If there was anything capable of sinking Amelia Bones's triumphant mood, a security breach that made her look like an incompetent fool was right at the top. It was kept quiet at least, as most things were that happened in the depths of the Department of Mysteries. She had at least some time to relish in delivering justice at last to the corrupt cretins that had been tarnishing every damn thing the Ministry should stand for. They were the laughing stock of the wizarding world with buffoons like Cornelius Fudge taking charge. Fortunately, the said buffoon had swiftly departed the Ministry with his tail between his legs before the reporters cornered him about his involvement with Umbridge.
When the memo landed on her desk, one firewhisky in, Amelia had to adjust her monocle a few times before hastily making her way down into Level nine. She always hated the Department of Mysteries. The Unspeakables saw themselves as a law unto themselves, keeping their secrets and mysteries hidden. Much of what they dabbled in came close to illegal if not was illegal and nothing was documented. It was a bureaucratic nightmare and one she didn't want any involvement with. Thus far in her career, she hadn't needed to involve herself with their affairs. Most of the time, they kept quiet. It wasn't since she discovered the existence of a whole hall full of prophecies that she became aware that the location was a top target of Lord Voldemort. As she soon found out after making her way to the scene of the crime, the hall wasn't a place of interest to just one powerful wizard.
Doing her best to not take her eagle eyes off the man, she listened to Saul Croaker, the current Head Unspeakable. His dreary voice wasn't helping her mood, nor was his account of how the Ministry had been seemingly breached from below rather than from above. Once her Head Auror arrived having successfully returned all the students to Hogwarts safely, she took command and closed down the scene. Taking Gawain Robards to the side, she grimaced down at the shards of glass under foot.
"Not a word gets out about this," she ordered them firmly. "Is that understood?"
"Of course, ma'am."
"Process him under an alias and have him held in the Detention block. Full security measures. I want this to be tighter than the hold of a lethifold."
"Understood, ma'am," Robards said curtly with a nod, moving to carry out her orders without hesitation.
As she looked over, a pair of piercing blue eyes met hers directly. She let out a small mirthless laugh, clenching her hands behind her back in anger. While she let Robards escort Albus Dumbledore away, she remained behind, kicking over a fragment of a spun-glass orb. Sighing, she took in the carnage.
There was no doubt in her mind that Dumbledore had allowed himself to be taken in. A small smirk pulled at her mouth as she knew why such an act of vandalism had taken place. It was so chaotic in its delivery, it was almost ingenious. Destroying just one prophecy gave it significance and would draw attention to it. Destroying multiple? It just appeared like madness. Yet she knew that Dumbledore was many things – mad wasn't one of them. There were also the bizarre witness statements of a black dog fleeing the scene. Had the Unspeakables all had the same hallucination of the harbinger of death, the Grim, at the same time? She knew the Unspeakables dabbled in researching the veil between the living and the dead, but for there to be omens on the loose?
Rubbing at her temples, she barely noticed Croaker stalking back over to where she assessed the damage. He gave the ruined shelves an oddly disinterested look.
"The knowledge contained within this Hall was too dangerous to be released beyond these walls. Only those whom the prophecies relate to would be able to remove them safely without having their minds scrambled. Dumbledore must have believed a subject of a prophecy planned to retrieve such knowledge and took measures to prevent them."
To her surprise, the man sounded amused rather than annoyed to have countless prophecies rendered to dust and splinters.
"Rather heavy-handed but effective, I must admit," Croaker further mused, then he turned to look at her, his eyes glittering under his grey hood. "We will not be, ah what's the phrase… charging for damages. Most of us had forgotten that this room even exists. However, I would like the matter of the security breach to remain classified. That knowledge could be disastrous. We have much experimental magic that could break reality if uncontained."
"A secret route into the Ministry in itself is something we must keep between ourselves," Amelia said pointedly, eyeing him through her monocle severely. "If you will keep your discretion, my Department will do the same."
"My dear Madame Bones, we are called Unspeakables for a reason," he said with the same bemused tone.
"Need I remind you that Augustus Rookwood had been among your number, yet his title did not prevent him divulging secrets to his master."
Croaker surveyed her silently from under his hood for a moment, then he turned away, leaving her. Amelia smirked, pleased to have won the exchange. Leaving the gloomy crowd of grey cloaked wizards to their repairs and clean-up, she hastened away from the creepy place.
The trip back to her department gave her time to quickly think of how best to deal with Dumbledore now that he was in her custody. She needed him to cooperate and no longer operate as a vigilante in the shadows. He was the only wizard who had the power to threaten Voldemort and that power needed to be allied with the Ministry if they stood a chance at putting up a fight when the war finally erupted. She and her Aurors could scarcely handle the Death Eaters at large, let alone their resurrected master.
