Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

His White Queen: A Prequel	By : jsu1660n Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 18950 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter, neither the characters from the books or movies. I receive no profit from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter Nine

As expected, Ginny remembered nothing, but it was not as easy for Hermione. She felt such guilt for Obliviating her. How could she do that to her friend? She had erased a part of Ginny’s memory without any hesitation. She was behaving like a criminal!

But what else could she do? From what she already knew of Dumbledore, he was not to be trusted in anything concerning Tom Riddle. Who knows what he might have done?

I know, Meira sighed. He would have tried his best to get rid of me. He would have convinced you that I am an evil aberration that means to possess you. You cannot let your guard down around him for one second, ‘Mi.

“‘Mione? Are you ready?”

Harry stood in the doorway of the Common Room. He had just returned from his meeting with Hagrid. She could tell that seeing the dragons had significantly diminished his spirits.

“Yes, Sirius should be here any minute now.” She took Harry’s cloak and wrapped it around her just as the flames of the fireplace flared.

** “Sirius?” he said, kneeling before the fireplace. “How?”

** “I don’t have much time. Let me get straight to the point. Did you place your name in the Goblet of Fire or ask someone to do it for you?”

** “No, and no.”

“Then it is as I feared. Voldemort’s minions are up and about inside of Hogwarts. Tell me more about the dream you had.”

Hermione paced impatiently as Harry relayed his dream to Sirius.

This is a complete waste of time. How can THE FUGITIVE help you do anything? Meira complained.

“I don’t see you coming up with any brilliant ideas, Meira.”

Look into the trials.

“What?”

Look into the trials of the Dark Lord’s captured Death Eaters. Don’t you Muggles use archives to research old newspaper articles?

“Well, yes, but – wait. Hey, did you just call me a Muggle?”

Focus, ‘Mi. You need to get to the Restricted Section of the library. There is a tome there titled, ‘Most Notable Witches and Wizards’. It’s a first edition, but it has been enchanted to update itself every three years. If you really want answers, that is a hell of a place to start.

“But I need permission to –.”

Not if you leave when Harry goes to bed.

** “…devils are inside the walls,” Sirius continued. “Igor Karkaroff? He was a Death Eater. And no one, no one stops being a Death Eater. Then there’s Barty Crouch. Heart of stone. Sent his own son to Azkaban.”

“Meira…?”

No need to skip to the ending when the story is just beginning, ‘Mi.

Harry finished his conversation with Sirius just as Ron came down the stairs. “Who were you talking to?”

“I wasn’t talking to anyone, Ron.”

Ron looked around the room suspiciously. “Is Hermione in here with you?”

Hermione expected Harry to get angry or try to avoid an argument with Ron. Instead, a wicked grin that seemed out of place on him emerged. “What if she was? As far as I can tell, ‘Mione has already made her choice, and in case you missed it,” he looked around the room and then mocked whispered. “It wasn’t you.”

Ron balled his hands into fists. “You don’t know what she wants!”

“I know she doesn’t want you.” Ron took a step towards Harry. “Do you really want to go this route, Ron? Last time you didn’t make it out so well.”

Ron seemed to rethink his decision. “Some best friend you turned out to be.”

He stormed out and Hermione decided that it was time to do something about the red-haired menace.

“You can come out now.”

Hermione removed the cloak and plopped on the couch. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Harry, but this talk with Sirius was not helpful. Not even a little.”

He sat beside her pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, it wasn’t. He didn’t tell me anything that we didn’t already know. I was thinking about talking to Moody tomorrow. He was a brilliant auror. He has to have some idea how to battle a dragon.”

“I don’t know much about them accept that their hide is pretty much impenetrable to our spells and curses.”

“In other words, a stunner will feel like a tickle to a dragon?” he guessed.

“In a manner of speaking. And by the way, when are you going to at least attempt to talk to Cho?”

“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To be honest, I really haven’t had the time to think of her.”

“Still, don’t waste a good opportunity. You never know when you might get another one. Harry?”

“Hmm?” he was staring almost absently into the flames of the fireplace.

“Do you mind if I borrow your cloak for the night?”

“Why? Planned a secret rendezvous?”

“No, I was going to go take a look inside the Restricted Section and see if maybe I can find something helpful for the Tournament.” And an extracurricular project or two, Meira added.

Harry shrugged and stretched. “Knock yourself out. Just use it wisely and please beware of the serpents.”

“I will.” She waited for Harry to go to his room before slipping out of the Common Room. She lowered her shields to ensure that there was no one around. The last thing she needed was to have a run-in with Filch or Merlin forbid, Snape.

She made it to the fourth floor without any incidence. She quickly walked through the familiar stacks and stood before the roped off Restricted Section of the library. Hermione carefully ducked under the rope and pulled off the cloak.

“Lumos. Now where exactly would this self-updating tome of records be?”

Keep going straight. It is impossible to miss.

And it was. The book rested on top of a platform in a glass case with something like a spotlight illuminating its pages. It was like a diamond on display at a museum. How had she missed this during second year?

Simple. The book is just like the Room of Requirement. It will only appear to someone who has real need of it.

“Funny how that works. How can you have need for something that you have no idea actually exists?”

Weren’t the Founders funny that way?

“Oh, yes, they were a regular laugh riot.”

Hermione flicked her wand and the glass case vanished. The edges of the pages were gold like some of the Muggle bibles she had seen. The book itself was large, as wide as an atlas, and even thicker than an encyclopedia. It was marked with a black ribbon and whoever read it before Hermione was reading about the Witch Burnings of the 1600s.

She decided to start with the First Wizarding War 1970-1981.

“The First Wizarding War, also known as the Dark Rebellion, was fought amongst The Dark Lord Voldemort and his followers. The Death Eaters fought against the Ministry of Magic and an organization who called themselves, The Order of the Phoenix [founded by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore].

“By 1970, the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort led his Death Eaters, as well as Giants, Werewolves, and over 100 Inferi in a revolution against the MoM.

“Muggles and Muggle-borns were the Death Eaters primary targets, in addition to the fabled Blood Traitors– those of Pureblood status who chose to stand against Lord Voldemort …”

“This is stuff I already know!”

Hermione skimmed through the lengthy accounts of the Dark Lord and moved on to the transcripts from the Death Eater trials.

“31 confirmed Death Eaters…” she skimmed over the names and pictures spotting Igor Karkaroff, Severus Snape (turncoat bastards, Meira hissed) and…Barty Crouch, Jr.

“Heart of stone. Sent his own son to Azkaban,” she carefully recounted Sirius’ words.

Hermione sucked in a shaky breath at the sight of the handsome young man wearing Slytherin robes. The same man who grew to become the demented wizard blasting the Dark Mark in the sky at the World Cup. The man from Harry’s dream, the second helper to the Dark Lord was Barty Crouch, Jr.

