Best-Laid Plans (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 14)
Title: Best-Laid Plans (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 14)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: NC-17 for language, nudity, semi-graphic sex and masturbation
Summary: Everyone has an idea of where their life is going. They're usually wrong.
Notes: This chapter and the next were initially planned to be one chapter. Not happening. I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Fourteen / Previous Chapters / Darkness Man
After he rolled onto his back, Charlie Weasley had to struggle hard to find his breath again.
"Every... Ev..." he panted, running his hands through his thinning, sweaty red hair, "Every time I visit, I get the most gracious... reception."
"I am glad you're here," said Luna Lovegood, whose own voice was slightly higher and airier than normal. Considering she was the most even-keeled person Charlie had ever known, he took these rare changes in her composure as the greatest of compliments. "It has been quite a while."
"Two months," Charlie said, mentally calculating. "Not exactly a huge period, compared to before..."
"Yes, you're right," said Luna, wiping a small bead of sweat from her forehead. "I suppose it has not been quite as long as normal. We have been seeing each other more frequently."
"No complaints... from me."
"Nor from me," said Luna. The two slid into comfortable silence, Charlie with his hands behind his head, Luna with hers demurely clasped atop her naked stomach. Luna wasn't a cuddler after sex, Charlie thought to himself as they stared up at the roof of Luna's Expanded tent, lit only by a few dimly flickering candles. Never had been a cuddler from the moment this physical addition to their friendship began three Christmases ago. When they were together, in the act, she could be as intimate as anyone he had ever been with. They kissed, they groped, they had learned the tweaks and tics, the nooks and crannies and scars of each others bodies through years of exploration. But afterwards...
Whether it was a comment on their relationship or just an aspect of her personality in general, Charlie couldn't tell. When it came to Luna Lovegood, one could never tell what was going on in her mind. But she was definitely different than anyone he had been with since leaving England decades ago.
"I'm going to make a sandwich," she said randomly, confirming Charlie's thoughts. "Would you like something to eat? Or would you like to sleep?"
"I think I'm going to be awake for a while," said Charlie as Luna sat up and took her wand and glasses from the nightstand. "You have any tea?"
"I was going to put on a pot," she said. Charlie felt a twitch below his waist Luna walked naked across the tent, which had been Expanded to the size of a studio flat, but eventually gave up as a bad job. Forty-six is a long way from eighteen, he thought morosely. Old dog's gotta get his rest.
"Actually, I can do it," he said, rolling over onto his stomach and groping around the floor, "if you could do something else for me."
"Yes?" Luna asked as she reached the kitchen area, which contained a table, stove, refrigerator, and numerous cabinets.
"Well, you know how, when Vic and I got here, I said that we should wait until tomorrow to talk about everything?" Charlie said, at last finding his boxer shorts, which were buried under his jacket and her camisole. "When everyone else is awake?"
"Yes, I do."
"I lied," he said, standing up and pulling them up. "I want to see your work now, if you don't mind digging it out."
"I was hoping you would say that," she said, pulling two tomatoes from the kitchen's hanging basket and placing them on the counter. "It has been on my mind all night."
"Mine, too."
"Except during the orgasms."
"Of course," said Charlie with a smile.
"My sandwich will just be tomatoes and spinach," said Luna. "The tea is in the cupboard to the right of the stove."
"I'm on it," he said, flicking his wand at the teapot currently sitting on the stove. A stream of water spewed from the wand's tip, quickly filling the pot. With another quick poke, the flame beneath the kettle burst to life. Another flick, and the loaf of bread flew to the counter along with a pair of knives. As Charlie opened the cupboard to get the tea, the kitchen filled with the sounds of magically-controlled utensils slicing tomatoes and bread.
"I often forget how good you are with kitchen spells, Charles," said Luna, taking a gray flannel shirt from her dresser and pulling it on.
"That's Mum," said Charlie, sparing a glance brief enough to see the large, puckered scar on Luna's back (Another thing we have in common, he thought, even if the stories behind them couldn't be any more different) before it was covered by her shirt. "She made sure I knew how to handle all those spells before I went off to Romania. Couldn't stand the thought of me eating burnt toast and cans of beans every day, I suppose."
"Perhaps I should have asked you to make me something more elaborate than a vegetable sandwich."
"After we're done," he said, pulling a small pouch down from the shelf. "I'll throw something together."
"Would you make dinner for the entire crew?" she asked. "Or just for the two of us?"
Charlie paused and turned back to Luna. As she usually did when she was comfortable and in private, Luna wore her shirt completely unbuttoned, allowing Charlie an unfettered view of her bare stomach (also covered by scars, although not as many or as painful-looking as the ones on her back) and the inner swell of her breasts, which were holding up quite well for a woman approaching forty herself. Even though tonight she had pulled on a pair of plain blue cotton knickers (other nights she went with only the shirt, which allowed even less to the imagination), the view was enough to make Charlie wish once again that he had the same energy and stamina of someone half his age.
"Would you, um, rather I made dinner for everyone?"
What's wrong with you tonight? he mentally chided himself as she approached him. It's just Lovegood, for Merlin's sake. Why are you getting so... so...
"Whichever you would prefer," said Luna, gazing up at him through her glasses. "Cooking for a dozen can be quite difficult. Also, I would very much like to have a quiet dinner alone with you some night. That is, if you do not find it to be too intimate for our friendship."
"Not... ahem," Charlie suddenly noted that his throat was unusually dry. "Not at all."
Luna set her stack of papers down on the table (She was carrying papers? Charlie thought distantly. I didn't even notice...) and took the pouch from his hands. "Wulong tea," she said, opening it and gently inhaling the aroma. "I traded with a merchant in Darjeeling for it. It's quite a lovely blend."
"Yeah, smells good."
"Would you like to look at my research?"
"Wuh?" Charlie said, jerking himself back to reality. Easy to get lost in those eyes, he thought, to which he quickly responded Okay, seriously, what is wrong with you tonight?
"Yeah, research," he said quickly, sitting down. Focusing his mind on the business at hand, he pulled the stack of newspapers to the middle of the table. "You said there were sightings?"
"Perhaps," said Luna, sitting down opposite Charlie. She pulled one of the newspapers from the stack and handed it to him. As he got his first look at the Cyrillic lettering, Charlie sighed and tapped it quickly with his wand.
"Sorry," he said as he watched the letters shuffle around on the page. "I've been lazy. Not enough Romanians speak Russian for me to learn the language."
"It's quite alright," said Luna as the words began to reform in English. "I have enough background in Ancient Runes where it doesn't confuse me."
"Mysterious Objects Seen in Night Sky," Charlie read aloud. "Restricted areas of... Government denies extraterrestrial... These sightings were from Muggles?"
"This is a Muggle newspaper, yes," said Luna. "Each newspaper reports a mysterious sighting. Each newspaper has a response from the Muggle government. Some claim weather balloons, which Muggles use to measure the atmosphere. Others claim simple testing of Muggle technology like aeroplanes or Hello Coppers. They have often been seen in areas that the Muggles have marked as restricted, so the people nearby take those explanations. Other Muggles think that the government is hiding You Foes from them."
"You Foes?"
"Intelligent beings from other planets," said Luna. "And while my father and his colleagues have found much evidence of visitors from other galaxies--"
"Of course," said Charlie grudgingly.
"--I do not believe that this is the case in these instances."
"And why is that?"
"You Foes do not squawk," said Luna, pulling a stack of flattened and folded parchment from under the newspapers. "And unless the Muggles have created tiny aeroplanes that flap their wings, which is entirely feasible--"
"Stymphalians," said Charlie.
"I interviewed a witch near Grodno," Luna continued, flipping through her pages. "In Belarus. She told me about a dream she had. She dreamed about a giant shining bird that swooped down and picked up a deer fawn from a forest near her village."
"She dreamed this..."