She wasn't surprised to find Mad-Eye Moody loitering in the foyer of the Department's detention wing. He scowled at her with his normal eye, conveying his thoughts rather clearly.
"Is it true, Amelia?"
"Speak plainly, Alastor. I do not have the time to deal with vague questions."
"Dumbledore," he grunted, following her once it was clear that she wasn't slowing as she made her way through the security check-point into processing.
"Yes, and he's not in Azkaban on a technicality," she said curtly, "Clause fifty B of the Act for the Protection of the Infirm, Very Elderly and Magically Addled. The conditions of the prison do not fit the appropriate standards for a wizard of Dumbledore's years."
Mad-Eye barked out a laugh, "that Clause doesn't exist."
"Try me, Alastor," she bit back, striding at full pace, "it is there. We are not losing Albus Dumbledore to dementors because of Fudge's fragile ego."
Sliding through processing, Amelia ignored Mad-Eye's disgruntled grumbles as she opened the door to the lock-up. Relieved to see that the guard stationed at the cells was alert, she nodded at Hughes gratefully.
"Just delivered his breakfast, ma'am."
"Very good. I'll be conducting preliminaries myself."
Getting the hint, Hughes nodded and marched off to stand guard at the entrance of the corridor instead. She unlocked the door to cell two.
"Albus," she greeted, not waiting around as she pushed the door open. She glanced quickly around, gauging his state to determine the level of respectful privacy she needed to maintain. The old wizard sat straight at the desk, dressed in the black detainee robes. The sight was so stark, it took all her professionalism not to stare.
Dumbledore finished his mouthful of muesli, setting down his spoon carefully. He shifted in his seat, watching her with the stillness of a man who was very capable of defending himself if need be. He didn't appear vulnerable or defenceless, but alert and wary. She looked at him properly then, taking in the short white hair that curled a little above his ears. His face, heavily lined with signs of advanced age, was pallid under the sterile light of the room. Blemishes characteristic for any elderly person littered his face including a hint of rosacea on his long nose. It was strange seeing his mouth, not concealed under white whiskers of his moustache and beard. The laughter lines were like carved crescents, accentuating a lifetime of kind smiles. There was no smile on his face, no friendly twinkle.
"Amelia," he greeted in turn, "I must assume that I have you to thank for these… accommodations?"
"You do," she said stiffly, "and I am putting my trust in you because if you escape, it will make it harder for me to vindicate Harry Potter from your mistakes."
Dumbledore sighed out of his nose. "I see Barty was a good teacher."
"No. He was a terrible one. I learned from his mistakes. He believed his convictions had greater weight than the laws he was meant to uphold. I believe in getting justice for the right reasons."
She turned from him. "You have ten minutes to finish eating, Albus. I'll let you eat without an audience, then I'll take you to the interview room myself."
Taking the keys with her, she left the room, not looking back at him. Limited attention to him was a good intimidation tactic for someone like Dumbledore who was used to being in control. She wasn't looking for his lead; she was taking it. Shutting the cell door behind her, she didn't lock it as she stood guard herself. Decades ago, she used to stand guard as a trainee. Now there she was, the head of the Department showing her respect towards the man she had incarcerated. She knew that there were very few people in the building who could even pose a danger to Albus Dumbledore – even him without a wand.
When it was time, she opened the door and Dumbledore stepped out. Even though he was still a foot taller, perhaps more, she didn't feel diminished. She carried on down the corridor, not restraining him or grasping his arm. She heard his feet pattering behind her.
"You extend me courtesy that was not shown to Harry while he was incarcerated, I notice," Dumbledore remarked, his voice cold and cutting. He was angry. "Using inhibitors to confine a wandless wizard serves only to humiliate."
"I quite agree, which was the Minister's intention when he made it clear that Harry was to be treated as a suspect in a criminal case."
Mad-Eye stood outside the doors of the interview rooms. A very uncharacteristic conflicted look settled on his scarred face as he looked at his former leader, evidently unsure what to do as he had turned against Dumbledore in order to come out of retirement. Amelia nodded at Mad-Eye, quickly looking ahead so he could have his awkward moment with Dumbledore without her staring at them. She swept into the brightly lit room, pulling out her chair. She gestured for Dumbledore to sit.
"Take a seat, Albus, and lock us in, Mad-Eye. Full wards, if you please, and total privacy."
Dumbledore flicked out his robes as if airs and graces mattered before sitting down upon the metal seat. His discomfort wasn't something he could conceal, his mouth downturned in the corners. Amelia sat down opposite, waiting for the door to shut and seal them in.
