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The Wolf, the Otter, and the Slytherin	By : Tri Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 32025 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the world of Harry Potter. I merely write for fun.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
The cold porcelain felt good against her heated cheek, fully welcomed despite the actual nature of the stone. Hermione closed her eyes as the room started to taken a kaleidoscope tone, even if the colors were gray and dull. She listened to the slow pace of her heart, struggling to find a gentle rhythm of the beats. Instead of a lullaby musical tone, the throbbing of her organ was too out of sync to find a pattern.

A gentle knocking on the door woke Hermione from her thoughts. “Hermione? Are you alright in there?”

Without waiting for a response from her, the door knob twisted and was push open. Cracking open an eye; she saw the black mane of Harry’s unkempt hair. Apparently the moment those brilliant emerald eyes landed on her, caused her friend to jump right into action. Harry lifted her head off the toilet’s seat and juggled her head with one hand as the other summoned up a wet cloth.

“Harry,” Hermione hope her voice didn’t sound as whiney as it felt to her. “Stop it. I’m fine.”

Harry batted back her hands as she tried to, unsuccessfully, swat him away. “You have been saying that for days now and you still look as pale as Neville when there is a test in Potions.”

Hermione sighed, both at the wet cloth pressing against her forehead and at the analogy. “Harry, I don’t want to think about Potion ingredients right now.”

Harry brush back strands of her hair from her face, like a father babying his daughter. There was one thing about Harry that Hermione admired and loathed; his eyes revealed his emotions very clearly. And right now, it was concern for her well-being. She had been seeing that look from him and the others for several days now.

“I don’t like seeing you in this state, Hermione. You barely eat anything and when you do, it usually comes back moments later. I know you have not been sleeping well; I can see the dark circles under your eyes and I have heard you pacing around in your room or the library. This isn’t like when you skipped meals during exam times. There is defiantly something going on with you.”

Hermione took an interest of the grain lines in the wooden sink box next to her. She knew that Harry was just looking out for her but, after the second day of this weird sickness she had been having she didn’t want to have this conversation with the others. It was embarrassing and the stubborn girl she was, she didn’t want to admit to help.

Harry was right, she had to admit under a Cruciatus curse, she had barely slept a full night in two weeks, and what food she could get down, they usually came back with vengeance. She had hoped that this was a minor sickness, a tiny food poisoning, and it would be over in a few days. She had nearly drowned herself with potions to settle her body, with little to no effects.

But now, it was nearly a week and a half since Hermione started to feel even more ill. It was like someone had rammed their fist in her chest and pulled out her lungs, stomach, and heart and replacing it with mush.

“Maybe you need to hold back from all that soul mate business. It is making you stress out far too much.” Harry brought up, sitting on the closed toilet next to her.

Hermione rubbed her eyes, adjusting her sight back to a less dizzy look. Since sleep was an issue now, Hermione had spent her time wisely by reading the translation that Lucius Malfoy gave her and other books with similar subjects. She could not count how many pureblood bias books she read, detailing the importance of binding two purebloods for a successful marriage. Even read books if they had the mere mention of ‘soul’ or ‘soul bonds’.

“I can’t just stop now, Harry. I feel like I need to do more and figure out this issue with Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Hermione…” Harry sighed, frowning in disappointment at her. “You have no allegiance with the Malfoys. They were the ones who…you know…didn’t help us when we were capture.”

Neither Harry nor Ron wanted to bring up the topic of the night she was tortured by Bellatrix in the Malfoy Manor. It was like saying Voldemort’s name out loud all over again. Hermione still had nightmares of that event but, she was trying her hardest to push that back as a bad memory.

“I don’t have the best memories of the Malfoy family, or even happy memories of them. But, you didn’t see what is happening with Mrs. Malfoy, Harry,” sitting up from the tiled floor, she stared at her friend. “I saw what she is going through; it is like torture that you can’t escape from. She was tied up like a pig about to be slaughter and all she knows is madness and pain.”

“But, she-”

Hermione suddenly found herself staring down at Harry, even though the movement of standing up made her feel dizzy, with a renew vigor. “She is also the one who saved you during the Final Battle. We might not like the Malfoys but no one should suffer that fate that she is enduring. I know that I will never be having an intelligent debate with Lucius Malfoy or hanging out with Draco but, no one should watch their love one in agony to the point that they can’t move without hurting themselves.”

