Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Damaged Bridges	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 46850 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, all rights belong to Rowling and Warner Bros, nor do I make any money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Seeing Stars

For a moment Harry and Hermione stared at each other, still processing the unthinkable but all too likely conclusion that the Ministry had fallen, and that the new Minister - Dolores Umbridge - had made some sort of pact with Voldemort. It was almost too horrible to contemplate, and Hermione knew as well as Harry that most people would never believe it. Most people didn’t know Umbridge like she and Harry knew Umbridge.
The look on Harry’s face was devastating.
Fed up with herself that far from diverting Harry’s angst - that she had in fact only made his and her own moods worse - Hermione let out a furious huff.
“Right, that’s enough of this then,” she said crossly, grabbing her books off the library table and shoving them roughly in her book bag, startling Harry. “I don’t think I can take one more minute of studying.”
“Hermione?”
She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Hermione couldn’t even look Harry in the eye as she continued stuffing the books in her bag; she began gulping air, her chest heaving rapidly, eyes stinging. Her mouth was dry. She felt cold. She couldn’t breathe... Why couldn’t she breathe?
“Hermione!”
“Hermione!” Harry’s voice called out again, sounding more urgent - even from a thousand miles away, she could just make it out as shadows began to swallow her vision and her knees began to shake.
Footsteps came up behind her - she felt his hands on her shoulders - felt them rubbing her arms gently - slipping down to her middle - encircling her waist. Collapsing, Hermione fell back into Harry’s arms, gasping, trying to draw in air as the room spun.
“It’s alright... Hermione, I’ve got you - I’ve got you... Try not to breathe...”
Harry’s voice was in her ear, reassuring as he held her tightly against his chest. Trusting Harry with every fibre of her being, Hermione did as she was told and held what little breath she had for as long as she could then let it out.
“Again,” said Harry.
Hermione obeyed, holding her breath again several times at Harry’s repeated instruction; slowly, surely, she began to breathe more normally. Dizziness fading, Hermione turned around in his arms and wrapped her own around him, her tears dripping onto his shoulder.
“Thank you Harry,” she murmured. “I can’t remember the last time I hyperventilated that badly... not since I was little. The closest I came was in third year when all those Dementors swarmed you and you fell off your broom. I almost did when I thought you might be d...d...dead... but Madam Hooch said you were still breathing...”
Hermione shivered briefly and an image flickered in Harry’s mind, a scene replayed from third year. Hermione’s rain-soaked distraught features - her puffy bloodshot eyes as she stood closest to his hospital bed clutching his hand, surrounded by the mud-splattered quidditch team and Ron - her squeak of distress when Alicia had said that they’d all thought Harry had been killed - Harry could see and hear everything as if it had been yesterday.
Harry tried to suppress his sudden stab of guilt at having stirred such feelings in Hermione. She had always taken his safety so personally - always taken it hard whenever he’d been injured or in pain - always gone out of her way to protect him even at the risk of their friendship, or her own safety...
Her safety... Another horrible thought suddenly struck Harry as he cuddled Hermione. If Voldemort really was running the Ministry now, through Umbridge, how long would it be before he started going after everyone close to Harry.
Umbridge knew Hermione - knew she was closer to Harry than just about anyone else. Hermione had been the one to come up with the plan to lead Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest in an effort to save Harry from torture; it had been Harry and Hermione alone in the Forest with the Toad. There was no way Umbridge would forget that anytime soon.
Harry reckoned that Hermione was safe enough at Hogwarts for now, as long as Dumbledore was in charge - but what about her parents?
“Come on,” said Harry gently, giving Hermione’s bushy head a kiss as he rubbed her back. “We need to go see Dumbledore.”
Hermione lifted her head from Harry’s shoulder and peered into Harry’s green eyes, feeling slightly puzzled.
“I don’t think there’s really anything he can do, Harry...” she began.
“...Not about the Ministry at the moment, that’s true,” Harry agreed.