"If your intention was to hand yourself in, Albus, I would have preferred something with less destruction on Ministry property," she said dryly, resting her hands on the table, "as for now, both of us are going without any sleep tonight."
"Sleep is a luxury few of us can ill afford," Dumbledore said, his voice noticeably thin from his own tiredness. "I assume you have heard enough from Alastor to know the significance of my presence in the Department of Mysteries tonight. The Hall of Prophecy in particular."
Surprised that Dumbledore would go straight to the point, Amelia surveyed him almost appraisingly.
"Yes… and as always, rather than go through the proper channels, you chose to take matters in your own hands. Are you not getting a little old for vigilantism, Albus?"
"Were Cornelius and I on the same page, it would not have been necessary."
"I am not Cornelius," she said firmly, "and neither do I run scared at the mere mention of Lord Voldemort's name. In going about this whole business alone, you have allowed him and his followers to consolidate power while you wait in the shadows for him to make his move. Recruiting spies to do your dirty work for you… leaving your students to flounder under Umbridge's cruelty… what in Merlin's name have you even been doing?"
Her voice rose to a volume that was close to a shout before she reined in her prickling temper. She sighed, bringing up a hand to rub at her forehead where an ache was already building. After the success of putting Umbridge in Azkaban where she belonged, Amelia should be comfortably at home, enjoying a nice glass of port before going to bed. Instead, she was in the brightly lit interview room, lecturing the man that single-handedly fought and won against Gellert Grindelwald and who gave Lord Voldemort pause.
But even legends get old.
His unsmiling face gave away his great displeasure at being talked to in such a manner, but he didn't answer right away. His piercing blue eyes briefly glanced past her to the mirror behind her before returning to look at her directly.
"I could ask you the same question, Amelia."
Amelia lowered her hand, staring right back at him. Just one sentence and she felt disarmed. The truth was she should have done more. She wasn't alone in noticing the signs. The disappearances then the deaths, all culminating towards a mass breakout in Azkaban that was completely unprecedented. While her colleagues scoffed and dismissed Dumbledore's word on Voldemort's return, she considered it as a possibility. Then when she saw for herself what sort of young man Harry Potter was when she questioned him, she realised that he wasn't a liar.
Deep in her gut, she knew her brother Edgar would be ashamed of her lack of action. He stood up for what he believed in… as did her parents. They openly opposed Voldemort, paying the price for their defiance. Their sacrifice, along with the many others who lost their lives in the conflict, had somehow gone forgotten while they convinced themselves that all was well. She sat back, dealing with petty burglaries and smuggler rings, while murderers walked free. The innocent suffered while the guilty got away with their crimes. She just let Fudge walk all over her.
"I can admit to my mistakes. Can you do the same?" She challenged after a moment of silence. Dumbledore leaned back a little, a glint of appraisal lighting up in his countenance.
"I do, however as human as it is to make mistakes, when people like us let down those we are responsible to protect, the consequences are dire. I wished to remain pacifist for as long as possible, but when the other side does not play by the same rules, we only stand to lose."
"That certainly changed tonight when you decided to break into the Ministry," she remarked.
"I eliminated a threat that I should have removed long ago. Now that the knowledge which Voldemort coveted has been removed, he cannot gain that advantage. He has made too many moves without any counters for too long. Whether or not you are ready to believe it, we are at war, Amelia. You are right… I have been idle, but I think we are in agreement that this can not go on any longer."
She nodded, grateful that Dumbledore was talking to her as an equal. Attempts to patronise her would not go down well.
"I may not like your methods, Albus, but our best success lies with a coalition between us. If you cooperate and answer for your charges of sedition, we can use Fudge's dangerous incompetence in your favour. Deposing a weak and corrupt leader for the good of the people should be enough to clear you… and Harry as well. However, it is unlikely that you will be restored as Headmaster of Hogwarts after this. Not after Umbridge got away with such barbaric acts under your nose."
She mostly mentioned Umbridge's crimes to gauge some reaction from Dumbledore. Was he aware of what had been unfolding in his school? Did he know that Umbridge resorted to such cruel methods to discipline underaged witches and wizards?
His gaze dropped.
"I deserve far worse," he said heavily, sadness lining his features, "I failed the students and the staff. It is only right that I be removed from the position. Professor McGonagall is an apt replacement."
He then sighed, looking over to the side. Without his beard and usual spangled robes, he appeared very diminished. Amelia felt some sympathy towards him, but it wasn't enough for her to drop her objective. In the fight against Voldemort, they didn't need Dumbledore at Hogwarts, comfortably sitting in his office. They needed him in the Ministry, helping to marshal their efforts to counteract the threat to the people of the country. No more vigilantism. And certainly no more putting children in harm's way.