“In 1981, 11 months following the fall of Lord Voldemort, Death Eater Igor Karkaroff requested an audience with the Council of Magical Law. In exchange for Immunity for his crimes, Karkaroff began naming Death Eaters and supporters to the Dark Lord who were not yet captured. Included in his deposition was a list of crimes committed by his followers. Some of the names included Antonin Dolohov, Evan Rosier, Travers, Mulciber, and Severus Snape.

“Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster (1956 - ) testified on behalf of Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Potions Master (1981 - ), citing that during the War, Severus Snape changed sides and acted as a spy against Lord Voldemort for the Order of the Phoenix.

“Karkaroff went on to name Barty Crouch, Jr., son of Bartemius Crouch, Sr., former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He accused Crouch, Jr. of torturing the Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom alongside Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black), Rodolphus Lestrange, and Rabastan Lestrange. [As recorded in the ‘Victims of the First Wizarding War’ section, Mr. & Mrs. Longbottom now reside in St. Mungo’s for long-term care for prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse.]

“Barty Crouch, Jr., was then apprehended with the help of former Auror Alastor Moody. Crouch, Jr., served a life sentence in Azkaban until…until his deathin 1982? Crouch, Jr., was subsequently buried outside of Azkaban.”

“What the fuck? How is it possible to fool this tome?” she whispered. “Better yet, who did they bury?”

“Some late night reading?”

Hermione screamed and spun around gasping as Moody grinned mischievously, leaning against the stacks behind her. “For the love of Godric, don’t do that!” she said, feeling her heart pound inside her chest.

“Sorry. Was just passing by and who should I see inside the Restricted Section but our favorite little Gryffindor. I half expected you to be here, although,” he said, walking over to the opened book, scanning over the pages. “I would have thought you would have been looking for something to help your friend Potter. Not reading about Death Eaters.”

Moody sighed and limped past her. Hermione stood there for a moment before deciding it would probably be best to follow the professor.

Be cautious, ‘Mi. Moody is one of the best aurors that has ever passed through the ministry. And never forget whom he is close friends with.

Hermione heeded Meira’s warning as she followed Moody to his office. He closed the door behind her and called for an elf to bring tea.

“As much as we pay in tuition you would think the elves could have been given decent uniforms,” she sighed.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to start campaigning for Elf Rights,” Moody snorted.

“I would say that there are a lot more pressing matter to attend to at the moment.” She stared at the seemingly innocent cup of tea and casually flicked her fingers. But of course, Moody never missed a thing.

“It’s nice to see that my lessons in trust actually made an impact on you, Miss Granger. But you should know that if I wanted to harm you, you would be in Azkaban right now.”

The tea was clean, but she felt no regret in testing it. You could never be too careful.

“Asking questions about the Dark Lord, reading up about the Death Eaters of the First War, is there something you want to tell me, Miss Granger?”

Hermione nibbled on her lip as she and Meira carefully weighed the pros and cons on divulging some of her thoughts.

Moody was a seasoned auror. He would know how to best handle the situation.

Moody was a seasoned AUROR, ‘Mi. He could expose us all!

But he assisted in bringing in Barty Crouch, Jr., the Death Eater in question.

He did, but he is entirely too close to Dumbledore. His loyalty to him is unquestioned. With Moody on board, Dumbledore is sure to discover everything we have worked so diligently to keep to ourselves.

But who better to shed light on why everyone was – is – under the impression that Crouch died?

We may very well lose our advantage of being the only souls to know of Harry’s connection to the Dark Lord.

“Miss Granger,” Moody interrupted her inner ramblings. “I swear that Albus will not hear of what you and I discuss here tonight.”

She felt the crackle of magic in the air and slowly exhaled. “All right, I will tell you why I was researching Death Eaters, but you can’t talk about this to anyone. Not to the headmaster and definitely not to Harry.” Moody leaned forward, interlocking his fingers on the desk. “The night before the World Cup, Harry had a dream about the Dark Lord. He saw him and two men in a house. He didn’t exactly see the Dark Lord, but he knew he was there. He recognized one of the men as one of his dad’s ex-best friends, Peter Pettigrew, or Wormtail. And the other man,” Hermione took a deep breath touching her hair, missing how Moody’s eyes followed the movements closely. “Harry had no idea who he could have been. So then, the next night at the World Cup, the Death Eaters incite a panic and then Harry’s being cornered by this armed man who I could tell had nothing but the darkest of intentions for him. The man casts the Dark Mark into the sky and then Disapparates. Later that night, Harry tells me it was the same man who was helping the Dark Lord and Wormtail.” She took a breath. She looked at her professor and realized he was hanging on her every word with rapt attention. “Professor, I saw that man in Most Notable Witches and Wizards. It was Barty Crouch, Jr.”

Hermione sat there waiting for the professor to speak. He sat back in his chair, his hands folded across his belly. She could literally feel the minutes ticking away as Moody stared at her. She was more than tempted to try to read his mind, just to see what he was thinking, but she suppressed the urge and continued to wait.

“Aside from what you read tonight,” he began, finally breaking the tense silence. “How much do you know about the Death Eaters?”

She chose her words carefully. “I know that they are the Dark Lord’s chief supporters. His enforcers, if you will. I know that they have been cited for committing unspeakable acts.”

“Yes, they do. But have you ever stopped to ask yourself why?”

“Why, professor?”

“Why, Miss Granger. How do we win wars? Know your enemy,” he said, tapping his skull. “Before you draw conclusions and declare allegiance to what seems to be the obvious side, get to know both sides of the coin. You have to know exactly what the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters stand for. Not what you’ve heard. You have to know exactly what it is the aurors defend and what’s the Light Side’s true agenda. Once you have that, you will know everything.”

Hermione considered his words carefully. For an ex-auror, these were the last things she ever expected to hear him say. Even so, she still felt a substantial amount of trust towards the wizard.

“What about Barty Crouch, Jr., professor?”

“Well, I am leaving that entirely up to you, Miss Granger. However, I want to remind you of something. Your friend is in the fight of his life right now. As I understand it, he has to face a dragon in his First Task, and from what Albus has told me, as brave as young Mr. Potter is, he has pretty much survived by the grace of your ideas and interventions.”

She blushed slightly. “It’s really a group effort.”

“Neither boy would have gotten as far as they have in your little adventures, nor would they be alive to tell the tale. No, Miss Granger, it is you that they depend on. Harry Potter is the epitome of a Gryffindor. Jumping in headfirst, always trying to be the hero, and never once stopping to think of the negatives of being so reckless. Imagine what could happen if you tell him that you suspect Barty Crouch, Jr., a most loyal follower of the Dark Lord is still alive. Do you believe that he would keep his focus on surviving this Tournament? A Tournament, mind you, that has proven time and again to be fatal to its participants? I don’t mean to scare you,” he said, seeing how pale she had become. “I’m only warning you that sometimes, for the people we care about, it is in their best interest to protect them…from themselves.”

Deep down she knew Moody was right. Harry would never be able to focus on the Tournament if he started putting together pieces that were too dangerous to move.

