FIC: The Guardian Brotherhood :: Chapter Five :: Synchronise
Title: The Guardian Brotherhood
Author: stormsandsins
Rating: PG so far
Pairing: Harry/Hermione (platonic), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny
Warnings: Smut.
Chapters: 10 so far, including the prologue.
Word Count: approx. 10,000 words for this chapter
Summary: It's 7 years after the fall of the Dark Lord. Hermione has been trying to get on with her life and forget the night Ron Weasley died. But the night a long-ago symbol appears outside her window, she gets more mystery and excitement than she wished for.
CHAPTER FIVE: SYNCHRONISE
“Shh, it’s me.”
“Harry!” Hastily Ginny covered her body with her hands and shut the water. It took two tries, she was shaking so much. A remnant of adrenaline, her ever helpful brain supplied. “What are you doing here?” she asked, thoroughly discombobulated. For some reason, it wasn’t even the thought that he’d just seen her naked that bewildered her, but his eyes. They were too strained, too taut, she thought absently a split second before he replied hollowly.
“I just went home… Hermione’s missing.”
After that, Ginny didn’t care for propriety. She stepped out and took him into the circle of her arms.
#
“It’s all in the prophecy,” Ron said, then quoted from it. “’A rogue cohort shall pursue the Brotherhood on a wind of betrayal’. We’ve been fighting the Mage Society ever since.”
“Which is when?” I asked curiously.
“It used to be that we kept evil wizards under control. The medieaval ages were relatively calm times. Then some Guardians turned rogue, embracing their powers, and we slowly lost control of the delicate balance. The Brotherhood began dedicating its efforts to protecting wizardkind from the Society.”
“What do they want?”
Ron sighed and closed his eyes. “They think they’re the better race of wizards. It’s Voldemort and Death Eaters all over again.”
“Oh.” I burrowed into Ron. “Is Buchanan…?”
Ron’s arms tightened protectively around me. “I think it’s safe to say he is one of them. I’ve never seen him before, but he held his own against me today. That’s proof enough for me.”
“Was he the one who set fire to Clarke’s lab?”
He shook his head. “I dunno, but… Hermione… it was Fiendfyre. Whoever set fire to his office wanted everything, including Clarke, destroyed and out of their way.”
“Even the prophecy?”
He shook his head. “They tried to take it but -“
“You were there.” He nodded. “But you didn’t see them?” I asked again.
“He or she was wearing an Invisibility charm. I didn’t have time to uncover them.”
What with how destructive Fiendfyre was, and how nearly impossible it was to put out - heck, Ron was the first person I’d ever heard of who could! - I didn’t hold it against him. He must have been as frail as he was now when he was done saving the day that time.
“What is he? Clarke. A Secret Keeper?”
Shaking his head, Ron replied, “No. A lore keeper kept in the dark.”
That made sense. “Ahh… the ignorant do not tell,” I said, catching up quickly.
With a small smile, Ron nodded. “It’s for his own good. The Brotherhood chose him because he’s a historian. They wanted me to tell him but I merely left the prophecy in an old book I was sure he would go out of his way to get. In a muggle sale, too.” Chuckling privately, he looked the very image of relaxation, despite his recent bruising.
“He knows the surface lore most than most,” I added, following his line of thought.
He turned to me and held my gaze. “Exactly.” He smiled. “God, I’d forgotten how smart you are. You’re amazing, you know that?”
I nudged him, blushing. “So why are you one of them?”
“A Guardian?” Ron’s brow hit his hairline. “I have no clue. I had no say. But from what I understand, we’ve all ‘changed over’ after a trying battle of some sort. All of us near death. Some of the older ones were there when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald during World War Two,” he added as an afterthought.
“It happens quickly, a lot like being thunderstruck. One moment I was fighting and the next I was down and something… burst out of me. Magic like I’d never felt in me before. And I was gone. Here. Weak. Alone.” He linked his hand through mine.
“I thought I was dead. You have no idea what it’s like to kiss death in the face. Eventually I came to, but I was never the same. I was too powerful, too uncontrollable at first.” He shook his head sadly and sighed. “I’m dangerous, Hermione. We all are. We’re… walking timebombs.”
“Not to me, you’re not.”
He was ignoring me, rattling off all kinds of nonsense about monsters and power. “And that’s why you shouldn’t be here, but goddamn, I can’t lose you again.”
That’s what did it for me. I saw red. Grabbing a cloakful of him, I shoved him down roughly and straddled his lean hips, edging close to his face to growl in his ear. “You think you lost me? What about me? What about me?”
God… damn. Tears. I couldn’t cry anymore, no way.
“Seven years ago you just vanished into thin air. I buried you in my mind. We didn’t have a body, but then many didn’t either. Dust… that’s all we had. We buried dust. And you were alive here, you knew I was still alive. So don’t -“ I wiped furiously at my eyes, hating the hot moisture of them. “Don’t tell me you lost me, because that’s just not fair. It’s… not… fair!” Shaking his already battered body, I suddenly felt weak and lay down on him. Oh, peace…
“I’m sorry, ‘Mione, I had no way… I wanted… I couldn’t.”
Ron’s words penetrated me as though I were on a floating cloudlike substance, warmth enveloping me and sending me… into sweet emptiness. A strong hand smoothed over my tears, a deep, hoarse voice soothed me softly. “Sleep, luv, you haven’t slept in years…”
I floated deeper.
#
It was by sheer miracle that Ginny didn’t crumble like Harry just had. After all, Hermione was Harry’s anchor, just like Harry was her own. She’d have gone nuts with Syn Wyngyn’s whacked-out definition of life if it hadn’t been for him throughout all the hard patches. It was only natural that she be there for him when he cracked.
Oh, who was she kidding. Of course it was more than kindness that drove her. It didn’t help that she knew the cause of his anguish, the woman behind it. Ginny felt like cracking herself. Hermione had once been her best friend. Whom she’d grown apart from after the war, but who cared? The bonds of friendship never severed of themselves. She’d just never been able to bear the sight of her afterward. Memories, and all that. They hurt.
“Shh…” Ginny soothed Harry, running a damp hand back and forth across the broad expanse of his back. The feel of his heart beating and the sound of his breath against her skin soothed her in return. He hugged her hard, telling her with that gesture just how this new loss affected him. “Did she leave a note?” Ginny asked softly.
“No…” he replied huskily. “I went to the Ministry to pick her up earlier and they said she never returned. I thought she might have gone straight home, but it was empty.”
“Did you check her appointments?” Surely as a lawyer she must have some appointments. Maybe she’d had one today.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “She went to a historian’s lab. Clean as a pin. Empty.”
Ginny very gently pulled away and felt her heart crack at the unmistakable sadness in his eyes. “Come here,” she said, tugging on his hand that held her fast and leading him to her living room. Dimly she was aware of his gaze on her, but it was neither blatantly male nor sexual. Which made her nudity so much easier to bear around him. She so didn’t want him to think about sex right now. It’d be explosive in a hundred wrong ways.
Soon Harry was seated in her loveseat and blindly reached for her. She complied, getting as close as she could. He needed her just like this. She gave freely. “Where do you think she went?”
Harry shook his head slowly. “I don’t know…”
“Did she talk about leaving tonight?”
“No. I talked to her parents. They haven’t heard from her since… last week. She’d have nowhere else to go.”
“What about your… wards?” She didn’t want to think about it, but kidnapping needed to be looked into.
“They’re strong enough,” he growled defiantly.
She was out of possible ideas except maybe one or two that he wouldn’t like. She didn’t particularly like them either. “I dunno what else to say, Harry. Have you talked to Aurors?”
He snorted. “They don’t have a Hermione Granger fanclub over there. With Kingsley retired it’s become even worse. She’s up in their grille half the time. The other they just don’t like her pawing through their business.”
Yeah, that was her all right. “Someone needs to know, though. And look.”
Harry’s expression turned to stone. “Us. She’s got us.”
Ginny sighed. She had expected that, just hadn’t wanted to believe. “What will you tell Keeny? Our boss, remember? We’ve already got Syn Wyngyn business, school, and the Ron thing. I don’t know about you, but I -“
He cut her off abruptly, his fists tightening. “It’s Hermione, Gin. What am I supposed to do? Let her just…?” He rubbed his brow. “I promised on Ron’s soul that I would take care of her. I’m not about to go back on my word.”
“I’m not telling you to give up,” Ginny said, throwing out her hands. “Just… let others help, do their jobs.”
His mouth flattened. “They really don’t care.”
Standing, she faced him head-on. Her eyes only reached his nose, but she didn’t care. “How about this, I won’t let you go off the deep end over this. Because that’s where you’re headed. I won’t help you destroy yourself. Sometimes, you just… have to delegate.” She grabbed his hand, rubbing. “How many hours do you sleep?”
For a few seconds he simply stared at her, a hard, dull light in his eyes. “I hate you right now.”
It seemed a hundred pounds left her body. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, deflating.
He nodded like he understood exactly what she meant, and grabbed his cellphone from his back pocket.
Ginny glanced at his hands. “What are you doing?”
He looked up, eyes traveling her body before meeting her suddenly wide eyes and flushed face. Well, there went her theory that he was too numbed out to see her. Tersely he said, “Go get dressed. I’m getting help.” A second later the phone was at his ear. “Hey mate, did I wake you? No? Good, I need to see you… Yeah, bring her with you. Thanks, I’ll owe you. Again.”
Glumly Ginny thought, Gee, another all-nighter. Whoop-dee-doo.
#
I woke suddenly with a cry, clutching at thin air, and instantly reconnected with the present. Bad dream. My immediate unease wasn’t due to magic overload this time, but to lack of warmth. Something wasn’t right.
I shot up in bed, squinting in the dark, and surveyed where I was. Small room, bare walls, no light, no windows.
I was not home, but with the Guardian Brotherhood. Only, they didn’t know I was here. Save Ron, who’d brought me.
Cold. I was cold. Glancing back, I found Ron’s side of the bed empty. Somehow I found that cause for sadness. It was also the reason I was cold.
Was he out protecting Bert Clarke again? Searching for Buchanan? Somewhere in the Brotherhood’s… Ron had once called it a ‘convent’.