"Between myself and the Unspeakables, we can keep all that transpired tonight classified. It benefits us to brush this under the rug. The security flaw that you exploited…"
"I understand," Dumbledore said, "and that is why I kept it quiet for so long. I have betrayed the Unspeakables in my actions, but I will stand resolute that my actions were necessary. This is a blow against Voldemort."
Amelia looked down at the table, thinking furiously. She hadn't expected Dumbledore to be as cooperative as he was being. It shouldn't surprise her as he didn't resist arrest. He was notorious for keeping his secrets and there was still the matter of the dog that had accompanied him.
"Will you at least tell me about this prophecy and why Voldemort knows about it?" She asked, looking up at Dumbledore once she sorted her thoughts.
His face pinched, grimacing as he baulked at having to divulge. His fingers twitched a little before he stilled and dipped his chin downwards.
"Is this off-record?" He asked, eyes casting another brief glance to the mirror.
"It's just between you and me," Amelia confirmed.
Dumbledore nodded then began.
"It all started when I went to The Hog's Head to interview a potential candidate for the then vacant position of Professor of Divination sixteen years ago…"
The downfall of Umbridge deserved a full blown spectacle in the Great Hall. With the hero of the hour stuck to his guardian's chambers, celebrating without him didn't feel quite right. The rest of the school took to the news in varying levels of triumph. Streamers and fireworks blasted down the corridor, covering floors and suits of armour in a layer of confetti and glitter. The Ministry decrees had been torn down from the wall, all smashed and trodden on in the Entrance Hall. Torn copies of Umbridge's textbooks littered the castle while her office had so many dungbombs crammed inside, the corridor was unbearable outside, impossible to navigate without eyes and noses streaming.
The Gryffindor Common Room was oddly sedate as the rowdier crowd had been invited to an exclusive celebration. Dumbledore's Army had managed to squeeze into Professor McGonagall's office. Hermione suspected that the mistress of Transfiguration had done something to expand her office as it felt roomier than usual. With her desk pushed back against the wall, leaving a big enough space for everyone to mull around, it served as a good enough venue for the DA to congratulate their leader on his successful takedown of their oppressor.
Said leader's hair was more of a mess than usual from the sheer number of times Fred and George had ruffled his jet-black locks. His face was tinged pink, eyes a little glassy from one too many butterbeers. Red and gold streamers hung around his shoulders from where he'd been attacked a few times. Speckles of glitter still clung to his hair. He looked like how he did after a Quidditch win. Even the huge smile was in place as he appeared to finally unwind, the tension in his shoulders eased away.
Hermione found their eyes meeting across the room often. She didn't crowd, giving everyone else time to reunite with Harry and express their sentiments about his unfair arrest. Her stomach bunched unpleasantly when Cho Chang made an effort to speak with him and make excuses for her sneak of a friend, Mariette Edgecombe. The spotty-faced snitch was unsurprisingly absent. When Harry flashed his ex whatever-they-were a cool smile and ducked away, murmuring a soft 'excuse me', Hermione felt a strong surge of triumph. Finally, after what felt like hours, Harry appeared next to her, nudging her arm playfully. Ron then went to say something in Harry's ear, causing Harry to laugh loudly. Hermione peered across, eyeing the red smudge of a flush spreading over Harry's nose and cheeks.
"I think that will be enough for tonight," Professor McGonagall announced as she returned back into her office following a meeting with the governors. "Yes, yes, I know you are disappointed, but many of you have revision to be getting along with."
After saying goodnight to those that showed up to see Harry, Hermione hovered, unsure if the dismissal counted for her. Professor McGonagall looked over to the three of them, sighing.
"Alright, you three. You get an hour… no longer."
"Er… actually, you two go ahead," Ron murmured, ears turning their warning shade of red, "got a bit of a stomach ache."
"Oh, right, well…" Harry tried to smile despite the instant awkwardness, "see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Sure."
Ron offered them a cordial wave before leaving, but it did little to assuage the general uncomfortableness that he left in his wake. Harry busied himself with pulling the streamers from his shoulders, his face still tinged pink in an embarrassed flush. Hermione took the chance to admire how Harry looked out of his school robes and dressed in smart attire. She hadn't had the opportunity to ask him how he came across a suit that fitted him while in Ministry custody. When Professor McGonagall pointedly cleared her throat, they both said their farewell. Hermione's face warmed further when she caught their professor giving her a knowing look.
