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Forever Knight	By : AdamantEve Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 15409 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Author�s
note: I did a tribute to Buffy the
Vampire Slayer in this chapter. I
took a few lines of dialogue from Buffy quotes and stuck them in this
chapter. For those interested, see if
you can spot them. Hehe.

This was
supposed to be a long-ass chapter, but I cut this one and put the rest in the
next chapter, simply because there would have been too much going on if I
dumped it all here. Chapter 9 is coming
along nicely so I�ll have it out for you soon.

Once
again, special thanks to Lady Diamond! It�s
the holidays, and one certainly can�t expect anybody to work on holidays, but
she finished editing this in time for Thanksgiving, and that makes her the
best.

Chapter Rating: R (I know. Haven�t had smut in a while, but fear not,
there�s still more to�ahem�come.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Eighth: Calling

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry broke the surface of slumber and felt a cool hand touching
his forehead with delicate pressure. The
comfort surrounding him rippled gently to nudge his headache away, and the
pleasant scent of all things her was
a balm to his disorientation.

�Hermione?� he said, his voice gravelly. Slowly, he opened his eyes and naturally,
everything was a horrible blur.

�Nope, sorry.� It
sounded like Tonks. It probably
was.

He remembered, in a rush, why Hermione wasn�t there, and
it made him feel miserable. He tried to
get up and felt his vision spin rather viciously. Perhaps seeing the glazed look in his eyes,
Tonk�s blurry hand went to his shoulder, coaxing him back down.

��Fraid not, Harry.
Give yourself a few more minutes.�

She didn�t exactly have to twist his arm. His vertigo left him with little choice but
to lie back down and let it pass.

He felt something being slipped into his hand. It was his glasses, and when he put them on,
he saw that Ron was in the room, too.

They were in Hermione�s room, which was a bit
strange. One would think they�d bring
him to his own room. Then again, he was
thankful for the softness of the bed.

The question must have reflected on his face because Tonks
said, �Ron hauled you in here and I suppose any room is as good as any.�

Harry could only surmise Ron had done it out of some
subconscious awareness of Harry�s need to be near Hermione, or something like
that. At the moment, he was in no
position to be pondering Freud.

�What happened?� he croaked.

�That�s what we want
to know. We heard you screaming,� Ron
said in his oft-heard awed tone. �And
when we got to you, you were holding your scar.
It was glowing, too. You looked like you were in pain, Harry. Were you?�

Harry shot him a sardonic grimace. �No, Ron, I wasn�t in pain. I was just
screaming for dramatic effect.�

Honestly, the stupid
questions� no wonder Hermione loses patience with all of us sometimes.

Ron arched an eyebrow with deliberate slowness before
turning to Tonks. �He�s going to be
fine.�

Tonks shot Ron a wry look.
She leaned over Harry and pulled down the skin beneath his eye.

Harry wrenched his face away instinctively. He wasn�t about to risk having her poke his
eye out. �Tonks!�

�You�re still very pale,� she said. �Sarcasm does not count as recovery.�

The prospect of Tonks attempting any kind of treatment was
something he might consider an occupational hazard, but he wasn�t about to tell
her that. �Yes, but�umm�what happened to the installation crew?�

�Well, they freaked out, of course,� said Ron. �I swear, short of throwing virgin sacrifices
at your scar, you�d think they�ve never seen worse working for vampires.�

Trust Ron to put my
scar and virgin sacrifices in one sentence, he thought with a slight smirk. �Are they still working down there?�

Ron nodded.

�Well, it was my first time to see your scar do that,�
said Tonks, looking rather freaked out, herself.

�Welcome to my world,� Harry muttered.

�So did you�� Ron began uncertainly. �Did you feel� You-Know-Who?�

It took all of Harry�s will power not to roll his
eyes. �Oh yes. There was plenty of You-Know-Poo.�

Ron and Tonks didn�t exactly appreciate the Weasley�s
Wizard Wheezes joke.

This served to irritate him. �Voldemort
was furious about something.�

Ron winced at the name and Tonks looked like she was going
to be sick.

Harry wished Hermione were there to say, �Oh, honestly! Saying his name won�t have
the sky raining fire on us!�

�Furious about what?� asked Ron, breaking through his
thoughts.

�I don�t know, exactly, but there was a vampire there, and
Voldemort punished him with a spell. Lumos solem.�

Tonks nodded grimly.
�That�ll work if your magic�s powerful enough, but a patronus works best
for vampire-type creatures. You-Know-Who
probably can�t conjure one. Being dark
and evil probably puts a damper on the positive-thoughts thing.�

�Naturally.� Harry
never really thought of it that way until now, but he supposed the bad guys
didn�t have much to worry about on the matter of Dementors, anyway, not when
they were working under the same boss.

�So these visions of yours,� said Tonks. �They�re� true?�

�They tend to be that, yeah.�

�What do you remember of it, then? Where you somewhere? A dungeon? A tower?
Was there anybody else in the room?�

Harry shook his head.
�I didn�t see anything like that.
There was just Voldemort and the vampire. I can�t even see Voldemort because I was
looking through his eyes. I saw his
hand, and his wand, but other than that, it was just the vampire.�

�Can you describe this vampire, then?�

Harry tried to focus on remembering. �He�s tall.
Really skinny. Like a
rockstar.� It was the only way he could
explain it. There had been something
terribly androgynous about the vampire, trendy clothes and all. He was, however, certain that the vampire was
male.

He wasn�t sure if Tonks would understand the rockstar
reference, but she was half-muggle and she had that look about her that screamed rocker.