Hugging myself, I stood in the darkness, my feet freezing under me. What was this place? I felt like a prisoner in a holding cell, treated like so much cattle, without benefit of sunlight or warmth. Where was this place for it to be this cold? Who could live like this perpetually without going insane?
Suddenly a voice sounded on the other side of the door. “Ron?”
My entire body went frigid with shock. Well of course oher people lived here, but what was I do do?
“Hello, Ron? Let me in.” Some useless jiggling of the doorknob. “What have you done to your door? Hello? Yoo-hoo, it’s me, Robin. I know you’re in heeere…”
What to do? Obviously Ron had locked me in but this… Robin… was a Guardian too, wasn’t she? She might well be able to break in past whatever spells or wards Ron had undoubtedly put up, and then where would that leave me? If I was found by that Robin girl… Who knew where I’d end up? I wasn’t supposed to be here, for chrissakes.
Who was this girl anyway? Why was she trying to get in when she thought Ron was in sleeping or something? Only one reason came to mind and… well, let’s just say I narrowed my eyes at the door like they were laser beams and could cut through iron. This Robin sounded young, didn’t she…
A very feminine huff, and the Robin girl tugged one last time. “Oh, fine! Be that way! But Julian wants to see you. He’s pissed off. You never showed up earlier.”
Her footsteps receded down what seemed like a long hall. Solitude claimed me once more, and I returned to the bed thinking, Wow, I feel detained.
Where was Ron, indeed. It was a pretty safe bet that he wouldn’t want me snooping around, so I was very definetely stuck between these four walls until he returned. Then there’d be something standing between me and one of those walls. Joy of joys. And then what?
The humming silence was stifling. I wished desperately for a book, anything to distract me, but I wouldn’t risk lighting my wand or some candles. Besides, there were none of the latter that I could see, and I would bet there were no books. I knew my Ron, didn’t I.
So I lay in a half-dead, half-awake state, pondering Ron’s world. Power and secrets and torture. The latter bothered me greatly. The secrets, I didn’t understand. The power, I could not fathom.
And the Mage Society? I wondered how long it someone someone to embrace their power, their invincibility, to the point of… greed.
Torture. Secrets. Power. Greed. How many great men had gone bad in the history of Man?
#
“So, Harry… Ginny… what’s up?”
Ginny groaned out loud, turning to Harry. “That’s your help?” she hissed at him, meaning Tom Hopkins. Miranda Anto was with him, but she didn’t mind her.
In response, he merely shrugged dismissively and turned to the two newcomers with the same hard expression that he’d been sporting since she had come out of the loo. That would be one big fat I Don’t Care.
Sighing, Ginny grudgingly joined the group of three. “Hermione’s missing,” Harry announced in a likewise hard voice.
Miranda gasped. Evidently neither she nor Hopkins had expected that to be the problem. “Oh my God. Are you okay?” she asked just as Hopkins whistled low. “Shit, mate.”
In no time, Harry had the two of them briefed and they all broke into their usual groups of two: Tom and Miranda to Harry and Hermione’s house; Harry and Ginny to the historian’s lab. The idea was to check for any strange factor. Harry had quickly demonstrated the Singulus spell beforehand, and so the other two were armed with a nifty little extra trick in their bag.
“You really don’t trust anyone else, do you?” Ginny asked Harry quietly when they were inside the darkened historian’s lab.
Harry was shaking his head absently to himself, having apparently not heard her. “Jesus, you’d think after getting fired up the other day, they’d be more careful with security,” he muttered under his breath. Then he looked back at Ginny. She only saw the rough outline of his face. “Not really. I’ve never trusted the system, that’s all.”
“But not Syn Wyngyn?” she asked, brows raised.
“Nope, but I trust Tom and Miranda seems trustworthy,” he said before squatting and illuminating his wand. “What have we got here…” he murmured, studying a spot that was cleaner than the rest of the floor. The pattern had once been mosaical, now it was mostly ruined. Except for that bit.
Ginny squatted next to him, but felt useless as Harry pulled the 8-figure routine. “Ever heard of double agents?” she whispered so she wouldn’t break his concentration or wouldn’t be heard at all, depending.
Harry glanced at her over his wand, his face darkly illuminated. “Weren’t you the one who suggested I bring in help?” He seemed surprised.
Ginny put up her hands, shrugging. “It’s just food for thought. I like Miranda, but…”
Harry smiled for the first time that night. “But you dislike Hopkins.” He dropped his head to smile privately and monitor his spell. “How about this, I trust them more than most. Even if you hate him.”
“Are you laughing at me?” The concept was weird, considering his earlier black mood.
“With you, of course.”
She did it. She shoved him, promptly breaking his connection. But instead of being all up in her grille, he simply kept squatting there, a smug grin lighting his eyes. “What?” he asked all innocently.
Argh. Ginny sighed, pulling out her wand. “Let me do it.” She got ready, then wondered Well, I don’t know what he’s looking for. “What are we looking for?”
He got serious again. “I dunno. This might be where she was abducted or something. I’m getting weird vibes from that spot.”
Ginny nodded and got down to business. Before
long she was blinking up at Harry. “What happened?”
Harry was staring at her like he didn’t know himself. “I tried to help you again, but you just blacked out like last time.”
Pushing her upper body off the floor, Ginny looked at the clear spot nearby. Harry had laid her down a metre away. “I don’t even remember anything this time.”
“Well…” Harry looked puzzled. “I thought I saw a hint of a Shield. Whoever was standing here was protecting themselves. Or someone else.” He scrunched up his face in recollection. “According to Hermione’s notes that I saw in her office, the man she’s representing was in a fire and someone else Shielded them. Someone named, uh, Honos I think.”
Ginny watched Harry stand up and increase the illumination on his wand. Slowly he turned around, studying the room at large and its mostly repaired mess. “Fiendfyre?” she asked, brows drawn high.
They both looked at each other. Spoke at the same time. “No way.”
Then Ginny scrunched up her own face thoughtfully. “But… what if?”
Harry looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. “Um, Ginny? Fiendfyre is impossible to put out, if you’ll remember from Follett’s class on Impossibles.”
“Haven’t had that one yet, sorry.” She grinned, all teeth and humour.
Harry blew out an exasperated breath. “Well hear me out,” he said before slapping his palms to her cheeks, making damn sure she listened. “They’re called Impossibles for a reason.”
Ginny crossed her arms defiantly and stayed there between his hands, completely unfettered. “Hypothetically speaking, what if? I mean, it’s pretty easy to Shield yourself from pretty much everything, depending on your speed and repel strength - magic, I mean. Everyone’s got a different Shield, some stronger than others. Right?” she asked, though she knew she was right.
Harry did, too. With a grim expression, he nodded wordlessly.
“So hypothetically speaking, someone with a Shield equal or stronger than the Fiendfyre would be able to protect themselves like that,” she said, gesturing to the clean mark.
“Sure,” Harry replied grudgingly, “but…”
“I know. Not plausible. To you.”
“To anyone,” he said with a little shake of her head as though to say Get it through your thick skull.
“Sure, sure.” She glanced back at the mark. She’d stay with her theory, though, because she excelled at them and knew it. “So there’s nothing new in there, nothing from today?”
Gently Harry released her head with a curse at her intention, and shook his head. “Nah. That’s probably all from the night of the fire. Although, it’s eerie, no? It feels the same as Spinner’s End… all that power.” He mused for a few seconds then again shook his head. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Me neither,” Ginny supplied.
A soft smile - gosh, it was beautiful - graced his lips before he turned to the rest of the room, scanning it. “What do you see?” he asked her then, and they were back to Hermione-hunting.
Ginny drew herself up on her knees and sat with them folded under her next to Harry. From there she visually scoured the lab from a low perspective, seeing… “Nothing.”
Ordinarily abductions involved a bit of fighting, and that fighting was often horizontal. A knee in the back, a hand at the neck, that sort of thing. So it explained their low altitude for their exploration.
Harry grunted his similar conclusion, then stood and prowled like a predator, embodying one.
Ginny watched from the same position as he walked the length, walking right up to furniture and examining book spines on the shelves and rummaging around desks. Suddenly he stopped right at the farthest corner of the room and dropped to his haunches. “Gin? Come here.”
Ginny walked over.
In the beaming glow of his wand, a tiny drop of dried blood appeared near the bottom of the vertical crack.
“Is that…?”
Harry squatted and held up a finger. “Watch. Genus Revelum.” His wand glowed blue. He exhaled deeply, swaying as it faded to white again.
“What just happened?”
He turned to her, obviously relieved. “It’s a boy.”
#
It’s a boy.
“Huh?” Oh, that was a very intelligent academic response.
As he looked back at her, Harry furrowed his brow. “Your parents never told you about this one? It’s for telling the sex of a baby. With a bit of the mother’s urine, I’m told, but…”
“Well seeing as I don’t have kids and am the last of the Weasley crop, no, I’ve never heard of it. Hi, my name is not Bill Weasley.”
Harry snorted. “And thank the Lord. I couldn’t handle a small Bill with woman breasts.”
“Oh my God!” Laughter spilled out of her in short bursts, loosening her overall tension until she was calm, happy, and needed mental image removal. “Jesus, my poor brain… How do you know this anyway?” As far as she knew, he and Hermione didn’t…
Harry flushed a deep red, rubbing his neck. “Ah, your parents told me. Not that we need it.”
Ah, there was her answer. Ginny knew why she was glad to know that but couldn’t stop herself from thinking she was a selfish bitch for thinking it. “Oh.”
He cleared his throat. Obviously this was not a comfortable topic. “Anyway. So all that to show that’s not Hermione’s blood.”
Thank God, Ginny thought as she blacklighted her wand and surveyed the chlorine job. Sheesh, the poor man would be lucky to still be alive.
A shrill sound broke the silence. Harry palmed his mobile. “What have you got? Good, wait for us.” Snapping it shut, he pocketed it again and straightened. “That was Hopkins. They found our vic,” he said, pointing his chin at the cheap cover-up. “He’s at St. Mungo’s and kicking. Let’s go.”
#
I fell asleep again at some point, all time-confused because I didn’t know how much of it had passed since Ron had taken me to his room. Without benefit of windows or watch - why hadn’t I put it on the morning of I had no clue - I could well have sworn it’d been days. My body whispered no, but who could trust an internal clock that needed an actual three-dimensional, tangible and very annoying alarm clock loud enough to wake the dead in the morning? I didn’t. Hence, I was still thoroughly unbalanced.
