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This Physical Fascination (HG/SS/LM)	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 71591 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and associates own everything Harry Potter including characters and fandom. I do not own any of the aforementioned. I make no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
I apologize for the very, very long wait. My muse went bye bye and I went through some huge personal events. Then my plot bunnies took off and I got a bunch out of my system and onto my hard drive. Now I am fully charged and intent on finishing what I have published before I put anything else (excluding one-shots) out there. I continue to cherish and crave your reviews. If it's been awhile, I suggest you go back and re-read as this chapter briskly takes off from the previous details of the story and if you don't know what is going on you will be completely lost. I hope to have this wrapped up in about 3 chapters, maybe 4. Thanks for your continued patience. I am working on chapter 16 as we speak.

Severus woke with a start, a cold sweat clenching his heart in an icy vise that threatened to constrict the very air from his gasping lungs. He thrashed, grabbing blindly to one side and finding only an empty place where Hermione should have been. All rational thought left his mind as he shook his body from its dumbfounded reaction, donning clothing and doing a quick search of the room and loo. He called upon the House elf that served them, Mouse, and inquired of her, “Have you seen Hermione Granger?”

He refrained just short of grabbing the terrified creature, his look alone enough to send it skittering backwards a few steps.

“Mouse is sorry, Snape, Sir. Missy Granger is gone.”

“What do you mean she is gone! Where has she gone?”

The little elf stuttered and squeaked, now grabbed tightly in long, calloused fingers and held at arm’s length in front of the Potions master, dangling comically in the air.

“You will speak, Elf, and tell me where she has gone or this will be the last you will see of the mortal plane.”

“She has gone to the Hogsmeade!” it quaked, screwing its eyes shut so tightly small tears escaped the corners of its crinkly eyes.

Snape growled, eliciting a fresh squeak from the pathetic creature. Grinding his teeth, he shook the little beast, just hard enough to get his point across.

“What did she tell you about where she is going?” His voice was low with warning, iced over with deadly laces of venom.

“Miss-es Hermione is not telling Mouse where she is gone ‘cept the Hogsmeade, just that she is going alone and not to tells the Snape!”

“Are you absolutely sure she didn’t give you any more information?”

Mouse shook his head violently to and fro, eyes still shut tight.

Bringing the creature close, he whispered, “You will tell me everything you provided for her prior to her departure.”

The elf nodded fervently, eager to get away from the wrath of the Snape.

After a short, further and unfruitful discussion he let the Elf go with a pop. His fists came down hard twice in quick succession against the bed, roaring with frustration as he leapt from the edge, gathered what little he had and made his way down the short hallway to where the young men were waiting. Checking in, he found them finishing up breakfast. Just as he was about to call an Elf for Minerva, the very witch turned the corner from just beyond his temporary quarters, a small embroidered bag in hand; he recognized it with a shudder, as it had been Hermione’s.

“What in Merlin’s name-“ he began, Minerva’s impatient wave silencing him most effectively.

“There’s no time. I’ve been notified that Hogwarts is going to be put under lockdown.”

“Who brought you this information?” he hissed, following her back to the room where his men were housed.

Minerva studied him solemnly, pursing her lips in irritation. “That is on a need-to-know basis only, I’m afraid, and you do not need to know.”

Snape didn’t argue with her but he was not happy with the non-forthcoming answer to his query. “When do we leave with Everett and Lupin?”

“They will be here shortly and Jeffrey will brief you on the plan. Mr. Potter was only able to procure six wands.”

“That isn’t enough!” he hissed, “we’ll be massacred!”

“So you pick your strongest magically inclined members and divide into teams. If any of your possess wandless magic, you can use that to your advantage.”

Severus considered her words, seriously worried with the huge flaw in their plan. “Milton is going to have the place in lockdown, also. Azkaban has tighter security than it used to.”

“Yes, but you are dealing with men now, not Dementors.”

The Headmistress let that information sink into his brain, exasperated when he did not grasp where she was going with her train of thought. Had prison dulled his wits? “Think about it! What do men, locked away for months at a time on a wizarding prison at sea, miss the most about normal life? What would they appreciate having at their fingertips?”