Tonks�s eyes widened.
�Rockstar? Like one of those
drugged up, alcohol guzzling, muggle men
in oh-so-tight tight leather pants who call themselves Iggy and have groupies?�

Apparently, she knew more than he gave her credit
for. �Er��

She reddened at the cheeks. �Sorry.
David Bowie and Mick Jagger flashback there for a second� go on,
then. What else do you remember of this
vampire?�

Harry exchanged brief looks of uncertainty with Ron. Ron just shrugged.

�His hair�s black,� continued Harry. �Probably even blacker at a glance, but I
think he�s got� whatchamacallit? Like
brushes of red in his hair? You
know�when light hits it, you see it��

�Highlights.�

�Yeah, that�s it.
And his eyes are weird. Like
gold.�

�Interesting.
Distinguishing marks?�

Harry didn�t hesitate.
�He had tattoos going down his�er�stomach��

�Like on his tummy?�

�Mmmaybe a little lower than that.�

�Oh.� She paused to
give it a brief thought before her eyes widened, twinkling. �Oh!
Well, that�s a rather fanciable vampire, isn�t it? Ha! Me and my creatures of the night.�

That was very disturbing; then again, Harry had his own
creature of the night to fancy, now.

Tonks stood, pointing to some vials on the
nightstand. �You can have some Pepper-up
Potion if you want, but I recommend you pass up the potion and sleep off the
after-effects of your� ordeal. I�m going
downstairs to tell Remus about this vision of yours and check on the
installation crew, so you don�t have to worry about anything for the
meantime. Alright?�

�Thanks, Tonks.�

�No problem.�

She left.

Harry pushed himself up gingerly, pulling a pillow up to
cushion his back. The vertigo was gone,
but his head still throbbed and his limbs felt weak.

Ron plopped at the foot of the bed, sighing. �Somehow, I have this feeling that I
should�ve expected something like this to happen.�

Harry cocked him a weary smile as he made himself more
comfortable. �Oh, you know me. I�m just full of dark surprises.�

�No, I mean I really
should�ve expected it. Hermione
did. She mentioned something like it.�

Harry stared at him.
�Hermione knew I was going to have a vision?�

�What? No. Don�t be silly. Hermione stormed out of divinations and she
hates prophecies like the plague; �specially yours.�

�She does?�

�She never told you?�

�N-No��

Ron waved dismissively.
�Probably didn�t want to worry you, then. Anyway, when she and I were talking at St.
Mungo�s, she told me to watch over you because she can�t right now. She said that if your scar acts up, I ought
to convince you to tell her about it. I
swear that girl always needs something to sink her teeth into�ugh! Bad choice
of words��

There were too many things to think about in Ron�s
statement. Too many questions popping up
out of nowhere. So Hermione had issues
about his prophecy. Well, so did he, but
he thought the drama of its revelation was over and done with. She certainly never brought it up again, but
the fact that she�d said something about it to Ron and nothing to him� maybe it
wasn�t such a closed issue after all.
And then there�s her telling Ron to watch over him, as if he needed
watching over, and then the scar�

He wondered contritely if he and Hermione had spent too
much time being intimate and not enough time talking.

Well, of course we
talked. We talked about everything and
nothing and all of the things in between. We�d talk in the library, and in the
bedroom, and on the dinner table, and wherever we happened to be. We�d talked about silly things and smart
things and stupid things and serious things.
Heck, we�d even talked about Voldemort and horcruxes after we brought it
up with Arthur that first night Ron joined us here in Grimmauld Place.

But she never
brought up the prophecy, did she?

Harry frowned. Well, neither did I.

She did,
actually. Once, when she told Ron that
futures weren�t meant to be foretold.
But then, it had been a fleeting reference. She gave no hint about having more
significant issues about it�

But of course she
would have issues about it! he scolded himself.
She always worries about me and it�s only natural that
a prophecy that says �kill or be killed� with me and Voldemort in it would
drive her up the wall�

He grit his teeth, fists clenching. Harry,
you stupid idiot�

�Er� Harry?�

Harry scowled.
�Look, I don�t need watching over and� and� what the hell�s she doing
telling you all that and telling me nothing? I tell her everything. She tells me
everything! When did this cloak and
dagger shite start? What have you two
been talking about behind my back? Just
what the hell do you think you�re doing, Ron?�

Ron�s eyes widened in shock. �Merlin, Godric and Morgana! What shit-storm is this?�

That�s all it took for Harry to realize what he was
saying, and he became thoroughly ashamed of himself. He reddened and he cast Ron an apologetic
look before burying his face in his hands.
�Oh, hell� I�m sorry, Ron. I
didn�t mean that��

�Well, of course you didn�t!� said Ron irritably. �Look, mate, it�s midnight and you�ve had four hours of
sleep in the last thirty six��

�Forty.�

�Forty hours. Get
some rest.�

�Mr. Full Night�s Sleep over here,� Harry muttered.

�Well, I don�t have a scar splitting my head in two, do
I?�

�Yeah. Lucky
you.� Harry had meant to sound flippant,
but he supposed the whole connection-to-Voldemort thing was no laughing matter.

Ron sighed, cocking him an apologetic smile. �Get some sleep. We�ll try to talk to Hermione again tomorrow,
alright?�

Harry nodded and Ron left.

He sank lower down the bed. He wished he had one of those communicator
units so he could just give Hermione a ring whenever. They had been inseparable since they moved
into Grimmauld Place, and when they weren�t together,
they were always somewhere they could find each other. This total isolation from her was driving him
mad.

Day after next,
she�ll be coming home. That�s not long,
so get a grip.

He wasn�t sure why he was being so needy, anyway. He knew where she was. He knew he would see her soon. But it had felt like forever.

Maybe you�re afraid,
said her voice of
reason.