"Perhaps it was only a dream," said Luna. "But perhaps it was an incompletely-placed Memory Charm."
"That would make sense," Charlie sighed. "Whoever's training the Stymphalians have been doing their damndest to keep a low profile. And if there were Stymphalians hunting, there would have to be a witch or wizard nearby. Might have been casting Homenums to make sure no one got too close while the bird was feeding. Found the witch, and decided it'd be easier and safer to eliminate her memory rather than just eliminate her."
"It would also fit the pattern that has been developing," Luna said. "The witch's dream lines up with the path that the Stymphalians have been taking."
Charlie flipped through the stack of newspapers, and nodded in understanding. A sighting in a Greek newspaper from November, 2018. Bulgaria in early February. Here was one from the Ukraine, just one week before he, Luna, and Victoire had discovered the razor-sharp feather among the Carpathian Gorynich corpses.
"They moved faster after that," Luna said, pointing to the small article. No more than a paragraph in the middle of the newspaper, it explained that a drunk Muggle was arrested after a run-in with the local authorities. He claimed that he saw a giant steel hawk two hours before his arrest. After a night in the local jail, however, he sobered up and explained that it was simply a hallucination.
"Belarus in July," Charlie continued, going through the pile faster now. "Lithuania in August--"
"And now there are sightings in Kaliningrad," said Luna. "There have been numerous reports since September. That article you read was just the latest."
"And people aren't getting suspicious?" Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not Muggles? Not witches or wizards?"
"There are more military installations in Kaliningrad, both Muggle and magical, than anywhere in Europe," Luna explained. "With so many military tests, the citizens have become used to the unknown."
"But it's happening in a restricted area," Charlie muttered, staring at the article. "A Muggle restricted area."
"Which means nothing," said Luna. "Your own dragon preserve is a Muggle restricted area, Charles. It simply means that the area has been agreed upon between the Muggle and magical governments as wizard only."
"Is it charmed to keep Muggles away?" asked Charlie. "I know that my preserve has almost as many physical and psychological charms as Hogwarts does."
"I do not know about the charms on this area," said Luna. "I have not been able to see the area for myself yet. It has been quite difficult getting much information at all."
Charlie opened his mouth to respond, but was met with a high-pitched whistle as the teapot reached its boiling point. "Sounds like drinks are on," he said, standing up. "And your tomatoes and bread, too."
"Thank you, Charles," said Luna, who stood up and walked to the refrigerator as Charlie pulled the kettle from the stove. "Would you like me to make you a sandwich, as well? I have a lamb chop remaining from dinner."
Charlie, who hadn't eaten anything since that morning, suddenly felt his stomach cry out with the thought of food. "That sounds damn good, actually," he said, his mouth watering. "Thanks."
"You're quite welcome," said Luna, bending down and pulling out the plate with the single chop, along with a handful of spinach leaves. "Did Ginny win her first match?"
Charlie paused in mid-pour, trying, as usual, to get his brain to catch up with Luna's common subject shifts. "Yeah," he said eventually. "She scored five goals against Ballycastle. Didn't she tell you?"
"We do not communicate as much as we once did."
"Oh," said Charlie uncomfortably. "That... um... that's too bad. I mean, you were her maid of honor..."
"She has been busy and I have been busy," Luna said simply as she sliced up the cold lamb chop. "And we are far away from each other. It happens with many people, as you are aware with your own family."
"Well, considering I only heard about the match through my subscription to the Prophet, I am more than aware."
"You do not hear from them often, either," she said. Not a question. Never a question when it came to her uncanny ability to read people's emotions.
"Well, I hear from Mum and Dad maybe once a month," said Charlie, continuing his pour. "And I've actually heard from Ron more than once recently. Now that Hugo's at Hogwarts and Hermione's Head of Law Enforcement he's found a lot of time to sit around their house and be bored enough to write his big brother."
"I have not received any letters from Ron," said Luna.
"Give it time, you will," said Charlie. "The boy's going crazy after playing housedad for the last ten years. If I had anyone to wager with, I'd love to bet on how long it takes him to crawl back to George asking for his job back."
"I would not make that bet," said Luna. "Ron never enjoyed working at the joke shop. How is Hermione adjusting to her new position?"
"Like Hermione would," he said with a chuckle. "She's doing brilliantly, and is the greatest actor in the world. She wants to pull her hair out, she wants to occasionally strangle someone who doesn't understand what's going on, but she hides it so well."
"She has often had difficulty with people not agreeing with her," Luna said. Again, not a question.
"Well, she has the law on her side this time, at least," said Charlie. "Even if she has to start learning how to handle the gray areas. Like with this Jimmy Porter business..."
"Who is Jimmy Porter?" asked Luna. "A Death Eater?"
"No," said Charlie with barely-contained amusement. "It's Harry."
He burst into laughter. He couldn't help it. So rarely had he, or anyone, seen Luna Lovegood confused or at a loss for words. But there she was, staring back at him with tomato in her hand and a bemused look on her face. "Harry's a Death Eater?" she said eventually.
"It's this programme," Charlie explained. "On television... you know what television is, right? The Muggle thing, the wireless with pictures?"
"I've seen Dudley's," she said, for once the one trying to catch up with him.
"Well, there's this programme called Jimmy Porter. It's written by Muggles, as far as the Ministry knows, and its written for Muggles. And it's an extremely loose interpretation of Harry's time at Hogwarts."
"Is this legal?" Luna asked, quickly regaining her composure and continuing with sandwich construction. "It must be a violation of the Statutes."
"Not that the Law Enforcement and Muggle Relations divisions can find," said Charlie. "There are plenty of loopholes in the Statute of Secrecy, and from Ron's letters it sounds like these people have jumped through all of them so far. Changed every possible name. Changed the name of every location and every spell. They added a lot, too. I suppose they have to make a certain amount of stories, so they've made a lot of it up. And the biggest part is that they have never said that any of it is true. If they insist that it's a work of fiction, then they're not telling the world that magic is real, and they're not violating any rules."
"Harry must be quite distraught," said Luna, carrying the two plates back to the table. "He's never liked being known."
"Yeah, he's not happy," said Charlie, sitting down with the two cups of tea. "Even if no Muggles know his name, I'm sure word will get around the wizarding world about it eventually. There's loads of unauthorized biographies about him out there already, and now this..."
"There are many parts of his life that he wishes to forget," said Luna. "He doesn't want to be known for the people that have died because of him. This programme will remind him again."
"Probably," said Charlie with a sigh. "Hermione and Dean are trying their best to keep an eye on the situation. They've run a background check on every name listed on the programme's credits, and none of them have been issued Muggle Charms. Beyond that, they can't assign Ministry officials to monitor a completely legal Muggle operation. But Caroline and Teddy are helping Hermione out. Completely off the clock, of course. And if they ever slip, if there's ever a real name or any slant towards nonfiction in the series, Hermione'll be on the case. This programme's extremely popular, I guess. Millions of Muggles around the world watch it every night, both on television and on the... um... the Inner Net. It's absolutely massive, and Hermione doesn't want to see anything this big go wrong on her watch."
"And she wouldn't want Harry to become any more uncomfortable with the situation," Luna added. "She is a good friend."
"That she is," said Charlie with a smile, taking a bite of his lamb sandwich. "Mm, this is really good."
"Thank you," said Luna. "I seasoned it with sage. Am I participating in this programme?"
"Um, not yet," he said through a half-full mouth. "Ron's last letter said that it just showed Harry's fight with Quirrel. Really ramped up the final battle, too. Teddy and Caroline call it a series finale, or something like that, so I guess they had to make the fight bigger than it was. But, no, you haven't been on. Neither has Ginny."
"Next year, I suppose," said Luna. "I wonder what my name is going to be?"