“Then what...?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” said Harry, not wanting to worry Hermione too soon, “when we get to Dumbledore’s office.”
Hermione bit her lip and frowned, wondering why Harry was being so mysterious, then she nodded, reasoning that she’d know soon enough.
“Alright then Harry,” she agreed resignedly. Harry gave Hermione a little smile and took her by the hand, leading her from the library.
Dora, who was guarding the entrance of the school library, glanced at Harry and Hermione questioningly when the door opened and they emerged.
“You two alright?” she asked, noting Hermione’s slightly puffy red eyes.
“Er, I am now,” Hermione replied, nodding. “Harry just thought we should go see Dumbledore.”
Dora took one look at Harry and suddenly understood.
“Right! Umbridge...” Dora sighed. “Dunno how the Order’s gonna deal with this,” she muttered, leading Harry and Hermione through the drafty stone corridors as they made their way to Dumbledore’s office.
Hermione stiffened when they turned a corner. Harry looked to see who she was scowling at and spied Nott, Crabbe and Goyle huddled by a bay window peering at a piece of parchment. For a moment Harry and Nott caught each other’s eyes, and the hairs rose on the back of Harry’s neck. Nott shoved the parchment in his pocket and gave Dora a sneering look before he turned around and stalked off with Crabbe and Goyle..
“That kid is trouble,” said Dora, frowning. “His father got chucked in Azkaban too, after St Mungo’s sorted him out. I wouldn’t put it past ‘im to be cookin’ up some sort of revenge.”
“Oh...” Harry suddenly remembered Hermione locking a door in the Department of Mysteries after he’d slammed it shut, and hearing an odd squelching sound from the other side then Lucius Malfoy yelling at the others to leave an injured Nott behind.
“That explains it then,” Harry continued. “He’s up to something, but I couldn’t tell what.”
Hermione glanced at Harry anxiously. “Harry, did you just try...?”
“...a bit of Legilimency? Yeah,” Harry nodded. “But I didn’t get much. Just an idea that he wanted revenge for something, like Dora said. I wonder why he never tried to have a go at me before like Malfoy did though.”
“Maybe... maybe he knew Malfoy had some sort of plan, and was thinking it involved getting back at you,” Hermione suggested uncertainly.
Harry looked a bit disconcerted, then nodded as it seemed the most likely explanation. The three of them continued on their way until they finally reached the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office. After riding the spiral stairs to the top, Dora rapped the brass door knocker three times.
Upon entry, Fawkes ruffled his feathers letting out a little trill and someone already engaged in conversation with the headmaster turned to look at the new arrivals. Moody’s eye swiveled as he glanced appraisingly at each of the trio.
“Ah, there you are, please be seated,” said Dumbledore, gesturing towards three chintz armchairs, looking for all the world as if he had been expecting them.
“What took you three so long?” chuckled the grizzled ex-Auror.
“Er...” said Harry, feeling a bit taken aback.
“Don’t tease ‘em, Mad Eye!” Dora snapped. “They were just trying to get on with things without gettin’ all worked up...”
“...and failing miserably,” Hermione admitted ruefully.
“Indeed,” sighed Dumbledore, rubbing at his forehead which was crinkled with worry. “The situation could plausibly be even more alarming than it may appear to the general public.”
“Do you think this means it’s true then?” asked Harry, “...that Voldemort has secretly taken over the Ministry?”
“Alas, of that, we cannot be certain,” Dumbledore replied. “It could be that Dolores Umbridge has played her own hand to take control of the Ministry, using the threat of Voldemort as a convenient scapegoat for Scrimgeour’s disappearance, or that she has made a pact with Voldemort... Both of which are equally dire conclusions that we may draw, and neither of which are mutually exclusive to the notion that Dolores is now directly working on behalf of Voldemort.”