Something told Hermione that her thoughts had been pretty visible on her face to earn such a look.
It left her feeling oddly nervous as she followed Harry down the narrow stairwell that led down into his quarters. When he looked back at her, almost as if checking that she was still there, her heart gave a strange leap. Every moment they had together, alone, was so very precious. Compared to the raucous atmosphere up in the office earlier with the DA, the empty bedroom felt eerily quiet. Their footsteps creaked on the wooden boards, candles fluttering to life at the presence of an occupant. Harry continued towards the window, his pace quickening as he sought the sight of the world outside his cage. He removed his outer robe and suit jacket, casting them on the window sill before he rested his hands upon the stone lip.
Drawn towards him, Hermione could sense that he had dropped all his guards. The turmoil and stress contained behind his fake smile and laugh spilled free. His shoulders hunched up, tensed, as he took in a long measured breath. Hermione reached him, touching his back. Neither of them spoke. They didn't have to. The gravity of what had come to pass that day sunk down upon them. Between them both, and with help from the other witnesses, they had condemned another human being to a fate worse than death. Life in Azkaban.
For as much as Hermione could convince herself that Umbridge deserved prison, Azkaban wasn't really prison. It was a slow, torturous death. Either those locked with the dementors went mad and eventually died. Sirius only survived with his wits intact because he was an animagus. Otherwise, he would never have lived long enough to escape and vindicate himself.
Harry eventually straightened from where he had doubled over, hands resting on the stone window sill. He sighed heavily, turning away from the darkened window where night had since fallen. When his eyes met hers, they softened considerably with a gentle smile pulling at his lips.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked her. Hermione didn't need him to explain what he meant. She wasn't in the mood to go over everything that had transpired at the Ministry, having done so multiple times upstairs.
"Not at all."
Harry kept the same small smile as he nodded. He wasn't okay, that much was very clear. Hermione stepped up to him, her hand acting almost of its own accord as she rested her palm against his cheek. It always surprised her… how warm Harry was. His eyes then shut and she felt him lean into her touch. She could read each subtle cue, understanding all too well the significance of Harry accepting the comfort she offered. He needed her and she needed him.
Kissing him made logical sense. Their last opportunity to show each other how they felt had been days ago, unable to seize moments where they were alone in private. Harry's lips parted for her and she deepened the kiss, causing Harry to brace himself against the window sill, hands flat on the stone behind him. Hermione's other hand soon crept up Harry's back as she moved closer, their legs slotting together as their bodies touched. Hermione's heart was racing wildly, a gasp escaping when Harry's tongue ventured into her mouth. He let out a grunt-like moan as he pushed his head towards her, desperately seeking, desperately wanting…
Their lips parted, both breathing heavily. Harry's eyes were wide open then, his pupils dilated where his irises had formed thin verdant rings. Where his lips were reddening from her assault, he looked more sensual than she had ever seen him before. His chest was rising and falling quickly, breathing loudly from his mouth. Hermione's gaze travelled down his midriff, taking in the ivory cotton of his shirt and the lean abdomen underneath. His tie hung to the side.
"What are you thinking about?"
Harry whispered his question. Hermione flushed at once. Did she tell him that she was thinking about how much she wanted to undress him? Did she tell him how good he looked in formal wear? Did she tell him how hot he was?
"You're hot," she blurted out.
At once, her eyes snapped up to Harry's face. Disbelief scattered her thoughts. Had she really just said that? Harry's eyes widened as he, too, came to the realisation that she had indeed just called him 'hot'. It was obvious that she wasn't referring to his temperature as well. As if in an effort to wipe the words from Harry's mind, Hermione kissed him as a distraction. It was clumsier than the first, her nose butting against his. Harry pushed himself off the window sill and, suddenly, something ignited in him. His lips pressed against her with purpose, his hands now pressed on her hips as he held her against him.
Her hands soon found themselves pushing up to his hair, her fingers going in deep. Harry sighed into her mouth, a sound that had her knees nearly crumpling under her. It had been undeniably a sound of pleasure. The knowledge that she could make him feel good, that she was responsible for the pressure she could feel starting to poke into her abdomen, filled her with a powerful satisfaction that she never knew she could feel about herself. Giving Harry comfort and succor was one thing.
Pleasure however…
There was something alluring and dangerous about the precipice they were heading towards. Enjoying each other, exploring… it was as if they were pioneers, traversing the unknown. Only, it wasn't quite so terrifying because they had each other. Even if they got lost.
Harry then pulled away. She looked up into his eyes, spotting the furrowed line that had appeared between his brows. It smoothed when he met her gaze.