"You're really interested in this, aren't you?" Charlie said, somewhat perplexed. "Hell, I don't think I could stand seeing someone else's caricature of me paraded around for millions of people to see."
"It would be fascinating," Luna countered. "To see someone else's interpretation of my life. To see someone else's interpretation of my truth. It would rather be like seeing the sky from underwater."
"Yeah, well, I forgot to tell you that Hedwig's a talking owl, so it's an odd definition of truth, there..."
"Harry never told me that Hedwig could speak," said Luna. "I wonder what they talked about."
"Luna..."
"Did she speak Parceltongue? Perhaps that's why we never understood her. I should ask Harry..."
Charlie shook his head in surrender. "Maybe later," he said. "So what's your plan for our our trip?"
"Allow me one moment, Charles," said Luna, pointing her wand to her desk in the corner, which was piled high with rolls of parchment. "Accio map." With a soft rustle, one roll emerged from the pile and flew across the room and into Luna's hand. She unrolled the map, which displayed the Baltic region, and tapped each corner with a Temporary Sticking Charm.
"This is where we are located," she said, pointing at a forested area of Poland east of Goldap. "We will cross over the Kaliningrad border tomorrow and investigating the area around Krasnosel'ye. Its the area There are numerous restricted areas there, some of which have been created within the last two years."
"How many are numerous?"
"We would want to interview residents," said Luna. "The article is not helpful in identifying the specific location of the sightings."
"Which would lend support to our theory, I suppose," said Charlie, picking up his now empty plate and carrying it to the sink. "If it's related to magic, it'd be glossed over as much as possible."
"Do not forget that Kaliningrad is a Russian oblast," said Luna. "Even today the media can often be at the mercy of the government if they write anything that the leadership does not consider appropriate. Even if these sightings were a purely Muggle endeavor, the newspaper might be quick to bury any detail."
"Sounding like we have a lot of work ahead of us," said Charlie. "I'm surprised that haven't already gone in to start gathering information. How long have you been camped here?"
"For four days. But there are many reasons why we haven't gone into the oblast yet. We did not want to rouse suspicion any more than we had to. You are quite aware of how sensitive these Stymphalians and their handlers are to outside influence. It is quite possible that they have already discovered us, and have left the area."
"They seem to know everything, yeah," said Charlie, remembering the cleanup job done after the Gorynych attack. The metallic feather, buried inconspicuously beneath a rock, and gone the next day...
"Also, the Russians' border spells are much more powerful than they are around the Ukraine," Luna continued. "As our situation is at this time, we will not be able to Apparate over the border. Nor will we be able to ride broomsticks or any magical apparatus. For our own protection, we will even have to leave any magical artifacts behind."
"Our wands?" Charlie asked. The last thing he wanted to do was go into an unknown, possibly dangerous, situation without his trusty wand. I don't know how Muggles can do it, he thought.
"We have discovered some materials that may dampen the magical auras of our wands," said Luna. "But we would still be wise to carry as few as necessary."
"What kind of materials?"
"Pine is a poor wand wood," Luna explained. "Mr. Ollivander told me when we were with the Malfoys. We talked quite often, as we had very little to occupy ourselves in the dark. Pine does not conduct magic very well at all. So we constructed a pine box, lined with lead. That will dampen our wands to any detection until we get over the border."
"But it would still be safer not to have too many wands together in one place," Charlie said, now leaning over the map beside her. "And the border's also why you didn't want to cross back and forth. Too many crossings might trigger an alarm when one or two won't. Smart thinking, Lovegood."
"And I also wanted to wait for you and Victoire," said Luna. As she spoke, Charlie was amazed to see a small, soft smile on her lips and a faint brush of color across her cheeks. "You are quite dear to me, and I would not want either of you to be upset if my father and I solved the mystery without you."
"Well, I'm glad you waited," said Charlie, absently brushing a lock of her short blonde hair behind her ear.
"Why is that?" she asked in almost a whisper.
When Luna Lovegood and Charlie Weasley kissed during their three plus years of their physical relationship, it was rarely outside of bed (except for those rare occasions when they were too ramped up to make it to the bedroom). Their kisses, and their relationship as a whole, always spoke the same way: spoke of desire, spoke of need, spoke of yearning and a bit of loneliness. They both thought of themselves as friends, both getting on in years and having neither the time nor the inclination to find someone else. Their sexual relationship was one of convenience and release, something simply to do when they were together and something therapeutic enough to get them over the hump (figuratively speaking) until the next time they would meet.
There was never romance. Never tenderness. Never a connection.
Until this kiss.
Charlie Weasley, for the first time, felt Luna Lovegood's lips as only Neville Longbottom had felt them. Luna's hand felt the bristle of Charlie's cheek as only Dawn Recklin, the Gryffindor love of Charlie Weasley's life during their later years at Hogwarts, had felt it. They were soft. Gentle. If not loving, than at least caring in their touch. For the first time, they discovered something they didn't even know they were missing: A need for each other.
When Charlie finally pulled away, he found himself short of breath. Luna's eyes, which he was noticing for maybe the first time, shone at him through her glasses.
What's wrong with you tonight? he thought.
Does it matter?
"Will Victoire be giving me a kiss like that, since I waited for her as well?" Luna asked with that same small smile.
"Lord, I hope not," said Charlie, who discovered that, somehow, Luna's shirt was now pooled around her waist. He felt that old dog below start to bark again.
"Will she be fine in the stable tent?" Luna asked. "There are many other tents available if--"
"She wanted to sleep out there," said Charlie. "You know how she is."
"And she is aware that Buckbeak will not be making the journey with us?"
"Not yet," he said. "We'll deal with that in the morning."
"Would you like to have sex again?"
"I think the old dog can sit up and beg," Charlie said with a sly grin.
Luna kissed him again. "Begging will not be necessary."
And in a sweeping gesture that surprised Charlie for a long time to come, he picked up Luna from her chair and carried her to her bed.
Afterwards, for the first time, they fell asleep in each others' arms.
---------
"We're almost there. We should hurry."
"Where's maman?" Victoire Weasley asked as she walked down the hall of St. Mungo's, tightly holding her father's hand.
"She's in Gryffindor Tower," said Bill Weasley, the wall-mounted torches casting shadows on his unmarked face. "We should hurry, though, or we'll miss Matilda."
Victoire looked to her left. There were a line of open doors, each marked with the Healer's wand and bones. She passed a room with Healers standing over a screaming woman, looking puzzled. She passed a room containing unspeakable horrors, red eyes glowing from dark corners.
"I have to go to class," said Victoire as she and Bill passed a door where Theresa Daulby and Jack Pearson were pouring Pepsi into a cauldron. "The Stymphalians are giving a pop quiz."
"We should hurry," said Buckbeak, "or we'll miss the typhoid."
Victoire and Buckbeak passed another room, where Uncle Ron and Hagrid were opening Christmas presents, and another where a Healer was running her wand over Dominik's chest. Dominik's face was a twisting agony. Finally they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"We're here," said Buckbeak to Victoire. "Are you ready?"
"I can't," Victoire said, struck with a sudden, unexplainable fear. "It's wrong."
"It is time for the next exercise," said the Fat Lady. "Are they ready?" Professor Dumbledore, sharing her frame, nodded in agreement.
"How do I look?" Victoire asked, twirling around in a circle. Hermione Caroline's wedding dress billowed gently out from Victoire's legs.
"Like it belongs to you," said Professor Dumbledore.
"How do I look?" Victoire asked Buckbeak.
"Who are you?" asked Buckbeak, who was now Luna.
"I'm me," said Victoire, the fear fading as quickly as it arrived.
"Who are you?" asked Uncle Charlie from beside Luna.
"I'm the one he belongs to."
"Password?" asked the Fat Lady, plucking absently at her Holyhead Harpies kit.
"Typography."
"You're late."