“You’re right,” she conceded. “The last thing Harry needs right now is to know about Barty Crouch, Jr. I’m just not too fond of the idea of lying to my best friend, professor.”

“Try not to think of it so much as lying, rather than protecting, Miss Granger. Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

Immediately her thoughts went to Meira. But she wasn’t quite ready to divulge that particular secret with anyone just yet. “No, professor.”

“Then you best be getting back to your tower. Do you need me to walk you?”

She stood, smiling wryly. “Not to brag, professor, but between the duels and Skeeter’s ridiculous article, no one would be foolish enough to attempt to attack me. Good night, professor.”

“Good night, Miss Granger.”

As he watched her retreating figure, well after she closed the door to his office, “Moody” cast a silencing charm and removed the enchanted mirror from inside his desk.

“Milord, did you hear all of it?” he whispered. His own reflection disappeared and the mirror fogged over in gray smoke. Moments later, the red eyes of the Dark Lord appeared amidst the fog.

“Oh, yes, she is a smart one, my servant,” he rasped, sounding nothing like the strong and fierce wizard he once was. “Moody” felt a regretful pang whenever he heard the sound. “Potter can see inside my mind, can he?” he reflected, mostly to himself. “Tell me again.”

“Her name is Hermione Jean Granger. Muggle-born. Gryffindor. Incredibly smart. Has the highest grades since, well, since you, milord. She’s more than capable in defending herself if what she did to junior is any indication. The professors worship her. Even Snape bows to her potions abilities. Not that the greasy bat would ever admit to it. She has brown hair, almost like caramel at times. From what I heard it’s usually wild and unmanageable, bearing a striking resemblance to the symbol of her house. She’s about 5’4. But it’s her eyes, milord. They are a light brown and often so wide and innocent. She’s gentle, but she is not afraid to play a little dirty when necessary.”

“And her loyalty to Potter?”

He hesitated. “Unwavering at the moment, milord.”

The Dark Lord sighed heavily. “I suspected as much. From the things Wormtail has told me about her, and even when she spoke with you, there were things that she held back. I’m sure that she doesn’t suspect you, Barty, but if for some reason she did, you know exactly what to do.” Barty tapped his foot, barely restraining himself from speaking further. “You are disconcerted, my servant. Why?”

“If our suspicions are right, how can Dumbledore allow her such close proximities to the boy? Surely he would know that she is a certain danger to him, milord.”

“I have pondered this as well. I can only deduce that the old man is counting on Hermione’s feelings for the boy to impede our progress. He wants to manipulate us in a position of me forcing her to choose between us. Even when I will ultimately kill the boy he will expect her devastation to cause a rift between us.”

“If I may be so bold, milord…?”

“You may.”

“That seems to be an awfully large risk. Dumbledore envisions Potter as the savior of the wizarding world. Why would he handle the boy’s life so carelessly?”

“Because Dumbledore has always been arrogant. I have found that age only serves to increase his arrogance. He would easily sacrifice the boy if it meant he himself would once more be looked to as the pinnacle of the Light, all the while spouting Grindelwald’s for the greater good nonsense.”

“Then he is more delusional than I was led to believe, milord. It’s just not possible. Milady has always been loyal to you and our cause. He is wrong.”

“Perhaps he is,” the Dark Lord rasped thoughtfully. “Still, you are correct in your thoughts. It is a lot to leave to chance. The old man may be dodgy, but he is not a gambler. He did something the night I lost my body.”

“How may I serve you, milord?”

“Continue as you are. Keep a close watch on the girl, but be careful! If she is who we think she is, and Dumbledore has done something to interfere, she will be more likely to turn you in rather than confide in you.”

“Yes, milord.”

“And Barty, do not lose sight of the mission. If it should fail and the boy does not survive the Tournament, I will be of no use to anyone.”

“I live to serve you.”

“You should convince that husband of yours that if he is truly invested in war, he should enlist the help of vampires.”

Meira sat before her vanity mirror in Riddle Manor. It was enchanted so that she and Natasia could have a face-to-face conversation.

“I agree. Vampires would be beneficial, gram-gram, but Tom has enlisted Fenrir Greyback’s services, and he isn’t exactly fond of vampires.”

Natasia’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Fenrir Greyback? That horrible beast that bites children just for the hell of it? I thought the point was to discredit Albus and the Order, not give them ammunition against you.”

“Most of it is propaganda,” she argued weakly.

“Don’t lie to me, Meira Natasia.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, wavering under her grandmother’s no nonsense tone. “Tom thinks that in the coming war it would be wise to enlist the help of magical creatures. Werewolves are the obvious choice for their vicious nature. Greyback has by far the largest pack in Britain and he has already sworn fealty to us.”

“That’s all well and good, but he bites children! Do you comprehend that, Meira? He bites children.”

“There, there, simmer down, Natasia,” Tom sighed, standing behind Meira. He could see that his mother-in-law, in a manner of speaking, was upset.

“Tom, before Ian died, he gave Meira and myself The Rings of Walachia. You remember what those are, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he said, exhausting his usual patience with the excited woman. “The rings signify the House of Vlad. One of the Originals.”

“Exactly. His name alone holds nearly as much weight in the vampire world as Merlin does amongst the wizards! If any vampire sees Meira’s ring they have no other recourse but to respect her and most will be compelled to follow her.”

“Natasia,” Tom began, placing his hands on top of Meira’s shoulders, inadvertently teasing her through their bond. “You must see both sides of the coin. Vampires are extraordinarily fast and strong. They are efficient killers, but they cause discomfort and unrest amongst the wizarding community. We are much like catnip to them. Yes, Ian had bewildering control around all of you,” he said, seeing that she was gearing up for another argument. He could sense Meira’s amusement. No one argued with the Dark Lord. Ever. “But the same cannot be said for the others. Grindelwald did a thorough job of ruining the image of wizards in their eyes. They know Meira is his daughter and I will not place my wife in harm’s way for the sake of gaining new allies who could just as easily become our enemies.”

“Well, what if I approached them?”

“Grammy, no. No. It’s not happening.”

“Do you truly believe that they would dare harm a Walachia ring holder?”

“And what if you come across a Fledgling?” Tom countered. “One who cannot stop to consider your house connections because your scent is so overwhelming?”

Natasia had a determined gleam in her eyes that made Meira all the more anxious. “I suppose I will cross that bridge when I get to it. Goodbye my darlings.”

“Grammy? Grammy, wait! Shit!”

“Relax; I’m sure she will be fine.” Tom leaned over in the mirror adjusting his necktie with such force he nearly ripped it off.

“Here, let me.”

“I don’t see why we must go to this thing. I can barely stand to be in the same room with these people as it is.”

“These people, Tom, are your loyal followers.”

“That doesn’t mean that I like them.”

“Now you are just being difficult.”

“Why could they not bring the little rug rat here?” he huffed.

“First, it’s Narcissa’s party so it makes sense that it would be at Malfoy Manor. Second, do you really think that it is a good idea to invite guests when you have your little Malayan Pits roaming free in the manor with the orders to bite first?”