Afraid? he replied. I don�t get what you mean. I�m
certainly not afraid of her because
all I want is for her to come home so I can be with her again. That isn�t the desire of a frightened man.

Oh, not of her, you blithering idiot.

Then what? How else can fear apply in this
situation?

Things are delicate
between you and her now, you know.
Whether you want to admit it or not.

Well, I admit that
the vampire-matter is more than a bump in the road� more like a mountain,
actually. I�m aware of the obstacles.

Are you? From the moment she woke up, she started on
the path of the vampire. You�re afraid,
Harry, that every second you�re away from her, the more vampire she�d become,
and that one day soon, you might not be able to follow. You�re afraid that she�ll forget how to be
human, and she�ll forget about you.

Harry�s jaw clenched.
She won�t ever forget about
me. Maybe she�ll realize some day that
I�m not good enough for her, and maybe she�ll look at me one morning and
realize she isn�t in love with me, but she won�t ever abandon our friendship. She won�t ever walk away and refuse to look
back. Our friendship�s too important to
her.

Pretty, greeting
card thoughts. Does Schrivenshaft�s
carry greets for vampires? Happy Turn
Day? Merry Blood Mitzvah? Thanks for the friendship and not biting me
on the neck?

�Shut it,� he whispered, closing his eyes. Shut
it.

Her voice of reason was silent.

He sighed in relief.

Soon. She�ll be home, soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

� three hours since
I last fed. The last wizard, one named
Jiro, was a lot like Ethan. Flirty, a
bit of a jokester, but gentler, like Allan.
He said he was twenty-five, but he looked like he was eighteen. He said he was half-Japanese, and that his
Asian lineage took years off his appearance.
His features were dark, except for his elegant doe-eyes, which were a
clear, ocean blue. He was of average
height, rather skinny, but he didn�t seem bony at all. Rather like Harry, in general.

I wonder if Cicero does it on purpose;
bringing in these slender, dark-featured blokes. No platinum blondes and redheads for me, it
seems. It makes perfect sense, I
supposed. Allan and Ethan and Jiro
shared Harry�s general traits. No
glasses, though. I suppose that wouldn�t
be subtle, and Cicero abhors vulgarity.

Cicero says I can feed
again at around five in the morning. I
suppose I can endure until then, but this hunger� it�s beyond anything I�ve
ever experienced. I can feel it in my bones; in my head; in my hands. Like my own body is sucking me dry. How can Cicero go days at a time
without feeding?

Practice, he
said.

I do want to get to
that point; where hunger doesn�t rule me.
I want to be able to live this life without
having to deal with this constant craving.
Cicero said he could only show me how, and that I�d have to do the rest
of it on my own, which is why he�s only going to keep me here until the day
after next. After he shows me how, I go
home and I try to do. He said he would still act as my guide in
the next two weeks of the transition. He
warns me that it would be difficult, but that so long as I keep a positive
attitude, I will be able to overcome my obstacles.

He sounds like he
could be on an alternative-universe Norman Rockwell painting. The Smiling Corpse. Positive even in death.

Beyond two weeks,
I�d have to personally retain him. Like a therapist. It�s the funniest thing. A vampire who has a therapist. It�s the stuff of sitcoms. Who knew that the undead needed head
shrinking, too? And then there�s the
matter of payment. Where am I going to
get the money to pay for his services?
Where am I going to get the money to pay my way through life,
period? I�m not even sure I�d get what
my parents left me. Legally, I�m dead,
so I suppose my inheritance would go to the next of kin.

God, my parents are
dead. Horribly dead. I can still see their murdered bodies falling
on me. I can�t bear to think of them. Not now.
Not yet. Disturbingly, I don�t
seem to find that difficult to do. It�s
like I can just set them aside, as primly as you please. A folded jumper I can neatly stash in one of
my many pristinely kept drawers. I�m
scared that the vampire in me has stopped me from feeling grief for them. I can�t seem to summon tears for them now,
yet I cry about the stupidest, littlest things.

Cicero said I�m still in
shock about them. That�s his all-purpose
explanation. When I mention something
about being off-kilter, that�s what he says.
And I couldn�t understand a bit of it if I tried. All these concepts are abstract to me. Shock.
Transition. Separation of
self. What the heck does all that
psychobabble mean? I�m supposed to be
the brightest witch of my age. Now all I
feel is that I�m the deadest witch of my age, and I just happen to be alive and
thirsting for blood. Girl Who�s Undead.

The Boy Who Lived
and the Girl Who�s Undead. Match made in
hell.

Hilarious. In a depressing sort of way.

~~

Hermione sighed and threw down her quill as she sat
hunched over her journal. She buried her
face in her hands and growled.

Cicero, who sat at the other end of the chamber as he
scribbled over some papers on a desk, looked up at her. �Alright, Hermione?�

�Fine,� she replied automatically, picking up her
quill. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Granger!

She continued to write:

~~

Getting back to the
matter of employment, it�s no easy thing to be a vampire and think of career
options. I suppose I can take a night
shift of something,
but I can�t possibly do something as
mundane as floo help-desks or�I don�t know�security detail. It sounds so stupid. Besides, what am I going to do with the
health and dental plan? What am I going
to do with a stupid retirement plan, for that matter? It�s just�everything for the living is so ill
suited to me now. I can�t even go
shopping! The only times Harrods and
Diagon Alley is open until midnight is during special occasions, and
surely they can�t expect me to wait for holidays to shop.

And that�s another
thing. As of this moment, every pastel
thing I own seems to REPULSE me. I used
to love my pinks and purples and whites.
Now it�s just�BLECH! I keep
telling myself that I�m not going to become one of those dark, Goth,
leather-strapping vampires with a cheesy Euro-trash accent, but it�s like I�m
doomed to the stereotype whether I like it or not!