When I did wake up later - who knew how much later that was - it was to see Ron easing his way into his room. “Hey,” he murmured, “did I wake you?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied, stretching like a well-rested cat. I felt like one. “Where were you?”
Ron leaned back against the closed door, a wistful expression on his face and a small private smile stretching his lips. “Feels really odd to have someone to come home to. Like the tent, remember?” His brilliant eyes drew me into the memory.
“Yeah. You and Harry were such boys, coming back to the camp later than everyone else. And to prove what? Your virility?”
He grinned. “Sure, why not? We were out there, finally.”
I pursed my lips. “You scared the shite out of me,” I said with as much accusation as I remembered feeling back then.
Pushing away from the door, Ron pulled his customary hood back to reveal his gleaming fiery hair. “Bah, I always came back, didn’t I? Didn’t we?”
I gave him The Look. “I suffer you.”
“Ha!” He landed on top of me, straddling my half-turned body even as I let out a yelp and balled up tight in protection. “So, I was thinking…”
I poked him before he could go on. “You still haven’t answered.”
“What?”
I stared.
“Oh. Can’t say. But Clarke’s fine. He survived.” He gave me a tight smile. “He’s not pretty, I’ll admit, but he’ll make it.”
Taking a deep breath, I almost didn’t want to ask. “What about Buchanan?”
His head dropped into my neck. “Off the radar,” he muttered. “Can we please talk about something else?”
I sighed. “Someone came by earlier.” At that, his head shot up, and I was right. He really didn’t want my presence broadcast.
“Who?”
“A girl… Robin?” He cursed. “She didn’t see me. Or hear. I swear.”
He shook his head. “Nah, it’s not about you. She’s just annoying. Likes to follow me around. Annoy me some more.”
Ha! Quickly I hid my smile, but what a lark! Ron had a fangirl! “Anyway,” I coughed, “she was very put out” - Ron stuck out his tongue at me - “and said something about a Julian wanting to talk to you. Apparently you were supposed to -“
“Meet him,” Ron finished for me, and cursed. “Damn, I forgot about him.”
I waited a bit for him to explain. When he didn’t, I pressed on. “Shouldn’t you go?”
Ron stayed put. “He’s out.”
“O… kay. So now what?”
“Um.”
I knew that expression. It was blatantly male and especially suggestive. Seven years ago I’d seen it often on his face. Been stupid to turn him down, too. Now it made me feel… like a woman. Again. Finally. It sure was appreciated, but I once again had to divert his attention. “So how long am I going to stay hidden here?” That worried me, and I needed a definite time stamp.
Ron ducked his head again, nuzzling my throat. I couldn’t think straight when he did that. The bastard, he remembered. “Until you’re safe,” he replied in a gravely voice against my skin.
I struggled to pull my head out of the wicked bin. “You don’t know.” I didn’t need to ask, really. I think that uncertainty scared him, because then he was sure of nothing. With all this power must come grand expectations out of fate. Great historic men had sat at the top of the world before that very world had toppled them over and out.
Ron drew back slightly. “What’s wrong?” I must have grown stiff. I felt stiff.
Urgency made my words seem dreadful to me. “Don’t you turn Mage on me.”
Jerking in surprise, Ron blinked down at me. “What the hell?”
“You don’t know. You’re scared. You think you should know.” I paused, shaking my head wildly. “Doesn’t the Society begin somewhere? That’s where.”
Shaking his head slowly in bafflement, Ron frowned down at me. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not turning Society on you.”
I didn’t know why that made me feel better. Hell, I didn’t know why I felt this impending doom barreling down at Ron. Premonition? Plain nightmare, with nothing to worry about? Merlin, I prayed for the latter because… Ron just wasn’t Stalin-bad. He might not be wholesome good, but… “Sorry, I just… freaked out. All better.”
Still looking spooked, Ron eyed me like he foresaw white padded rooms in my future.
“I’m fine,” I assured him shakenly.
“And I’m not planning on turning into a selfish prick. Okay?” I nodded. “Good,” he breathed out. As he settled back into me, I welcomed the heavy weight of him against my side. “What made you, er -“ he asked again as he brushed my hair from my face and then rolled to face me. His eyes, concerned as they were, bore into me like floodlights, baring everything.
“Ah, just that this place is run a little… unconventionally.”
“Mm,” was his rumbled assent.
I ran my hand over his strong jaw, tracking the movement with my eyes. “And it’s not like you to take orders and… punishment,” I said carefully. “Like you were trained to?”
Ron coughed and dropped his gaze to the bed between our close bodies. Then he spoke. “We’re a unit, you know? Something doesn’t work, we take action -“
“It wasn’t like that with Harry,” I pointed out quietly.
“I know,” he muttered before raising his head. It was red and grim.
That’s when I got it. “You hate it,” I breathed out. Silence met my claim, but I knew it to be true, just like I knew him. His face looked too dejected for it to be anything else.
“That beating,” I continued, “it wasn’t just about the book, was it?” Silence again. “You’re too much of a free agent,” I deduced easily, knowing his hotheaded nature.
“Something like that,” he muttered.
“Oh, Ron…” I murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
What started out as a gentle, sympathising kiss quickly became a bit more energetic as time and feelings and passion began piling up so that we were both breathless by the time Ron lifted his head.
A lot of staring went on, and then he brought his hand to my cheek, stroking. “Yeah, I’m scared, but only for you,” he said. “I’d do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”
That gave me pause once more. “Even lie to the Brotherhood?” He just kept staring, a defiantness in them that answered my question as swiftly as if he’d actually said the words. I felt like bashing him in the head. “Don’t you see? That’s how it all starts!”
But he wouldn’t hear anything of it. “Nothing’s starting, dammit!” he roared, then lowered his voice. “Calm down, Luv. That’s right, calm down.”
“Ugh,” I groaned into his chest. “Why couldn’t you have been a regular wizard? No, you have to be the best.”
“The lowest of,” he corrected smoothly. “I’m barely out of training.”
Like that mattered? “Whatever.”
Ron shifted a bit against me. “Tell you what, how about we don’t talk about this anymore?”
Something in that struck me. Grinning suddenly, I poked him in the chest once. “That’s the third time you’ve tried changing the subject with me.” Though it was sorely needed. I needed to get rid of those dark thoughts and, thank God, he was there to make that happen.
He pecked me quickly. “Did it work?”
That’s the great thing about Ron, I thought right then. Never misses his mark when it comes to play. Feeling just as playful, I drew in close, speaking directly against his mouth. “Every single time.”
He was the one to move in for this kiss, hot and soft against my lips. He tasted like licorice and woods, that heady scent that branded him. Licking and sucking and biting softly, I drank my fill, past and present warring in my brain until I didn’t know exactly where or when I was. I recognised Ron in his special taste and scent, but not in the shape and size of the man between my arms. The confusion was intoxicating, like a known stranger, and it left me breathless and wanton. Who cared about the differences? He was Ron, and I was Hermione, and this was us. Together. Alone. Like so many other times in the past, but those had never pressed us with years in between now and then.
I trembled with… what? Fear? Not of him, never. Tears? I was way past crying. Anticipation? Ah, yes. I trembled with unparalleled lust, wanting that one thing we’d never shared but always promised we would later, when the time was just right. Well, later was now and the time… who cared about right anymore? When was right, anyway? I’d lost my childish dreams of rightness when maturity kicked in on overdrive. I knew none of those precious fantasies anymore for they belonged to someone who hadn’t known immediate grief. Shattered, never to be revisited. So… now or anytime were just right. But I wanted now, and I realised that Ron was shaking next to me, too.
Good, that made the two of us.
His eyes locked with mine, burning as they silently asked the very same question he then spoke with that husky gravely voice of his. “Now?”
I shuddered from head to toe from the feel of his erection on my hip. And wanted to weep because he asked with a desperation that found me. “God, yes,” I choked out.
What followed was a mad scramble to undress each other punctuated by a fear of what was to come, what was happening to us. We were twenty-four, for chrissakes, and virgins to top it off. Sexy dreams and sad nighttime visitations had not prepared us for this.
#
“Christ,” Ron graoned when he had me in my knickers and bra and I had him in his boxers. “You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of you like this.” Slowly he reahed out to touch me, his heat slamming into me through the thin fabric. “I’d almost convinced myself my hand was enough.”
Sweetly he kissed me again, but what I did next shocked us both. Ron moaned into my mouth before rolling on top of me. The room was suddenly illuminated as he lighted it, bright and… oh, his eyes…
“I was obviously very wrong,” he said heatedly, grinding into my hand.
“Could have told you that myself.”
He tilted his head, eyes flaring. “You’ve tried it?” Moving his hand, he slowly ran his finger over my cloth-covered nipples. It seemed my admission pleased him.
“Mm hmm,” I answered breathily. “Both mechanical and manual.” Never inside, though. I’d never had the nerve. Or the need. “But I don’t recommend it. It’ll drive you mad.”
His big body rumbled with nervous laughter. “No kidding.” Somehow the knowledge that I wasn’t the only one on edge relieved me. The two of us were equal players in this game of touch and go. “Even imagining you wasn’t real enough for me.”
I spread out for him, allowing Ron to sink closer into me. “What was I like?” I asked as he looked down where our bodies almost met.
He lifted his eyes. Deep. Blue. Shadowed. “Perfect… Let me see you, Luv.”
I had to sit up to work on my bra. Ron sat back on his knees and I felt his heavy gaze on me as I unhooked the tiny clasps. Just before I could slip it off, though, he stopped me, hands going to the straps. “Let me.” I lowered my arms, throat going dry.
Slowly his large hands pushed the straps off my shoulders and I watched as his eyes lowered almost in prayer. Quick as that, he then met my gaze. “Beautiful.” And he drew me to him, to my knees. Our bare skin touched. We both sighed. “It’s like you said, I’ve been going mad.”
I yelped, scowling. “You think it’s been great for me?”
“Maybe not,” he mused with a wry smile. His hands were now at the elastic band of my knickers. Thumbs slipping in, he lowered them, fingers trailing behind to touch every inch of skin he could. They twitched. “So smooth. Can I?” he asked, eyeing my thighs.