“If I had them here to start with…”

“Don’t,” she said, placing her finger against his lips. “What’s done is done, love, and there is no one to blame but the bastard who cursed me. And don’t call him a rug rat tonight in front of everyone, please.”

“It’s a term of endearment,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Forget it. I’m not wearing this Muggle death trap.” He banished the tie away and ran his hand through his hair a few times, tousling it.

Meira dropped her robe and pulled a dress from her closet. It was champagne colored and made her skin look like porcelain. The dress fit her body like a glove accentuating the curves that still made the guys drool. It was long sleeved and folded down her shoulders. The hemline reached mid-thigh, showing off her long legs. She flicked her wand and curled her hair. She pinned it up with silver snake pin, letting the loose curls fall down around her face and neck.

“You are not wearing that.”

Meira faced her husband, barely restraining a smile. “Is there something wrong, Tom?”

“Yes, what’s wrong is that that dress is highly inappropriate for you to be traipsing about around my followers.”

He was so jealous! “And exactly which one of your followers would be foolish enough to approach me? Especially with you right there in the room.”

“You are not wearing that dress, Meira.”

“Is that an order, milord?”

She thought he may argue, but instead he smiled amicably. “Very well.”

“Very well?”

“Yes, if you want to wear the dress, you can wear the dress.” He turned away from her, leaving her to wonder just what it was that he was up to. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and gasped disgustedly.

“Pink?” she choked. When she wasn’t paying attention, Tom changed the color of her dress to a light pink, knowing how much she loathed the color. “You turned my beautiful champagne dress pink?”

“Have you never heard of pink champagne, darling?” he smirked.

Meira growled in frustration and summoned her shoes. She transfigured her simple heels into strappy ‘fuck me’ stilettos.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she smirked, loving the way he glared at the offending shoes.

“You are lucky we are late, wife.” he placed the anti-soot charm on them and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. “This should be fun,” he grumbled. “Malfoy Manor!”

When they emerged the other side, the entire Inner Circle was there.

“Milord and Lady,” Lucius greeted, prompting everyone else to stop what they were doing and bow.

“Lucius, Narcissa, thank you for inviting us into your home.”

Meira could barely keep a straight face. Tom excelled in many areas. From his days at Hogwarts, he was more than a proficient actor, but there was just something about Lucius Malfoy that made it even harder for Tom to pretend that he liked him.

“It is our honor,” he said, laying it on a little thick, in Meira’s opinion.

They were led to the parlor where Narcissa sat with her hair tied in a bun and wearing her finest robes. Just by looking at her, you would never guess that she had given birth only 48 hours earlier. She sat beside her sister Bellatrix Lestrange who just happened to be eyeing Meira and Tom both like they were treacle tarts.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was swaddled in a blanket. His eyes closed and his little chest rising and falling. He had a small button nose and cheeks with the faintest pink hue. He had a full head of hair just like his father.

“You both have done very well,” Tom said. “He will be a fine addition to the wizarding world.”

“Thank you, milord.”

“Would you like to hold him, milady?” Narcissa said when Bellatrix stood to make room for Meira.

“Yes, I would,” she said, ignoring Tom’s worried and regretful eyes observing her closely. Narcissa carefully laid Baby Draco in her arms. “He’s so light,” she whispered.

At the sound of her voice, Draco opened his eyes. Eyes that were a startling gray, nearly as bright as her own. Unconsciously, she tuned in to the infants scattered thoughts. There were no tangible words, but many pictures with vivid colors. When he looked at her, she got the impression of the scent of the tea roses on the table, Narcissa’s scent of water lilies. All things that were pretty and safe.

She held back her tears when she felt Tom’s magic envelop her. Draco smiled and Meira felt her heart fill with warmth.

“He’s perfect.” She passed him back to Narcissa before she could let herself wonder how Ciarán would smile. “Where is Walburga?”

Narcissa’s smile faltered. “Aunt Walburga took ill. She was unable to attend, but she sends her love.”

Meira and Tom’s eyes met briefly. It was obvious that Walburga was too ashamed of her sons to allow herself in their presence without being specifically asked. It saddened her that she was hurting. She would have to see her soon.

“Milady, would you like to see the nursery?”

“That sounds lovely, Narcissa. And perhaps I can visit Abraxas on the way back.” She politely interrupted Tom’s conversation with the Lestrange Brothers and informed him of her plans.

“Just be sure to keep your clothes on, darling,” he whispered as she blushed. The last time she visited Abraxas’ portrait, she gave in to his pleading and flashed him. Something neither Tom nor Abraxas ever wanted to let her forget.

Narcissa handed Draco over to the family elf Dobby and led her to the nursery. Meira was pleased to see that the elf’s makeshift uniform was actually spotless. But then again, it could have just been for their benefit. More than likely, it was because for the time being, he would handle the baby.

“I want to thank you for your gifts.”

“I’m happy you enjoyed them. I never realized how hard it is to pick a gift for a newborn. You and Lucius were easy. Aged wine and a new cloak for him and an all access pass to the spas in Russia for you.”

The nursery was a soft blue with stuffed animals all around. “Lucius wanted it decorate in Slytherin colors of course, but I was able to talk him down into waiting until he was old enough to sleep in a bed.”

“Speaking of beds, whose is this?” she gestured to the queen-sized bed across from the nursery.

Narcissa shut the door behind them. “It’s mine.”

“Yours? Well, where does Lucius sleep?”

The woman sighed and offered for her to take a seat on the settee. “Lucius still sleeps in the master bedroom and he has been since I became pregnant with Draco. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Many men still believe in the old ways – sleeping apart from your wife when she’s pregnant to ensure a fruitful pregnancy.”

“But?”

Narcissa turned her gaze towards the setting sun in the window. Meira was startled by how aged the woman looked in her sadness.

“He told me that I had done a wonderful job in giving him Draco, but Meira,” she always waited when they were alone to address her by her first name. “I am beginning to think that he actually sees our relationship, our marriage as a business arrangement. I give him a son and he supports me for the rest of my life.”

“Please do not be offended by this, Narcissa, but everyone, including myself, was under the impression that a business arrangement was exactly what you wanted in the first place.”

“It was!” she cried in despair. “But that was before I got to know Lucius. That was before I found out that he likes entirely too much honey in his tea and only one satchel of sugar in his coffee. It was before I realized how when he does not steal the covers and talk in his sleep, he clutches me to his chest almost as if he is afraid of losing me. I love him, Meira, Salazar help me, but I do.” Her eyes lined with tears and she blinked quickly to hold them in. “I think…I knowhe is seeing someone else.”

“Goddammit,” she sighed. “Are you sure, Narcissa?”

“I followed him once.”

“You what? You know that it’s not safe with that lunatic running around.”

“I know I know. I should not have done it, but Bella was with me, and no one would dare harm me with Bella at my side.”

“Can’t argue with you there. Where did you follow him? And please don’t say it was to Madam d’Oliva’s Maison de la délices.” Madam d’Oliva’s House of Delights was the first French owned and operated brothel in town. “I know that he is a Malfoy and all - .”