“She could be hopin’ to play the Death Eaters and the Order off each other, and being in a position to pick up the pieces and consolidate power after both sides have weakened each other,” growled Mad Eye. “Either way - whichever scenario proves true - Umbridge spells trouble with a capital T. ... There’s no doubt she’ll be going after Dumbledore hard, and she’s probably already tryin’ to figure out a way to go after you again, Potter.”
“Er... That’s actually what I wanted to talk about,” said Harry, his eyes flickering nervously towards Hermione. “I, er... I was thinking about Hermione’s parents... I was hoping we could get them somewhere safe - maybe out of the country....”
“Harry!?” squeaked Hermione, her eyes wide with shock. “What...? You never said...”
“I didn’t want to worry you again too soon, Hermione...” Harry peered at her apologetically. “Even if Voldemort doesn’t really know you, Umbridge does, and she already hates you almost as much as she hates me...”
“Is this true?” Moody’s eye spun grotesquely and came to a halt on Hermione. She nodded.
“Yes, I expect so. It’s more or less my fault she got carried off by the Centaurs,” Hermione moaned. “She was going to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry,” she added defensively.
“Bollocks!” Mad Eye swore. “Potter’s right, Albus. We gotta move the Grangers as soon as possible...”
“I quite agree, Alastor,” said Dumbledore, looking even more disturbed. “This also brings another serious problem to mind... Returning to Little Whinging for the summer is now out of the question for Harry. Though Harry is untouchable by Voldemort or his Death Eaters at Privet Drive, his residence is accessible to the Ministry.”
Harry’s breath caught; he stared at Dumbledore, his expression now as stunned as Hermione’s. Harry had always hated going back to the Dursleys every year for at least half the summer, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about not going back under the current circumstances. As horrible as the Dursleys were, Harry wasn’t sure that he could live with himself if anything really dreadful happened to them - well, maybe he could if it was just Uncle Vernon. Harry squashed that last thought, feeling guilty just for thinking it.
“What... what about the Dursleys, then?” Harry asked when he found his voice. “They’ll have to be moved too, won’t they? The charm you placed on me based on my mum’s sacrifice protects them too, doesn’t it?”
“Yes Harry,” Dumbledore agreed. “The day you no longer call your Aunt’s residence home, it will become an attainable target for Voldemort.” Dumbledore turned his attention back to Moody. “Very well, Alastor, our first order of business is decided for us. If you would please begin making the necessary arrangements for protecting the Grangers and the Dursleys. I believe Harry’s suggestion - moving them out of country while we have the chance - is our best option.”
“I’ll get right on it, Albus,” Moody growled, clambering to his feet. “Potter, Granger, keep your hair on. We’ll have your folks moved in the next few days. If you wanna send a message to personally give ‘em a heads up, let me know by this evening. In the meantime, step up your combat trainin’ - don’t be afraid to practice dangerous spells and curses, you’ll be needing them. And keep yer eyes peeled - constant vigilance.”
And on that last note, Moody lurched, clomping out of the headmaster’s office. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Hermione took his hand and smiled at him gratefully.
“Well, Harry,” said Dumbledore, “now that we have that situation in hand, is there anything else you wished to discuss?”
Harry hesitated, then decided to just say it. “Er... I think Nott might be up to something,” he tentatively offered. “Except I reallydon’t have anything to go on but a feeling this time,” he added with a sheepish grin.
Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, and he looked slightly abashed himself. “Well, I must say Harry, your intuitions are oft more accurate than not. But for the moment, Harry, until we have more to go on, it would behoove us all to simply follow Professor Moody’s sage advice, and maintain our vigilance.”
“But you and Hermione ‘ave already got loads on your plate,” Dora chimed in. “So take Mad Eye’s comment about training harder with a grain of salt. You could both use a bit more downtime if you ask me.”
“Tonks has a very good point,” said Dumbledore. “Professor Moody sometimes forgets that this is not the Auror Boot Camp. I would suggest you take advantage of your spare time to make the best of things while you still can...”