EVERYTHING about me
is changing and I don�t know if I can stand it.

I don�t know if
Harry can stand it.

He�ll leave me.

I just know he will.

~~

Her eyes stung and her throat constricted. With trembling hands, she continued to write.

~~

He�ll leave me.

I just know he
will.

He promised that
we�d get through this. I have to believe
in him. I always have, anyway. Only this time, I have to be strong, too. I have to believe in myself.

My thoughts are so
disjointed. I just keep wandering from
what�s important.

Job.

Alright.

I asked Cicero about this.

He said I mustn�t
worry. He said that already, some people have contacted his office about me and
possible employment. Many offers, he
says. Because even in the vampire world,
many know about Hermione Granger. Just
like many know about Harry Potter. Even
Ronald Weasley. Until I was turned, the
three of us were sort of� part of those rare human untouchables. Like Dumbledore, and Voldemort, and Viktor
Krum, and Cornelius Fudge. It�s a vampire
thing. No vampire should be so arrogant
as to take it upon himself to turn any of this distinguished lot. Almost like it�s taboo. But then I suppose Janus isn�t one to go with
the grain. And that now I�m vampire,
everyone wants a piece of me.

Not exactly
reassuring, these job offers. I�m still
trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I�d have to give up my aspirations
as a witch in the Wizarding World. I
feel as if everything I learned in Hogwarts was ripped from my brain just
before I was dropkicked into the real world without a stitch of clothing on.

How come nobody has
given me a booklist? I think Harry got
one. Cicero mentioned it. Where�s my booklist? I�m the one who has to adjust to being
undead. Why do I have to learn everything
the hard way?

~~

Hermione tossed her quill aside miserably, clapping the
pages of her journal shut.

If she let herself fall into that abyss of self-pity, she
might not get out of it.

She lay back down on her bed, her shackles shifting
against each other as she lay on her side.
She reached for another chocolate in the open box. More than half of the chocolates were gone,
but she wasn�t about to binge on them again.
She had felt the intoxicating effects of consuming too much of it at
once, and while it hadn�t been unpleasant, it had been a bit embarrassing. She had literally gotten drunk on them and
she must have said some pretty ridiculous things because Cicero seemed vastly amused.

The hunger nagged her, and taking Cicero�s earlier advice of keeping
herself occupied, she picked up the book Ron got her and began to read.

She had read through several interesting pages when there
was a knock on the dungeon door.

She looked up from her book, watching as Cicero rose from his desk to answer the
summons. She couldn�t see who it was but
she smelled the life-blood.

Hermione closed her eyes and focused on pushing the urge
back. Cicero had taught her simple meditation
techniques. They were surprisingly
effective.

Moments later, the dungeon door banged shut and Cicero was beside her, smiling gently as
he held up an envelope.

She sat up and he handed the envelope to her.

The paper was thick and of good quality; its color a
pleasing, vintage beige, like the paper had been aged on purpose. There was an aquamarine-blue seal on it, like
no wax Hermione had seen before. The
image on the seal was of a naked woman on her knees. She had wings, and they were outstretched
behind her while she held up a sphere twice as big as her head.

Hermione tried to place the image. �The winged goddess, Isis. Holding the eye of Horus.�

Cicero nodded. �Very good.
It�s an appropriate seal for the organization that sent you that.�

�Which organization?�

�Break the seal and find out.�

Hermione did. The letter
was hand-written. The penmanship was
exquisite and the lines were perfectly straight. Obviously a woman�s hand, but a very strong
woman, if the embedded slashes and dots were any indication. The same symbol on the seal graced the
left-hand top of the page, followed by an odd, streamlined cuneiform-type of
language.

She pointed to it.
�Is this what I think it is?�

Cicero smirked, peering into her eyes.

She felt a brush of his presence in her mind. Nothing more.

He nodded. �It is,
indeed, what you think it is. It�s the
vampire language.�

�Great,� she muttered.
�As if things weren�t complicated enough.�

�You�ll have to learn it, of course, but it�s only used in
very formal vampire-discourse, usually when there�s a ritual involved. And yes, it�s used for clan names and
organizations. It�s convenient for
affiliation purposes. But English and
whatever mortal language is perfectly functional. It will serve. Go on, then.
Read the rest of the letter.�

Hermione eyed him a bit suspiciously. She had a feeling Cicero already knew what the letter
contained.

~~

Dear Ms. Granger,

It has come to our
attention that you have recently been turned.
As it so happens, your name came up in our oracle as being particularly
suited to our organization�s goals.
Given this pre-disposition, it is incumbent upon my office to set an
appointment with you so that I can orient you on your career options with
respect to our organization.

Rest assured I will
not sell you anything. Nor will we
threaten you with death should you refuse.
One of the most important aspects of the Coven of Isis is a member�s willingness to
serve. We are nothing if not principled.

Let it be said that
we hadn�t had a unilateral recommendation from our oracle in the last five
hundred years. Though I do admit, on
hindsight, that�s not much in vampire years, but the case being that you�re
newly turned, five hundred years would seem like a rather impressive number for
you.

I would appreciate a
response at your soonest convenience.