“That only allows him to feel even more entitled to seek pleasure elsewhere,” she scoffed. “No this one isa whore, but not one of Madam d’Oliva’s. She lives in a house – a house that he bought for her – just outside of Scotland. I had to beg Bella not to firebomb the house with Lucius still inside!”

“So Lucius has a kept woman. Do you know how long this has been going on?”

“I am unable to say for certain, but everything changed the evening I announced my pregnancy. The carefree smile that I adored fell from his face and he slept at the very end of the bed that night. The next morning he ordered my things to be moved in here. It was like he suddenly remembered that our union was about business, not love. I’m so sorry to burden you with all of this, but there is no else I can talk to. The other ladies in my circle wouldn’t care because it is what is expected of a husband. Bella’s advice is to slip him a…potentpotion. And I know that Dromeda would have something insightful to say, but she’s so deeply enthralled with that ridiculous Order of the Phoenix…did you know that for my wedding present, she sent me a necklace laced with a compulsion charm?”

“I recall Bellatrix wanting to ‘have words’ with Andromeda, but I was never clear on why.”

“Since then, I find that it soothes my nerves to imagine her decomposing somewhere,” she said, almost serenely.

“I imagine you haven’t spoken to Lucius about his behavior?”

Narcissa laughed humorlessly. “Lucius is not…talking to a Malfoy about infidelity is not something you wake up one morning and decide to do. He has never hurt me or anything, but I don’t know how he would react to something like that.” Narcissa lowered her head as her tears finally began to fall. “I am with him every day, but it feels like the man I love is gone, and I can’t tell you how much I miss him.”

Meira hated to see Narcissa cry. She was too pretty to cry. She sat beside her on the bed and hugged her, letting her cry into her shoulder. She was surprised how frail she felt in her arms. She could feel her body heat through her clothing.

“Lucius is a fool. To betray a treasure for trash is just beyond stupid.” She pulled the woman up from the bed and summoned a mirror. “You are beautiful,” she whispered to Narcissa’s reflection. “You are loyal. You are nothing like the frigid women you associate with. You are a devoted wife and you are becoming a wonderful mother.”

“I am?” she sniffled.

“You are. And you’re going to stop this crying. You are a Black and a Malfoy. You are better than this. You will dry your eyes, freshen your makeup and play the hostess that we know and adore, Narcissa. Unfortunate as it is, you will suffer the pains of your asinine husband and raise your son to be a strong and better man than his father will ever be because that is who you are.”

Narcissa’s eyes lined with tears, but Meira could see the gleam of determination sparkle in her irises. She stood a little straighter and smoothed the fallen strands of her hair until she once again looked immaculate. “Thank you, milady.”

After her talk with Narcissa, Meira stopped to visit Abraxas Malfoy’s portrait. She cried buckets when he died of dragon pox. Besides being a horrible flirt in and out of Tom’s presence, he was the only true male friend she had. They spoke in lengths about his prospects for his grandson and the progress she was making with the Squibs. Meira stopped off to the loo and was glancing at her reflection in the mirror when she picked up on something particularly interesting – other than Narcissa’s regret over not kissing her when she had the chance or Bella’s desperate need to wrangle herself into another three-way with her and the Dark Lord.

She always lowered her shield just enough so that the other minds around her would be a background noise, louder than a hum, but lower than a interpersonal conversation. Meira closed her eyes and opened the mind link between Tom and herself.

“Tom?”

“Yes?”he answered while maintaining his conversation with Lucius who droned on and on about his new position within the MoM without truly being able to provide him with something he could actually use.

“Listen to this, and for Salazar’s sake, don’t react!”

“Give me some credit, darling,”he sighed.

She ignored his comment and linked his Death Eater’s train of thoughts to their conversation.

“…wrong! I should be here celebrating my godson’s birth, not being Dumbledore’s sacrificial lamb!”

Meira could feel Tom’s interest and suspicions.

“Further,”he commanded.

She dug deeper until she found the memory that he was referring to.

Severus Snape sat inside of the Three Broomsticks nervously glancing around. He almost expected the Dark Lord to appear from nowhere and Avada him for even considering betraying him.

“Severus, my boy, how are you?” the old headmaster said, taking a seat across from him.

“Well, sir,” he said, curtly, unable to smother his nerves. “And you?”

“Not too good, Severus. Not too good at all.”

“Good evening, headmaster,” greeted the beautiful and timeless Madam Rosemerta.

“Good evening, Rosemerta. Steady crowd in here tonight.”

“Oh, yeah, this is my busy season,” she winked. “What can I get you gentleman?”

“It’s been quite a while since I had a butterbeer. Yes, I think I would like one of those.”

“Alright, and for you?” she said to Severus.

“Firewhiskey,” he answered immediately.

“And one firewhiskey. I will be back with your drinks shortly.”

Rosemerta left them alone, but neither man spoke. Severus struggled with all of his might to keep himself from squirming as the headmaster’s twinkling blue eyes bore into him.

“Was there a particular reason that you wanted to meet with me, headmaster?”

“Yes, among others, I was considering you for my potions master position. You could begin as early as next year.”

The shock emanating in Severus’s mind was both pleasant and suspicious. He immediately thought of the high favor he would receive from the Dark Lord for being positioned so closely to the loathed headmaster. But something was off about the old man’s offer. Why invite him here rather than conducting the formal interview inside of Hogwarts?

Before he could ponder it further, Madam Rosemerta returned with their drinks. “Do you believe that in some places of the world, both witches and wizards alike have never had the pleasure of tasting butterbeer?” Severus remained silent. “I introduced a…close friend of mine to the drink actually. At first, he proclaimed that it was the worst thing he had ever had. Of course, he didn’t think I knew he was sneaking it behind my back,” he laughed.

Severus smiled tightly in response.

“I find it amazing how we tell ourselves that we can do anything we want and never face the consequences.”

“Sir?”

“Take you for example, Severus,” he continued, his smile never faltering. “You, for some reason, thought that you could hold on to your friendship with Miss Evans – excuse me Mrs. Potter, I should say – while chasing dreams of becoming a Death Eater.”

Severus slowly went for his wand while the headmaster took a large gulp from the bottle. He closed his eyes, sighing contently.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Severus. I could have you disarmed and waiting for the Aurors to roll up your sleeve and see that infamous mark we both know is there. I am told that the boat ride to Azkaban is actually quite pleasant…that is until you are within a half mile of the fortress. Then of course, that’s when you start to feel the weight of the dementors' presence. Worse than being dragged down to hell I wager.”

Reluctantly, Severus returned his wand to its holster. “Is this what you called me here for, headmaster? To send me to Azkaban for my allegiance to the Dark Lord?”

“It’s tempting, Severus, oh so tempting,” he sighed. “But alas, I believe it will be more entertaining, for me anyway, to leave you free when you learn of Mrs. Potter’s untimely demise.”