I cradled his face and leaned in so that our lips touched. “Sure. Just… slow, okay?” He nodded slightly.
We stayed like that, never actually kissing, as Ron gently brushed a fingertip over every corner of my intimacy. Eyes closed, he listened to my every sound, brows furrowed one moment in concentration and the next in something more physical, more… raw. I watched his closed lids without really seeing, lost in a place deep inside of myself that I’d thought dead or broken all this time. It wasn’t. It bloomed, it beat low and it felt deeper inside still than just its core. I felt like laughing, I felt like welling. God, I was alive!
I clutched disorderly at him, breathing things I did not understand. Directions? It seemed so, because the next second something warm gushed out of me. Although I recognised the substance for what it was, I was momentarily lost as to how it could have come so fast. Glorious things were happening to me beneath his fingers. And then the next thing I knew was that I cried out, and I clawed at him harder still as - “Ron” - wave after wave of an exhiliating rush came barreling down at me.
But the earth-shattering orgasm didn’t stop there. A split second later, Ron had shoved his boxers down past his scrotum, brought me into his lap so I straddled him proper, and twisted us down so he surged on top of me. I cried out again as he penetrated me, but the pain was largely superceded by the pleasure tide I was already riding though I still felt acutely how big he was. Sweat broke out across Ron’s skin, and the slap of skin on skin heightened all my senses until I could only feel what was right there in me, on me, around me. Ron.
It was our first time together as well as separately. It was sloppy and terrifying. He was invading a small but important part of me. It was beautiful and it was uncomfortable, but the previous sweet release finally coaxed another one out of me until my body did the rest for me. And it was shortly afterward, when I held Ron tightly to me with my legs around him, and saw him arch over me one last time, that I realised none of it, none of the pain, mattered. I did not care for perfection.
#
“What do you mean, we can’t go in?”
Harry’s roar echoed down the hall until Ginny was sure that the entire wing could hear them. Putting her hand on his arm, Ginny spoke softly so only he could hear. “Harry, calm down, there’s got to be a misunderstanding.”
His reaction didn’t surprise her. With everything that had kept cropping up lately, she was actually surprised that he hadn’t blown like a pricked balloon yet.
The nurse, however, wasn’t so understanding. “Kindly leave, visitation hours were over a long time ago.”
“We’re not visiting -“
“Then what are you doing?” the thin woman scowled, obviously unimpressed.
“We’re investigating a case.”
The nurse pursed her lips, looked him up and down, and frowned some more. “Never seen you before. Where’s your Auror badge? Both of you.”
Now Harry looked really impatient, growling, “You don’t understand -“
“Ha! I’ve seen the likes of you before. Get out. Come back tomorrow. Never try that that ploy again.”
Ginny could tell Harry was an explosion waiting to happen. He’d likely burst with the one weapon he hated: Do you know who I am? - but he never got the chance.
The closed door to the room they’d been standing in front of all this time suddenly eased open, and Miranda popped her head out. “It’s okay, Libby,” she said quietly. “They’re with us.”
Libby groaned with disgust, rolled her eyes, and marched away. “Oh, Anto, you owe me double for these fools. That one in particular,” she said over her shoulder, pointing a thumb at Harry.
Miranda sighed, pulling the door open for both of them. “She’s just doing her job,” she murmured as Harry and Ginny passed her. Harry grunted, Ginny attempted a smile despite her drowsiness.
And then Tom stood from next to the only bed in the room. What lay in it was a mummified man, with only a few key inches of skin left exposed. “Harry, Ginny, hi,” Tom greeted them grimly. “This is Bert Clarke, Hermione’s client.”
Harry nodded to the heavily bandaged figure under the bedsheets and walked right up to it. “Hello, Bert. I’m Harry Potter and this is my partner, Ginny Weasley. We’re with Tom and Miranda. May we ask you a few questions?”
#
Ginny unlocked her door and then sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. “Gosh, this is a mess. He didn’t even know anything relevant.”
Harry had pushed past her, gunning straight for her couch. It had been her idea and recommendation that they sleep on what they’d been able to glean - not much - before delving any deeper into “the mess”, as she liked to call it. Eventually Harry had relented, but now the prospect seemed to be more appealing to him as he reclined and closed his eyes. “No, but we know why he was banged up. Some old text.”
Ginny snorted in disgust. “Didn’t even remember what it was.”
Cracking an eye open a slit, Harry pegged her with it. “Wouldn’t tell us. There’s a difference. He’s hiding something and I think it has something to do with Hermione.”
As she dropped onto the arm of the loveseat that faced him, Ginny shook her head and then realised she was being stared at. “What?”
Harry shrugged. “I dunno.” He closed his one eye again, and then seemed to have fallen asleep.
Ginny bit her lip. “Um, Harry?” He’d decided to stay the night over - which she agreed with completely - but that didn’t mean he should have neck strain in the morning. She stood slowly. “Maybe… maybe you should sleep in a bed.”
“’S all right, ‘m fine here.”
Damn all men and their chivalry! “Harry… come with me. You should… sleep in a bed.”
His eye came open again, and he was silent as she inhaled and… held. “You sure?” he asked.
She released. “Yes. You’ll be infinitely more comfortable. And I don’t snore. I swear. I think.” The humour was meant to ease her own tension, but it redoubled when he stood up with a great mighty push. He was more tired than he let on.
“Okay,” he said, but she’d gotten the meaning already.
Quickly she turned and headed for her bedroom in search of stray feminine things before he could come in.
She’d just snatched the knickers and pink bra lying on her bed when he came loping in, looking for all the world like a drunk, with bleary eyes and zigzagging waltz. Hiding the feminine things behind her back, Ginny dashed outside to give him his privacy. Then popped her head back in. “Um, take whatever side. I don’t care.”
She heard his belt buckle come undone as she went away, and swallowed hard. Shit, she’d sleep with Harry.
#
A half-hour later, Ginny tiptoed it back to her room, dressed in her customary shirt-and-short combination. Easing in past the door, she saw through the darkness that Harry had indeed fallen asleep and that he was also wearing a shirt and shorts. Or, er, boxers.
Why did the distinction matter?
Because, a small voice inside her head explained while things quickened inside her, shorts are shorts and boxers and underwear, lest you forget.
Oh, she had not forgotten, just chosen to ignore. But now the distinction was right in her face under the covers.
She should not have invited - pushed, really - him in her bed. Things could get… complicated. In her brain, especially. But, fighter that she was, she would do it because it was late, she was tired, so was he, nothing could possibly happen, and - oh my God, yes, boxers!
Get a grip, Weasley. It’s just a piece of clothing, nothing less. So he’s not naked, see?
She did see. And it so did not matter.
Fighter. Right. On with it. Close your eyes. Get some sleep. Simple.
Ginny climbed under the covers and lay down as far away as possible from Harry, and scowled. Damn Harry and his boxers.
It was her last thought before her body powered off for however long it had to juice up again.
#
Ron held Hermione long afterward, basking in a glow that didn’t seem to completely reach his head. Cold hands were closing down around his chest as he thought about how she couldn’t possibly stay with him, even now. The danger was too great.
Merlin, he didn’t even want to think about the possibility of her being found here. It definitely sent his nerves into a deep freeze.
Yet even as she stirred in his arms and pressed back against him, he knew he wouldn’t change his mind for all the world. She was… his.
He sealed both their fates by pressing his lips to the sensitive back of her neck.
She shivered.
“You’d better now, Luv, before it’s too late,” he whispered to her sleeping form before drawing away and slipping on his cloak.
#
“Honos, how you please us with your presence.”
Ron bowed in deference to the Circle of Elders. “I have come as Elder Aine requested.” He straightened, but did not lift his eyes. Stayed quiet until one of them asked him a question. He’d learned well.
“What is your progress on the search for the book?” a man’s voice asked to his right.
He angled his head toward the voice. “I have no been able to locate it.”
The Elder’s voice sharpened. Ron imagined narrowed eyes, a hard jaw, long nose. “What of the prophecy?”
“Neither,” he replied, heart hammering in his ears. Please not the torture, please not…
Someone snorted derisively. “I told you, Lady Aine. It was better not to send an inexperienced one.”
Ron spoke up then, a breach of procedure for sure, but he didn’t care much now. “But I know who has it.”
He could feel all eyes on him now.
“You do?” the man asked sceptically. “Who?”
“A man named Kyle Buchanan. I believe he’s a member of the Society. He nearly killed my -“ Ron flushed, stumbling over his words “- a woman today trying to get her to translate it.”
Aine gasped softly, her voice becoming fierce. “Where is this woman?”
Careful, Ron thought. Swallowing hard, he bowed his head even lower to hide his face. “She is no threat to the Brotherhood.”
“You have killed her?” she asked, and he jerked. In this instant she sounded pleased with him, for the first time. Ron remained silent. “Good. We do not need civilians to tip the scales in their favour.” She started pacing, her robes fluttering over the pale floor. “I trust she did not tell the Mage what he sought?”
She had told Buchanan nothing that seemed to matter. Not that he should know. “No.”
“Guardian Honos, looks up.” Exhaling deeply, Ron looked up and met the female Elder’s clear blue eyes in her pale face. A slow smile split her fiercely set features. “It is time you heard the prophecy, I think. What say the Circle?”
A murmur of scepticism rolled around the circular room, and then one by one they gave reluctant assent.
Aine smiled again, haughtily, and headed for her chair once more. When seated comfortably, she spoke clearly, her voice ringing out. “The first Circle of Elders had a Seer among their numbers. She Spoke this, her first and most important prophecy: The Oldest Prophecy.
“A legend, older than wizardry itself
Tells that the Brotherhood of Guardians
Will prosper for one thousand years, teaching
Their brethren to serve the greater good.
“The Circle of Elders warns that a rogue cohort
Shall pursue the Brotherhood on a wind of betrayal
And cast it and its legendary warriors into darkness.
“But fear not despair, children of Odin,
For the one born thrice of fire
In the twenty-first of Yeshua
Shall triumph when he finds his soul.
“Then shall the Guardian Brotherhood
Thrive for a thousand years more.”