“I still don’t see why the Malfoys would ask for your help in this matter. You are brilliant but you aren’t a Mediwitch.”

Harry brought up a good point, something that Hermione had pondered over her sleepless ngihts. “All I can think of as to why is that both Remus and I have been struck by the same curse and still survived. I want to know why we had different outcomes. It was by the same wizard and I know that Remus and I had potions to take. But, I need to find out what went wrong with Narcissa Malfoy.”

With Severus Snape living in the Malfoy Manor, no doubt he made potions for the tortured witch. It didn’t make sense. Could the potions be useless for a woman in her condition?

Harry stared at her for what seem like eternity with his piercing green eyes. At last, he sighed as a smile flirted with his lips. “I have learned that I can’t stop you from researching and not trying to help people. It would be like denying you air. Or taming that mane of yours.”

Smacking him with the wet cloth, Harry winced and rubbed his now damped arm. It was not moments later that Harry and Hermione were laughing together, relishing in this calm before the unseen storm that was edging on the horizon.

==

It was a sea of black and grey color robes as witches and wizards alike crowded on the grounds of Hogwarts. Not since the funeral of Albus Dumbledore had nearly every witch and wizard in the world show up to Hogwarts. Unlike Dumbledore’s funeral, everyone gather on the grounds not to remember just one man but nearly over a hundred witches and wizards. All were there to remember the fallen.

A week since Voldemort had fallen; the Ministry of Magic had been pushy to put forth a memorial to remember the people who died during the war. Pushy was what they wanted Joe Public to know but in reality, the Ministry was hesitate in even acknowledging that so many had died. To Hermione, it felt like they were scared that an Inferi Voldemort might come back to life.

Standing like an ivory tower against the blue background, a white barked tree glisten in the sun light. Leaves of many colors of the rainbow moved gently against the soft wind blowing through, sparkling like precious stones. At the base of the ivory tree was a wooden platform, raised above the ground by a meter and a half. It was decorated with Ministry of Magic’s ensign and banners.

On deck of the platform were a row of seats, which Hermione found herself in one of them. Next to her were Harry and Ron, each as quiet as everyone in the chairs, as the crowd chatted quietly to themselves. Her head throbbed in vengeance, making the flashes of the pictures blinding as a million suns and just as painful. She didn’t mind the photo taking, expect for the bright lights they emitted, but the stares are uncomfortable.

Turning her attention away from the leering people, she looked at the small box in her lap. Barely the size of a shoe box, the wooden box felt as heavy as an elephant sitting down on her. Glancing down the row, everyone held the same simple wooden box in their laps, each a different color. Hers was a dark forest green with a black hue to the stone box. No one really had any idea what was inside those boxes as the Ministry warn them to not open them until they were instructed.

“Miss granger, look this way!”

A bright fire exploded in her eyes, leaving behind tiny rainbow spots in her vision. Once she got over those nauseous producing fog, Hermione could see a tiny (and no doubt a sniveling) wizard ducking away in a wicked giddy.

“Blasted hyenas,” a voice to her left hissed through their teeth. “Reporters are the binnacle of the fiery seas of Hell.”

Hermione rubbed her eyes for good measure. To her left was Ron who looked as stiff as the tree right next to him. He wore his best (and thankfully not a frilly or gum pink) wizarding robes, his rugged red hair swept back. Ron glared at the crowd though Hermione doubt that they cared all about his attempt to stab at them with daggers.

“I thought you of all people who love to be in the spotlight.” Hermione whispered, as to not to draw any more attention.

“Not when I’m display like a prize pig to the whole wizarding world.”

Ron had all the rights to complain. The moment she and her friends step foot on Hogwarts, they were whisk over to an already made platform right near the giant tree. The Ministry wanted the heroes to be put on display so this memorial service would pack a huge punch for their own publicity. Once again, the Ministry wanted to look good. As it was plain as the brightly colored Ministry symbol sporting banners decorated the whole area.

Ron’s voice roused her from her thoughts again. “I thought you would be sitting next to your pet wolf.”

Hermione knew that Ron was teasing but she could defiantly detect a hint of jealousy in his voice. Ron might have the emotional range of a teaspoon but it was those negative emotions that tend to overflow.

