Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Balaur	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 25216 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP nor do I profit in any way from these missives. I almost own the laptop I'm writing this fanfic on, tho'.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
“Luv? We don’t have to go if you’re not feeling well.”

In a half-Weasley household, the well-meaning offer was met with sounds unbecoming the kindness — but it couldn’t be helped.

“No,” barely wafted through the open door to the loo, “Hermione promised me her potion would work. I got busy and forgot to —”

Another round of heaving and cramping hastened the devoted husband’s pace to assist.

“Sip — no, don’t argue! Sip this. I think you left most of the last dose over there.”

The hand speed of the seeker initially prevented the frustrated and impatient expectant mother from turning the vial up and chugging the contents.

“Mum! Mum! Bay-bee-Bay-bee-Bay-bee! MUUUUMMM-EEEE!”
“JAMES! Come here, son — give Da-da that broom!”

Harry gave chase to the 1-year-old second generation "Marauder" in their home as Ginny returned to the loo to deposit the potion she’d finished swallowing too fast.

“That’s much better,” Harry’s wife sighed as she re-entered their bedroom in Grimmauld Place to watch the merry chase James Sirius Potter gave his father: the same playtime routine they’d repeated every day since Harry snapped and got himself placed on extended medical leave.

The trigger was two-part: aurors cornered Fenrir Greyback — the predator who’d turned Harry’s godfather, Remus Lupin, as a schoolboy — in a house in Surrey whose significance was lost on the older aurors, recruited and pressed into service by a Ministry desperate for experienced Death Eater pursuers. Following the tracer by broom took Harry down streets, past a playground and up a driveway well-known to him. In the home, Vernon Dursley leaned his substantial bulk against the door — from the inside of the tiny cupboard under the stairs — in a losing effort to keep away from the werewolf he didn’t believe existed.

Shouting charms to open doors in front of him, Harry’s broom swooped through the damaged front entryway and stopped abruptly in the vestibule where Fenrir clawed at a merely muggle wooden door about to give way. Lifting his wand, the Boy-With-A-Painful-Past prepared to cast the first of what should’ve been the standard aurors' spells for subduing a werewolf.

Instead, the 23-year-old head of the “hunt for the dark and dangerous” squad screamed —

“Avada Kedavra!”

— to the shocked expressions of his staff. The curse, forbidden to all under the British Ministry’s authority, always brought the Head Auror to perform the arrest of the caster: except this time (for obvious reasons).

“Harry, let us deal with Greyback. That’s your family in there, i’n’t? See to them, mate.”

An always-earnest Ernie Macmillan rushed his older colleagues along to eliminate any evidence of their boss’ law-breaking, then selectively modified their memories of which spell Harry’d cast. With the threat handled, a blinkered, blustering — and very bothered — Vernon Dursley exited the cupboard to stare at his rescuer.

“This is YOUR doing, boy! Should’ve never let you set FOOT in this house. Got Dudley yammering on about magic and some nightmare creature he calls ‘Dementors’! All your fault, you FREAK! LOOK at this DAMAGE! Who’s going to pay for my…”

The steady stream of ungrateful vitriol came to a sudden stop when Harry walked calmly towards the obese bigot, wand raised again, and shot him a chilling grin.

“ ‘ello, ‘Uncle’ Vernon. See you haven’t done much with the place,” and Harry kicked at the remains of the door used to jail him in as a child, alone and without comfort or love in the cramped darkness.
“Now, b-b-boy… Don’t get any ideas! I’ll have Dudley thrash you soundly — don’t come closer!”

The wand tip pressed the rolls of fat on Vernon Dursley's sweaty neck in further than they’d been in decades. Now that he had a neck, thanks to all that fat.

“You’ll do nothing of the kind. You’ll stand there and do whatever I tell you to. Imperious!”

In seconds Harry’s uncle found himself on his knees (an extremely uncomfortable position for a man of his heft) bowing before Harry.