An eeriness filled the silence then, heavy and stifling, as Aine sat back to observe the room at large, but Ron especially.
Author: stormsandsins
Rating: PG so far
Pairing: Harry/Hermione (platonic), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny
Warnings: Smut.
Chapters: 10 so far, including the prologue.
Word Count: approx. 10,000 words for this chapter
Summary: It's 7 years after the fall of the Dark Lord. Hermione has been trying to get on with her life and forget the night Ron Weasley died. But the night a long-ago symbol appears outside her window, she gets more mystery and excitement than she wished for.
CHAPTER FIVE: SYNCHRONISE
“Shh, it’s me.”
“Harry!” Hastily Ginny covered her body with her hands and shut the water. It took two tries, she was shaking so much. A remnant of adrenaline, her ever helpful brain supplied. “What are you doing here?” she asked, thoroughly discombobulated. For some reason, it wasn’t even the thought that he’d just seen her naked that bewildered her, but his eyes. They were too strained, too taut, she thought absently a split second before he replied hollowly.
“I just went home… Hermione’s missing.”
After that, Ginny didn’t care for propriety. She stepped out and took him into the circle of her arms.
#
“It’s all in the prophecy,” Ron said, then quoted from it. “’A rogue cohort shall pursue the Brotherhood on a wind of betrayal’. We’ve been fighting the Mage Society ever since.”
“Which is when?” I asked curiously.
“It used to be that we kept evil wizards under control. The medieaval ages were relatively calm times. Then some Guardians turned rogue, embracing their powers, and we slowly lost control of the delicate balance. The Brotherhood began dedicating its efforts to protecting wizardkind from the Society.”
“What do they want?”
Ron sighed and closed his eyes. “They think they’re the better race of wizards. It’s Voldemort and Death Eaters all over again.”
“Oh.” I burrowed into Ron. “Is Buchanan…?”
Ron’s arms tightened protectively around me. “I think it’s safe to say he is one of them. I’ve never seen him before, but he held his own against me today. That’s proof enough for me.”
“Was he the one who set fire to Clarke’s lab?”
He shook his head. “I dunno, but… Hermione… it was Fiendfyre. Whoever set fire to his office wanted everything, including Clarke, destroyed and out of their way.”
“Even the prophecy?”
He shook his head. “They tried to take it but -“
“You were there.” He nodded. “But you didn’t see them?” I asked again.
“He or she was wearing an Invisibility charm. I didn’t have time to uncover them.”
What with how destructive Fiendfyre was, and how nearly impossible it was to put out - heck, Ron was the first person I’d ever heard of who could! - I didn’t hold it against him. He must have been as frail as he was now when he was done saving the day that time.
“What is he? Clarke. A Secret Keeper?”
Shaking his head, Ron replied, “No. A lore keeper kept in the dark.”
That made sense. “Ahh… the ignorant do not tell,” I said, catching up quickly.
With a small smile, Ron nodded. “It’s for his own good. The Brotherhood chose him because he’s a historian. They wanted me to tell him but I merely left the prophecy in an old book I was sure he would go out of his way to get. In a muggle sale, too.” Chuckling privately, he looked the very image of relaxation, despite his recent bruising.
“He knows the surface lore most than most,” I added, following his line of thought.
He turned to me and held my gaze. “Exactly.” He smiled. “God, I’d forgotten how smart you are. You’re amazing, you know that?”
I nudged him, blushing. “So why are you one of them?”
“A Guardian?” Ron’s brow hit his hairline. “I have no clue. I had no say. But from what I understand, we’ve all ‘changed over’ after a trying battle of some sort. All of us near death. Some of the older ones were there when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald during World War Two,” he added as an afterthought.
“It happens quickly, a lot like being thunderstruck. One moment I was fighting and the next I was down and something… burst out of me. Magic like I’d never felt in me before. And I was gone. Here. Weak. Alone.” He linked his hand through mine.
“I thought I was dead. You have no idea what it’s like to kiss death in the face. Eventually I came to, but I was never the same. I was too powerful, too uncontrollable at first.” He shook his head sadly and sighed. “I’m dangerous, Hermione. We all are. We’re… walking timebombs.”
“Not to me, you’re not.”
He was ignoring me, rattling off all kinds of nonsense about monsters and power. “And that’s why you shouldn’t be here, but goddamn, I can’t lose you again.”
That’s what did it for me. I saw red. Grabbing a cloakful of him, I shoved him down roughly and straddled his lean hips, edging close to his face to growl in his ear. “You think you lost me? What about me? What about me?”
God… damn. Tears. I couldn’t cry anymore, no way.
“Seven years ago you just vanished into thin air. I buried you in my mind. We didn’t have a body, but then many didn’t either. Dust… that’s all we had. We buried dust. And you were alive here, you knew I was still alive. So don’t -“ I wiped furiously at my eyes, hating the hot moisture of them. “Don’t tell me you lost me, because that’s just not fair. It’s… not… fair!” Shaking his already battered body, I suddenly felt weak and lay down on him. Oh, peace…
“I’m sorry, ‘Mione, I had no way… I wanted… I couldn’t.”
Ron’s words penetrated me as though I were on a floating cloudlike substance, warmth enveloping me and sending me… into sweet emptiness. A strong hand smoothed over my tears, a deep, hoarse voice soothed me softly. “Sleep, luv, you haven’t slept in years…”
I floated deeper.
#
It was by sheer miracle that Ginny didn’t crumble like Harry just had. After all, Hermione was Harry’s anchor, just like Harry was her own. She’d have gone nuts with Syn Wyngyn’s whacked-out definition of life if it hadn’t been for him throughout all the hard patches. It was only natural that she be there for him when he cracked.
Oh, who was she kidding. Of course it was more than kindness that drove her. It didn’t help that she knew the cause of his anguish, the woman behind it. Ginny felt like cracking herself. Hermione had once been her best friend. Whom she’d grown apart from after the war, but who cared? The bonds of friendship never severed of themselves. She’d just never been able to bear the sight of her afterward. Memories, and all that. They hurt.
“Shh…” Ginny soothed Harry, running a damp hand back and forth across the broad expanse of his back. The feel of his heart beating and the sound of his breath against her skin soothed her in return. He hugged her hard, telling her with that gesture just how this new loss affected him. “Did she leave a note?” Ginny asked softly.
“No…” he replied huskily. “I went to the Ministry to pick her up earlier and they said she never returned. I thought she might have gone straight home, but it was empty.”
“Did you check her appointments?” Surely as a lawyer she must have some appointments. Maybe she’d had one today.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “She went to a historian’s lab. Clean as a pin. Empty.”
Ginny very gently pulled away and felt her heart crack at the unmistakable sadness in his eyes. “Come here,” she said, tugging on his hand that held her fast and leading him to her living room. Dimly she was aware of his gaze on her, but it was neither blatantly male nor sexual. Which made her nudity so much easier to bear around him. She so didn’t want him to think about sex right now. It’d be explosive in a hundred wrong ways.
Soon Harry was seated in her loveseat and blindly reached for her. She complied, getting as close as she could. He needed her just like this. She gave freely. “Where do you think she went?”
Harry shook his head slowly. “I don’t know…”
“Did she talk about leaving tonight?”
“No. I talked to her parents. They haven’t heard from her since… last week. She’d have nowhere else to go.”
“What about your… wards?” She didn’t want to think about it, but kidnapping needed to be looked into.
“They’re strong enough,” he growled defiantly.
She was out of possible ideas except maybe one or two that he wouldn’t like. She didn’t particularly like them either. “I dunno what else to say, Harry. Have you talked to Aurors?”
He snorted. “They don’t have a Hermione Granger fanclub over there. With Kingsley retired it’s become even worse. She’s up in their grille half the time. The other they just don’t like her pawing through their business.”
Yeah, that was her all right. “Someone needs to know, though. And look.”
Harry’s expression turned to stone. “Us. She’s got us.”
Ginny sighed. She had expected that, just hadn’t wanted to believe. “What will you tell Keeny? Our boss, remember? We’ve already got Syn Wyngyn business, school, and the Ron thing. I don’t know about you, but I -“
He cut her off abruptly, his fists tightening. “It’s Hermione, Gin. What am I supposed to do? Let her just…?” He rubbed his brow. “I promised on Ron’s soul that I would take care of her. I’m not about to go back on my word.”
“I’m not telling you to give up,” Ginny said, throwing out her hands. “Just… let others help, do their jobs.”
His mouth flattened. “They really don’t care.”
Standing, she faced him head-on. Her eyes only reached his nose, but she didn’t care. “How about this, I won’t let you go off the deep end over this. Because that’s where you’re headed. I won’t help you destroy yourself. Sometimes, you just… have to delegate.” She grabbed his hand, rubbing. “How many hours do you sleep?”
For a few seconds he simply stared at her, a hard, dull light in his eyes. “I hate you right now.”
It seemed a hundred pounds left her body. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, deflating.
He nodded like he understood exactly what she meant, and grabbed his cellphone from his back pocket.
Ginny glanced at his hands. “What are you doing?”
He looked up, eyes traveling her body before meeting her suddenly wide eyes and flushed face. Well, there went her theory that he was too numbed out to see her. Tersely he said, “Go get dressed. I’m getting help.” A second later the phone was at his ear. “Hey mate, did I wake you? No? Good, I need to see you… Yeah, bring her with you. Thanks, I’ll owe you. Again.”
Glumly Ginny thought, Gee, another all-nighter. Whoop-dee-doo.
#
I woke suddenly with a cry, clutching at thin air, and instantly reconnected with the present. Bad dream. My immediate unease wasn’t due to magic overload this time, but to lack of warmth. Something wasn’t right.
I shot up in bed, squinting in the dark, and surveyed where I was. Small room, bare walls, no light, no windows.
I was not home, but with the Guardian Brotherhood. Only, they didn’t know I was here. Save Ron, who’d brought me.
Cold. I was cold. Glancing back, I found Ron’s side of the bed empty. Somehow I found that cause for sadness. It was also the reason I was cold.
Was he out protecting Bert Clarke again? Searching for Buchanan? Somewhere in the Brotherhood’s… Ron had once called it a ‘convent’.
