stopping on Harry before he snorts and walks to the elevators. He doesn't look happy. Harry wonders if they had another fight. They seem to be fighting a lot lately.
He looks around the floor. Everyone is gone. Harry barely noticed them leaving.
Cracking his knuckles, he strides to her door. They've kept a secure distance these days, Harry still wants to be under the radar, forgotten by Riddle.
He knocks. And after a beat she allows him inside.
He gulps when he closes the door behind him. Hermione is on her couch, her legs crossed and her expression lost, her eyes vague. But when her head turns to look at him, she opens a bright smile.
"Hey, handsome." She says and he feels hot at the way she does it.
He opens a wide smile of his own.
"Hey, beautiful."
She pats the couch by her side and he goes, feeling giddy, behaving like an enamored fool. Which he is.
The moment he sits she turns to him, her lips on his, their arms closing around each other. He faintly hears her locking the door.
And they shamelessly make out on her couch. Long and slow kisses. Soft moans and a lot of squeezing and biting. Then soft and fast kisses, innocent pecks and caresses.
Harry rubs his cheek on hers and she sighs, her hands again on his hair after traveling his whole body.
"Is everything okay?" He asks in a low voice, their faces close.
"Yes." She answers. "You?"
"Yes." He kisses her cheek. "I just missed you." He has no more reservations when it comes to this kind of statement. He doesn't really mind what she might think. He squeezes her waist and Hermione turns her head to kiss his jaw.
"I missed you too."
He smiles and looks at her. She smiles back, her expression soft. He leans to speak into her ear. "I already know what to do for our second date."
"Hmm. I'm sure you'll tease me about it, killing me slowly with curiosity, but," She says in a serious tone, "I'll be with you so I know it's going to be amazing."
He pulls back. His heart beating fast at her words. He searches for clues of any kind of feelings in her eyes, but she's unreadable.
"I never disappoint." He says in a playful tone, trying to slow his heart rate.
"You really don't." She's not joking.
He kisses her again, this time in a tender way.
Hermione sighs and pulls back. Harry rearranges himself on the couch and she laughs at how disheveled they both are. She stands up and utters a spell to put herself back together, Harry does the same but remains seated, watching her.
"I was thinking," She begins, leaning on her desk and looking at him. She's wearing her uniform. "You were the only one capable of slightly mending the statue." She narrows her eyes at him.
Harry tilts his head. He was thinking about making love to her right there, but apparently her mind is working at another frequency. He clicks his tongue.
"I guess." It's what he says.
"I didn't mention it to my father." She crosses her arms. "You know why?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "Because he would suspect you immediately. And you would be locked up for it." She sets her jaw. "Later that day when you tried again, he was watching and I'm glad you weren't able to fix it, Harry." She sighs. "But I have to ask." He straightens his back. He knows what's coming and he feels the irritation inside him, the anger. "Did you do it? Did you destroy the statue?"
He scoffs. "No." He says, gritting his teeth.
"And I believe you, Harry." She says in a low voice. He avoids looking at her, his fingers more interesting. "But you have to agree with me that… it was strange. And suspicious."
"I'm a powerful wizard, Hermione." It's all he says, his voice deep. He's trying to hide his hurt at the question. But wasn't he just entertaining the idea of Hermione being the responsible for all the attacks?
"I know." She says firmly and he finally looks up at her. "But I'm also very powerful, Harry, and I've tried every spell I know. Nothing works." She takes two steps from the table. "It irritates me. I'm going a bit mad with this because every night, every fucking night, my father wants to know if I succeeded. And I always have to say that I didn't."
"Well, it sucks that you're disappointing your amazing father."
She clicks her tongue. "Careful." She says in warning. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "I want you to try again." She says to him. "Now."
Harry inhales deeply, annoyed. But he stands from the couch and walks to the door. "Fine."
Hermione unlocks the door, her mouth in an angry pout while she follows Harry out. They don't say a word the whole elevator ride. The warmth is all gone, from both. Harry can't believe she's still suspecting him this way and Hermione seems angry with the whole situation.
When the elevator stops at the Atrium, he asks her, "You're never going to trust me, are you?"
Hermione wets her lips. "You may think I don't, but I do trust you, Harry."
"It doesn't seem so." He says and walks past her, striding to the statue.
She scoffs behind him, but says nothing.
Harry stops in front of the statue. The Ministry is deserted. The Aurors are always the last ones to leave, so, the emptiness at the Atrium was expected.
Hermione stays a step behind. Harry lifts his wand and closes his eyes. The spell he used the first time was one of reverse effect. He simply was trying to undo what had been done, as if erasing the action, hence, putting things back where they belong.
Sighing, still very much irritated, he performs the spell.
And nothing happens.