“You know that the Ministry assigned seats, Ron. Although…”

Down the row of seats, Hermione could see that the said werewolf was currently being fused over by Mrs. Weasley. Even if he wore his best and less tattered robe, Remus looked a mess. He was whispering words to Mrs. Weasley, probably asking for her to stop mothering him, but his eyes looked dull as stones. Dark circles were heavy more under his eyes, like if someone smeared black coal dust on his eyelids. Hermione guess that he too had been having trouble sleeping.

“Although, he hasn’t been speaking to me as of late,” Hermione sigh. She miss having Remus around, even if they were soul bounded, she liked his company. She missed their discussions and debates that carried into the night. She rather talk to him until dawn rather be spilling her guts into toilets. “So, I rather not pry. I will give him time.”

“You know I will support you through this mess of a relationship,” Ron rubbed his nose to stop a twitch. “But, if you don’t go after him then it would be useless for me to put my feelings aside any longer.”

“Ron?”

“Talk to him, at least. Before I change my mind.”

Just as Hermione opened her mouth to press Ron further, a loud booming voice echo throughout the noisy crowd, pulling a heel stop to the conversations.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Wizards and witches alike! Thank you all for coming to today’s memorial!" the voice of Cornelius Fudge cried over the crowd, his voice booming from the wand pressed against his voice. "We at the Ministry find it absolutely heartbreaking that many of our love ones...friends...family...and colleagues had to pass away so suddenly in the past year. So many great wizards and witches gave their lives to fight for the good cause."

A hush silence blanketed the crowd as each one of them, unify, thought of all those who had died. Hermione remember each face of those who pass away before their time. Their faces forever frozen in their last expression. Those who were a witness to the battle of Hogwarts could remember the bodies lined up like benches in the great hall.

As she viewed through a mental flipbook of dead friends, Hermione was reminded that at least two of the dead bodies were in fact alive, one hiding and the other purposely putting himself into hiding.

Fudge raised his head to face the crowd. "What is a better way of remembering those who died but with a memorial? This tree, donated by Lucius Malfoy family, will celebrate and keep alive the memories of those who are not with us now. Each bud will spring a leaf with a picture and name of those who died from the very start of the war. Among those whose names are in the leaves and also the young wizard who sacrifice his blood, life, and effort, along with his friends, to save us all. HARRY POTTER!"

All eyes turn simultaneously towards the stairs leading up to the platform. Harry had been whisked off after the initial publicity photos. As Harry walk up, everyone in the crowd waited for baited breath like waiting for a legendary hero coming back from a victorious battle. While many of the people along the platform knew Harry to be more of a simple boy, thrust into battle rather a god that many people believed him to be.

Hermione and many others offered Harry a simple smile, all of them happy to be alive together. While Hermione hated all this unwanted attention and Ron was the one who basked in it, Harry had a brave face on as he turn to address the awaiting populace.

Hermione was a tad envious that she hadn’t had the courage or the tolerance to face the flashing bulbs and many people in need of some answers and uplifting words like Harry was giving out by just being there. Harry had mature from a downtrodden boy who was kicked around to a fully grown wizard who emitted respect and bravery.

"I appreciate the Ministry for their effort to remember the fallen. There is many on the tree that I remember, loved, and respected. And there are also those who I have only heard of their greatness. So many people who knew it was their duty to defend this world of ours. Those who survived will remember those dark days and bleak nights where...where many died. But we don’t need a memorial to remember them, to know their deeds. Yet, having a solid mass, full of memories makes it all real. It makes sure the next generation remembers our efforts and sacrifices. It wasn't just effort of one man that saved us from Voldemort, it was all of us. All those who gave their time and even lives, to make all of bright future possible. Thank you."

Thunderous clapping sounded off, following Harry as he took his seat next to Kingsley. Hermione clapped as a hard as her hands could. Harry spoke from his heart, giving an honest speech from his soul. Harry sent her and Ron a tight smile, embarrassed now by the cheers and hoots. Fudge pop up and hurried to the podium, to be washed in the second-hand glory. Raising his hands to settle the crowd, the former Minister of Magic beamed at all the positive attention.