~o0o~
Feeling much better about things after visiting Dumbledore with Harry, Hermione knew there was one thing Harry always found cheering. Well, more than one thing these days, but the other could come later.
“Dumbledore’s right, Harry,” said Hermione as they traipsed back to their quarters to drop off their books. “I was thinking the same thing when I, er, lost it earlier. Maybe... maybe we should fly around for a bit - it’s nice and sunny out today.”
Harry raised his eyebrows and smirked a bit at her. “You sure about that Hermione? We could always do a bit of light reading if you’d rather.”
“Prat!” Hermione rolled her eyes and swatted Harry’s shoulder. “I’m trying to cheer you up now. Anyway, I can always ride on your broom with you, where I know I’ll be safe... as long as Smith isn’t whacking bludgers at us.”
The remnants of a dream suddenly flickered in Harry’s frontal lobes - a rush of wind - a whiff of spearmint toothpaste - and the sensation of Hermione’s arms around his waist. Slowly he nodded.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, grinning, “That’s a brilliant idea Hermione!”
Hermione had been right, Harry thought as he made his way down to the front lawn, his firebolt in one hand, and Hermione’s hand in his other. There was barely a cloud in the sky and almost no breeze; it was the warmest day yet, and there was a hint of honeysuckle in the air
The sun caught the golden highlights of Hermione’s ringlets; Harry smiled at her as he climbed on his broom. Nervously, Hermione clambered up behind him and clasped her arms tightly round his middle.
“You ready Hermione?”
“Er... yes,” she squeaked.
“Then hang on tight,” said Harry, kicking off.
There was a whoosh, and Hermione let out a little squeal as they soared up into the sky. At first she squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to Harry for dear life, her face buried between his shoulder blades, but gradually she began to relax.
This was nothing like the terrifying flight to London on the back of an invisible Thestral, or flying on a broom on her own, afraid that she might drop out of the sky at any moment. Feeling safer snuggled against Harry’s back, knowing that he would keep her aloft, Hermione gradually opened her eyes again and leaned her chin on his shoulder.
Hermione felt a surprising little tingle of arousal as the broom shuddered when Harry banked hard, circling one of the turrets of the castle and heading towards the lake; she hadn’t expected that.
Harry swooped down low over the treetops and then buzzed the shimmering surface of the lake. As her bushy hair billowed behind her, the fine spray of mist stung Hermione’s face and the tingle of elation surged, flooding her senses. Unable to help herself, she let out a little moan.
Mistaking Hermione’s trembling and squeaks for terror, Harry hastily set the broom down in the midst of a copse of huge, gnarled oaks at the edge of the lake in the woods on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.
“Hermione, are you al...?” Harry’s concerned query was cut off, and he was surprised to suddenly find himself flat on his back in the underbrush, Hermione’s lips crushed against his as she straddled his waist.
Several squirrels nearby - as startled as Harry himself - scampered up one of the trees into the branches and chittered crossly at the interlopers below.
“Hermione, what the...?” he gasped when their lips briefly separated, starting to sit up. Harry was cut off once more when Hermione pushed him back down and snogged him madly again.
Harry grinned, half-dazed when their lips parted a second time, still not quite comprehending what was going on until he realised that Hermione had tugged off her jeans and was reaching for his belt. His eyes nearly fell out of his head.
“Er... Hermione...?” His voice was several pitches higher than normal. “You... you’re not planning on doing what I think, are you?”
“Why not?” She briefly halted and peered at him imploringly, her eyes full of longing. “I love you and I want to be with you! I’m ready Harry! ... I am! Really! ... But... but only if you’re ready too, of course!”
Harry swallowed nervously. “I love you too, Hermione. B...b...but, we’re outside...” he stammered.
“So?” Hermione bit her lip, turning pink and fluttering her eyelashes, feeling slightly embarrassed. “... That just makes it even nicer! Anyway, you picked the perfect spot - no-one hardly ever comes to the forest except us, and nobody can see us here unless they come in from the lake - there’s trees and bushes all around us. We’re completely enclosed.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry wondered if recent events somehow had something to do with Hermione’s sudden impulsive behaviour. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her in a vulnerable situation.