Severus snorted inelegantly. Any fool could answer that question. “Wine, women and song.”

Minerva raised one eyebrow and smiled, holding Hermione’s bag out to him.

“Hermione-“ he breathed, her sudden disappearance and Minerva’s riddles coming together, “she’s gone ahead to provide them with what they crave.”

“Precisely.”

Severus took the beaded bag, fingering it softly and following the pattern of whorls along its surface. Eyes tracing the path his fingertips took, he asked softly, “Did she inform you of her plans?”

Minerva nodded, clarifying, “Yes, however her note was brief. She’s spelled this purse to only open for you or Professor Lupin. Her missive was very specific.”

“Let me read it!” he commanded, snatching the parchment from the older witch’s fingers and turning sharply to afford a moment of privacy as he absorbed its contents. His heart thudded with fear and pride at her cunning, albeit foolhardy Gryffindor bravery. It was a bold plan and would greatly ease their way should it be successful, but at unknown cost to herself or those she planned to enlist in her endeavor.

“You must trust her. Miss Granger always had a knack for ingenious solutions.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, roused from his musings with the arrival of Everett and Lupin, dressed for travel and with their arms full of clothing and supplies for the others.

With a sharp nod he ushered them into the room of the temporary barracks, commanding attention once the gear had been distributed.

“There’s been a slight change of plans,” he began, drawing breath and waving to Everett who explained what they were to do with the assumption Hermione had succeeded with her self-imposed mission. There were a few doubtful faces but in the end everyone was onboard.

Headmistress McGonagall clasped the arms of Jeffrey, Remus and Severus in turn, wishing them Godspeed and a speedy return. As she held tightly to Severus’ forearms, her thumb gliding over his Dark Mark, her eyes captured his dark obsidian and her brogue thickened suspiciously with emotion. “You’ve only just returned to us, you will make sure you are careful. You still owe me two bottles of Ogden’s best for that last match before you – left- when my Gryffindors beat your Slytherins.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of reneging on a bet, my dear,” he replied softly, leaning in and kissing both of her cheeks in turn.

With a distinct sob she bucked tradition and hugged him tightly. Startled, he held his arms stiffly to either side before returning her embrace. To hell with embarrassment; Hermione was opening up his long-suppressed emotions and teaching him how important it was to express himself to the ones he loved, including his close friends such as this mentor who’d seen him through since he’d been a mere lad.

“Godspeed, gentlemen.”

“To Azkaban!”

The room erupted in a roar and when it quieted, they were led back through the same passage they’d come in from, the Headmistress and late-arrived Deputy Flitwick waving until they faded from view.

“Come, Filius, there are preparations to make for the lockdown.”

==========================

“Greg, what did your mother say?” Lucius asked when the young man made his way back to the waiting group. His face was drawn and features pinched for one so young.

“She doesn’t want to get involved.”

“But your family has the ability to sway the others. They’ll listen to your Uncle. Your mother needs to speak with him and gather them.”

“She warned me to stay away from you, said that you were a dirty Blood traitor.”

“Godamnit, Goyle I told you not to mention my name!”

“But she wouldn’t listen to me if I didn’t explain my reasoning!” he cried, covering his face when Lucius advanced on the young man.

Lucius easily picked up the stocky youth a half-foot and shook him, the younger man’s robes bunched in his fist.

“Put your hands down you half-wit. I’m not going to strike you but I’ll be damned if you fuck up our mission. How much did you tell her?”

“I- I told her that I was a part of a group that was trying to free Father from prison. She asked who the leader was and would not speak of it unless I told her your name – I’m sorry!” he quailed, terrified of the fury that sparked from the blond aristocrat’s demeanor.

The other lads stood off to one side, looking down at the ground. Neither wanted to attract the attention of the irate wizard, the infamous former right hand of the Dark Lord. Their fathers had told them tales that curled their hair from very young ages about Lucius Malfoy and his crimes. Although he was purportedly a good guy, they would never shake the horror stories they’d been told from early on to keep them in line.