“I understand, actually. You didn’t want me in your home after my mother’s violent death. But you could’ve ignored me when I lived here. It isn’t like it cost you anything to keep me. Dumbledore sent thousands of pounds every month for my upkeep. You spent them on Dudley, didn’t you? Certainly didn’t bother to fix up this dump.”

One of three surviving relations on his dead mother’s side of the family stared owl-eyed and softly whimpered from his uncomfortable position on the floor and his uncomfortable position in Harry’s graces. Harry’d released the Imperious as quickly as he’d cast it so his uncle would experience every second of this confrontation. For the first time, Vernon Dursley understood that his nephew had long had the ability to kill him — counterbalanced by the restraint not to do so. Restraint did not enter the house with Harry today.

“You didn’t have to love me.”

Harry baldly lied when he said this, but the simpering man on his painful knees (with a wand poking a blood-seeping hole in his tender, flabby flesh) was in no position to correct the auror's heart-protecting untruth.

“Wouldn’t have cared if you didn’t like me. But you ABUSED me. Your sister’s DOG lived better than I did. You barely fed me. You used me like a slave and kept me a prisoner. You locked me in that cupboard! What if there’d been a fire, you fat fuck? I was a CHILD!”

And the shouting transitioned to silence punctuated by a feral smile, one Harry learned from every enemy (including the recently Avada’d Fenrir Greyback) who’d tried to kill him or those he truly cared about.

“You don’t deserve to live…” the broken hero whispered.
“Don’t, Harry… Please. For us…”

A frightened but loyal auror (and Dumbledore’s Army veteran) had sought out rescuers. Ginny Weasley Potter rushed to answer Ernie’s hastily cast patronus, stopping only to pick up her son and to cast her horse patronus seeking additional assistance.

“Why!? Why should he live, Gin!? He could’ve helped me!?”

From behind Harry, Ginny leaned into her husband’s back, stroking his shoulders and arms to soothe his internal demons. From behind Ginny, more help arrived to handle Harry’s mental breakdown.

“Is this what you want to teach our son?” and Harry turned to see Hermione jiggling an unnaturally quiet James Potter in her arms. Luna Longbottom, standing awkwardly in the door, blocked a nervous Ernie Macmillan’s entrance.
“Come with me, luv. Show James what it means to really be a man,” and as quickly as it escalated, Ginny folded a tearful Harry in her arms and led him to the door, stopping only to take her son from Hermione after a whispered “Thank you”. Ernie repaired both doors before leaving for his cramped corner desk at the Ministry.

In a hair’s breadth of time, all arrived at St. Mungo’s war trauma unit — except Vernon Dursley, who vomited on his middle-class carpeting and shat himself in his middle-quality suit before being obliviated by Hermione and left to wallow in his own filth until Petunia’s return from shopping for his birthday.

“It’s good he’s confronting this, Hermione,” the blonde healer spoke to the sad look on Hermione’s face, “I’m quite impressed he lasted this long without killing himself…”

Tonight marked the start of Harry's six month of leave. Zabini held down the office with the newly promoted Ernie as his second in command. With ample time at home, Harry filled his days with intense therapy, his afternoons and evenings with fathering of his naughty son and his nights with fathering another child on Ginny. The result had been unexpected but not unwanted in spite of the havoc the child played on his mother’s insides. A grateful Ginny appreciated magic and potions and healers all the more after breaking the family news to her convalescing husband, a man desperate to replace everything taken from him in two wizarding wars.

Luna considered the newest Potter the best therapy for her patient. She’d explained to Harry’s support team (Ginny and Molly with frequent appearances by Hermione) that the coming Potter baby motivated him to get well which made treating him that much easier.

As she watched her two boys together, Mrs. Potter sighed at the reality that in a month or so she’d have to chase James herself or impose on the kindness of her mother or Hannah.
*________
AN:
DaFossil: Thanks for the kind review. There's a bit more, but not another novel inserted at the end of the original novella. LOL I committed to finishing this before moving my main publishing site elsewhere so that means actually finishing. Stupid of me to commit PUBLICLY to seeing this and "The Best Of..." through. My RL "plots" need better scripting. LOL
- 20
- 21
- 22
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

Balaur