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
- 25
- 26
- 27
Hard Choices

Several loud pops and cracks and bursts of rapid-fire rang out. The noise would have been nearly deafening if the wizards hadn’t thought to cast sound-muffling spells. Still, it was noisy enough.
Remus Lupin felt a bit unnerved as he watched the muggle werewolves and a few wizard werewolves at the firing range practicing loading and shooting the weapons stolen from the S.A.S. armory two nights ago. Imagining it was one thing after watching a number of films and television shows but seeing it in real life was another thing altogether. The deadliness of the muggle weapons really hit home, and Remus was glad that the British government had such sensible restrictions on firearms.
At least the raid had gone reasonably well. Things had been a bit touch and go getting past the guards, as there was little sense in trying to apparate into the armory at the military installation. They were collecting far too many weapons to carry back by apparition, and it had been a long drive in a van belonging to one of the muggle werewolves.
Remus had been amazed at the dizzying array of firearms available: submachine guns, semi-automatic and selective fire rifles, sniper rifles, and an assortment of pistols.
And Roger—the ex-S.A.S. trooper—had insisted on a load more weapons too: grenades, flash-bangs, and launchers to propel them, not to mention tear gas and tear gas launchers (and gas-masks), and rocket launchers to boot.
“This all seems a bit… excessive,” Remus had muttered to Roger as he directed the wizards who were collecting the weapons. “Are you sure this is all necessary?”
“Believe me, mate, us muggles’ll need all this lot to stand a chance against wizards. The tear gas and flash-bangs alone oughta make all the difference in the world—but we’ll still need everything we can get our hands on when the spells start flying.”
“That’s true enough,” Remus had said reluctantly, nodding.
But watching the training was still a bit disquieting.
“Feeling guilty, are you?”
“Er… What?” Remus was jarred out of his musings by Abigail’s voice.
“I know that look,” she said ruefully. “I’ve seen it too many times in the mirror before I began helping the muggle-werewolves adjust to being part of the magical world. … But there’s no need for it now, and you don’t have to feel guilty about all this either.”
Remus’s forehead crinkled in consternation.
“I suppose not,” he said. “It’s just—guns—they’re so final. I know they’re necessary when faced with Killing Curses and a hundred other spells just as deadly in the wrong hands, but—seeing them in action for the first time…”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Abigail agreed. “But still, I can’t thank you enough. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you, and now a load of muggle-werewolves will sleep more soundly at nights.”
Remus felt his heart lifting at the smile lighting up Abigail’s face.
“Come on then,” she said, taking his arm. “Why don’t we go back inside and have some tea—or maybe something a bit stronger to take the edge off.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that—the stronger stuff I mean,” he said, warmly returning her smile, and they headed back to the main farmhouse.
~o0o~
Cormac swallowed nervously. Wand in hand, he eyed several muggles strolling past the end of the alley. He was glad to be out of Azkaban and grateful to Draco for getting him out, but he wasn’t sure that he was ready for this.
Dosing Granger with a love potion was one thing—Cormac still couldn’t really see what all the fuss was about. If the memory spell had worked, he knew he could have made her happy to be with him. Where was the harm in that?
This was something else altogether, and he considered the ramifications of ditching Draco and trying to get out of Britain. But he knew that You-Know-Who would just send a load of Death Eaters or Snatchers to hunt him down and kill him.
Better a muggle than me, Cormac tried to tell himself. But it just didn’t feel right, lying in wait to lure some poor sod into the alley, and he thought he might vomit.
“The first one is the hardest,” said Draco.
“What?”
“The first kill—it’s the hardest. But it gets easier, I promise.”
“You mean, you felt like this too?”
“If you mean feeling like throwing up—yeah.” Draco nodded. “But it feels good too after you’ve done a couple. They might look like us, but they’re just muggles after all.”
Cormac tried to quell his anxiety as Draco’s grey eyes bored into his own.
“Don’t worry,” said Draco knowingly. “We’re not going to kill any girls or any kids. … It’s easier to start with an old bloke—or…”
“Or what?” asked Cormac when Draco paused.
“Or we can go and find someone who looks like Potter and bring him back here.”
“Oh!”