“Er... Are you sure about this Hermione?”
Hermione nodded vigorously.
“Yes Harry!” she said, continuing to give him a hopeful look.
Hermione thought about saying a bit more, but thought better of it, not wanting to spoil the mood. She wasn’t quite sure that there was any good way to say that this was the loveliest circumstance she could imagine in which to have a proper “first-time” with someone she truly loved - the way she had always dreamed it would be.
Hermione’s yearning expression was more than Harry could bear. He felt himself melting in her big brown eyes, which shone golden as they sparkled in the beams of sun piercing the leafy canopy above, and knew that he’d never be able to refuse Hermione a thing ever again when she looked at him that way.
“Okay then,” said Harry, grinning soppily, “But what about... you know, protection? I haven’t learned the charm...”
“I’ve been taking a potion since we started messing around a bit,” Hermione admitted, blushing as she began eagerly undoing Harry’s belt, “just in case I felt ready while we were, er... going at it. Now shut up and help me get your jeans off,” she giggled.
Harry didn’t need any more encouragement. Moments later Hermione was down to bra and knickers and Harry, his tenting boxers, the rest of their clothes having been shed and transfigured (by Hermione of course) into blankets.
Heart racing, her breath quickening, Hermione unclasped her bra letting it fall where it may, and peeled off her knickers while Harry nervously slipped out of his boxers. Harry looked so anxious, Hermione was sure he was worried about about triggering a nasty reaction and knew she would have to take the lead.
Hermione straddled Harry’s middle again, and he flinched ever so slightly when her bare inner thighs and her wetness connected with his abdomen. She leaned over, taking his hands and placing them on her breasts as she kissed Harry steamily again.
Electrifying tingles coursed through Hermione with Harry’s every touch, and when his tentative squeezes and gentle tweaks grew firmer and more confident, and his hands roamed from her breasts to her hips and the small of her back, grasped and kneaded her bum, Hermione knew that Harry was well and truly relaxed - as relaxed as anyone could be in the heat of passion in any case.
She felt Harry’s stiffness prodding a bottom cheek when she ground her humid crescent against Harry’s belly, panting, her senses enflamed. Then slowly, gingerly, Hermione lowered herself until she felt the crown of his shaft nestled between the folds of her heated entrance.
Hermione let out a little cry of pleasure as she slid down Harry’s length, feeling him inside her for the first time, filling her. Burning with desire, Hermione rode Harry as she leaned over and showered his face with little kisses.
Harry, who had been girding himself for signs of distress, inwardly sighed with relief and began to meet the movement of Hermione’s hips, growing bolder and giddier with each thrust, picking up speed as his confidence increased with Hermione’s every moan of joy.
The fervor grew, an inferno blazing through them both. Hermione rolled onto her back, pulling Harry atop her, tilting her hips and folding her legs around his backside, allowing him greater access, in the process sliding off the blanket.
But Hermione didn’t care, the moss and fallen leaves digging into her backside only intensifying the experience, squealing with every lunge as Harry rocked her, shuddering as gusts of ecstasy swept through her one after the other.
Harry’s breathing grew ragged, the delicious friction of Hermione’s sheath clinging to his plummeting lance more intoxicating than he had imagined - even more-so when iridescent green eyes met gleaming gold.
Hermione didn’t think that the cascade of climaxes could get any more intense, but when her eyes connected with Harry’s green gaze, the crescendo reached new heights and she lost herself as they merged as one.
Harry felt as if he were soaring through a starry night with Hermione when the whirlwind of bliss caught him in its grasp and swept him along for the ride. He stiffened and groaned, releasing a torrent of his essence in rapid pulses, flooding Hermione’s vessel.