Sincerely,

Yasmin bint Omar
al-Khwarizm

Coven Master and
Blood Keeper

~~

Hermione looked up.
�Five hundred years? Is that
supposed to make me feel special?�

Cicero laughed softly. �Well� maybe, or maybe not. The Coven of Isis makes recruitments on a
more regular basis than that, of course, but they aren�t oracle
recommended. Oracle endorsed, yes. Usually the coven picks a candidate, runs it
by the oracle and the oracle approves it.
But as it says in your letter, you�re the first unilateral recommendation
in five hundred years. In other words,
it spat out your name without being asked.�

�Well, I think that
rather makes me feel special.�

He shrugged.
�Understandable. But it has also been
proven, through history, that the Oracle is as much an instrument of fate as
everything and everybody else. Sometimes
the Oracle summons someone for his or her own merits, but there have been times
that someone is summoned as a means to
someone or something else far
more important.�

�Wonderful. I�m a
pawn.�

He smirked. �Aren�t
we all?�

She shot him a wry grin.
�Well, whatever this oracle is, I�ll have you know that I don�t believe
in anything remotely connected to divination, or fate, for that matter. It�s inexact science, if it can be called a
science at all. I find the subject
ridiculous and hocus-pocusy, so you�ll excuse me if I have no compunction to
trust this bloody oracle of theirs.�

�Bloody oracle is a rather appropriate way of putting it,
actually. It�s a magical object made
purely of living blood. What binds it
and keeps it alive, no one can explain, but it has been a very handy tool. They say it�s the blood of Isis herself, and
so long as Isis�s blood-line survives to keep it,
it shall serve the coven.�

�Isis�s line��

�Blood line. Yasmin
carries that line within her. The
records of her ancestors and their living descendants are a closely guarded
secret. It is the coven�s most prized
treasure. Through the millennia, there have been many unwarranted attempts to
read its contents. All have failed. Only a true heir can decipher its words, and
while Yasmin walks this earth, she is the only true heir there is.�

�So what happens when she dies?�

�The next true heir will arise. She�d have to be turned, of course.�

�She?�

�It�s always a woman.
That hasn�t changed in the last five thousand years.�

�Fascinating. So
what do these coven vampires do?�

�It�d be best to hear it from Yasmin.�

�Are you a member of the coven?�

�No. I�m a consultant
of sorts, but not a member. I�d rather
not limit my practice. Not that the
Coven is very limiting� In spite of the fact that the powerbase of the coven
rests on women, there�s an impressively vast male following.�

�Huh. Makes
sense. Goddess worshippers and such.�

He nodded. �Many
similar organizations with male powerbases defer to them. The Brotherhood of Osiris, for one. Then there�s also the Blood-Kin of
Ramses. The Coven is one of the most
powerful vampire organizations there is.
You should seriously consider meeting with Yasmin.�

�I sense a theme of sorts.�

Cicero smirked. �Do you?�

�Isis, Horus, Osiris, Ramses� Oracle? What�s with all the
Egyptian references?�

�A bit of vampire lore unknown to many. Many believe that vampires originated in Egypt, rather than�as modern muggle
tomes say�the Carpathians. Perhaps in Europe, that would be accurate, but the
Blood of All has been traced to Thebes.
Europe, after all, didn�t do blood
sacrifices until the late 13^th century, and such sacrifices weren�t
vampire-oriented, either. Usually, the dragons swooped in and just swallowed
the virgins whole, you know?�

Hermione shuddered.

�Besides, it�s no easy thing for a vampire, crossing
continents by boat. You�ve never known
hell until you�ve traveled by boat as vampire.
Believe you me.�

Hermione didn�t want to have to experience that. She put the note away. �I think I�ll meet with Ms. Omar. Seems like the polite thing to do considering
their Oracle took five hundred years to speak its mind. Besides� you had her letter delivered
here. It must be special to get your endorsement.�

He chuckled. �That,
it is, Hermione. Special doesn�t even begin to describe the Coven of Isis.�

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione wrote an owl confirming her desire to meet with
Yasmin bint Omar al-Khwarizm. Cicero explained to Hermione that she
would not get a reply back, just that Yasmin would one day appear at her
doorstep.

�But� what if I�m at Grimmauld Place by then? She won�t be able to find the house. It�s unplottable,� said Hermione.

Cicero looked thoughtful. �Now, there�s the twist, eh? Maybe you�ll have to send her an
invitation. As you know� if the �man� of
the house expressly invites a vampire into his home, all enchantments and
advantages you have over the vampire fall away at the threshold. She�d be able to find your house.�

She was a bit troubled by that, remembering how one vampire managed to get through every
ward of her house. She didn�t feel like
asking Harry to give that kind of permission to a vampire she knew very little
about. �I� I�m not sure I�d want to�that
is��

He smiled in understanding. �You don�t have to, of course. Yasmin will manage. You need not worry yourself. But� on my honor, you can trust her. She will not harm you and yours.�

She smiled gratefully.

For what remained of that night, Cicero ran her through the old routine
of feeding, discussing and then sleeping.
The following evening, it was the same, only this time, he told her she
would only have one meal. It wasn�t as
hard as she thought. Her fill of blood
from the previous day seemed to have lessened her hunger considerably, and she
was able to hold on until midnight.
An hour after her first and last feeding of the day, Cicero told her that he had allowed for
Harry and Ron to speak to her again through the communicator. She was ecstatic.

Like before, Harry spoke to her first. His light-projected face brought a smile to
her lips. Her feelings for him swelled
like a deep tide and she told herself that every hour that went by was one hour
closer to being with him again.

He was as thoughtful of her as ever, and this time, he
brought books. They were the books he
had been assigned to read, and he eagerly showed them to her. He told her about Vampires For Dummies and Underworld:
Vampire Society.

�I loaned Ron Bloody
Mary�s Not a Drink, She�s In the Basement because he was desperate for
something to read,� he explained.

She was surprised by this.
�Desperate to read? That�s�
unprecedented.�

Harry laughed. �Oy,
give the bloke some credit. He managed
six years of Hogwarts. He could at least
read and pass in homework and�dare I say it�study.�

�I was beginning to suspect that was a myth.�

He laughed again.
It was wonderful to hear him laugh.
She liked that she could invoke it in him. It was at that moment she realized that she
was never really one to make people laugh.
She was always so serious and�well, rather uptight. Every once in a while she said something that
would have her boys doubling over in laughter, but those moments were almost
always unguarded ones. She never tried
to be funny, but she supposed that when she was, she always only realized she
was funny after.