Hugging myself, I stood in the darkness, my feet freezing under me. What was this place? I felt like a prisoner in a holding cell, treated like so much cattle, without benefit of sunlight or warmth. Where was this place for it to be this cold? Who could live like this perpetually without going insane?
Suddenly a voice sounded on the other side of the door. “Ron?”
My entire body went frigid with shock. Well of course oher people lived here, but what was I do do?
“Hello, Ron? Let me in.” Some useless jiggling of the doorknob. “What have you done to your door? Hello? Yoo-hoo, it’s me, Robin. I know you’re in heeere…”
What to do? Obviously Ron had locked me in but this… Robin… was a Guardian too, wasn’t she? She might well be able to break in past whatever spells or wards Ron had undoubtedly put up, and then where would that leave me? If I was found by that Robin girl… Who knew where I’d end up? I wasn’t supposed to be here, for chrissakes.
Who was this girl anyway? Why was she trying to get in when she thought Ron was in sleeping or something? Only one reason came to mind and… well, let’s just say I narrowed my eyes at the door like they were laser beams and could cut through iron. This Robin sounded young, didn’t she…
A very feminine huff, and the Robin girl tugged one last time. “Oh, fine! Be that way! But Julian wants to see you. He’s pissed off. You never showed up earlier.”
Her footsteps receded down what seemed like a long hall. Solitude claimed me once more, and I returned to the bed thinking, Wow, I feel detained.
Where was Ron, indeed. It was a pretty safe bet that he wouldn’t want me snooping around, so I was very definetely stuck between these four walls until he returned. Then there’d be something standing between me and one of those walls. Joy of joys. And then what?
The humming silence was stifling. I wished desperately for a book, anything to distract me, but I wouldn’t risk lighting my wand or some candles. Besides, there were none of the latter that I could see, and I would bet there were no books. I knew my Ron, didn’t I.
So I lay in a half-dead, half-awake state, pondering Ron’s world. Power and secrets and torture. The latter bothered me greatly. The secrets, I didn’t understand. The power, I could not fathom.
And the Mage Society? I wondered how long it someone someone to embrace their power, their invincibility, to the point of… greed.
Torture. Secrets. Power. Greed. How many great men had gone bad in the history of Man?
#
“So, Harry… Ginny… what’s up?”
Ginny groaned out loud, turning to Harry. “That’s your help?” she hissed at him, meaning Tom Hopkins. Miranda Anto was with him, but she didn’t mind her.
In response, he merely shrugged dismissively and turned to the two newcomers with the same hard expression that he’d been sporting since she had come out of the loo. That would be one big fat I Don’t Care.
Sighing, Ginny grudgingly joined the group of three. “Hermione’s missing,” Harry announced in a likewise hard voice.
Miranda gasped. Evidently neither she nor Hopkins had expected that to be the problem. “Oh my God. Are you okay?” she asked just as Hopkins whistled low. “Shit, mate.”
In no time, Harry had the two of them briefed and they all broke into their usual groups of two: Tom and Miranda to Harry and Hermione’s house; Harry and Ginny to the historian’s lab. The idea was to check for any strange factor. Harry had quickly demonstrated the Singulus spell beforehand, and so the other two were armed with a nifty little extra trick in their bag.
“You really don’t trust anyone else, do you?” Ginny asked Harry quietly when they were inside the darkened historian’s lab.
Harry was shaking his head absently to himself, having apparently not heard her. “Jesus, you’d think after getting fired up the other day, they’d be more careful with security,” he muttered under his breath. Then he looked back at Ginny. She only saw the rough outline of his face. “Not really. I’ve never trusted the system, that’s all.”
“But not Syn Wyngyn?” she asked, brows raised.
“Nope, but I trust Tom and Miranda seems trustworthy,” he said before squatting and illuminating his wand. “What have we got here…” he murmured, studying a spot that was cleaner than the rest of the floor. The pattern had once been mosaical, now it was mostly ruined. Except for that bit.
Ginny squatted next to him, but felt useless as Harry pulled the 8-figure routine. “Ever heard of double agents?” she whispered so she wouldn’t break his concentration or wouldn’t be heard at all, depending.
Harry glanced at her over his wand, his face darkly illuminated. “Weren’t you the one who suggested I bring in help?” He seemed surprised.
Ginny put up her hands, shrugging. “It’s just food for thought. I like Miranda, but…”
Harry smiled for the first time that night. “But you dislike Hopkins.” He dropped his head to smile privately and monitor his spell. “How about this, I trust them more than most. Even if you hate him.”
“Are you laughing at me?” The concept was weird, considering his earlier black mood.
“With you, of course.”
She did it. She shoved him, promptly breaking his connection. But instead of being all up in her grille, he simply kept squatting there, a smug grin lighting his eyes. “What?” he asked all innocently.
Argh. Ginny sighed, pulling out her wand. “Let me do it.” She got ready, then wondered Well, I don’t know what he’s looking for. “What are we looking for?”
He got serious again. “I dunno. This might be where she was abducted or something. I’m getting weird vibes from that spot.”
Ginny nodded and got down to business. Before
long she was blinking up at Harry. “What happened?”
Harry was staring at her like he didn’t know himself. “I tried to help you again, but you just blacked out like last time.”
Pushing her upper body off the floor, Ginny looked at the clear spot nearby. Harry had laid her down a metre away. “I don’t even remember anything this time.”
“Well…” Harry looked puzzled. “I thought I saw a hint of a Shield. Whoever was standing here was protecting themselves. Or someone else.” He scrunched up his face in recollection. “According to Hermione’s notes that I saw in her office, the man she’s representing was in a fire and someone else Shielded them. Someone named, uh, Honos I think.”
Ginny watched Harry stand up and increase the illumination on his wand. Slowly he turned around, studying the room at large and its mostly repaired mess. “Fiendfyre?” she asked, brows drawn high.
They both looked at each other. Spoke at the same time. “No way.”
Then Ginny scrunched up her own face thoughtfully. “But… what if?”
Harry looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. “Um, Ginny? Fiendfyre is impossible to put out, if you’ll remember from Follett’s class on Impossibles.”
“Haven’t had that one yet, sorry.” She grinned, all teeth and humour.
Harry blew out an exasperated breath. “Well hear me out,” he said before slapping his palms to her cheeks, making damn sure she listened. “They’re called Impossibles for a reason.”
Ginny crossed her arms defiantly and stayed there between his hands, completely unfettered. “Hypothetically speaking, what if? I mean, it’s pretty easy to Shield yourself from pretty much everything, depending on your speed and repel strength - magic, I mean. Everyone’s got a different Shield, some stronger than others. Right?” she asked, though she knew she was right.
Harry did, too. With a grim expression, he nodded wordlessly.
“So hypothetically speaking, someone with a Shield equal or stronger than the Fiendfyre would be able to protect themselves like that,” she said, gesturing to the clean mark.
“Sure,” Harry replied grudgingly, “but…”
“I know. Not plausible. To you.”
“To anyone,” he said with a little shake of her head as though to say Get it through your thick skull.
“Sure, sure.” She glanced back at the mark. She’d stay with her theory, though, because she excelled at them and knew it. “So there’s nothing new in there, nothing from today?”
Gently Harry released her head with a curse at her intention, and shook his head. “Nah. That’s probably all from the night of the fire. Although, it’s eerie, no? It feels the same as Spinner’s End… all that power.” He mused for a few seconds then again shook his head. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Me neither,” Ginny supplied.
A soft smile - gosh, it was beautiful - graced his lips before he turned to the rest of the room, scanning it. “What do you see?” he asked her then, and they were back to Hermione-hunting.
Ginny drew herself up on her knees and sat with them folded under her next to Harry. From there she visually scoured the lab from a low perspective, seeing… “Nothing.”
Ordinarily abductions involved a bit of fighting, and that fighting was often horizontal. A knee in the back, a hand at the neck, that sort of thing. So it explained their low altitude for their exploration.
Harry grunted his similar conclusion, then stood and prowled like a predator, embodying one.
Ginny watched from the same position as he walked the length, walking right up to furniture and examining book spines on the shelves and rummaging around desks. Suddenly he stopped right at the farthest corner of the room and dropped to his haunches. “Gin? Come here.”
Ginny walked over.
In the beaming glow of his wand, a tiny drop of dried blood appeared near the bottom of the vertical crack.
“Is that…?”
Harry squatted and held up a finger. “Watch. Genus Revelum.” His wand glowed blue. He exhaled deeply, swaying as it faded to white again.
“What just happened?”
He turned to her, obviously relieved. “It’s a boy.”
#
It’s a boy.
“Huh?” Oh, that was a very intelligent academic response.
As he looked back at her, Harry furrowed his brow. “Your parents never told you about this one? It’s for telling the sex of a baby. With a bit of the mother’s urine, I’m told, but…”
“Well seeing as I don’t have kids and am the last of the Weasley crop, no, I’ve never heard of it. Hi, my name is not Bill Weasley.”
Harry snorted. “And thank the Lord. I couldn’t handle a small Bill with woman breasts.”
“Oh my God!” Laughter spilled out of her in short bursts, loosening her overall tension until she was calm, happy, and needed mental image removal. “Jesus, my poor brain… How do you know this anyway?” As far as she knew, he and Hermione didn’t…
Harry flushed a deep red, rubbing his neck. “Ah, your parents told me. Not that we need it.”
Ah, there was her answer. Ginny knew why she was glad to know that but couldn’t stop herself from thinking she was a selfish bitch for thinking it. “Oh.”
He cleared his throat. Obviously this was not a comfortable topic. “Anyway. So all that to show that’s not Hermione’s blood.”
Thank God, Ginny thought as she blacklighted her wand and surveyed the chlorine job. Sheesh, the poor man would be lucky to still be alive.
A shrill sound broke the silence. Harry palmed his mobile. “What have you got? Good, wait for us.” Snapping it shut, he pocketed it again and straightened. “That was Hopkins. They found our vic,” he said, pointing his chin at the cheap cover-up. “He’s at St. Mungo’s and kicking. Let’s go.”
#
I fell asleep again at some point, all time-confused because I didn’t know how much of it had passed since Ron had taken me to his room. Without benefit of windows or watch - why hadn’t I put it on the morning of I had no clue - I could well have sworn it’d been days. My body whispered no, but who could trust an internal clock that needed an actual three-dimensional, tangible and very annoying alarm clock loud enough to wake the dead in the morning? I didn’t. Hence, I was still thoroughly unbalanced.