Cormac felt a surge of hate in his gut at the mention of Potter’s name. That almost sounded tempting. But something was still holding him back. Perhaps Draco’s first suggestion was right. Nobody would really miss an old muggle, and it wasn’t like they would feel a thing. It would be a mercy, really, saving some geezer from a drawn-out agonizing illness as he neared the end of his natural life.
“Maybe next time,” said Cormac, half-smiling. “Let’s find an old guy and see how that goes first.”
“Now you’re talking,” said Draco, grinning. “Right then, we’ll head to the park down the road. We’re sure to find some old fossil feeding the pigeons there. … And when you’ve finished him off, we can treat ourselves to couple of muggle girls.” Draco waggled his eyebrows.
“One of the perks of being on the Dark Lord’s team,” he drawled, a leer crossing his features.
Cormac felt a little tingle shooting through his veins and his trepidation began to thaw. He hadn’t even considered that.
“Yeah—yeah,” he said slowly, “That’s not a half-bad idea.”
Draco slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly.
“That’s the ticket, Cormac. We’ll make a good Death Eater out of you yet…”
~o0o~
The corner of the building exploded, and chunks of concrete rained down, bouncing off an invisible shield. Mad-Eye cursed, peering around the side of the rusting skip-bin he was using for cover. As the dust began to settle, he returned fire with a Bombarda as the muggles on the other side of the road scattered. A blue Vauxhall flipped over with a loud bang, exposing the Snatchers behind it, and the sound of shattering glass and crumpling metal echoed through the streets.
Shacklebolt blasted the exposed Snatchers with a concussive spell and they slammed against the brick wall of the building behind them with satisfying yells and collapsed on the pavement.
“Nice one, Kingsley!” Mad-Eye growled. “With a bit o’ luck you cracked their skulls open and they won’t be getting’ up again.”
Kingsley Shacklebolt frowned.
“What?” Mad-Eye glowered at the ex-Auror. “It’s not like we got a choice anymore now they’ve got the Ministry and Azkaban. There’s no point givin’ ‘em a chance t’kill any more muggles or muggleborns.”
“True enough,” Shacklebolt sighed. “We’d better go and see how much damage they managed to cause before we arrived.”
“Yeah—but keep yer eyes peeled for more hooligans or Death Eaters. You know they’re just tryin’ to draw us all out into the open with their mayhem.”
Shacklebolt nodded, half-listening, and reached into his pocket for the mirror.
“They’re down, Dumbledore—yes, all contingents as far as we are aware—about a dozen Snatchers all told… No Death Eaters. Hestia and Charlie Weasley successfully suppressed their targets, now we’re going to check for muggle casualties and heal as many as we can before the police and emergency response teams arrive…”
~o0o~
Dumbledore heard Alastor loudly proclaim his hopes that the Snatchers were dead over Kingsley’s report and the sound of wailing sirens approaching their position. He returned the mirror to the pocket of his overcoat. His brow furrowed with consternation at Alastor’s pronouncement.
The thought of killing was distressing and abhorrent to Dumbledore, but under the circumstances of the Ministry being in the hands of Voldemort’s ally, he couldn’t really disagree.
During the last war, the option of imprisonment in Azkaban was available, and now, that course of action was no longer on the table. The Order was outnumbered and allowing Voldemort and Minister Umbridge free rein to rule Britain with an iron fist was simply unacceptable—all muggles and muggleborns were at risk of torture and murder as long as they were in power.
In the meantime, thanks to Olympe and Monsieur Delacour, the Order awaited the promise of aid in the form of French wizards. With a bit of luck, they should be arriving any day to supplement the Order’s forces.
Dumbledore returned to his study of the map of Britain he had enchanted to locate particularly large outbursts of Dark-infused magic. Excepting Dark magic hidden behind wards and Concealing Charms, it was quite efficient.
No doubt Voldemort had anticipated that Dumbledore would have employed his prodigious abilities to devise some means of tracking Dark magic. That some of Voldemort’s forces were engaging in large attacks against Muggle targets seemed to indicate that they were deliberately trying to draw the Order’s attention.
Dumbledore’s contemplation of the map was interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket. He quickly withdrew his mirror and was surprised by whom he found peering back at him.