Pain erupted inside of Severus. Pain stronger than his father’s beatings. Pain even more damaging than the Dark Lord’s ligament tearing curses. Lily…dead? The words made no sense to him. It just was not possible.

“Entertaining? You incredible bastard.”

Albus narrowed his eyes. The twinkle completely vanished. “You were listening in when Sybill Trelawney made the prophecy. You went back and told him, didn’t you?”

Severus squared his jaw and his dark eyes flashed defiantly.

The headmaster smirked and chuckled. “Your bravado will get you nowhere, my boy. Whether you admit it or not makes no difference. I am just genuinely curious. How do you think you will be able to live with yourself when he kills the Potters? James – you hate him, why should you care if your lifelong nemesis goes under? Their baby – an unfortunate casualty, but necessary to your master’s empire. And then there’s Lily. The wife, the mother, the mudblood. Oh, don’t get so angry. As I recall, you called her exactly that when she attempted to stand up to James and his friends on your behalf. Actually, Severus, your little slip of the tongue was just the opening James needed to seal the proverbial deal. They owe their union to you,” he said, raising his bottle appreciatively as Severus envisioned every way humanly and inhumanly possible to kill the righteous bastard.

“I do believe, headmaster that you and I have nothing more to say to one another. Less we draw wands,” he breathed.

“Very well, you may go, but before you do,” he said as the man stood. “What will you do, Severus when Voldemort kills Lily?”

“Don’t say that!” he snarled. And it was unclear whether or not he meant for the headmaster to not speak of Lily’s death or say his master’s name.

“You are a fool, Severus. You did not give me the chance to work out the prophecy or even wait to see if you could hear it in its entirety and now because of it, the love of your life is doomed to an early grave.”

“He promised he wouldn’t - .”

He stopped cold as the vicious smirk slithered across the headmaster’s face. “Tom says a lot of things, Severus. There are only two things in this world that he cares for. And I can assure you, your love life will never make the cut.”

“You have no idea…the Dark Lord never lies to us.”

“Oh, really?” he chuckled.

“If there is information that he withholds, it is because he knows how to handle it best.”

Dumbledore was absolutely tickled now. “Forgive my rudeness, Severus, but you sound so much like Bellatrix. It is quite eerie. I’ll tell you what. Don’t believe me when I tell you that your lord will kill her. Don’t believe me when I tell you that immortality and my Meira aren’t the only things that matter to him. Return to your master and his precious Queen and watch. Watch how they move, how they talk. Watch how she balances him and how she reshapes herself to fit his every waking mood. Watch how immersed they are in each other’s pull. The rest of us are simply bits of debris in their orbit.”

“What the devil are you going on about, old man?”

“What I am going about, young Death Eater, is that if it meant keeping her safe and close to him, your beloved Dark Lord would set the world afire, starting with those who support him. That means you, Severus.” Dumbledore settled the tab and met Severus’s glare. “I wouldn’t make light of anything that I have said here tonight, Severus. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love and be betrayed by the one you thought you could trust. When the dust settles and you realize just how wrong you were about your lord, only I can help you…”

“Tom?”Meira called when the memory faded. He didn’t answer. Her eyes were still closed when she felt him materialize behind her. “Tom?”

His eyes were completely red and his hands trembled furiously. “That backstabbing bastard,” he hissed.

“Tom, relax.”

She found herself pinned by his fiery gaze. “You expect me to relax when one of my followers, one of my marked followers is watching me, watching us, for Albus Dumbledore?”

Meira waved her hand, throwing up silencing charms. “Now do you finally realize why you cannot under any circumstances go halfcocked with this prophecy nonsense?”

“No, I see, wife, that any thoughts I had of sparing Potter’s wife just went to hell.”

“Tom, just think about it for a minute.”

“If you are attempting to talk me out of it…”

“As if I could ever talk you out of anything…no, what I want you to think about is how Dumbledore kept saying Potter.”

“And?” he said impatiently. All he wanted was to cancel the party, drag Severus by his greasy hair before his throne, and make an example of him before the others.

“And, the Longbottoms will also have a son born next month the same time as the Potters. Don’t you see, love? Dumbledore wants you to target James and Lily’s son.”

The crazed look faded slightly from Tom’s eyes. “We make our destiny. He wants the prophecy to come into fruition and is using my potions master to do it.” Meira bit her lip, leaning against the sink. “What are you thinking?”

“This whole thing is about you and him. I’m a part of it, yes, but mostly it is about the two of you. It’s always been about you. As it stands, the majority of the Pureblood community as well as a substantial amount of Halfbloods, Squibs, and magical creatures have aligned themselves with you. Although he will never admit it, Dumbledore would lose horribly if he ever decided to make a move against you. He…he took Ciarán from us in hopes of forcing you into making a foolish mistake. Because even with his ‘secret weapon’, striking you down with no true proof of your supposed dark deeds will prove disastrous for him. When that didn’t work, he concocted this prophecy rubbish, playing on your paranoia for all things concerning Divination,” she said, ignoring his glare. “If you kill a child, then that’s it. You would lose everyone, except for your most insane followers. There would be nothing you could do to ever do to fix the destruction that would await you.”

“But if you’re wrong and I let both children live, he will guide them and brainwash them as he has with their parents. They will believe his lies. They could raise armies of their own against us.” Tom started to tug on his hair and Meira could feel the heaviness of his magic swarm around the bathroom. “I need to kill him. As long as he lives, Dumbledore has both eyes and ears inside my Circle. He has to die.”

“Not yet. Severus is still very useful. Dumbledore is desperate need of a potions master and regardless of what crimes Severus has committed, Dumbledore will not likely let him go. He’s not as covetous as ole Sluggie, but he enjoys taking the credit nurturing rising witches and wizards all the same. You know, now may be a good time to include that new provision in the Dark Mark,” she said thoughtfully.

She met Tom’s eyes when she felt the change in his magic and was pleasantly surprised to see his adrenalin focused elsewhere. His breath came in short pants and as he pressed himself into her, she could feel his hard cock against her stomach. She rubbed her thighs together needfully. He kissed her deeply almost as if he was attempting to inhale the very breath from her body.

“Turn around.”

She readily obeyed. She lifted her dress up to her hips and shimmied out of her soaked underwear. She bit her lip anxiously listening to the telltale sound his zipper sliding down. He pushed her legs apart and entered her hard and fast. Her vision went black for about five seconds.

Their sex was rough and hard. She would have bruises from the way his fingers dug into her hips. Her abdomen would be sore from banging into the hard porcelain sink, but god was it good. Their connected bodies made the most delicious sounds. She turned around slightly and pulled his mouth to hers. He manipulated their bond so that she would come and come until she was literally lying over the sink because she was too weak to stand on her own.

Sated, cleaned, and Meira walking with only a slightly noticeable wobble, Tom conceded to her requests and decided to spare Severus Snape for a little while longer. After all, while Severus may be a link to Tom, he was also a link to Dumbledore.