The portrait swung open, and Victoire stepped into Greenhouse Three. Professor Longbottom stood at the front of the large glass structure. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry stood to one side of him, Uncle George and Hermione Caroline to the other. Victoire's classmates stood on either side of the greenhouse, its tables gone.
"You must hurry," said Victoire's mother from her side. "Ze sun will rise soon, and everything weell change."
"I'm not ready," said Victoire, now dressed in her dirty preservation work robes. "It's too much..."
"It's too late."
Victoire turned to see Teddy Lupin standing in front of the others. Her heart filled with joy at his face.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"I've always been ready," she said, and walked to him. Now she was naked. And now he was, as well, and he was just as she always knew he would be.
"You must hurry," said Hermione Caroline, now in her wedding dress, as Victoire bent over. They were all watching her. They knew how she felt about him. And she didn't care.
"I'm sorry," said Victoire with a mixture of shame and excitement. "I love him."
"You must hurry," HC repeated as her husband slid easily into Victoire. "The typhoon is coming."
"I can feel the typhoon," Victoire moaned. From behind her, she felt Teddy's hand slide down her bare stomach, fingers gliding gently over blond hair before finding her swollen clitoris, caressing it as she always dreamed he would, as if he had known it for years.
"It is coming," said HC.
"Yes," Victoire said, now pressing her back against Teddy's chest. His hand slid to her naked breast, thumb pressed against hardened nipple. And still he drove deeper... deeper... "Oh, God, yes..."
"The typhoon..."
"It's coming," Victoire gasped, her voice rising in pitch as she climbed higher... higher....
"Drive them out, then attack. Leave none to remember..."
"Yes! Yes!"
"The typhoon is coming."
"Oh, Teddy! Yes!"
"The typhon is coming."
"I'm coming!"
"Who are you?"
Victoire looked up into the face of a cat beneath a black hood. She felt terror grip her as she reached her climax. The dark figure raised her wand.
crack
---------
Victoire Weasley awoke with a cry of horror and ecstacy on her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest as her hips bucked once, twice, three times against her cot and against her hand as an orgasm shot through her like an electric current. She closed her eyes tightly, releasing her quiet scream into her pillow as her free hand clenched feebly beneath it. Then she lay in silence, waiting for her heart to regain its rhythm and the heat to dissapate from below.
"So now she diddles herself during nightmares," she grumbled sickly into her pillow. "That's not fucked up at all."
From beside her, Victoire heard a querying caw. She lifted her face from the pillow and turned to see Buckbeak the hippogriff staring back at her, head tilted slightly in concern.
"What are you looking at?" Victoire sighed. "Pervert."
As she rolled onto her back, Buckbeak leaned over and nuzzled her face with his large beak. She ran her free hand along his feathered head, and he squawked contentedly.
"One of these days," she said, "I'm going to be able to wake up without an imaginary Teddy in my quim and my hand in my undercrackers." As she said this, she pulled her hand from beneath her jogging bottoms.
Good Lord, what a dream, she thought as she felt the chill air of the barn tent touch her soaked fingers. I'm going to have to change my knickers if I'm going to get to sleep. Damn it. She wiped her fingers absently on her jumper, but felt a shiver roll through her as they faintly brushed her still hard nipple through the thick fabric.
Guess I'm not quite done yet, she thought. Despite her best intentions, her fingers lingered, and she gasped as her thumb and forefinger pinched the large nipple. She was ready to just pull her jumper off completely and finishing the job, but then she felt and heard Buckbeak jump back in alarm at her cries, and she crashed back to reality. Releasing her breast, she pulled the pillow from beneath her head and pressed it to her face, barely in time to catch her scream of weary, muffled frustration.
Two years. Two years it had been since that day on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, when she felt his lips on hers for the first time, felt his tongue dance with hers and her hands on his chest....
Damn it!
Two years! Two years since he told Victoire that he loved someone else, two years since he proposed to someone else, two years since he made it clear to everyone in the world that he was for Hermione Caroline Granger alone. And Victoire had convinced everyone in her life that she was over him--
Well, except for Luna and Hagrid and Uncle Charlie. And Maman and Dad gave her a look occasionally, and Aunt Jean and Matilda--
So why couldn't she convince her own fucking brain to blow out the bloody torch and move on? Why did so many of her dreams have to end with Teddy Lupin beneath her in a meadow? Or Teddy Lupin on top of her at a party, her in nothing but a garter belt with all of the guests watching? Teddy Lupin behind her, fucking her mercilessly as she was bent over the Lupins' kitchen table? He even entered the innocent dreams and, as tonight proved, the nightmares, twisting them and perverting them, and--
The heat and the moisture between her legs only increased as these thoughts rolled through her head, and she groaned again into her pillow. Part of her brain just wanted to cry herself to sleep. Another part of her just wanted to furiously masturbate until she dropped off into blissful unconsciousness. With the way she was feeling, "borrowing" the handle of one of those shovels leaning against the tent's wall might not be out of the question. Or maybe her wand--
"What the hell are you thinking?" she screamed into the pillow before throwing it away. A few of the horses sharing the barn with the hippogriff and the young woman kicked and neighed restlessly at the disturbance. Victoire sat up, pulled her knees to her chest, and began to cry.
She couldn't help it. She wanted to be strong. She so wanted to move on. She wanted to be like Uncle Charlie. She wanted to be like Madam Lovegood. She wanted to use their example of how to live a happy life without someone--
But that wasn't quite right. Uncle Charlie had Luna. Luna had Uncle Charlie. They might have love for each other, and they might not. But that didn't matter. No matter what they called what they were doing in Luna's tent right now, they had each other. They had somewhere to go, someone to go to. And that fact made Victoire feel heart-wrenchingly alone.
Who did she have? A family she only saw once every few months. A dwindling number of friends who sent her a dwindling number of owls stuffed to the brim with stories of how much more fulfilling their lives were. She had Uncle Charlie's co-workers, each gruffer, older, and more grizzled than the next. The type of men who spent their entire lives alone and had the social graces to show for it.
And she had a hippogriff for a best friend.
You haven't given yourself much of a chance to move on, that's all, her mind reasoned. Two years is a long time if you haven't at least tried to fill that void.
Well, she had tried. Once. Miserably.
From the slit beneath the tent's flap, Victoire could see a welcoming orange glow. She could hear the crackle of the bonfire, and the quiet mumbling of voices.
Maybe I should move on, she thought. There's Dominik. He was in my dream. That's gotta have something going for it. Besides, he's cute, he's around my age, he's interested in animals, too. He barely speaks a word of English, but who needs to talk?
Victoire imagined herself leaving the tent and walking to the bonfire. Grabbing Dominik, the Polish zoologist who was a member of Luna's team, and dragging him back to his tent to relieve some pent-up energy. It's not like she had that stupid virginity to worry about, after all. Not after that one night with Nate...
It was stupid of her, she knew that now. Hell, she knew it from the moment Nate had slid into her. It had been Christmas holiday during her seventh year of Hogwarts. Nate was dating a sixth-year Blood Traitor Slytherin at the time, and he and Victoire were doing their best to put their animosity behind them and finish the year off as comfortable acquaintences, if not close friends. Nate had even invited Victoire over to his house two days after Christmas. His parents were at his father's office party, and Nate thought it might be fun to sit around, listen to the wireless and play some board games or some Exploding Snap.
As the night went on and the games grew more and more boring, Victoire found herself edging closer and closer to Nate. By nine o' clock, they were snogging. By five after, they had their hands in each others' pants. By nine fifteen she was on her knees with his cock in her mouth. By nine twenty...
She rationalized it later, in many different ways. Maybe she had decided to lose her virginity to Nathaniel Smith that night because she thought it wasn't a big deal in the long run. Maybe she thought that there was some shred of a relationship between the two of them that could be salvaged. Maybe she thought that finally taking this last step would give her the clarity she needed to move on from Teddy.