When I did wake up later - who knew how much later that was - it was to see Ron easing his way into his room. “Hey,” he murmured, “did I wake you?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied, stretching like a well-rested cat. I felt like one. “Where were you?”
Ron leaned back against the closed door, a wistful expression on his face and a small private smile stretching his lips. “Feels really odd to have someone to come home to. Like the tent, remember?” His brilliant eyes drew me into the memory.
“Yeah. You and Harry were such boys, coming back to the camp later than everyone else. And to prove what? Your virility?”
He grinned. “Sure, why not? We were out there, finally.”
I pursed my lips. “You scared the shite out of me,” I said with as much accusation as I remembered feeling back then.
Pushing away from the door, Ron pulled his customary hood back to reveal his gleaming fiery hair. “Bah, I always came back, didn’t I? Didn’t we?”
I gave him The Look. “I suffer you.”
“Ha!” He landed on top of me, straddling my half-turned body even as I let out a yelp and balled up tight in protection. “So, I was thinking…”
I poked him before he could go on. “You still haven’t answered.”
“What?”
I stared.
“Oh. Can’t say. But Clarke’s fine. He survived.” He gave me a tight smile. “He’s not pretty, I’ll admit, but he’ll make it.”
Taking a deep breath, I almost didn’t want to ask. “What about Buchanan?”
His head dropped into my neck. “Off the radar,” he muttered. “Can we please talk about something else?”
I sighed. “Someone came by earlier.” At that, his head shot up, and I was right. He really didn’t want my presence broadcast.
“Who?”
“A girl… Robin?” He cursed. “She didn’t see me. Or hear. I swear.”
He shook his head. “Nah, it’s not about you. She’s just annoying. Likes to follow me around. Annoy me some more.”
Ha! Quickly I hid my smile, but what a lark! Ron had a fangirl! “Anyway,” I coughed, “she was very put out” - Ron stuck out his tongue at me - “and said something about a Julian wanting to talk to you. Apparently you were supposed to -“
“Meet him,” Ron finished for me, and cursed. “Damn, I forgot about him.”
I waited a bit for him to explain. When he didn’t, I pressed on. “Shouldn’t you go?”
Ron stayed put. “He’s out.”
“O… kay. So now what?”
“Um.”
I knew that expression. It was blatantly male and especially suggestive. Seven years ago I’d seen it often on his face. Been stupid to turn him down, too. Now it made me feel… like a woman. Again. Finally. It sure was appreciated, but I once again had to divert his attention. “So how long am I going to stay hidden here?” That worried me, and I needed a definite time stamp.
Ron ducked his head again, nuzzling my throat. I couldn’t think straight when he did that. The bastard, he remembered. “Until you’re safe,” he replied in a gravely voice against my skin.
I struggled to pull my head out of the wicked bin. “You don’t know.” I didn’t need to ask, really. I think that uncertainty scared him, because then he was sure of nothing. With all this power must come grand expectations out of fate. Great historic men had sat at the top of the world before that very world had toppled them over and out.
Ron drew back slightly. “What’s wrong?” I must have grown stiff. I felt stiff.
Urgency made my words seem dreadful to me. “Don’t you turn Mage on me.”
Jerking in surprise, Ron blinked down at me. “What the hell?”
“You don’t know. You’re scared. You think you should know.” I paused, shaking my head wildly. “Doesn’t the Society begin somewhere? That’s where.”
Shaking his head slowly in bafflement, Ron frowned down at me. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not turning Society on you.”
I didn’t know why that made me feel better. Hell, I didn’t know why I felt this impending doom barreling down at Ron. Premonition? Plain nightmare, with nothing to worry about? Merlin, I prayed for the latter because… Ron just wasn’t Stalin-bad. He might not be wholesome good, but… “Sorry, I just… freaked out. All better.”
Still looking spooked, Ron eyed me like he foresaw white padded rooms in my future.
“I’m fine,” I assured him shakenly.
“And I’m not planning on turning into a selfish prick. Okay?” I nodded. “Good,” he breathed out. As he settled back into me, I welcomed the heavy weight of him against my side. “What made you, er -“ he asked again as he brushed my hair from my face and then rolled to face me. His eyes, concerned as they were, bore into me like floodlights, baring everything.
“Ah, just that this place is run a little… unconventionally.”
“Mm,” was his rumbled assent.
I ran my hand over his strong jaw, tracking the movement with my eyes. “And it’s not like you to take orders and… punishment,” I said carefully. “Like you were trained to?”
Ron coughed and dropped his gaze to the bed between our close bodies. Then he spoke. “We’re a unit, you know? Something doesn’t work, we take action -“
“It wasn’t like that with Harry,” I pointed out quietly.
“I know,” he muttered before raising his head. It was red and grim.
That’s when I got it. “You hate it,” I breathed out. Silence met my claim, but I knew it to be true, just like I knew him. His face looked too dejected for it to be anything else.
“That beating,” I continued, “it wasn’t just about the book, was it?” Silence again. “You’re too much of a free agent,” I deduced easily, knowing his hotheaded nature.
“Something like that,” he muttered.
“Oh, Ron…” I murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
What started out as a gentle, sympathising kiss quickly became a bit more energetic as time and feelings and passion began piling up so that we were both breathless by the time Ron lifted his head.
A lot of staring went on, and then he brought his hand to my cheek, stroking. “Yeah, I’m scared, but only for you,” he said. “I’d do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”
That gave me pause once more. “Even lie to the Brotherhood?” He just kept staring, a defiantness in them that answered my question as swiftly as if he’d actually said the words. I felt like bashing him in the head. “Don’t you see? That’s how it all starts!”
But he wouldn’t hear anything of it. “Nothing’s starting, dammit!” he roared, then lowered his voice. “Calm down, Luv. That’s right, calm down.”
“Ugh,” I groaned into his chest. “Why couldn’t you have been a regular wizard? No, you have to be the best.”
“The lowest of,” he corrected smoothly. “I’m barely out of training.”
Like that mattered? “Whatever.”
Ron shifted a bit against me. “Tell you what, how about we don’t talk about this anymore?”
Something in that struck me. Grinning suddenly, I poked him in the chest once. “That’s the third time you’ve tried changing the subject with me.” Though it was sorely needed. I needed to get rid of those dark thoughts and, thank God, he was there to make that happen.
He pecked me quickly. “Did it work?”
That’s the great thing about Ron, I thought right then. Never misses his mark when it comes to play. Feeling just as playful, I drew in close, speaking directly against his mouth. “Every single time.”
He was the one to move in for this kiss, hot and soft against my lips. He tasted like licorice and woods, that heady scent that branded him. Licking and sucking and biting softly, I drank my fill, past and present warring in my brain until I didn’t know exactly where or when I was. I recognised Ron in his special taste and scent, but not in the shape and size of the man between my arms. The confusion was intoxicating, like a known stranger, and it left me breathless and wanton. Who cared about the differences? He was Ron, and I was Hermione, and this was us. Together. Alone. Like so many other times in the past, but those had never pressed us with years in between now and then.
I trembled with… what? Fear? Not of him, never. Tears? I was way past crying. Anticipation? Ah, yes. I trembled with unparalleled lust, wanting that one thing we’d never shared but always promised we would later, when the time was just right. Well, later was now and the time… who cared about right anymore? When was right, anyway? I’d lost my childish dreams of rightness when maturity kicked in on overdrive. I knew none of those precious fantasies anymore for they belonged to someone who hadn’t known immediate grief. Shattered, never to be revisited. So… now or anytime were just right. But I wanted now, and I realised that Ron was shaking next to me, too.
Good, that made the two of us.
His eyes locked with mine, burning as they silently asked the very same question he then spoke with that husky gravely voice of his. “Now?”
I shuddered from head to toe from the feel of his erection on my hip. And wanted to weep because he asked with a desperation that found me. “God, yes,” I choked out.
What followed was a mad scramble to undress each other punctuated by a fear of what was to come, what was happening to us. We were twenty-four, for chrissakes, and virgins to top it off. Sexy dreams and sad nighttime visitations had not prepared us for this.
#
“Christ,” Ron graoned when he had me in my knickers and bra and I had him in his boxers. “You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of you like this.” Slowly he reahed out to touch me, his heat slamming into me through the thin fabric. “I’d almost convinced myself my hand was enough.”
Sweetly he kissed me again, but what I did next shocked us both. Ron moaned into my mouth before rolling on top of me. The room was suddenly illuminated as he lighted it, bright and… oh, his eyes…
“I was obviously very wrong,” he said heatedly, grinding into my hand.
“Could have told you that myself.”
He tilted his head, eyes flaring. “You’ve tried it?” Moving his hand, he slowly ran his finger over my cloth-covered nipples. It seemed my admission pleased him.
“Mm hmm,” I answered breathily. “Both mechanical and manual.” Never inside, though. I’d never had the nerve. Or the need. “But I don’t recommend it. It’ll drive you mad.”
His big body rumbled with nervous laughter. “No kidding.” Somehow the knowledge that I wasn’t the only one on edge relieved me. The two of us were equal players in this game of touch and go. “Even imagining you wasn’t real enough for me.”
I spread out for him, allowing Ron to sink closer into me. “What was I like?” I asked as he looked down where our bodies almost met.
He lifted his eyes. Deep. Blue. Shadowed. “Perfect… Let me see you, Luv.”
I had to sit up to work on my bra. Ron sat back on his knees and I felt his heavy gaze on me as I unhooked the tiny clasps. Just before I could slip it off, though, he stopped me, hands going to the straps. “Let me.” I lowered my arms, throat going dry.
Slowly his large hands pushed the straps off my shoulders and I watched as his eyes lowered almost in prayer. Quick as that, he then met my gaze. “Beautiful.” And he drew me to him, to my knees. Our bare skin touched. We both sighed. “It’s like you said, I’ve been going mad.”
I yelped, scowling. “You think it’s been great for me?”
“Maybe not,” he mused with a wry smile. His hands were now at the elastic band of my knickers. Thumbs slipping in, he lowered them, fingers trailing behind to touch every inch of skin he could. They twitched. “So smooth. Can I?” he asked, eyeing my thighs.