“Ah, Remus, I had not thought to hear from you so soon. I wasn’t expecting an update until next week. I trust you have found a safe location and will not be missed by Maugrim or Greyback?”
“Er… about that,” said the image of Remus Lupin, who looked remarkably sheepish for someone who was a wolf several nights of the month, “Maugrim may indeed be missing me.”
“Oh?” Dumbledore’s bushy white eyebrows rose up his crinkling forehead.
Lupin sighed.
“As it so happens,” he said, “in my bid to dissuade the unaligned packs from throwing in with Maugrim and Fenrir Greyback, it seemed a wiser course of action to fall in with them.”
“I see!” The eyebrows rose a bit higher.
“Er… Yes, well, there were very few options left before me—I could have remained with Maugrim and joined Greyback’s pack, from where I could be of little use to you continuing as a spy, but perhaps be of greater use to Greyback as a foot soldier and be forced to kill innocents. … The other option was to help bring the unaligned groups together and forge an alliance which could be more helpful in the fight against Voldemort’s army.”
Dumbledore stroked his beard and his eyes began to twinkle. He nodded.
“Ah, a much wiser course of action indeed, Remus. I presume then, that your goal was successful, as you are no longer with Maugrim’s pack. But if I am not mistaken, you appear to have more to tell me.”
Lupin managed to look both relieved and even more guilty all at once.
“Yes,” he said quietly, “A good half of the unaligned werewolves are muggles—which is in large part why two of the groups were still holding out against the attempts at recruitment…”
“…Which makes them vulnerable should it come to a fight,” said Dumbledore as he continued stroking his beard thoughtfully. “And you have come up with a plan which troubles you greatly.”
“Er… yes!” said Remus. “It seemed to me that the only measure which would give the muggle-werewolves a fighting chance was muggle weaponry. Most wizards have very little experience combatting guns, excepting those few who are old enough to have perhaps engaged in World War Two.”
Dumbledore sighed. The finality of Death again—it seemed to be a common theme today.
He remembered all too well the struggle against the Nazis and the wizards who had supported the cause with their own ideas regarding Blood Superiority. The Thule Society’s attempts to recruit British Wizards had thankfully been brought to an end with the capture of Rudolph Hess in Scotland all those decades ago.
But then there had been Grindelwald—four more years it had been before Dumbledore had the courage to face him again. How many had died in the meantime? Too many! And even then, Dumbledore could not bring himself to kill him…
“Er… Albus?”
Remus’s voice pierced Dumbledore’s reverie and brought him hurtling back to the present.
“My apologies Remus—old memories. Yes, I quite understand your reticence to follow through on what must have been a difficult decision for you. I myself have been contemplating hard choices today.
“And the conclusion I have drawn is that we have little alternative if we wish to avoid the mistakes of the past and save Britain from ruin. While eschewing bloodshed should still inform the righteousness of our cause if we wish to retain the moral high ground, we cannot shy away from using lethal means when necessary, or all shall be lost, and our struggle for naught.”
Remus let out a heavy sigh of relief and Dumbledore felt a load lift from his own shoulders having finally given voice to his own misgivings. The burden was still weighty, as all decisions regarding life and death should be, but sharing it with another made it a bit easier to bear.
~o0o~
Harry was going spare, and Hermione wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit on him, and she wasn’t even sure that she should. All she knew was that they needed a plan instead of rushing off recklessly to find some Death Eaters and Snatchers to fight.
She had lain quietly beside him the last few nights, both of them having difficulty sleeping, and neither of them willing to burden the other, both pretending that they were indeed asleep. Finally, on the fourth night, Hermione sat up with a sigh and peered at Harry, frowning.
“Hermione?” Harry looked a bit startled.
“This is silly Harry—we can’t keep pretending to be asleep like this. I know you want to get out there and fight, and I don’t disagree—but we can’t just rush into things willy-nilly…”
“…We need a plan,” Harry agreed quietly. “I know! I’m just not sure what t’do. It’s not like we can just magically know exactly when an attack is happening somewhere and show up in time to stop them—”
Hermione couldn’t help letting out a giggle.