Hermione clutched Harry tightly, adrift in a sea of multicoloured stars, yet intensely cognizant of Harry deep inside of her - body and soul - his beads of sweat against her skin. The very ground seemed to shake beneath her, and the stars seemed to burst like fireworks...
There was a cracking sound, a loud “Eeeep!” - another squeal, and then two thumps and two loud “OW!”s.
Harry and Hermione were both brought back to earth so quickly, that it took them a moment to realise what was happening. Harry was the first. Blushing furiously, he snatched the blanket from the ground next to them and whipped it over himself and Hermione.
“Blimey!” he groaned. “Ginny, Luna... what the hell?”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” moaned Ginny, clapping a hand over her eyes.
Ginny was sprawled on the ground where she and Luna had both apparently fallen after tumbling from the top of one of the massive oak roots which enclosed the tiny glade by the lakeshore. Luna stared, rubbing a bruise on her forehead, her big silvery grey eyes even larger than usual.
Hermione wanted to ask Luna and Ginny if they were alright, but “Wh...what are you two doing here?” emerged from her mouth instead.
“This is our spot,” said Luna suddenly grinning. “It’s where Ginny and I usually come to snog and have sex... Ow!” she added at the end when Ginny swatted her shoulder and moaned, “Lunaaa... shut up!”
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Why?” Luna asked Ginny. “It doesn’t matter if Harry and Hermione know about us. They’re our friends. Besides we just saw themhaving sex... it’s only fair that they should know we have sex too.”
“We didn’t really see anything...” said Ginny, who still had her hand over her eyes.
“Yes we did,” said Luna. “Well, just a bit anyway, when we fell. Mostly we just saw all the light until we hit the ground.”
“Er... Are you alright then?” Hermione finally managed to ask, her brow creased with concern. “What happened?”
“You two - I think,” said Ginny. “We had just climbed up onto the root from the other side - then there was some sort of little earthquake... and some sort of rainbow coloured lightning, almost like fireworks. We lost our footing and fell...”
“...and that’s when we saw you just finishing,” Luna added. “The lightning - it was sort of bursting from the two of you. I think it must have been accidental magic... But I think it must be quite rare for that to happen when wizards have sex, or you’d hear about it more often.”
“Though I swear there were a few sparks last time with us, Luna,” Ginny suddenly smirked, apparently getting over her own initial embarrassment as she peeked out from between her fingers.
“Hmm... I still think it might have been Fairy lights - Fairies are drawn to witches who love each other - but maybe you’re right, Ginny,” Luna said kindly. “Anyway - that was nothing compared to Harry and Hermione’s sex-magic.”
“That’s true,” Ginny agreed, dropping her hand away from her face altogether now that she was sure Harry and Hermione were covered up. “The whole earth shook, and there was so much lightning... Luna’s right - it’s really rare as far as I know. Has it happened to you two before?”
“Er... first time... I mean this was our first time having, er... sex - going all the way I mean,” Hermione said a bit squeakily, her cheeks blazing bright red. “I didn’t even know that could happen,” she admitted.
“It’s just something I’ve overheard Mum talk about with her friends,” said Ginny. “They’re always hoping that one day it’ll happen to them. It’s supposed to be a sign that two people are really in love, or really meant to be together. But the most that usually happens to most people is a few sparks... I think.”
Harry turned a bit pink when Ginny gave him and Hermione a significant look. He felt a bit weird about things, considering that just a few months ago he had been wondering if there might be anything between him and Ginny. But Harry also felt extremely relieved that Ginny was apparently well and truly over her crush on him.
“So, er... you and Luna? You’re definitely not planning on getting back with Dean then?” he asked, trying to sound casual, which was difficult when he and Hermione were both still naked and huddled together under a blanket.
“Yeah, Dean was alright - don’t get me wrong - but we were arguing too much... over the stupidest things! I couldn’t see being with someone who annoyed me all the time like that.” Ginny glanced at Hermione, half-smiling. “It’s much nicer being with someone who you get along with better.”