In the end it didn't matter, because in the end it didn't do anything. She climbed on top of him, and all that she got from the deal was two seconds of awkward thrusting followed by a few drops of blood on Mr. and Mrs. Smith's couch and a magically sterilized mess of sticky inside her. Afterwards, she went into the bathroom while he cleaned up the living room. They dressed in silence. She left his house ten minutes later, Apparated home, went to bed, and woke up at three a.m. to the thought of losing her virginity to Teddy Lupin on her parents' couch.
It was a fantasy worth two orgasms that night.
She and Nate barely spoke after that night. Except for awkward classroom projects, they did their best to avoid each others' presences. Victoire never told any of her friends about the experience and, as far as she knew, Nate didn't, either. He didn't have anything to brag about, for one. For another, he had a girlfriend not named Victoire Weasley, and the last thing he'd want would be a pack of vengeful Slytherins on his tail.
So, really, it wasn't a big deal if Victoire climbed off her cot and fucked Dominik's brains out. Everyone else was doing it, and it had been such a long time since she had felt anyone touch her...
Alright, stop it! her rational mind screamed. You're lonely, you're depressed, you're horny. You have a long day, maybe a long week, coming up, and you need your rest. What you don't need is to make a mistake like sleeping with someone you just met a few hours ago. So unless you're ready to blast yourself with a Memory Charm, you either drop your knickers now and deal with your screaming twat or roll over and go the fuck to sleep!
"Fine!" she said firmly, tossing her blanket off of her. "I'll just... No way I'm falling asleep like this..." At that, she pulled her jogging bottoms and knickers around her ankles, lay down on her back, and pulled her jumper up to her armpits. As she did on those nights when a tired body collided with a raging desire, she did the work quickly and efficiently: one hand working her rock hard nipples (made harder by their sudden exposure to the cold night air), and the other rigorously working between her thighs. The whole time she tried to leave her mind blank. This was something that needed to be done fast, after all, and the last thing she needed was to keep thinking of Teddy Lupin in that way.
In the end, it only took a few moments. Victoire reached twice, bucking with two hard pistol shots of orgasms. And if Teddy had slipped into her thoughts once or twice during the process, what of it? Except for Buckbeak, who had gone back to apathetically laying his head between his taloned feet as Victoire stripped her clothing, she was alone. She wouldn't have to fool anyone about her feelings tonight, even if she couldn't fool herself.
Afterwards, as she lay on her cot, her knickers dangling from one ankle (her jogging bottoms had fallen to the dirt floor) and her arms now completely out of her jumper, which was hanging around her neck, she knew she still couldn't sleep. That damn hormonal surge had subsided, but her mind was still racing. Rest would be a long time coming. She turned her head back to the tent's door, where the firelight still blazed beneath it.
Maybe I will see if Dominik is still awake, she thought, pulling her jumper back on. I don't need to jump his bones any more, thank Merlin, but he still might be fun to talk to. Maybe I could teach him some English. Or he could teach me some Polish. He is cute, after all. And about my age. And I'm sure we have loads in common.
Maybe I should start trying to move on.
She reached down to her ankle to pull up her knickers, but flinched as she grabbed them. Soaked clean through, and smelling like she had actually squirted into them during the orgasm that had driven her from her nightmare (Must have been a good one, she thought sadly. Too bad I wasn't awake for most of it), she contented herself with using the few dry spots to wipe herself off before tossing in on top of her duffel. She then stood up and walked around to the end of the cot and grabbed her jogging bottoms.
"Might as well go commando tonight," she said to Buckbeak, pulling them on and tying the drawstring. "Remind me to bring a spare pair of knickers next time we go on holiday, yeah?"
Buckbeak stood up as Victoire sat back down (And there's the wet spot, she thought with a silent sigh as her bottom connected with the cot. Yup, definitely squirted). As she pulled her boots on, he gave her another questioning head tilt, which was hindered slightly by the collar around his neck. Victoire told the horse trainer that Buckbeak was safe untied, but the trainer insisted. He didn't want a hippogriff wandering around the giant tent spooking his charges. In the end, both Victoire and Buckbeak relented, and the hippogriff was currently tied to a post.
"I'm just going outside for some air, Beaky," she said, not even bothering with her shoelaces. "I'll be back in a bit. Go back to sleep, alright?" she said, rubbing his beak. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow... I wager..." she added with a shrug, realising she wasn't quite sure what Luna Lovegood had in store for them.
She stood up and stretched. Walked away from her cot, leaving her wand, her duffel, and her Buckbeak behind.
She left the tent.
And that's the moment when Victoire Weasley's world turned into a living nightmare.
Fourteen / Previous Chapters / Darkness Man
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: NC-17 for language, nudity, semi-graphic sex and masturbation
Summary: Everyone has an idea of where their life is going. They're usually wrong.
Notes: This chapter and the next were initially planned to be one chapter. Not happening. I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Fourteen / Previous Chapters / Darkness Man
After he rolled onto his back, Charlie Weasley had to struggle hard to find his breath again.
"Every... Ev..." he panted, running his hands through his thinning, sweaty red hair, "Every time I visit, I get the most gracious... reception."
"I am glad you're here," said Luna Lovegood, whose own voice was slightly higher and airier than normal. Considering she was the most even-keeled person Charlie had ever known, he took these rare changes in her composure as the greatest of compliments. "It has been quite a while."
"Two months," Charlie said, mentally calculating. "Not exactly a huge period, compared to before..."
"Yes, you're right," said Luna, wiping a small bead of sweat from her forehead. "I suppose it has not been quite as long as normal. We have been seeing each other more frequently."
"No complaints... from me."
"Nor from me," said Luna. The two slid into comfortable silence, Charlie with his hands behind his head, Luna with hers demurely clasped atop her naked stomach. Luna wasn't a cuddler after sex, Charlie thought to himself as they stared up at the roof of Luna's Expanded tent, lit only by a few dimly flickering candles. Never had been a cuddler from the moment this physical addition to their friendship began three Christmases ago. When they were together, in the act, she could be as intimate as anyone he had ever been with. They kissed, they groped, they had learned the tweaks and tics, the nooks and crannies and scars of each others bodies through years of exploration. But afterwards...
Whether it was a comment on their relationship or just an aspect of her personality in general, Charlie couldn't tell. When it came to Luna Lovegood, one could never tell what was going on in her mind. But she was definitely different than anyone he had been with since leaving England decades ago.
"I'm going to make a sandwich," she said randomly, confirming Charlie's thoughts. "Would you like something to eat? Or would you like to sleep?"
"I think I'm going to be awake for a while," said Charlie as Luna sat up and took her wand and glasses from the nightstand. "You have any tea?"
"I was going to put on a pot," she said. Charlie felt a twitch below his waist Luna walked naked across the tent, which had been Expanded to the size of a studio flat, but eventually gave up as a bad job. Forty-six is a long way from eighteen, he thought morosely. Old dog's gotta get his rest.
"Actually, I can do it," he said, rolling over onto his stomach and groping around the floor, "if you could do something else for me."
"Yes?" Luna asked as she reached the kitchen area, which contained a table, stove, refrigerator, and numerous cabinets.
"Well, you know how, when Vic and I got here, I said that we should wait until tomorrow to talk about everything?" Charlie said, at last finding his boxer shorts, which were buried under his jacket and her camisole. "When everyone else is awake?"
"Yes, I do."
"I lied," he said, standing up and pulling them up. "I want to see your work now, if you don't mind digging it out."
"I was hoping you would say that," she said, pulling two tomatoes from the kitchen's hanging basket and placing them on the counter. "It has been on my mind all night."
"Mine, too."
"Except during the orgasms."
"Of course," said Charlie with a smile.
"My sandwich will just be tomatoes and spinach," said Luna. "The tea is in the cupboard to the right of the stove."