I cradled his face and leaned in so that our lips touched. “Sure. Just… slow, okay?” He nodded slightly.
We stayed like that, never actually kissing, as Ron gently brushed a fingertip over every corner of my intimacy. Eyes closed, he listened to my every sound, brows furrowed one moment in concentration and the next in something more physical, more… raw. I watched his closed lids without really seeing, lost in a place deep inside of myself that I’d thought dead or broken all this time. It wasn’t. It bloomed, it beat low and it felt deeper inside still than just its core. I felt like laughing, I felt like welling. God, I was alive!
I clutched disorderly at him, breathing things I did not understand. Directions? It seemed so, because the next second something warm gushed out of me. Although I recognised the substance for what it was, I was momentarily lost as to how it could have come so fast. Glorious things were happening to me beneath his fingers. And then the next thing I knew was that I cried out, and I clawed at him harder still as - “Ron” - wave after wave of an exhiliating rush came barreling down at me.
But the earth-shattering orgasm didn’t stop there. A split second later, Ron had shoved his boxers down past his scrotum, brought me into his lap so I straddled him proper, and twisted us down so he surged on top of me. I cried out again as he penetrated me, but the pain was largely superceded by the pleasure tide I was already riding though I still felt acutely how big he was. Sweat broke out across Ron’s skin, and the slap of skin on skin heightened all my senses until I could only feel what was right there in me, on me, around me. Ron.
It was our first time together as well as separately. It was sloppy and terrifying. He was invading a small but important part of me. It was beautiful and it was uncomfortable, but the previous sweet release finally coaxed another one out of me until my body did the rest for me. And it was shortly afterward, when I held Ron tightly to me with my legs around him, and saw him arch over me one last time, that I realised none of it, none of the pain, mattered. I did not care for perfection.
#
“What do you mean, we can’t go in?”
Harry’s roar echoed down the hall until Ginny was sure that the entire wing could hear them. Putting her hand on his arm, Ginny spoke softly so only he could hear. “Harry, calm down, there’s got to be a misunderstanding.”
His reaction didn’t surprise her. With everything that had kept cropping up lately, she was actually surprised that he hadn’t blown like a pricked balloon yet.
The nurse, however, wasn’t so understanding. “Kindly leave, visitation hours were over a long time ago.”
“We’re not visiting -“
“Then what are you doing?” the thin woman scowled, obviously unimpressed.
“We’re investigating a case.”
The nurse pursed her lips, looked him up and down, and frowned some more. “Never seen you before. Where’s your Auror badge? Both of you.”
Now Harry looked really impatient, growling, “You don’t understand -“
“Ha! I’ve seen the likes of you before. Get out. Come back tomorrow. Never try that that ploy again.”
Ginny could tell Harry was an explosion waiting to happen. He’d likely burst with the one weapon he hated: Do you know who I am? - but he never got the chance.
The closed door to the room they’d been standing in front of all this time suddenly eased open, and Miranda popped her head out. “It’s okay, Libby,” she said quietly. “They’re with us.”
Libby groaned with disgust, rolled her eyes, and marched away. “Oh, Anto, you owe me double for these fools. That one in particular,” she said over her shoulder, pointing a thumb at Harry.
Miranda sighed, pulling the door open for both of them. “She’s just doing her job,” she murmured as Harry and Ginny passed her. Harry grunted, Ginny attempted a smile despite her drowsiness.
And then Tom stood from next to the only bed in the room. What lay in it was a mummified man, with only a few key inches of skin left exposed. “Harry, Ginny, hi,” Tom greeted them grimly. “This is Bert Clarke, Hermione’s client.”
Harry nodded to the heavily bandaged figure under the bedsheets and walked right up to it. “Hello, Bert. I’m Harry Potter and this is my partner, Ginny Weasley. We’re with Tom and Miranda. May we ask you a few questions?”
#
Ginny unlocked her door and then sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. “Gosh, this is a mess. He didn’t even know anything relevant.”
Harry had pushed past her, gunning straight for her couch. It had been her idea and recommendation that they sleep on what they’d been able to glean - not much - before delving any deeper into “the mess”, as she liked to call it. Eventually Harry had relented, but now the prospect seemed to be more appealing to him as he reclined and closed his eyes. “No, but we know why he was banged up. Some old text.”
Ginny snorted in disgust. “Didn’t even remember what it was.”
Cracking an eye open a slit, Harry pegged her with it. “Wouldn’t tell us. There’s a difference. He’s hiding something and I think it has something to do with Hermione.”
As she dropped onto the arm of the loveseat that faced him, Ginny shook her head and then realised she was being stared at. “What?”
Harry shrugged. “I dunno.” He closed his one eye again, and then seemed to have fallen asleep.
Ginny bit her lip. “Um, Harry?” He’d decided to stay the night over - which she agreed with completely - but that didn’t mean he should have neck strain in the morning. She stood slowly. “Maybe… maybe you should sleep in a bed.”
“’S all right, ‘m fine here.”
Damn all men and their chivalry! “Harry… come with me. You should… sleep in a bed.”
His eye came open again, and he was silent as she inhaled and… held. “You sure?” he asked.
She released. “Yes. You’ll be infinitely more comfortable. And I don’t snore. I swear. I think.” The humour was meant to ease her own tension, but it redoubled when he stood up with a great mighty push. He was more tired than he let on.
“Okay,” he said, but she’d gotten the meaning already.
Quickly she turned and headed for her bedroom in search of stray feminine things before he could come in.
She’d just snatched the knickers and pink bra lying on her bed when he came loping in, looking for all the world like a drunk, with bleary eyes and zigzagging waltz. Hiding the feminine things behind her back, Ginny dashed outside to give him his privacy. Then popped her head back in. “Um, take whatever side. I don’t care.”
She heard his belt buckle come undone as she went away, and swallowed hard. Shit, she’d sleep with Harry.
#
A half-hour later, Ginny tiptoed it back to her room, dressed in her customary shirt-and-short combination. Easing in past the door, she saw through the darkness that Harry had indeed fallen asleep and that he was also wearing a shirt and shorts. Or, er, boxers.
Why did the distinction matter?
Because, a small voice inside her head explained while things quickened inside her, shorts are shorts and boxers and underwear, lest you forget.
Oh, she had not forgotten, just chosen to ignore. But now the distinction was right in her face under the covers.
She should not have invited - pushed, really - him in her bed. Things could get… complicated. In her brain, especially. But, fighter that she was, she would do it because it was late, she was tired, so was he, nothing could possibly happen, and - oh my God, yes, boxers!
Get a grip, Weasley. It’s just a piece of clothing, nothing less. So he’s not naked, see?
She did see. And it so did not matter.
Fighter. Right. On with it. Close your eyes. Get some sleep. Simple.
Ginny climbed under the covers and lay down as far away as possible from Harry, and scowled. Damn Harry and his boxers.
It was her last thought before her body powered off for however long it had to juice up again.
#
Ron held Hermione long afterward, basking in a glow that didn’t seem to completely reach his head. Cold hands were closing down around his chest as he thought about how she couldn’t possibly stay with him, even now. The danger was too great.
Merlin, he didn’t even want to think about the possibility of her being found here. It definitely sent his nerves into a deep freeze.
Yet even as she stirred in his arms and pressed back against him, he knew he wouldn’t change his mind for all the world. She was… his.
He sealed both their fates by pressing his lips to the sensitive back of her neck.
She shivered.
“You’d better now, Luv, before it’s too late,” he whispered to her sleeping form before drawing away and slipping on his cloak.
#
“Honos, how you please us with your presence.”
Ron bowed in deference to the Circle of Elders. “I have come as Elder Aine requested.” He straightened, but did not lift his eyes. Stayed quiet until one of them asked him a question. He’d learned well.
“What is your progress on the search for the book?” a man’s voice asked to his right.
He angled his head toward the voice. “I have no been able to locate it.”
The Elder’s voice sharpened. Ron imagined narrowed eyes, a hard jaw, long nose. “What of the prophecy?”
“Neither,” he replied, heart hammering in his ears. Please not the torture, please not…
Someone snorted derisively. “I told you, Lady Aine. It was better not to send an inexperienced one.”
Ron spoke up then, a breach of procedure for sure, but he didn’t care much now. “But I know who has it.”
He could feel all eyes on him now.
“You do?” the man asked sceptically. “Who?”
“A man named Kyle Buchanan. I believe he’s a member of the Society. He nearly killed my -“ Ron flushed, stumbling over his words “- a woman today trying to get her to translate it.”
Aine gasped softly, her voice becoming fierce. “Where is this woman?”
Careful, Ron thought. Swallowing hard, he bowed his head even lower to hide his face. “She is no threat to the Brotherhood.”
“You have killed her?” she asked, and he jerked. In this instant she sounded pleased with him, for the first time. Ron remained silent. “Good. We do not need civilians to tip the scales in their favour.” She started pacing, her robes fluttering over the pale floor. “I trust she did not tell the Mage what he sought?”
She had told Buchanan nothing that seemed to matter. Not that he should know. “No.”
“Guardian Honos, looks up.” Exhaling deeply, Ron looked up and met the female Elder’s clear blue eyes in her pale face. A slow smile split her fiercely set features. “It is time you heard the prophecy, I think. What say the Circle?”
A murmur of scepticism rolled around the circular room, and then one by one they gave reluctant assent.
Aine smiled again, haughtily, and headed for her chair once more. When seated comfortably, she spoke clearly, her voice ringing out. “The first Circle of Elders had a Seer among their numbers. She Spoke this, her first and most important prophecy: The Oldest Prophecy.
“A legend, older than wizardry itself
Tells that the Brotherhood of Guardians
Will prosper for one thousand years, teaching
Their brethren to serve the greater good.
“The Circle of Elders warns that a rogue cohort
Shall pursue the Brotherhood on a wind of betrayal
And cast it and its legendary warriors into darkness.
“But fear not despair, children of Odin,
For the one born thrice of fire
In the twenty-first of Yeshua
Shall triumph when he finds his soul.
“Then shall the Guardian Brotherhood
Thrive for a thousand years more.”
An eeriness filled the silence then, heavy and stifling, as Aine sat back to observe the room at large, but Ron especially.