She wondered if she had any talents at all with respect to
this. She can�t ever be goofy-funny like
Ron. She was always more along the lines
of� scathingly funny. She used to think it was terribly mean of her
to be like that, and it was probably why she didn�t always pull out the big
guns. But now it seemed� easy. Maybe it had to do with her vampire
ferocity. Cicero said that was a vampire trait,
and that vampires manifested it in various ways.

�You know, Ron and I have been very studious since you
woke up. Following in your footsteps, you
might say. Wake up, eat, read, discuss
what we read, sleep, wake up, eat��

�It�s as if you know me�� she said, affecting awe.

He smiled. �I�m
nothing if I didn�t know you.�

And of course her stomach did a flip at that. �God, Harry, sometimes I just want to�I don�t
know�reward you, or something. Like knit
you a hat or� or smother you in whip cream and lick you all over.�

He blinked, looking mildly shocked. �Knit me a hat?�

She stared at him briefly before replying. �Er� you don�t fancy a hat? A jumper, mayhaps?�

�Methinks you�ve got me confused with a house elf. I�ll have you know that giving me clothes
won�t get rid of me.�

She giggled. �And
I�m supposed to insert innuendo about taking off your clothes right about
here.�

�And don�t forget, you promised whipped cream, too.�

That gave her pause.

He grinned. �You
didn�t seriously believe I�d let that pass without comment, did you?�

There was nothing to do but laugh.

Harry was particularly playful that night. He was his usual unpretentious self. Charming because of it. And he was so eager to please her. He told her he loved her every so often and
she couldn�t help but lavish affection in return.

All this of course meant he was hiding something. She attempted to worm it out of him but he shut
it down with a well-placed witty retort.
She did not try again.

When they said their goodbyes, she felt that familiar ache
of seeing him go. Broke her heart every
time.

Then it was Ron�s turn, and Ron went into his usual
routine of being comically stupid, until�of course�he told her just what
Harry�s been hiding.

�I hope he told you his scar hurt him again last night,�
said Ron. �He said he would.�

I knew it! she thought bitterly. I knew
he was hiding something! Gritting
her teeth, she felt heat coalescing in her eyes.

Perhaps realizing what her silence meant, he sighed. �Oh, for Merlin�s sake. Are you two in a relationship or what? And I don�t particularly appreciate being
caught in the middle of all this. Last
night, Harry ripped into me because you were
keeping things from him, too!�

She bristled. �What
happened?�

�Well, you apparently haven�t talked to him about your
issues regarding the prophe��

�Sod the prophecy!
Tell me about his scar!�

�You see, this is
the thanks I get for being Harry Potter�s and Hermione Granger�s best
friend. The abuse I get from the both of
you!�

The effect was instantaneous. She felt horribly ungrateful. �Oh, hex me� I�m sorry, Ron. Truly.
You�ve been wonderful about all this and Harry and I truly appreciate
you. It�s just a little crazy right
now��

�Yeah, yeah. I
know. It�s alright.�

She smiled wanly, warmed by Ron�s loyalty and
friendship. She itched to bring up
Harry�s scar again, but she didn�t want to seem too insensitive. She fidgeted, wondering how best to bring it
up.

�It caught him in the dungeons,� said Ron without
prompting. �We just heard him screaming
and next thing we knew, he�d passed out.
Just for fifteen minutes this time.�

She sighed in relief.
�Did he tell you what he saw?�

Ron narrated it.

Hermione�s stomach dropped. From Ron�s description of the vampire, she
was almost sure of what transpired.
�That�s Janus, the vampire who turned me. And I think I know why Voldemort�s angry with
him. I have reason to believe that he
was supposed to kill me that night, but for some reason, he decided to turn
me. And Voldemort is not pleased. I couldn�t be sure why that would piss Voldemort off.
After all, it could be argued that my becoming a vampire is a fate worse
than death��

�Hermione��

She realized how her words affected him and knew her
mistake. �Oh, Ron. Oh, dear, don�t� I didn�t mean that to be my feelings. I�m grateful to be alive. Just that�you know this won�t be easy,
right? This thing I�ve become? But I�ll take what I�m given and I�ll bear no
regrets. Please� please don�t tell Harry
I said what I said. Alright?�

He gave another sigh, or frustration this time. �Alright� but��

�We�ll concentrate on what Voldemort finds so unappealing
about this situation,� she said briskly.
�We don�t know if they�re certain I�m alive. After all, you could�ve executed me before I
could rise, but frankly, I doubt they�d believe I was dead. For one thing, I think Janus might have some
residual psychic connection with me, so at least he�s sure I was allowed to rise.
And even if he keeps this information from Voldemort, I think Voldemort
is more inclined to believe that the Order wouldn�t kill me. He knows that the lot of us aren�t as
cold-blooded as he is. If we find out
what got Voldemort so teed off, perhaps we can take advantage of that. Cut whatever plans he has right at the
knees.�

Ron nodded but sighed.
�Hermione, you know that you scare me, don�t you? Sometimes the way you think�it�s almost diabolical.�

She frowned. �Well,
I don�t mean to be that way.�

�I know. That�s
what frightens me. You�re not even
trying. I swear, if Harry had been
sorted to Slytherin, I reckon you�d be right there with him.�

�There are just so many levels upon which I can find
umbrage with what you just said.
Besides, I got sorted before Harry did, so you can�t say I followed him
into Gryffindor.�

Ron shook his head.
�It doesn�t matter if you were sorted first or if he was sorted
first. We already know where we would be sorted to before the hat is put on us. Weren�t you listening to Harry? The hat gave him a choice. If Harry had been more inclined to go to
Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, you would�ve
known that already. You and Harry knew
things about one another the moment you introduced yourselves to each other on
the train. So by the time you got around
to the hat��

�I�d have known which house I wanted to be in,� she
finished for him, awed by the depth of Ron�s insight. �Weasley� I�m�well�I�m just� alright, who are you and what have you
done to my best friend?�

Ron shot her a sardonic grin. �Har-de-har-har! I�m not as thick as you think I am, you
know.�

�And the world ends at what time?�

�Sometimes I wonder what Harry sees in you.�

�I�ve often wondered the same thing about you, Ron.�

There was a silence and when next they looked at each
other, they laughed.

�Sometimes,� Ron continued. �I wonder why we pull for that four-eyed
sod.�

Hermione smiled.
�Because he�s worth the fight.
Because he�s everything good and true and��

�I�ve heard this from you before: ad nauseum,� he groaned, but he was smiling. �But yeah, I can�t help but agree with you. I
don�t believe he has nine lives, but Someone
greater than all of this is rooting for him, that�s for sure. The bloke�s� I don�t know. Just no one else like him, is there? You hate him and want to punch his face in
sometimes, but you just know that if you follow him, to the ends of the earth
maybe, you�re doing the right thing. You
know that you�re following a real, honest to goodness hero who will fight the
good fight and possibly sacrifice his life for everyone without a second
thought.�

She felt a tightening in her throat. �Yes.�

Ron�s eyes widened.
�Blimey� when I say it like that, it suddenly makes all the sense in the
world why you�re shagging him and not me!�

And that did it.

�Ronald Bilius Weasley!�

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry pried his eyes open and felt his lids scraping
against them. Drowsily, he reached for
his wristwatch and tried to decipher the time without his glasses on. It was a bit of a struggle but he managed to
see the blurry hands pointing at ten in the morning.

Five hours of
sleep. Not bad, Potter.

Groggily, he pushed out of bed and stared out of the
window of Hermione�s room. He slid on
his glasses on and ran his fingers through his hair. His dazed thoughts began to solidify and he
smiled. Tonight, Hermione was coming
home.

He looked at the pictures on her bedside table. There was one muggle photograph of him and
her, taken from one of those spiffy new �digital� cameras her parents gave her
for her sixteenth birthday. He
remembered her vaguely telling him that she spelled the camera to work in
Hogwarts, and she had Dean Thomas take the picture for them. He and Hermione were a bit at odds,
then. What with her disapproval of the
Half-Blood Prince�s book, but he supposed she was too excited about the camera
to make that an issue at the time. It
had been a relief to him, anyway, that Hermione wasn�t upset about something. Last school year, it seemed that was all she
was: upset. Upset about potions, about
Hagrid, about Ron, about him� so when
she came to him, grinning about her new camera and wanting to get a picture of
them�well, it was so nice to see her happy.
He let all his worries fall away and hadn�t even thought about saying
no. She sat right beside him on the
common room couch and they didn�t even think about how to pose. They simply threw their arms around each
other, smiled for the camera and Dean snapped the picture.

They weren�t together then. Heck, he was rather hung-up on Ginny, even,
but he held her in a warm embrace, and she had her head nestled against his
chest contentedly, as if they were a
couple.

I had to be the
thickest idiot on the face of Hogwarts, he thought. Next to Ron, that is. Where was he at the time? Oh, right.
Snogging Lavender.

He looked at the two other pictures, both moving. There was a picture of the three of them in
the snow, her in the middle. He supposed
he and Ron always inadvertently gave her the spot, for whatever Freudian
reason. Hermione in the picture mildly
scolded Ron for something and Ron rolled his eyes before they both cracked
smiles, then she turned to Harry and beamed, while he beamed back, her gloved
fingers lacing through his. They held
hands for a while before she went back to scolding Ron.

The second wizard picture was of her and Ron looking over
a book while he, Harry, peered at them from above Hermione�s side. He had his arm draped over the back of her
chair and his other hand rested on the table beside the huge book. She was teaching Ron something and Ron had
his face scrunched as he struggled to understand. Harry was alternating between looking at the
book and watching them. Every time he
looked at the book, he would lean towards her, almost close enough to put his
chin on her shoulder. All three of them
suddenly looked at the camera, smiled, waved then went back to frowning over
the book.

He wondered if all their pictures were like that; him
unconsciously drawing as close to her as he could while she responded in the
same way. They were never conscious
about�well, holding each other, actually.
It was a natural thing between the two of them. Harry always thought it was because they were
such close friends who just happened to be boy and girl, which is why, when
they were younger, it puzzled him why she and Ron were so repulsed at the
thought of touching each other. As he got older, he realized Ron had acted so
awkwardly because Ron fancied her. And
so the saga continued to its disastrous, canary-infested end.

Harry grinned. All that kerfuffle so that Hermione and I
could be together?

It was little wonder they spontaneously combusted that
night at Privet Drive.

Still groggy from sleep, he staggered about his room,
collecting clothes and a towel for his morning shower. He was done getting ready in fifteen minutes
and he was soon bounding about the house, energized by his relatively good
mood. Remus was back with them and Tonks
opted to stay. Ron came into the kitchen
a bit later.

Harry was happily making omelets when Tonks threw the wet
blanket.

�Shacklebolt and Moody want to be here later to question
Hermione,� Tonks said. She had made no
preamble, but she looked sincerely apologetic.
There had been no other way to say it, so she had opted to be
blunt.