“Fuck! Must I do everything myself? Very well. Take me to your mother.”

“What are you going to do to her?”

Lucius sneered fantastically. “I am not going to do anything to her,” he spat, emphasizing the one word with contempt. “She is going to summon your Uncle and I am going to call upon the Circle of Pureblood Patrons.”

“But our Fathers are in prison!”

“Silly boy,” he laughed, dropping Greg Goyle onto his feet and stepping away. “The next eldest male relative in line must take up the reins if the Head of the family is unable to do so. In your case, that would be your Uncle, and only your mother, at present, knows of his whereabouts. Once I invoke the Call, she will be forced to reveal and produce him lest he suffer great agony by denying it.”

Greg frowned but kicked a rock angrily as he stalked away. Lucius simply let out a slow breath. The boy was testing his patience sorely, but it couldn’t be helped. These three were the only ones with male kin older than themselves in that lot that weren’t dead, in prison or out of the country, or indeed, as young as themselves. He knew the other young ones wouldn’t be able to handle the depth of power needed that the Call demanded, and surely hadn’t been schooled in its meaning as of yet. It was not a sacrifice he was willing to make. The wizarding world needed their blood to keep its magical lines strong, Pureblood ideals be damned as well.

Now, where the hell was Potter? He should have been back an hour ago. Lucius paced eager to get on with their mission. Every minute that passed was backup his friends did not have and would sorely need.

Finally, Harry trotted into view and grinned.

“Shall we?” Lucius growled, not bothering to greet the young man.

The motley crew was led by a reluctant Goyle past the wards to his Father’s estate and into the back of the small Manor house.

Lucius swore he heard Greg mutter, “Forgive me, Mother,” as they entered but he couldn’t be sure. At any rate he cuffed him for making noise.

With a grunt the lad took it and ushered the others to wait in a little-used parlor just off the back entryway.

Lucius drew himself up in his entirely haughty manner and swept most regally into the tea room the lad had led him into. The clinking of broken china met his ears as Mrs. Goyle clutched her chest and screamed.

With a swift bow, the older wizard strode forward and sat directly opposite the fluttering witch. How typical her histrionics were. He bit back a chuckle and leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

“You have made my little mission most difficult, Madam. It would have gone much better for you if you’d listened to the boy and done as asked. Now, in the name of Merlin, I invoke the Circle of Pureblood Patrons. By my blood, on my father’s grave, I release the life debt he paid the price for nigh on fifty years past, to be settled only upon satisfaction of my mission’s completion.”

“You mustn’t!” the witch cried out but it was too late. A blinding flash lit the room and the tea service clattered as a roar sounded in their ears with deafening suddenness before just as quickly dissipating and leaving them in the former silence.

The calculating Slytherin Malfoy smirked in the direction of Greg’s mother. “I think it best you summon Jeonus Goyle, don’t you, Madam? I imagine he is suffering a bit of pain right about now.”

“You – you monster!” she cried, leaping from her place and turning quickly to the fireplace. “You’ll regret this, Sir!”

A raised brow was all she got in reply and with a furious shriek she threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames to call upon her hidden brother in law.

==================

“Luna? Luna, wake up!” Hermione hissed, shaking the young witch from her slumber.

“Hmmm? Oh, hello, Hermione. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Hermione didn’t bother to wonder anymore about Luna’s source of knowledge. It had long intrigued her but now was not the time for questions.

“I need your help.” The witch bit her lip, hoping that Luna would help her. If she didn’t, than she would have to go by herself and wasn’t relishing the idea of taking on a prison full of randy prison guards, solo.

“Yes I know. The spiralspurts told me.”

“Oh, um, that’s great Luna; say can we talk somewhere more private?”

Hermione looked around nervously at all the family portraits on the walls of Luna’s home. Some of them held sinister looking, shady characters. The woman had interesting taste in décor.

“I’ve gathered all the help you will need. Follow me.”