"You were amazing today," he said softly, his hands lifting to her face. Hermione let out a soft gasp as his warm palms cupped her cheeks tenderly, just as he had done while they were in protective custody. His compliment made her heart feel like it was about to do somersaults.
"I'm sure you were as well," Hermione said, gazing deeply into his eyes. Harry's smile was soft, but he didn't dispute it. "The suit likely helped."
Harry's smile broadened, "I wondered when you would bring that up."
Hermione's fingers wandered down to Harry's collar, lightly touching the dark grey tie. She saw his eyes light up, almost challenging. Before she really knew what she was doing, she was loosening the Windsor knot. Harry had already undone his top button to give himself air. Both of them went still, waiting for Hermione to take the initiative.
She wanted to undo his tie, then his shirt… and see what had girls murmuring about him after the Second Task last year. Apparently he had been a little too cavalier about taking off his water-logged robes and his shirt underneath had left little to the imagination. Not that she had ever told Harry that such things were discussed in the girls' bathrooms and dormitories. He had enough whispers following him to add how girls talked about his six-pack behind his back.
"It suits you," Hermione murmured, then flushed further at her accidental pun. Harry had the audacity to chuckle, making her roll her eyes.
"Funny that."
"Shut up. You know what I meant," she said, though there was only a soft playfulness in her words. She felt the silk of his tie in her fingers. "Where did you get this from? How…?"
"Minerva," Harry said with a wistful look upwards towards the direction of the office, "she said that appearances are important. I couldn't wear my school robes as I still need to be re-enrolled, so she pulled some strings to have the robemakers at Gladrags send over something… um… suit able."
Hermione laughed, surprised more than anything at their joking. Was it really a time to joke around? Considering that they spent the day in court?
Before she could truly over-analyse their behaviour, she acted on impulse. Her fingers dug into the dark grey silk, pulling the knot apart. The raw astonishment on Harry's face made her impulsivity all the more worth it. Once his tie was two loose strands, she held them both in her hands, staring at Harry as she heard his breathing turn ragged. Not thinking, she tugged on his tie, pulling him towards her. He sensed her intention and melted against her, his mouth hot against her. The kiss was very different to the last two, suddenly fuelled by a wild desperation that Hermione didn't realise either of them had. Harry broke away for a gasp of air.
Hermione found herself tugging Harry away with her, leading him over to his bed where they could get more comfortable. Joined by the lips, Harry didn't protest, moving with her. Half-blind by the fierce want for his contact, Hermione misjudged how close the bed was and the edge came to meet the backs of her legs sooner than expected. She dropped onto the bed, gasping in surprise as she landed, still holding Harry's tie. Forced to bend over her, Harry then dropped forwards, his hands snapping out in time to catch himself. Arms on either side of Hermione, Harry leaned over her, breathing heavily, still on his feet.
They both just stared at each other, breathing matched. Harry's hair hung forwards, almost long enough to touch Hermione's face. His glasses slipped down his nose, his eyes riveted to hers. He then bent his elbows down, moving to claim Hermione's lips again. Hermione let go of his tie, her hands climbing up to his waist. The dynamic shifted, switching from her leading the way to Harry having the control, looming on top of her, his body hovering where he kept himself propped up. She could feel the tension in his body where he was keeping himself from dropping fully on top of her.
More importantly, she could feel his muscles bunching at his stomach. Formed and developed muscles.
"You can undo my shirt… if you want."
If Hermione hadn't seen or felt Harry's lips move, she would have doubted her ears. Her eyes widened, stunned that Harry would say such a thing. She met his gaze, seeing the nerves causing his eyes to flick between hers in a staccato dance. He was nervous, yet he held her gaze, his lips glistening with moisture where they had kissed so ardently. Part of her knew she should say that they had to slow down, but the louder side of her was flooded with the need to go further. They had precious minutes alone. Both of them needed to have something to hold onto while separated, a private moment of discovery and intimacy. There was no telling when they would have their next opportunity.
Almost shaking with nervous excitement, Hermione's fingers felt cumbersome as she released Harry's tie so she could undo each button. Her nerves soon leaked away as her gaze followed the ministrations of her fingers, revealing something new and exciting. As she travelled down, her face grew hotter and hotter as she could see what she imagined becoming reality. When her gaze caught his nipples, something flipped inside her, reminding her that she was looking at Harry's bare chest. Harry.
Yet it didn't feel wrong, not while he was standing over her, his chest moving in regular breaths. His shirt soon hung open, showing her his abdominal muscles and pectorals. Harry was slender and lean, not having barely an ounce of fat on his body. His muscles stood out, but he wasn't bulky. She could see his ribs and hip bones, but he wasn't skinny. He felt solid, immovable, and so very warm. Hermione held her breath as she gently ran her fingers over Harry's tensed stomach, feeling the ridges of his six-pack because Harry actually had a six-pack.