Clicking his tongue he turns to her. "Satisfied?"
Hermione gulps and takes a step to stand by his side. "I…" The wrinkle between her brows is there. "I remember being by your side that day." She's thinking out loud.
"So?"
She bites on one of her nails. "So," Leaning closer to him and whispering she says, "we have some kind of weird thing going on, Harry. The tingle. I think it can enhance our magic."
He makes a face. "What?" She widens her eyes for him to lower his voice. "Why do you think that? Have you been doing research on this, Hermione? What did you discover?"
"Nothing." She states. "But I want to… test something."
In a awkward position she takes his left hand in hers. The tingle comes to life and all the remaining anger between them vanish. It seems like this tingle - whatever it is - is the real thing. And through it Harry is sure she trusts him. There's no way of doubting the energy that comes from her. He makes a face.
"Sorry." He says, his lips pressed together. "For reacting that way. I know it was only logical-"
She squeezes his hand. "I know. I'm sorry too." Discreetly he moves his face closer to hers in a reassuring way and they share a heavy look.
"What do you want to test?" He asks.
"I want to perform the spell together. With our hands united."
"And you think it'll work?"
She sighs. "I think it will."
"Why?"
"I have no idea."
He chuckles. "Okay. Let's do it."
But the position sucks and they laugh a bit while they try being comfortable… until Harry loses his patience and positions her in front of him, hugging Hermione from behind, their left hands together at her middle.
She's breathing hard and he knows it's because of the proximity and the tingle.
"Hm." He grunts. "I'm suddenly very horny." He says in a low voice and she- she burst out in a loud laugh.
Harry laughs with her.
"Fuck. Me too." She says in a low voice.
He squeezes her hand. And she lets out a soft moan. Harry presses his lips together. They can't kiss in the middle of the Atrium. So, they take a few seconds to calm down.
"Ready?" He asks after he explains the spell he used that first time.
She nods.
And in unison they raise their wands. Harry keeps his eyes open this time.
What unfolds is unbelievable.
All the pieces and bits of the statue start to float and attach to the main marble. And there, before Harry's eyes, the Supremacist Statue comes to life again. It bothers him that he's half responsible for it.
But he can't deny the sensation. Whatever it is that they're sharing between their left hands is powerful. A strange force. Breathtaking. And astonishing exhilarating. Inevitably he brings her closer to him, their bodies touching and the connection growing, the spell intensifying.
In a matter of seconds the statue is whole again.
Harry gulps and not resisting anymore, he kisses her neck. She lets out a heavy breath. Their hands are burning with a numbing tingle. But it feels good. So good.
"I want so badly for you to fuck me right now." Hermione says bluntly, her voice low.
"Likewise." He says and bites her neck gently.
Hermione clears her throat. "We can't. Not here. Not tonight." She sighs angrily and with great effort takes a step away from him.
Harry almost whines. And when their left hands let go of each other's, he feels a hole inside his chest, as if part of him is leaving, Hermione taking it for herself.
She widens her eyes to him and he wonders if she felt the same. He motions to the statue.
"What does it mean, then? That we were able to do it?"
"The reasons behind it are… a mystery. But we were able to do it because, whatever we share, it indeed enhances our magic." She looks at the statue. "No one can know, Harry. This is… a big deal." He nods in agreement.
"But what will you say to your father?"
"That I have no idea how it glued itself back together." She turns to him. "It's fixed. He won't care how it happened."
"Okay." He nods. "We do need to investigate this."
"We do. Well, I guess it's a good thing that we make a great team, right?" She winks at him.
Harry smiles. "I should go." He says. She nods. "I'll send you messages about the date, okay?"
She opens a smile. "Okay."
He turns and begins to walk to the many fireplaces. Her voice reaches him when he's about to leave.
"I'm looking forward to it, Harry!"
He is too.
February 1st, 2006
Essex
Harry observes from behind the trees. At night, the streets are way less crowded. And at this hour people are preparing for their peaceful night of sleep.
He thought a lot about coming back here. Thought a lot if it was worth it. Thought a lot about Lestrange. About how he felt.
But he also thought about his parents. About the exhaustive training he went throughout his whole life. A training that prepared him exactly for this.
He made promises. He claimed he would avenge his parents. He wants to prove that he can do this.
And maybe he's incapable of letting go.
Knowing where Goyle is and that he still breathes while his parents are dead is something that messes with his feelings. What kind of justice would leaving Goyle alive bring? None.
So, he decided.
Covering his face with a hood, Harry walks casually to the house. He used a concealing spell, but maybe, since it's a Wizarding neighborhood, someone might detected him before he reaches the house, regardless… he'll say he wants to make a trade with Goyle.