"I'm on it," he said, flicking his wand at the teapot currently sitting on the stove. A stream of water spewed from the wand's tip, quickly filling the pot. With another quick poke, the flame beneath the kettle burst to life. Another flick, and the loaf of bread flew to the counter along with a pair of knives. As Charlie opened the cupboard to get the tea, the kitchen filled with the sounds of magically-controlled utensils slicing tomatoes and bread.
"I often forget how good you are with kitchen spells, Charles," said Luna, taking a gray flannel shirt from her dresser and pulling it on.
"That's Mum," said Charlie, sparing a glance brief enough to see the large, puckered scar on Luna's back (Another thing we have in common, he thought, even if the stories behind them couldn't be any more different) before it was covered by her shirt. "She made sure I knew how to handle all those spells before I went off to Romania. Couldn't stand the thought of me eating burnt toast and cans of beans every day, I suppose."
"Perhaps I should have asked you to make me something more elaborate than a vegetable sandwich."
"After we're done," he said, pulling a small pouch down from the shelf. "I'll throw something together."
"Would you make dinner for the entire crew?" she asked. "Or just for the two of us?"
Charlie paused and turned back to Luna. As she usually did when she was comfortable and in private, Luna wore her shirt completely unbuttoned, allowing Charlie an unfettered view of her bare stomach (also covered by scars, although not as many or as painful-looking as the ones on her back) and the inner swell of her breasts, which were holding up quite well for a woman approaching forty herself. Even though tonight she had pulled on a pair of plain blue cotton knickers (other nights she went with only the shirt, which allowed even less to the imagination), the view was enough to make Charlie wish once again that he had the same energy and stamina of someone half his age.
"Would you, um, rather I made dinner for everyone?"
What's wrong with you tonight? he mentally chided himself as she approached him. It's just Lovegood, for Merlin's sake. Why are you getting so... so...
"Whichever you would prefer," said Luna, gazing up at him through her glasses. "Cooking for a dozen can be quite difficult. Also, I would very much like to have a quiet dinner alone with you some night. That is, if you do not find it to be too intimate for our friendship."
"Not... ahem," Charlie suddenly noted that his throat was unusually dry. "Not at all."
Luna set her stack of papers down on the table (She was carrying papers? Charlie thought distantly. I didn't even notice...) and took the pouch from his hands. "Wulong tea," she said, opening it and gently inhaling the aroma. "I traded with a merchant in Darjeeling for it. It's quite a lovely blend."
"Yeah, smells good."
"Would you like to look at my research?"
"Wuh?" Charlie said, jerking himself back to reality. Easy to get lost in those eyes, he thought, to which he quickly responded Okay, seriously, what is wrong with you tonight?
"Yeah, research," he said quickly, sitting down. Focusing his mind on the business at hand, he pulled the stack of newspapers to the middle of the table. "You said there were sightings?"
"Perhaps," said Luna, sitting down opposite Charlie. She pulled one of the newspapers from the stack and handed it to him. As he got his first look at the Cyrillic lettering, Charlie sighed and tapped it quickly with his wand.
"Sorry," he said as he watched the letters shuffle around on the page. "I've been lazy. Not enough Romanians speak Russian for me to learn the language."
"It's quite alright," said Luna as the words began to reform in English. "I have enough background in Ancient Runes where it doesn't confuse me."
"Mysterious Objects Seen in Night Sky," Charlie read aloud. "Restricted areas of... Government denies extraterrestrial... These sightings were from Muggles?"
"This is a Muggle newspaper, yes," said Luna. "Each newspaper reports a mysterious sighting. Each newspaper has a response from the Muggle government. Some claim weather balloons, which Muggles use to measure the atmosphere. Others claim simple testing of Muggle technology like aeroplanes or Hello Coppers. They have often been seen in areas that the Muggles have marked as restricted, so the people nearby take those explanations. Other Muggles think that the government is hiding You Foes from them."
"You Foes?"
"Intelligent beings from other planets," said Luna. "And while my father and his colleagues have found much evidence of visitors from other galaxies--"
"Of course," said Charlie grudgingly.
"--I do not believe that this is the case in these instances."
"And why is that?"
"You Foes do not squawk," said Luna, pulling a stack of flattened and folded parchment from under the newspapers. "And unless the Muggles have created tiny aeroplanes that flap their wings, which is entirely feasible--"
"Stymphalians," said Charlie.
"I interviewed a witch near Grodno," Luna continued, flipping through her pages. "In Belarus. She told me about a dream she had. She dreamed about a giant shining bird that swooped down and picked up a deer fawn from a forest near her village."
"She dreamed this..."
"Perhaps it was only a dream," said Luna. "But perhaps it was an incompletely-placed Memory Charm."
"That would make sense," Charlie sighed. "Whoever's training the Stymphalians have been doing their damndest to keep a low profile. And if there were Stymphalians hunting, there would have to be a witch or wizard nearby. Might have been casting Homenums to make sure no one got too close while the bird was feeding. Found the witch, and decided it'd be easier and safer to eliminate her memory rather than just eliminate her."
"It would also fit the pattern that has been developing," Luna said. "The witch's dream lines up with the path that the Stymphalians have been taking."
Charlie flipped through the stack of newspapers, and nodded in understanding. A sighting in a Greek newspaper from November, 2018. Bulgaria in early February. Here was one from the Ukraine, just one week before he, Luna, and Victoire had discovered the razor-sharp feather among the Carpathian Gorynich corpses.
"They moved faster after that," Luna said, pointing to the small article. No more than a paragraph in the middle of the newspaper, it explained that a drunk Muggle was arrested after a run-in with the local authorities. He claimed that he saw a giant steel hawk two hours before his arrest. After a night in the local jail, however, he sobered up and explained that it was simply a hallucination.
"Belarus in July," Charlie continued, going through the pile faster now. "Lithuania in August--"
"And now there are sightings in Kaliningrad," said Luna. "There have been numerous reports since September. That article you read was just the latest."
"And people aren't getting suspicious?" Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not Muggles? Not witches or wizards?"
"There are more military installations in Kaliningrad, both Muggle and magical, than anywhere in Europe," Luna explained. "With so many military tests, the citizens have become used to the unknown."
"But it's happening in a restricted area," Charlie muttered, staring at the article. "A Muggle restricted area."
"Which means nothing," said Luna. "Your own dragon preserve is a Muggle restricted area, Charles. It simply means that the area has been agreed upon between the Muggle and magical governments as wizard only."
"Is it charmed to keep Muggles away?" asked Charlie. "I know that my preserve has almost as many physical and psychological charms as Hogwarts does."
"I do not know about the charms on this area," said Luna. "I have not been able to see the area for myself yet. It has been quite difficult getting much information at all."
Charlie opened his mouth to respond, but was met with a high-pitched whistle as the teapot reached its boiling point. "Sounds like drinks are on," he said, standing up. "And your tomatoes and bread, too."
"Thank you, Charles," said Luna, who stood up and walked to the refrigerator as Charlie pulled the kettle from the stove. "Would you like me to make you a sandwich, as well? I have a lamb chop remaining from dinner."
Charlie, who hadn't eaten anything since that morning, suddenly felt his stomach cry out with the thought of food. "That sounds damn good, actually," he said, his mouth watering. "Thanks."
"You're quite welcome," said Luna, bending down and pulling out the plate with the single chop, along with a handful of spinach leaves. "Did Ginny win her first match?"
Charlie paused in mid-pour, trying, as usual, to get his brain to catch up with Luna's common subject shifts. "Yeah," he said eventually. "She scored five goals against Ballycastle. Didn't she tell you?"
"We do not communicate as much as we once did."
"Oh," said Charlie uncomfortably. "That... um... that's too bad. I mean, you were her maid of honor..."
"She has been busy and I have been busy," Luna said simply as she sliced up the cold lamb chop. "And we are far away from each other. It happens with many people, as you are aware with your own family."