“You know what I mean,” said Harry, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’d rather focus on trying to find Voldemort and his bloody snake.”
“Well, why can’t we?” she said, giving him a little poke in the ribs.
“Because I can’t see into his brain,” said Harry irritably. “I keep trying, but he’s obviously using Occlumency to keep me out after what happened last year—I can still feel him, but—”
“No, I meant why can’t we magically determine when an attack is happening somewhere and then apparate in time to put a stop to it? Dumbledore must have some means of tracking them, if he and the Order are fighting the Death Eaters.”
“Oh!” Harry blinked a few times. “Er… D’you think we could get him to let us in on it then—tell us when and where an attack is happening?”
“Probably not,” Hermione admitted. “Seeing as Voldemort and the Ministry are already in cahoots with each other, the only real reasons for most of the attacks against muggles are just for sport… and to try and lure you and Dumbledore out into the open…”
“…and Dumbledore doesn’t want us to get captured,” Harry sighed. “But still, I’m not going to sit on my arse until he or I work out where Voldemort is holing up. Until then, we need t’be doing our part—”
“Precisely,” said Hermione primly, giving him another little poke in the ribs, “and that is why you and I and everyone else are going to be spending our time digging through the library until we find some spells which might help us track any strong outbursts of Dark magic. … I was thinking that maybe we could enchant a map of Britain to locate them.”
Harry’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. The next thing Hermione knew, she was flat on her back, Harry’s lips crushed against hers. She gave herself up to the burning kiss and returned it just as fiercely. When they fell apart, both panting heavily, Harry grinned down at her.
“You—are—brilliant, Hermione Granger!”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Harry Potter!” she giggled.
“Right then—” said Harry, as he eagerly began to climb out of bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Hermione demanded, yanking him back down on top of her.
“Er…” said Harry, his face inches away from her own, “to the library?”
“It’s two thirty A.M. Harry, don’t be silly! There’s plenty of time tomorrow. In the meantime—”
“We should get some sleep. Right,” Harry sighed, deflating, but still looking agitated.
“Oh, I don’t think we’re ready for that just yet,” said Hermione, drawing his tousled head even closer with one hand, her other sliding down the bare skin of his backside.
Their lips met again for another fiery kiss, their hands roaming, limbs entwining around each other, and the bed began to rock with passion. And when it was finished, they both drifted off for the best night of sleep that they’d had in days.
~o0o~
Harry was eager to begin the library search the next morning after breakfast, but first things came first. A read of the Daily Prophet, which was now being retrieved each morning by either Kreacher or Dobby, yielded little new information. There was the usual article about Dumbledore’s rebellion, and another about Potter sightings. But the only new bit was odd enough to make Hermione nearly spit out her tea.
“Ridiculous!” she blurted out. “Utterly ludicrous!”
“What?” said Harry.
“It’s completely mad!”
“Don’t keep us in suspense, Hermione,” said Dora, her mouth twitching up at the corners to see Hermione looking so discombobulated.
“You know those supposed wand-thieves the Ministry has been going on about for weeks—the ones they say have ties to Dumbledore?”
“Yeah!” said Harry. “What about them?”
“Well, now they’re saying that it’s all part of Dumbledore’s plan to train muggles how to use wands—to make a bigger army.”
Dora went bug-eyed and choked on her piece of toast.
“What? But that’s completely mental!” said Harry.
“But, that’s not even possible—is it?” said Parvati, who looked shocked.
“No way,” said Ginny, shaking her head, but Luna looked thoughtful, her interest piqued.
“Of course not,” said Hermione. “You have to have magic to begin with to make a wand work. To a non-magical person, it’s just a stick of wood, and the best a ‘squib’ could hope for would be a few sparks.”
“I wonder though,” Luna murmured, “maybe you couldn’t train a muggle to be a wizard, but what if there was a way to make someone magical?”
“You’re joking, right!” Ginny gave her girlfriend a look of disbelief, and Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes.
Luna shrugged. “I’m just saying—what if?”
Harry shook his head in amazement, trying to imagine turning Dudley into a wizard. Uncle Vernon’s head would probably explode.