Ginny’s meaning was unmistakable and Hermione reddened again. Then Ginny grinned and peered adoringly at Luna.
“Besides, Luna’s a better kisser,” she concluded. “Not to mention she’s much sweeter.”
Luna blushed and grinned, fluttering her eyelashes shyly. “I love you too, Ginny.”

~o0o~
After dressing while Luna and Ginny had both covered their eyes, Harry and Hermione had both flown back up to the front lawn of the castle, where they spotted Dora looking relieved to see them both returned safe and sound.
Having recovered from the embarrassment of being caught in the act by Ginny and Luna, Harry and Hermione both felt vastly cheered and in a much more positive frame of mind about the future. Entering the castle and heading back to their quarters to clean up, Harry felt more clearheaded than he could remember feeling in ages.
“D’you want to study a bit Hermione?” he asked as they waited for the moving stairs to reach the right landing. “I think I’m actually up for it now.”
“Oh!” said Hermione, looking a bit surprised. “Alright, I think I’m up for it too then. Where do you want to study?”
“Maybe the Gryffindor common room for a bit, now that I’m in a good mood.”
A short while later, when the pair entered the common room, they found Ron slumped on a sofa looking a bit gloomy as Lavender cuddled him, apparently trying to console him.
“What’s up?” asked Harry.
Ron pointed at the sign on the wall, announcing the date of the Apparition Licensing Test: the twenty-first of April.
“I’m still rubbish,” Ron moaned. “I haven’t managed to Apparate even once yet.”
“I haven’t either, Ron,” said Lavender, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sure we’ll get it though. We both just need to practice more.”
“And I won’t even be able to take the test until my birthday in July,” Harry pointed out, hoping it would make Ron feel better. Even though Harry knew he was technically emancipated, and could take the test on April twenty-first if he wanted to, the emancipation had been done surreptitiously, and there was no way that Harry was going to give the Ministry a chance to figure it out under the current circumstances.
“Yeah, but at least you know how, Harry,” Ron grumbled. “You and Hermione have done it loads of times. You’ll have no trouble getting your Apparition Licence.”
“Well, there’s no point worrying about it anymore right now, Ron,” Lavender insisted, rolling her eyes. “Look, you’ve still got that essay to finish for Professor Moody about Dementors. Why don’t you try and finish it, and then we’ll snog for a bit.”
But even the promise of a snogging session did little to improve Ron’s mood. He scowled when Lavender set his parchment and quill in front of him with a remarkably Hermione-ish expression on her face. Sighing, Ron picked up his quill and began to scrawl.
Having both completed their own essays on Friday, Harry and Hermione left Ron to it with Lavender, and began revising their essays for Professor Slughorn. Harry pulled out the Prince’s book and Hermione curled up on the sofa next to him, peering over his shoulder as they compared their essays with the book and the Prince’s annotations. Hermione frowned at an incantation scribbled in the margin of the page which had caught both of their eyes.
“Sectumsempra,” said Harry. “I wonder what that one does?”
“‘For Enemies,’...” Hermione muttered. “I’m really happy we’re sharing the book now Harry, but I think this spell proves that whoever had the book was a bit dodgy. It’s obviously a nasty cutting curse of some sort. The Latin means ‘always cutting’ or ‘sever forever’ in English, depending on how it’s translated.
“It’s probably a variant of Diffindo which leaves permanent damage. A limb which was cut off with it couldn’t be reattached, or a gash would leave a permanent scar, unless there’s a specific countercurse.”
“Oh!” said Harry, feeling shocked, his faith in the Prince slightly shaken. “I... er.... that’s horrible.”
Hermione chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “Still, it might be worth learning I suppose,” she said slowly. “It could be useful against something charmed to resist a normal severing spell...”
“Oi! ... Harry, Hermione!” a familiar voice called out. They both looked up from the Prince’s Potions book to see Dora’s head sticking through the portal into the Gryffindor common room.