His breath hitched at the contact of her fingers. She could almost feel the heat radiating from his face where he was starting to flush.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-." She started to say before Harry shook his head, eyes wide.
"It's okay. I… it feels nice. I, um, I'm not completely clueless, you know. I can tell what you, er, like."
His awkwardness radiated just as strongly as his body heat, but he said nothing else as Hermione was emboldened to run her hands upwards. She felt Harry shudder at her touch, but it wasn't out of discomfort. The opposite. His eyelids fluttered, his breath sighing out. When her hands rested flat against his chest, she could feel his heart racing under her hands. The steady pumping of life powering the blood through his body, his very alive and close body.
"As nice as this is, my arms are aching," Harry said eventually, letting out a small chuckle. Harry then moved off her, settling himself down on the bed next to her. His smile was wide where he propped his head up on his hand, elbow supporting him. His shirt was still gaping open, leaving nothing to the imagination. Hermione got a full picture, including the smattering of dark hair that was starting to grow on his chest.
Hermione pushed herself up, mirroring Harry's pose as she kicked off her shoes, Harry following her lead. She brought her hand up to her breast, touching her top for a brief moment. Harry noticed her movement, his smile fading. He reached for her hand.
"It's okay. You don't need to… I mean. It's a bigger deal for you to, er, undress."
His flush darkened and he cleared his throat. Hermione lowered her hand, smiling.
"I'm glad one of us is thinking responsibly," she mused wryly. Harry chuckled again, reaching to his face instead as he removed his glasses as they were in danger of falling off.
"Minerva might have an inclination of what we're getting up to, but it's probably not wise to go wild. As much as I, um, want to."
Harry shifted, a small grimace of discomfort rippling over his features as he rearranged his legs. Hermione noticed that he was purposefully not putting pressure on his privates which were still engorged.
"Is that, um, uncomfortable?" She asked, gaze flicking pointedly to his lower half.
"It's annoying," Harry said with a roll of his eyes, "but it'll go down on its own. That's if we're calming down a bit now?"
"Probably a good idea," Hermione said reluctantly, "though… it would be a shame to do up your shirt."
Harry glanced down, looking a little self-conscious for a moment. "I didn't think you'd be interested in… er… how I look. I know how skinny I am."
"Fit," Hermione corrected, "you're fit, Harry."
He flushed even deeper, going a colour she hadn't seen him turn in a long time.
"I'm not just saying this to fish for compliments, but… I kind of just figured that I'm ugly," Harry said, turning the subject somewhere Hermione didn't expect, "I was… er… bullied for it. Before Hogwarts, I mean."
Harry's gaze dropped down to the bed and he rested his glasses on the cover, folding the arms back. He gave them an apprehensive look, then sighed.
"These didn't really help," he said of the glasses, glancing up at her, "nor did… well… this ." He gestured at his forehead where his scar was just visible behind his fringe.
A wave of anger rushed through Hermione. She could relate, having experienced cruel comments throughout her childhood and while at Hogwarts as well. If it wasn't her muggleborn background earning her hateful remarks, it was her hair or her teeth – though she remedied the latter. As much as she wished she could ignore the nasty things said about her, they still hurt.
"The other children in my classes at my primary school bullied me as well" Hermione said quietly after Harry didn't speak for a moment. He looked up at her sharply. She smiled grimly at the flash of anger in his eyes, matching what she felt in response to his own admission. "Buck-teeth, bushy hair on top of being a know-it-all didn't exactly make me any friends."
Harry sighed, appearing crest-fallen at the moment, "we weren't much better before the whole troll thing in first year."
"You made up for it," she said simply. Harry gave her a small smile.
"Best idea of my life," he said, his eyes gleaming, setting off a warm feeling of nostalgia through Hermione. As she met his gaze, she recalled how she had a few weeks that year, nursing a slight crush on Harry after she learned how going to find her that Halloween had been his idea.
She brought her hand up to his face, running her fingers down his cheek. She marvelled at how still he turned at her touch, his lips remaining slightly parted as he watched her.
"You know how that makes you so special. Being brave and kind is second nature to you. It's not something you have to be prompted towards. For others, it's a learning curve, but you made it there yourself. That's what makes you a great wizard and… a wonderful person. It's what's here."
She brought her hand to his bare chest, lightly touching the spot over his heart. He stared at her, eyes blowing wide while his face remained flushed.