He reaches the brown house and, scanning his surroundings in a discreet way, Harry registers that there's no one around, no one close enough to see him sneaking through a fence and reaching the back of the house. At least, no one he can see.
Doing a detecting spell he notices there are no wards guarding the house. It's unbelievable how stupid Goyle seems to be. Even more so for a former Auror. And when Harry reaches the back door, he puts one ear against it, trying to listen if there's anyone inside.
A few minutes go by and he finally distinguishes footsteps. Only one person. Probably Goyle.
Harry puts a hand on the knob and not really thinking the door might be unlocked, he turns it. He frowns in surprise when it actually opens.
All the alarms inside his head go off. It's a trap.
"It's not a trap!" Goyle says from inside.
Harry opens and closes his mouth and then he enters the house. He shouldn't, but even if it is a trap, he's skilled enough to find a way out of it.
But there's only the Auror. Sitting on a chair and watching Harry while he steps inside. Goyle is smoking a cigar.
"This is the best cigar in the world." He says to Harry. "I bought it to myself with the reward I got from the Minister. When the Persecution ended. I've been saving it for a special occasion." He blows some smoke.
Harry begins sealing the house with silent spells, one after the other. Goyle can't escape.
"And is this a special occasion?" Harry asks when he finally stops close to the chair, lifting his hood and revealing his face.
Goyle doesn't react. Not like Lestrange did. But Harry sees the recognition in his eyes.
"It is. I've been waiting for you, H.P." Harry narrows his eyes. "When you invaded my house with that lady… I wasn't sure what to think, but then you asked about the Persecution. About the Potters." He scoffs, coughing after. "Before we do this-"
"Do what exactly?"
"Duel to death." He says simply. Harry realizes that Goyle's posture is not of a stupid man, but of someone who thinks he can win in a fight. He's that confident. "Well, as I was saying, before we do this I want to say a few things. I wasn't supposed to be part of the investigation and I barely attended any meeting. My memory from that Halloween night was erased. But," He raises a finger, "when Riddle practically banished me to live out here without any contact with my previous life… I knew he wanted to hide something. Shut us up. I went back to the house. I saw proofs of your existence, little Potter." Harry holds his breath.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"Meh." Goyle stands from the chair. The cigar is almost done. "You may not believe me but I felt guilty about the whole thing… and at that point I had no idea if you were alive or not." He shrugs. "And I didn't owe Riddle a thing anymore. If he didn't discover for himself, that's his problem."
And so fast that Harry barely manages to see it, Goyle throws the cigar on the floor and a spell at him. It hits Harry hard and he flies back all the way to the door. He grunts, annoyed and hurt, but he acts swiftly, protecting himself with a shield.
Goyle moves like a beast.
A couch and a chair come flying towards Harry and he finally manages to move. He explodes both things mid motion and feathers fill the room, falling from above. It gives Harry a slight advantage. He utters a hex, one that's supposed to hurt and Goyle grunts. The man's wand falls on the floor. Harry just made his hands burn.
"Bloody Hell!" Goyle exclaims while he shakes his hands in the air. Harry approaches him slowly.
If Goyle can't perform wandless magic, the duel he was so sure of winning is practically over.
Harry fetches Goyle's wand from the floor and crosses his arms, standing in front of the man that keeps yelling because of his burning hands. His mind is set now. Harry has no doubt of what he needs to do. In silence, he straps Goyle to the chair and eases the pain from his hands a bit.
"Do you know why Riddle was after the Potters?"
Goyle presses his lips together. Then he clicks his tongue and says, "I don't know. But I'm sure their relationship wasn't reason enough for him to be after them. Even if Riddle can be that petty… he's smart before anything else."
Harry nods. And without warning, he invades Goyle's mind. He finds no resistance at all. And from what he sees, it's clear that the amount of drugs and chemical combinations Goyle abused of his entire life took a toll on his mind and judgment. It's also obvious that he knows nothing else and Harry sighs when he ends the spell.
"You're a waste of space." Harry says, taking a few steps to the man. He can feel that murderous rage taking over him.
Now Goyle seems frightened, his emotions changing at each second. "Look, maybe we can make a deal-"
Harry uses a spell to slice open a cut on Goyle's thigh. The man screams. "You can scream all you want. No one will hear you. No one will come for you."
And a moment before he takes another step to Goyle, Harry briefly wonders what having another death on his hands will do to him. But he shakes his head and dismisses the thought.
There's no room for weaknesses. No room for doubts.
Not now. Not in the future.
Note: Sorry if I spoiled A Beautiful Mind or The Lion King for someone, but let's agree that these movies are a bit old to be spoiled.
Next chapter we have their second date. And Harry meets Dobby!
As always, thank you for your reviews and fav/follows.