“And anyway, worse comes to worse, we can always feed him to Greyback,” she smiled.

It was getting to the point where all Hermione wanted to do was sleep. Eager to learn what adventures and mysteries awaited her next. Sadly, today was not the time to think about sleep. Because today Harry, Cedric, Viktor and Fleur would face their First Task. Even with all of their secret meetings and brainstorming, Harry was no more prepared than when they began. Everyone had a rough idea as to what they would do to distract the dragon. Harry, however, had decided brilliantly in a moment of frustration to “wing it”. The phrase still set her teeth on edge, especially when she remembered his noncommittal shoulder shrug. “Hey, I’ve been 3-0 so far. Why mess with a good thing?”

Now Hermione stood outside of the Champions tent disillusioned. She had only a few minutes, three at best before she had to find a spot in the stands. She would much rather be in the tower contemplating her next step in the Dark Lord’s plans or even spending some much needed alone time with her familiars who had been neglected as of late. But on the last night of the meeting with the Champions, Cedric got her alone, worked out a double orgasm with that amazing mouth of his, and made her promise to stand watch over him during the Task. Hermione had never been one to back out of a promise.

With a deep sigh, she stepped inside the tent, not surprised to find the four Champions in their own corners, either pacing or staring in the distance, each of their faces tight with anxiety. Harry was one of the few pacing.

Carefully, Hermione reached out and touched his shoulder…only to be met with the tip of his wand. “Well,” she said, dropping the disillusionment charm. “Nice to see that your reflexes have improved.”

He sighed, lowering his wand. “Sorry. A bit on edge right now, you know?”

“I can imagine,” she said as the others noticed her presence. “How are the rest of you holding up?”

“As well as you can imagine,” Cedric said grimly before he went back to pacing.

“I thought you would have been in the stands by now.”

“I was on my way when I thought I would check in on you. Harry, are you absolutely sure about winging it?”

Harry sighed in mock pain. “You still can’t say it without cringing. No, I actually have something very special planned in your honor. It will either be a bust or everyone will really think that there’s something going on.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Ah, now it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, just as a bright light filled the tent.

“Young love!” the grating voice of Rita Skeeter echoed in the small space. “How…newsworthy.”

Hermione glanced over the woman with an unimpressed smirk. “At long last, I meet the woman who proclaims me Hogwarts New Dark Witch.”

“Now, now, darling,” she said, reaching out to touch Hermione’s chin. “There’s no need for that tone. The readers want what the readers want.”

Hermione caught her by her wrist, squeezing with enough pressure to break it. She moved closer to the older woman and whispered in her ear. “I am not your darling.”

Rather foolishly, Skeeter’s cameraman decided that this was the exact moment to snap a picture of the Dark Witch at her finest. Hermione barely batted an eyelash when the camera miraculously exploded, burning the man’s hands. The tent filled with the smell of blood and burning flesh. Poor Fleur felt it the most as she could not stop vomiting. Harry pulled Hermione back as the man fell to the floor screaming. It was near pandemonium when the headmaster, Professor Moody, Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, and Barty Crouch, Sr., barreled inside wands blazing.

“What on earth is going on in here?” the headmaster demanded looking towards Harry and Hermione.

“That – that Dark Witch tried to kill my cameraman!” Skeeter shrieked, and then hid behind the headmaster at the sight of Hermione’s dark gaze.

“Hermione?” the headmaster questioned.

She looked into his eyes for any trace of the treacherous old man Meira and the Dark Lord believed him to be. She found only worry and an unaccountable sadness. “I have no idea what Ms. Skeeter is speaking of. I came in to wish Harry and the other Champions good luck when she took it upon herself to snap pictures of Harry and myself and imply that she planned to write inappropriate articles in that trashy little column of hers.”

“Lies! She attacked me! Here, look at my wrist. Look at the bruises.” She pulled her sleeve back to reveal nothing. While she was arguing, Hermione made sure to erase all traces of bruises on the vile woman’s skin.

“I don’t see any bruises. Looks to me like your embellishments go beyond the pages of the Prophet!”

Nice one, Moody! Meira praised.

The headmaster called for Madam Pomfrey who helped the sobbing man leave the tent. “Ms. Skeeter, I understand that The Daily Prophet has a right to cover the day’s events, but if I hear so much as a peep out of you, I will personally throw you out of my school. Is that clear?”

She nodded, but kept her eyes on Hermione.

Do I need to say it?

She didn’t. Hermione already knew that the woman would be an even bigger problem for her than she already was.

Once Fleur got her nausea under control, Crouch, Sr., had the Champions reach inside a sack and select a miniaturized version of the dragon they would have to face. Fleur went first. She pulled a Welsh Green. Viktor’s was a Chinese Fireball. Cedric’s was a Swedish Short-Snout, and Harry ended up with the Hungarian Horntail. From what little she knew of dragons, Harry’s luck had definitely taken a turn for the worse. The objective was pretty straightforward: distract the dragon long enough to grab the golden egg. Straightforward but never simple.

She wished them all good luck, hugging Harry while smiling over his shoulder at her favorite Hufflepuff.

“Miss Granger, is it?”

She turned around to see Viktor’s headmaster Igor Karkaroff standing before her watching her with appraising eyes.

“Headmaster Karkaroff.”

Easy, ‘Mi. Karkaroff, turncoat that he is, is extremely dangerous. Watch yourself.

“Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you back to the stands?”

“Of course.”

They walked side-by-side, neither missing Moody trailing behind them suspiciously. “How do you expect your boy to fair today?”

Meira snorted. Obvious much?

“My boy, headmaster?”

“Yes, the infamous Harry Potter,” he said, almost ironically.

“He has a plan.”

“Viktor tells me that you have been helping him along with the other Champions.”

“I had already made the decision to help Harry. It seemed only fair to help the others.”

“How Gryffindor of you.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as such.”

Hermione lowered her shields and took a quick peek inside the Durmstrang headmaster’s thoughts.

“…something familiar about her. I know her from somewhere, but where?”

“Well, I believe this is my stop, headmaster. Good day.”

He caught her hand just as she was about to walk away. Moody clutched his wand, ready to defend her if necessary. The headmaster’s dark eyes zeroed in on hers. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

“And good day to you, Miss Granger.”

The headmaster walked away nearly as dramatically as Snape when he tries to make an exit. Moody came over to her and helped her up the steps leading towards the Gryffindor section of the stands.

“You should stay away from Karkaroff, Miss Granger. I know I don’t need to tell you why.”

“Thank you for caring, professor,” she smiled.

“Yeah, well,” he said, looking as though he was attempting to suppress a blush. “Get to your friends. They’re about to start.”

The First Task of the Triwizard Tournament was interesting to say the least. Fleur managed to put the dragon to sleep with her music. But it was Cedric’s attempt that nearly made Hermione attempt an Avada from the stands. He transfigured rocks into a dog. It distracted the dragon long enough for him to grab the egg, but the damn thing still managed to burn Cedric’s face. Hermione wanted to leave the stands immediately and go to Cedric, but she promised Harry she would stay.