“You’re wanted in Dumbledore’s office,” said Dora, her eager expression speaking volumes.
Hurriedly, Harry and Hermione packed their books and essays back in their bags and slung them over their shoulders. Ron looked up from his essay, gawking in bewilderment as they disappeared through the portal.
“Ahem,” said Lavender sharply, “eyes back on your parchment mister. The sooner it’s finished, the sooner we can have some fun...”

~o0o~
When Harry, Hermione, and Dora burst into Dumbledore’s office, their nostrils were assailed by stench of stale alcohol and pipe tobacco, and their eyeballs fell upon the strange sight of a gleeful Kreacher perched atop a prone scruffy-looking, paunchy wizard lying on the Persian Rug. Dumbledore himself sat at his desk, serenely observing the situation, his fingers steepled.
“Master,” croaked the House-Elf, looking very pleased with himself, “I have him - the sneak-thief Fletcher.”
“Oh bloody ‘ell!” groaned Mundungus Fletcher when he spied Harry. “I shoulda’ known! ... I’m sorry alright! I didn’ know Sirius’d left ‘is loot t’you, ‘Arry... I didn’ mean nuffink by it - I wouldn’t’ve nicked it if I’d known it was yours. I mean it - I’m sorry! ... Albus, get this bleedin’ ‘ouse-elf offa me!”
“Not just yet, Mundungus,” said Dumbledore, the barest hint of a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not certain that a mere apology will be quite enough this time - but you and I shall sort that out later. In the meantime, Harry and I have some questions for you. Harry, do you wish to do the honours?”
Harry glowered at the slovenly wizard on the floor, taking some satisfaction in the fact that Mundungus had some scratches and bruises on him, no doubt dispensed by an enraged Kreacher. Hermione shot Mundungus a look of disgust and Dora outright smirked at his disheveled state.
“Professor Dumbledore’s right,” said Harry coldly, “Sirius was supposed to be your friend, and you betrayed him - you betrayed his memory! I’m not interested in your feeble apologies. I’m interested in finding some of the stuff you stole...”
“Look, if you want them goblets - it’s too late. They’re all gone... ”
“Not the goblets, no,” Harry growled. “But if you’ve got any of the other stuff left, I’ll have it back - especially the pictures of Narcissa and Bellatrix, or Sirius’s mother’s gloves...”
“You can ‘ave that lot,” said Mundungus, giving Harry a funny look. “Couldn’ even give that stuff away, could I? Dunno wot you wan’ it for though...”
“For Kreacher, it’s all he had left to remind him of his family - people he cared about,” Harry snapped, trying his hardest to keep his anger in check. “Anyway, the golden locket that was in the kitchen cupboard - where is it? What did you do with that?”
“O’ course! Reckoned you’d want that back,” Mundungus snorted. “Prolly the only valuable bit left at the ‘ouse weren’ it? ... and the fucking Hag wouldn’ even fork over a knut for it...” Mundungus trailed off, catching Dumbledore’s raised eyebrows at his salty language.
“Who? ... Who wouldn’t give you a knut?” Harry pressed on eagerly.
“Dunno, some Ministry bi...” Mundungus thought better of his verbiage, catching Dora and Hermione’s narrowing eyes. “Some Ministry Witch,” he amended himself. “Frumpy little woman in a pink cardigan - barely bigger than a goblin - stupid little bow on ‘er ‘ead... looked like a toad.”
Harry’s breath caught and he gaped at Mundungus, aghast. He glanced at Dumbledore, his eyes as big as saucers. “Professor, d’you still have the morning paper?”
“Indeed I do, Harry.” Professor Dumbledore wearily lifted the Daily Prophet from his desk, and held it up so that Mundungus Fletcher could see it.
“THAT’S ‘ER!” Mundungus shouted angrily, forgetting himself. “That’s the bloody bitch ‘oo made me give up the locket. Threatened to fine me if I didn’t ‘and it over to ‘er...”
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Damaged Bridges