Mystified, Hermione did as she was bid and gasped when Luna opened a door in a back room filled with sleeping witches.

“I thought you’d be by last night. I’ll have to go get groceries when we get back. They’ve eaten most of my food.”

“Oh, Luna, you’re the best!” Hermione squealed, lifting the surprised blonde girl and spinning her around once.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Luna observed calmly, beginning to shake the gathered women awake.

Surprised murmurs and exclamations were heard as one by one the gathered hugged Hermione. It felt so good to see so many familiar faces. She hadn’t seen most of them since their school days and a few faces she didn’t recognize at all, but she trusted Luna’s judgment. The girl was a blessed enigma. Hermione could never have gathered so many so quickly but they were good choices for what she had in mind.

“You can tell us on the way,” Luna broke into her thoughts.

“Are you reading my mind?” Hermione asked, amazed at the timing of her comment.

“Something like that.” Luna just smiled serenely and handed out brooms.

Hermione hated flying. First her ride with that prat Everett, and now this; she groaned in trepidation.

“You can fly with me, but keep one shrunk on your person just in case you need it. Oh, and the spiralspurts also told me we are going to need a special charm to get past the outer wards and disable them for the men.”

“How did you-“

“Don’t ask. It would take too long to explain and time is of the essence, is it not?”

Hermione nodded, eyes wide as the assembled outfitted themselves and were on the move in less than fifteen minutes. The magical world never failed to stun the Muggleborn witch.

===================

The real Kingsley Shacklebolt groaned as someone nearby cast an Enervate on him, rousing the big, dark man from slumber. Chest hair was brutally ripped from his person and he gritted his teeth, wincing from the awful sting.

“Thanks mate. Just what I need: Polyjuice ala Minister for Magic.”

“They’re going to kill you when they get their hands on you,” Kingsley snarled, lunging against his chains before being flung back from the rebound.

Barty Crouch Jr. laughed madly; adding one chest hair to the vile potion and downing it in one go. His body slowly morphed into that of an exact, although in much better condition, replica of the man imprisoned before them.

Kingsley was sickened when his own voice boomed back at him, “No no, I’m afraid not. They are going to kill YOU, and no one will ever know you are down here because no one but me knows your location.” The deep voice laughed again, the boom filling and ricocheting off the walls of the cell.

“You’re crazy, you know that? You’ll never get away with this!”

“Oh, but I will! See, that fellow Duggan you had locked up? He’s a big, stupid bastard. All I had to do was promise him his old position back and a permanent place for that old flame of his, you know the one, Granger? And he was more than willing to agree to act as my Polyjuiced decoy. Meanwhile, the “rescue” party will get a load of me. So what do you think?”

Barty twirled around, his fine robes cut to fit the large frame he now occupied. “I don’t think I got the hair quite right.”

“I’m bald, you idiot!”

“Quite right, so you are. Pity, might have been less painful for you plucking-wise, but there are plenty more areas on your body to pick from for that purpose. Maybe I can save some of that Mudblood’s lovely hair and have a go.”

“You leave Hermione out of this! Duggan will ruin her!”

The faux Shacklebolt shrugged, twirling Kingsley’s wand between his fingers. “Not my problem. Bint should have kept her legs shut. Witches like her need to be shown their place.”

“I’ll show YOU you’re fucking place, Crouch!” Kingsley roared, lunging fruitlessly again and again, bloodying his wrists as he raged against the Polyjuiced man.

Barty turned, his bulk filling the small, thick metal door deep under the Ministry. “Been nice knowing you, Kings. Oh wait, on second thought, no it hasn’t. Have a nice afterlife!”

His laughter was cut off as the door was shut and Kingsley was left in abject silence, darkness, and his heart dropping into his stomach with the sickening promises Barty had made. Not having been a religious man, he now vowed to spend every moment making any and all promises to the Gods that if he got out of there alive, he’d get to kill Crouch Jr. with his own hands.

And the Gods were listening.
- 14
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This Physical Fascination (HG/SS/LM)