I think I may have the solution. All you need to do is close your eyes and concentrate on Cedric.

She followed Meira’s instructions, all the while clutching Ginny’s hand who was just as frightened for Harry. She ignored Viktor’s attempts and let her magic merge with Meira’s. She felt, not exactly herself, but an essence of herself, depart from her physical body and seek out Cedric. He was in the tent with Madam Pomfrey as she muttered to herself about children having no business in such a dangerous tournament.

Cedric was stripped to his boxers with many little scrapes and cuts littering his arms, legs, and chest. His face was a mess of blood, meat and missing skin. Surprisingly, he seemed to be in no pain.

“All right, Mr. Diggory it’s going to take an hour and a half for your burns to heal completely. Just lie there and don’t move.”

He laughed lightly. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere any time soon, Madam Pomfrey.”

Once she was gone, Hermione settled herself in the chair beside Cedric’s bed. He looked so peaceful lying there, even with his skinless face and scratched body. She carefully took his left hand in hers.

“Who’s there?” Cedric said, without opening his eyes.

“It’s me.”

“Hermione,” he sighed, squeezing her hand. “I thought you were going to stay and wait for Harry.”

“I am.”

“…I don’t understand.”

“My body is in the stands, but my essence is here.”

He was silent for so long she thought he had fallen asleep. A gurgling laugh rattled in his throat. “Leave it to you, Granger, to defy even the laws of magic. Can you still see what’s happening?”

Hermione closed her eyes and focused on her body that was pretty much running on autopilot. “It looks as though Viktor is attempting to blind the dragon.”

“Oh, good for him.”

“You really had me worried today.”

He tried to smile and it was a gruesome sight that she found strangely endearing on the usually drop dead gorgeous Hufflepuff. “Then I suppose I will have to make it up to you when I make it out of here.”

“Are you in much pain?”

“Not really. Pomfrey has numbed me and I think she might have slipped me something,” he said sleepily.

“I can stay with you.”

“No, you should…get back to Harry. He may need you.”

“I couldn’t exactly help him if he did, Cedric. Dumbledore has the stands warded with a protective shield to stop anyone from interfering.”

“I doubt that can stop Hermione Granger.”

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “I will be back later. Rest.” She kissed his forehead as he fell into a deep and painless slumber.

By the time she merged with her body, Harry was hiding behind a rock as the dragon tried its best to burn him.

“Oh, god, I can’t watch!” Ginny said, covering her eyes.

“Harry will be fine, Gin,” she said while prodding the shield with her own magic for any holes or weak spots. There was no way she could channel her essence to Harry’s side without being seen. She would be nearly transparent, but the dark swirl that made up her body would draw attention.

Then it looks as though he is on his own for now.

“Seems that way.”

Just when it seemed that Harry would have no other option but to grab his broom and try to out fly the beast, he looked up towards the stands where she stood.

“Did he just wink at you?” Neville asked.

Harry swished his wand in a familiar pattern and Hermione laughed loudly and a little dementedly, frightening a few of her housemates. Suddenly there were eight Harry Potters ducking and dodging the dragon. The crowd went wild and Hermione and Moody shared a smirk. The Horntail was so busy burning the faux Harry Potters to a crisp that it ended up moving away from the egg, giving Harry complete access.

He had the egg in his hand and the judges were announcing his time and points when the Horntail suddenly broke free from its chain. The beast spread its wings wide and pushed its stomach out preparing to send a fireball towards Harry who had been shocked frozen.

Quickly, ‘Mi! Merge your magic again!

Hermione immediately followed Meira’s advice and let their magic merge. Hermione took a portion of the water from the Black Lake and moved it towards the rocks. Everyone stood and watched in awe and horror as the large tsunami quickly approached. Harry looked towards Hermione, and then summoned his broom. He mounted it just as the wall of water came crashing down between himself and the Horntail’s ball of fire. The dragon was toppled and dazed long enough for the trainers to leash it.

“Did I really just see that?” Ginny whispered in the silence of the still stunned viewers.

“I think you did.”

The celebration for Harry’s success in the tournament was in full swing inside the Gryffindor Common Room once Madam Pomfrey cleared him for release. When the party first began, Harry was encouraged to open the egg. But when he did, an awful earsplitting screech emerged. It was a little disconcerting when the egg was a major clue as to what the Champions could expect for the next task.

“I enjoyed your surprise very much, Harry,” she said when he pulled her away from everyone else.

“I enjoyed yours more.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Potter,” she said, taking a sip of her butterbeer.

“Right, of course you don’t.”

Hermione glanced over Harry’s shoulder when she noticed the excited chatter of their housemates thinning to a buzz. Ron approached Harry. He was the perfect picture of repentance. The twins maneuvered everyone out of the room so that they could be alone. Hermione would have left as well, but Ron insisted that she say.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he said, unable to look either of them in the eye. “I was…I acted like…ugh! I’m sorry, all right! I’ve always been in you guys’ shadow. Harry the Brave One. Hermione the Smart One and Ron the Sidekick. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“No, you idiot,” Hermione sighed. “You were the Strong Loyal One. At least you used to be.”

“She’s right, Ron. No matter what anyone else might have said, I never thought of you as a sidekick. You were my best friend and you didn’t believe me even when I swore that I had nothing to do with entering the Tournament.”

“I believed you, Harry,” he confessed. “It just killed me that once again you were going to be the center of attention.”

Sweet Salazar, ‘Mi! How the hell did you put up with this whiny idiot for so long?

“Look, what’s done is done. I’m willing to forgive and forget this. You two are my best friends and I would never have made it as far as I have without you. I need you both.”

Hermione was glad that Harry and Ron worked out their issues, but from the way Ron’s eyes seemed to linger over her body, she knew that their so-called trio would never return to what it once was.

The party ended around two a.m. leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Common Room. Ron was passed out on the couch with his head on Hermione’s shoulder and his arm around her waist. Even in his sleep, he was possessive.

There was a knock on the other side of the portrait hole and Harry went to answer it. Hermione maneuvered herself out of Ron’s grasp. She rolled her eyes when he mumbled her name and clutched one of the throw pillows.

“Hermione?” Harry called, sticking his head in. “Could you come out here please?”

She stepped out of the portrait hole and happily threw her arms around Cedric’s neck. He was completely healed. “You’re all right.”

“Did you expect any less?”

“I’m going to see you guys later,” Harry said, surprising Hermione with his speedy exit down the corridor.

“Where is he going?”

“I think he’s going to go visit Cho.”

“Really? And what, pray tell, will you be doing while he’s with her?”

“That is actually why I came to see you.” He held the egg out in front of him. “Fancy a bit of skinny dipping, Miss Granger?”

A/N: **Pieces of Harry’s conversation with Sirius.

Writing the Dark Lord’s first real scene was awesome! Should I let Moody give him an update on Hermione and the Tournament in the next chapter???

Review and decide!
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

His White Queen: A Prequel