"Well, considering I only heard about the match through my subscription to the Prophet, I am more than aware."
"You do not hear from them often, either," she said. Not a question. Never a question when it came to her uncanny ability to read people's emotions.
"Well, I hear from Mum and Dad maybe once a month," said Charlie, continuing his pour. "And I've actually heard from Ron more than once recently. Now that Hugo's at Hogwarts and Hermione's Head of Law Enforcement he's found a lot of time to sit around their house and be bored enough to write his big brother."
"I have not received any letters from Ron," said Luna.
"Give it time, you will," said Charlie. "The boy's going crazy after playing housedad for the last ten years. If I had anyone to wager with, I'd love to bet on how long it takes him to crawl back to George asking for his job back."
"I would not make that bet," said Luna. "Ron never enjoyed working at the joke shop. How is Hermione adjusting to her new position?"
"Like Hermione would," he said with a chuckle. "She's doing brilliantly, and is the greatest actor in the world. She wants to pull her hair out, she wants to occasionally strangle someone who doesn't understand what's going on, but she hides it so well."
"She has often had difficulty with people not agreeing with her," Luna said. Again, not a question.
"Well, she has the law on her side this time, at least," said Charlie. "Even if she has to start learning how to handle the gray areas. Like with this Jimmy Porter business..."
"Who is Jimmy Porter?" asked Luna. "A Death Eater?"
"No," said Charlie with barely-contained amusement. "It's Harry."
He burst into laughter. He couldn't help it. So rarely had he, or anyone, seen Luna Lovegood confused or at a loss for words. But there she was, staring back at him with tomato in her hand and a bemused look on her face. "Harry's a Death Eater?" she said eventually.
"It's this programme," Charlie explained. "On television... you know what television is, right? The Muggle thing, the wireless with pictures?"
"I've seen Dudley's," she said, for once the one trying to catch up with him.
"Well, there's this programme called Jimmy Porter. It's written by Muggles, as far as the Ministry knows, and its written for Muggles. And it's an extremely loose interpretation of Harry's time at Hogwarts."
"Is this legal?" Luna asked, quickly regaining her composure and continuing with sandwich construction. "It must be a violation of the Statutes."
"Not that the Law Enforcement and Muggle Relations divisions can find," said Charlie. "There are plenty of loopholes in the Statute of Secrecy, and from Ron's letters it sounds like these people have jumped through all of them so far. Changed every possible name. Changed the name of every location and every spell. They added a lot, too. I suppose they have to make a certain amount of stories, so they've made a lot of it up. And the biggest part is that they have never said that any of it is true. If they insist that it's a work of fiction, then they're not telling the world that magic is real, and they're not violating any rules."
"Harry must be quite distraught," said Luna, carrying the two plates back to the table. "He's never liked being known."
"Yeah, he's not happy," said Charlie, sitting down with the two cups of tea. "Even if no Muggles know his name, I'm sure word will get around the wizarding world about it eventually. There's loads of unauthorized biographies about him out there already, and now this..."
"There are many parts of his life that he wishes to forget," said Luna. "He doesn't want to be known for the people that have died because of him. This programme will remind him again."
"Probably," said Charlie with a sigh. "Hermione and Dean are trying their best to keep an eye on the situation. They've run a background check on every name listed on the programme's credits, and none of them have been issued Muggle Charms. Beyond that, they can't assign Ministry officials to monitor a completely legal Muggle operation. But Caroline and Teddy are helping Hermione out. Completely off the clock, of course. And if they ever slip, if there's ever a real name or any slant towards nonfiction in the series, Hermione'll be on the case. This programme's extremely popular, I guess. Millions of Muggles around the world watch it every night, both on television and on the... um... the Inner Net. It's absolutely massive, and Hermione doesn't want to see anything this big go wrong on her watch."
"And she wouldn't want Harry to become any more uncomfortable with the situation," Luna added. "She is a good friend."
"That she is," said Charlie with a smile, taking a bite of his lamb sandwich. "Mm, this is really good."
"Thank you," said Luna. "I seasoned it with sage. Am I participating in this programme?"
"Um, not yet," he said through a half-full mouth. "Ron's last letter said that it just showed Harry's fight with Quirrel. Really ramped up the final battle, too. Teddy and Caroline call it a series finale, or something like that, so I guess they had to make the fight bigger than it was. But, no, you haven't been on. Neither has Ginny."
"Next year, I suppose," said Luna. "I wonder what my name is going to be?"
"You're really interested in this, aren't you?" Charlie said, somewhat perplexed. "Hell, I don't think I could stand seeing someone else's caricature of me paraded around for millions of people to see."
"It would be fascinating," Luna countered. "To see someone else's interpretation of my life. To see someone else's interpretation of my truth. It would rather be like seeing the sky from underwater."
"Yeah, well, I forgot to tell you that Hedwig's a talking owl, so it's an odd definition of truth, there..."
"Harry never told me that Hedwig could speak," said Luna. "I wonder what they talked about."
"Luna..."
"Did she speak Parceltongue? Perhaps that's why we never understood her. I should ask Harry..."
Charlie shook his head in surrender. "Maybe later," he said. "So what's your plan for our our trip?"
"Allow me one moment, Charles," said Luna, pointing her wand to her desk in the corner, which was piled high with rolls of parchment. "Accio map." With a soft rustle, one roll emerged from the pile and flew across the room and into Luna's hand. She unrolled the map, which displayed the Baltic region, and tapped each corner with a Temporary Sticking Charm.
"This is where we are located," she said, pointing at a forested area of Poland east of Goldap. "We will cross over the Kaliningrad border tomorrow and investigating the area around Krasnosel'ye. Its the area There are numerous restricted areas there, some of which have been created within the last two years."
"How many are numerous?"
"We would want to interview residents," said Luna. "The article is not helpful in identifying the specific location of the sightings."
"Which would lend support to our theory, I suppose," said Charlie, picking up his now empty plate and carrying it to the sink. "If it's related to magic, it'd be glossed over as much as possible."
"Do not forget that Kaliningrad is a Russian oblast," said Luna. "Even today the media can often be at the mercy of the government if they write anything that the leadership does not consider appropriate. Even if these sightings were a purely Muggle endeavor, the newspaper might be quick to bury any detail."
"Sounding like we have a lot of work ahead of us," said Charlie. "I'm surprised that haven't already gone in to start gathering information. How long have you been camped here?"
"For four days. But there are many reasons why we haven't gone into the oblast yet. We did not want to rouse suspicion any more than we had to. You are quite aware of how sensitive these Stymphalians and their handlers are to outside influence. It is quite possible that they have already discovered us, and have left the area."
"They seem to know everything, yeah," said Charlie, remembering the cleanup job done after the Gorynych attack. The metallic feather, buried inconspicuously beneath a rock, and gone the next day...
"Also, the Russians' border spells are much more powerful than they are around the Ukraine," Luna continued. "As our situation is at this time, we will not be able to Apparate over the border. Nor will we be able to ride broomsticks or any magical apparatus. For our own protection, we will even have to leave any magical artifacts behind."
"Our wands?" Charlie asked. The last thing he wanted to do was go into an unknown, possibly dangerous, situation without his trusty wand. I don't know how Muggles can do it, he thought.
"We have discovered some materials that may dampen the magical auras of our wands," said Luna. "But we would still be wise to carry as few as necessary."
"What kind of materials?"
"Pine is a poor wand wood," Luna explained. "Mr. Ollivander told me when we were with the Malfoys. We talked quite often, as we had very little to occupy ourselves in the dark. Pine does not conduct magic very well at all. So we constructed a pine box, lined with lead. That will dampen our wands to any detection until we get over the border."