"A great speech by a great young wizard," he smiled like he was a cat with a bowl of milk, licking his lips at the good publicity. "This tree will stand on the grounds of Hogwarts to honor those who came through those doors as young children and came out as heroes. These heroes, the brave witches and wizards who did noble deeds during the war, will stand beside me as we add more leaves to the tree. The leaves will hold onto the names and memories of the people who were given a post mortem Merlin First Class and those who sacrificed themselves for this land. Now-”

“Thank you, Cornelius,” Kingsley stood from his seat, walking with strong legs to the podium, towering over the former Minister of Magic. Fudge looked like he wanted to continue but, with one look from the dark wizard; he backed off and shuffled back to his seat. The Acting Minister stood in front of the public, all in either awe at the towering figure or lifting their noses high in the air. Despite having not been voted in yet, Kingsley was starting to change the Ministry with the limited power he had. Kingsley cleared his throat, his baritone voice echoing through the crowd without the use of a spell.

“This tree will be the keeper of the names and memories of these heroes. Using our resources, we have made raindrops that will fall from each leaf. With a help of a catcher,” a random Ministry employee ran to his side, showing off a white marble bowl, as white as the tree. The employee showed the crowd the small basin. “These enchanted raindrops will continue to fall and land in the basin. Each drop will let everyone see the most heroic moments or personal memories of our heroes, all donated from those who knew them well. The leaves on this tree have yet to full bloom as there are more leaves that need to be added. Leaves with the names and memories of the witches and wizards who were pushed the greater good forward. As you can see, behind me are witches and wizards who helped the cause for the greater good. In each of their laps are boxes. Boxes with one leaf with a memory and name. I believe it will be best if we start with Harry Potter.”

Harry rose from his seat, carrying his ruby red and gray box towards Kingsley. Once at his side, the dark wizard smiled at him before turning to the eager crowd again. “Now, Harry Potter will demonstrate how it is works.”

Every eye was on the pair as their made their way towards the tree. The older wizard gestured for the Gryffindor to open it. Hermione had to crane her head above to see Harry take out the glistening silver and sapphire tinted leaf from the box.

“Our boy here has been given the honor of placing Albus Dumbledore’s leaf to the tree. Harry, if you would get close to the branch,”

Harry nodded, reaching towards the branch hanging low. As his fingers touched the bark, the limb shook and stretched out forward, offering him a tiny twig. Hermione watched in amazement as the leaf snapped to the wooden finger like a magnetic, curled up like a butterfly about to bloom.

The audience clapped loudly as Harry returned to his seat. From where she sat, she could see the all too familiar white beard of Dumbledore etched on the tiny leaf. Once Harry had sat himself down, Kingsley began to call up each name starting from the first chair after Harry’s.

When Remus stood up, he manage only a quick glance at Hermione before approaching the tree. She watched as the werewolf pried up the box and the moment his face sunk in, Hermione knew which leaf he was given. His back tensed up, his shoulders pulling into his body. Remus lifted up a rainbow colored leaf and let the branch take it up to unfold.

Tears were already staining his eyes when he returned to his seat. Everyone knew he would be the one to have Tonk’s leaf; it didn’t need to be questioned. Remus looked on the verge of tears. When his water eyes caught hers, he had a stunned look drawn on his face before it turned into a pained look. As he whipped his head away, Hermione’s stomach formed into cold knots again, as the world began to shake and tumble at the same time. Despite it all, every fiber of her being was telling her to rush over and embrace him, even if he protested. She needed to have him in her arms. She was seconds away from giving in when she heard Kingsley speak.

“Hermione Granger, please step forward!” he instructed.

Hermione jumped in her chair, tearing her sights away from the werewolf. Everyone was looking at her, waiting.

“Hermione?” Kingsley called again, worried.

Hermione face colored from embarrassment. She was so lost in her thoughts that she missed watching the rest of the ceremony. She got up and marched down the platform, feeling everyone’s eyes on her back.

Kingsley joined her side, “Please, open your box and take out your leaf.”

“Alright,” she nodded. She wondered which leaf she was given. Everyone seemed to be given a leaf for someone that was dear to them.

Her fingers found the latch, pushing the tiny piece of metal open and lifted the lid. Inside was a dark emerald leaf, as if it was craved from the precious stone. It laid on the velvet cushion already uncurled, as if it refused to let something else do it. Her breath caught as she looked down at the name.

‘Severus Snape.’

--

Author’s Note: Oh, like I could ever give this story up. I love this story and I love you guys. So, please don’t forget to review and tell me what you think.
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The Wolf, the Otter, and the Slytherin