Ron paled, but said nothing as he exchanged pointed gazes
with Harry. They clearly agreed that
this was not something they were
pleased about.

Harry kept his temper in check. �Couldn�t that wait? Hermione doesn�t seem to want to talk about
what happened and I think she shouldn�t have to until she�s ready.�

Tonks shook her head.
�The aurors and the Order have
waited long enough. They need her
statement. It�s imperative, Harry.�

His brows furled, his stomach knotting at the mere memory
of what happened that awful night. �I�m
sorry, Tonks, but I won�t let you force her. Hermione is more important to me
than the Order or the Auror Department put together.�

She sighed. �Harry,
please��

�I couldn�t even imagine how terrifying it had been for
her�� he said quietly, looking Tonks straight in the eyes. �She was screaming and she was alone. And if you�d seen her parents�� He could
hardly go on. He had attempted to
reconstruct some kind of scene, once
or twice, in his mind. Like some kind of
punishment for his guilt, but he could never come to the end of it. He always stopped short, just before the
sword was supposed to have been plunged into her. He couldn�t bear the thought.

Remus placed a hand on Tonks� arm. They looked at one another, exchanging some
sort of wordless communication. She
nodded and leaned back on her seat.

�Harry,� said Remus.
�It�s important that Hermione do this.
The only true weapon the Order and the aurors have right now is
information. As you very well know, the lack of it costs lives. Losing one life to the violence is bad
enough, but in the Granger attack alone, we lost eight. We must do all we can
to avoid such a thing from happening again.
I can�t begin to understand what Hermione went through, but we must ask
her to try and tell us all she can.�

Harry frowned, but he saw reason in Remus�s words. Even Hermione would agree to tell them all
she could if it would help save lives, but he was determined to make it as
painless for her as possible. Her
parents were gone; he was all she had and he was determined to protect
her. He�d failed her already; he wasn�t
going to let anything happen to her again.

�Alright, provided Hermione agrees to do it,� he said.
�And if she does, I want the interview conducted here. Not at the Ministry or anywhere else. Here, in Grimmauld Place.�

Tonks nodded.
�Done.�

�Secondly, I won�t have both Shacklebolt and Moody
grilling her. I�ll let Shacklebolt
conduct the interview on behalf of the Aurors, but if anyone�s going to
represent the Order, I want it to be Remus, not Moody.�

She started, astonished by the demand. �Crikey! As if I can tell Moody what to do!�

�You know I like Moody, but not for this,� said Harry in
an inflexible tone. �I�ll only trust
Remus and I�ll make no compromises. If
Moody doesn�t like it, I�m sorry, but I expect he�d get over it if it�s
properly explained to him. At any rate,
if he tries to barrel his way in here� well, you know I can keep him out of my house.�

Tonks�s jaw dropped momentarily before she looked at
Remus.

Remus nodded, gesturing to concede the point to Harry.

Harry appreciated Remus�s support. From the corner of his
eye, he could see Ron smirking. He was
glad Ron approved.

�Fine,� Tonks grumbled.
�Moody�s going to blow a gasket, but he�ll have to put up, I
suppose. Anything else?�

�I�ll sit in during the interview, if it�s all the same to
everyone.�

Tonks sighed, throwing her hands up. �Sure.
Why not?�

Harry managed a small smile. �Thanks.
I appreciate your cooperation, Tonks.�

�Right,� she muttered, rising from her seat. �Now if you�ll excuse me, I�ve some
arrangements to make, thanks to Mr. Potter.
I�ll see you later, Remus.� She
dropped a kiss on Remus�s forehead before shooting Harry a look.

Harry shrugged and reddened ever so slightly.

She patted his shoulder then did the same for Ron before
she left the kitchen and disapparated from the living room.

�Well done, Harry,� Ron said, grinning.

Harry felt his face grow warmer. �I hope I wasn�t being mean to Tonks. I
just�I just want to protect Hermione.�

Remus smiled, calmly drinking his coffee. �I think you handled that very well,
actually. You weren�t mean to Tonks at
all. I think she was just surprised you
decided to put your foot down on something.
You know you seldom do.�

Harry was a bit embarrassed about that sad truth. �Yes, well� this is Hermione we�re talking
about, now. I simply won�t have her
picked on and prodded, not after what she�s been through.� He looked at his omelet and saw that it was a
perfect mess.

Groaning, he scraped off the ruined remains of the egg and
threw it in the trash, beginning his attempt at a second one. He noticed that Ron was giving him a
speculative look.

�What?� he asked.

Ron�s eyebrow arched.
�Eh? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking� that you on the
governing body of the Order of the Phoenix just might work. Hermione saw it, and I suppose she�s
right�again.�

Harry stared at Ron, wondering if Ron was being snarky. It didn�t seem like it. He cast Remus a glance and the old werewolf
was grinning, offering no argument.

He turned back to focus on his work, feeling a bit
self-conscious. He refused to comment
and tried to pinpoint the exact time when he actually began to think that Ron might just have something there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This
is a short chapter, I know. But the next
one�s going to be a doozie, so stick around.
Hermione�s coming home.

Buffy references:

Xander:
What, I can't have information sometimes?

Giles: It's just somewhat unprecedented.

Buffy:
See, this is a school, and we have students, and they check out books, and then
they learn things.

Giles: I was beginning to suspect that was a myth.

Buffy: Oh! I know this one: "Slaying entails
certain sacrifices... blah blah bity blah. I'm so stuffy, give me a
scone."

Giles: It's as if you know me.

More
references in the next chapter. I�m
sorry. I couldn�t help myself, mainly because Buffy quotes kick ass.

HAVE A
WONDERFUL THANKSGIVING!!!
- 8
- 9
- 10
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