"I only realised how much I value you while you were out of reach… and how much I took you for granted," she continued, finding that she couldn't stop as she found herself thinking of her heart ache while Harry was locked up in the Ministry. "I should have done so much more or at least realised how much you were really going through. I can't… believe how strong you are, Harry. It's superhuman."
His smile twitched at the corners at her choice of word, "being stubborn isn't a superpower."
"You make it one," she said softly, resting her hand on his shoulder. Harry's smile then dwindled and he looked away from her, his eyes shuttering alarmingly. "What is it?"
He sighed, shaking his head a little. He then moved, her hand sliding off him as he sat himself up, crossing his legs. He pulled at the open sides of his shirt and started to button it back up. He spoke as he did.
"It isn't something to be proud of. If I hadn't been so stubborn and gone to Dumbledore when you said I should, things might not have gone as far as they did. Or maybe if I had gone to Minerva. I know she… was hurt that I didn't trust her enough to speak out. Sirius is as well, but… I don't know."
"It's not your fault," Hermione said as she went to sit up as well. Harry let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "No, really, Harry. It isn't. No one blames you. If anything, everyone is devastated that they didn't help you sooner or notice that you were being hurt. At the end of the day, you are just fifteen years old and they all stood by while you were being tortured. "
Harry's shoulders slumped forwards when he finished doing up the last button. His gaze turned distant.
"Amelia really put it into perspective. Nine thousand cuts…" He rubbed the back of his right hand absently. "She made me do that to myself… and for what? Because I was upsetting the illusion that everything is hunky dory? If anything, she just proved that anyone is capable of evil things, just as long as they believe that they are in the right."
He shot Hermione a rueful look, "sorry, we did say that we weren't going to talk about this."
"If it means you'll stop blaming yourself, we absolutely should talk about it," Hermione said firmly, "because none of this is your fault. You did everything you could without any support from the people who absolutely should have supported you. Dumbledore abandoned you… and that's the truth."
Harry stared at her with open astonishment. Hermione hesitated, realising what she had just done. She denounced Albus Dumbledore with total confidence. Yet, despite his reputation and his history, it didn't change the fact that Harry had been in that office, all alone, while Fudge had him arrested on bogus charges. When the look in Harry's eyes suddenly turned lost and sad, Hermione closed the distance between them, folding her arms around him. Harry burrowed his face into her shoulder.
Without really thinking, Hermione kissed the top of Harry's head gently. She felt him relax against her, almost melting into her embrace. To feel his trust and how much her contact was enough for him to feel safe with her could never get old. She rubbed his back, comforting him as much as he needed.
"Unlike Dumbledore, I'm not going anywhere," she whispered into his messy hair, tightening her hold on him. "We're in this together. No matter what."
The tender moment, however, ended when she felt something crack under her weight. Harry's breath hitched, then he laughed, the sound shocking her. He lifted his head, eyes glittering with tears that hadn't fallen. The sight of his raw emotion nearly distracted her until she realised what had cracked.
"I appreciate that, really… I do," Harry said softly, "though… I think my glasses might have something to say about that."
Hermione sat back, gasping as she saw his glasses on the bed under her knee where she had thrown herself at Harry in her haste. A giggle escaped her when she saw the cracked lens. Harry laughed with her until they both were laughing, sounding breathless and possibly a bit mad.
"I think this might mean it's time for me to go if I'm breaking things," Hermione said once she caught her breath back. Harry climbed off the bed to fetch his jacket so he didn't look quite so ruffled. Hermione repaired his glasses with a quick 'reparo', passing them back to their owner before they received more of a battering. Harry smiled gratefully at her.
"Thanks. I think we could both do with some sleep and a break from everything. I don't know about you, but I feel like my body is begging for a lie-in."
Just as Hermione got to her feet, there was a knock at the door. She turned, sharing a worried look with Harry. He blinked at her, restoring his glasses to his face. He cleared his throat, hurrying over to the door. Hermione smoothed her clothes, hoping to look more innocent than she felt. When Harry opened the door, he stepped aside. Professor McGonagall stepped inside, giving Harry a concerned look that instantly filled Hermione with foreboding.
"You will want to come back upstairs, Harry," she said to him, giving Hermione a pointed look, "your Godfather has made an impromptu call… and I daresay you will both want to hear what he has to say."
Harry was alarmed, "what's happened? Is he okay?"
Their Head of House sighed, looking tired and, frankly, a little fed up.
"Black, for once, isn't the issue," she said heavily, "it is Dumbledore. It appears… he has gotten himself arrested."
Harry immediately turned to look at Hermione, who gaped back. Her own shock was reflected back at her.
So much for wanting a lie-in.