“Er… Well, anyway,” said Hermione, trying to cover her skepticism, “nobody’s ever done it before, and obviously Dumbledore’s not doing it now, so it’s not really something important at the moment—what is important, if we want to do more than hide out here, is to find some spells which we can use to locate Death Eaters when they’re committing large attacks…”
“…and hopefully Voldemort too, if we get lucky,” said Harry.
“Right then,” said Dora, “We’ll hop to it and get started on the library, but what about you two?”
“What d’you mean?” asked Harry, puzzled. “We’re going to be in the library too.”
“I mean, we’ve all been cooped up for days, but you’re the only one starting to go stir-crazy, Harry. You and Hermione should get outta the house for a bit—after I throw a few disguise spells on you both, that is.”
“Yes, there’s plenty of us to start looking through the books for spells,” Parvati agreed.
“Yeah,” said Ginny, giving Harry a hard stare, “They’re right…”
“But—”
“What? There’s four of us. Don’t you think we’re capable?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Harry sputtered angrily.
“Come on, Harry,” said Hermione, taking him by the arm when it appeared that they had a mutiny on their hands. “We might as well make the best of things.”
“But—”
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and he sighed.
“Fine!” he grumbled. “But this is it—this is the last day I’m ‘taking it easy’… I swear!”
“I know,” said Hermione, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Now come on—it’ll do us both good to go out and do something fun.”
~o0o~
It was late in the afternoon, and dozens of books were piled up on the tables in the library. Parvati picked up another and began to dust it off, but Dora plucked it from her hands.
“We’ve been at this since breakfast—time to pack it in for the day, alright?” she said. “We’ll get back to it in the morning, all of us, Harry and Hermione as well.”
“But I wanted to have something to show them,” Ginny moaned, who had a new book in her hands too.
Luna smiled and took the book from Ginny and placed it on the table.
“We’ll have something to show them soon enough,” said Luna meaningfully, glancing at the ancient tome bound in black leather which was sitting on another table.
“Oh, right,” said Ginny, her features brightening. “We’ll all practice a bit after dinner then, right Parvati?”
Parvati’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “Erm…”
“You promised,” said Luna. “And it’ll be loads of fun. You’ll see!”
~o0o~
Dora hung up the towel, cleaned her teeth, and then looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, patting her tummy. She felt like it was getting a bit rounder, but to her eyes it still looked the same. Dora slipped on her nightie now that she felt dry enough and wrapped her fluffy pink dressing-gown around herself.
The house seemed quiet when she stepped out of the bathroom. Harry and Hermione were still out; hopefully Harry was enjoying dinner and taking in a film at a cinema. Dora was puzzled when she found the room that she shared with Parvati empty, having expected to find her listening to the wireless or reading a novel in bed. Then she rolled her eyes.
“Library,” she muttered to herself. “I bet that lot are back at it.”
Dora trotted down the stairs to the next landing, and sure enough, she heard giggles coming from the other side of ebony door of Number Twelve’s library. Rolling her eyes again, she turned the brass handle.
“Oi—” she said as the door swung open. Her eyeballs nearly flew out of their sockets and she clapped a hand to her mouth.
“Shut the door—it’s drafty,” said Luna matter-of-factly with a dreamy smile on her face.
Dora regarded the three giggly naked girls seated on the floor in a circle surrounded by sputtering candles for a moment.
“Yeah— ‘spect so,” she muttered as she began to close the door.
“Wait! I meant you should join us,” Luna called out. “We’re just about to do a Coven ritual.”
“Oh—erm,” Dora cast around for a response, knowing that the ‘underage’ excuse wouldn’t work now that Luna and Ginny were technically legal adults.
“Pregnant,” she said, rubbing her abdomen. “But you lot knock yourselves out, okay.”
Luna looked disappointed as Dora closed the door behind her. And as she climbed back up the stairs to her room, imagining what they would all be getting up to next, Dora couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed as well.
AN: Thanks to my most recent reviewers, BDWMedic, Meltyman, and Lanzecki. :-)
Welp, here's my latest installment, and I think it covers any of the questions I have recently been asked. I'll try not to take so long between this chapter and the next.
- 25
- 26
- 27
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

Damaged Bridges