"But it would still be safer not to have too many wands together in one place," Charlie said, now leaning over the map beside her. "And the border's also why you didn't want to cross back and forth. Too many crossings might trigger an alarm when one or two won't. Smart thinking, Lovegood."
"And I also wanted to wait for you and Victoire," said Luna. As she spoke, Charlie was amazed to see a small, soft smile on her lips and a faint brush of color across her cheeks. "You are quite dear to me, and I would not want either of you to be upset if my father and I solved the mystery without you."
"Well, I'm glad you waited," said Charlie, absently brushing a lock of her short blonde hair behind her ear.
"Why is that?" she asked in almost a whisper.
When Luna Lovegood and Charlie Weasley kissed during their three plus years of their physical relationship, it was rarely outside of bed (except for those rare occasions when they were too ramped up to make it to the bedroom). Their kisses, and their relationship as a whole, always spoke the same way: spoke of desire, spoke of need, spoke of yearning and a bit of loneliness. They both thought of themselves as friends, both getting on in years and having neither the time nor the inclination to find someone else. Their sexual relationship was one of convenience and release, something simply to do when they were together and something therapeutic enough to get them over the hump (figuratively speaking) until the next time they would meet.
There was never romance. Never tenderness. Never a connection.
Until this kiss.
Charlie Weasley, for the first time, felt Luna Lovegood's lips as only Neville Longbottom had felt them. Luna's hand felt the bristle of Charlie's cheek as only Dawn Recklin, the Gryffindor love of Charlie Weasley's life during their later years at Hogwarts, had felt it. They were soft. Gentle. If not loving, than at least caring in their touch. For the first time, they discovered something they didn't even know they were missing: A need for each other.
When Charlie finally pulled away, he found himself short of breath. Luna's eyes, which he was noticing for maybe the first time, shone at him through her glasses.
What's wrong with you tonight? he thought.
Does it matter?
"Will Victoire be giving me a kiss like that, since I waited for her as well?" Luna asked with that same small smile.
"Lord, I hope not," said Charlie, who discovered that, somehow, Luna's shirt was now pooled around her waist. He felt that old dog below start to bark again.
"Will she be fine in the stable tent?" Luna asked. "There are many other tents available if--"
"She wanted to sleep out there," said Charlie. "You know how she is."
"And she is aware that Buckbeak will not be making the journey with us?"
"Not yet," he said. "We'll deal with that in the morning."
"Would you like to have sex again?"
"I think the old dog can sit up and beg," Charlie said with a sly grin.
Luna kissed him again. "Begging will not be necessary."
And in a sweeping gesture that surprised Charlie for a long time to come, he picked up Luna from her chair and carried her to her bed.
Afterwards, for the first time, they fell asleep in each others' arms.
---------
"We're almost there. We should hurry."
"Where's maman?" Victoire Weasley asked as she walked down the hall of St. Mungo's, tightly holding her father's hand.
"She's in Gryffindor Tower," said Bill Weasley, the wall-mounted torches casting shadows on his unmarked face. "We should hurry, though, or we'll miss Matilda."
Victoire looked to her left. There were a line of open doors, each marked with the Healer's wand and bones. She passed a room with Healers standing over a screaming woman, looking puzzled. She passed a room containing unspeakable horrors, red eyes glowing from dark corners.
"I have to go to class," said Victoire as she and Bill passed a door where Theresa Daulby and Jack Pearson were pouring Pepsi into a cauldron. "The Stymphalians are giving a pop quiz."
"We should hurry," said Buckbeak, "or we'll miss the typhoid."
Victoire and Buckbeak passed another room, where Uncle Ron and Hagrid were opening Christmas presents, and another where a Healer was running her wand over Dominik's chest. Dominik's face was a twisting agony. Finally they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"We're here," said Buckbeak to Victoire. "Are you ready?"
"I can't," Victoire said, struck with a sudden, unexplainable fear. "It's wrong."
"It is time for the next exercise," said the Fat Lady. "Are they ready?" Professor Dumbledore, sharing her frame, nodded in agreement.
"How do I look?" Victoire asked, twirling around in a circle. Hermione Caroline's wedding dress billowed gently out from Victoire's legs.
"Like it belongs to you," said Professor Dumbledore.
"How do I look?" Victoire asked Buckbeak.
"Who are you?" asked Buckbeak, who was now Luna.
"I'm me," said Victoire, the fear fading as quickly as it arrived.
"Who are you?" asked Uncle Charlie from beside Luna.
"I'm the one he belongs to."
"Password?" asked the Fat Lady, plucking absently at her Holyhead Harpies kit.
"Typography."
"You're late."
The portrait swung open, and Victoire stepped into Greenhouse Three. Professor Longbottom stood at the front of the large glass structure. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry stood to one side of him, Uncle George and Hermione Caroline to the other. Victoire's classmates stood on either side of the greenhouse, its tables gone.
"You must hurry," said Victoire's mother from her side. "Ze sun will rise soon, and everything weell change."
"I'm not ready," said Victoire, now dressed in her dirty preservation work robes. "It's too much..."
"It's too late."
Victoire turned to see Teddy Lupin standing in front of the others. Her heart filled with joy at his face.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"I've always been ready," she said, and walked to him. Now she was naked. And now he was, as well, and he was just as she always knew he would be.
"You must hurry," said Hermione Caroline, now in her wedding dress, as Victoire bent over. They were all watching her. They knew how she felt about him. And she didn't care.
"I'm sorry," said Victoire with a mixture of shame and excitement. "I love him."
"You must hurry," HC repeated as her husband slid easily into Victoire. "The typhoon is coming."
"I can feel the typhoon," Victoire moaned. From behind her, she felt Teddy's hand slide down her bare stomach, fingers gliding gently over blond hair before finding her swollen clitoris, caressing it as she always dreamed he would, as if he had known it for years.
"It is coming," said HC.
"Yes," Victoire said, now pressing her back against Teddy's chest. His hand slid to her naked breast, thumb pressed against hardened nipple. And still he drove deeper... deeper... "Oh, God, yes..."
"The typhoon..."
"It's coming," Victoire gasped, her voice rising in pitch as she climbed higher... higher....
"Drive them out, then attack. Leave none to remember..."
"Yes! Yes!"
"The typhoon is coming."
"Oh, Teddy! Yes!"
"The typhon is coming."
"I'm coming!"
"Who are you?"
Victoire looked up into the face of a cat beneath a black hood. She felt terror grip her as she reached her climax. The dark figure raised her wand.
crack
---------
Victoire Weasley awoke with a cry of horror and ecstacy on her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest as her hips bucked once, twice, three times against her cot and against her hand as an orgasm shot through her like an electric current. She closed her eyes tightly, releasing her quiet scream into her pillow as her free hand clenched feebly beneath it. Then she lay in silence, waiting for her heart to regain its rhythm and the heat to dissapate from below.
"So now she diddles herself during nightmares," she grumbled sickly into her pillow. "That's not fucked up at all."
From beside her, Victoire heard a querying caw. She lifted her face from the pillow and turned to see Buckbeak the hippogriff staring back at her, head tilted slightly in concern.
"What are you looking at?" Victoire sighed. "Pervert."
As she rolled onto her back, Buckbeak leaned over and nuzzled her face with his large beak. She ran her free hand along his feathered head, and he squawked contentedly.
"One of these days," she said, "I'm going to be able to wake up without an imaginary Teddy in my quim and my hand in my undercrackers." As she said this, she pulled her hand from beneath her jogging bottoms.
Good Lord, what a dream, she thought as she felt the chill air of the barn tent touch her soaked fingers. I'm going to have to change my knickers if I'm going to get to sleep. Damn it. She wiped her fingers absently on her jumper, but felt a shiver roll through her as they faintly brushed her still hard nipple through the thick fabric.
Guess I'm not quite done yet, she thought. Despite her best intentions, her fingers lingered, and she gasped as her thumb and forefinger pinched the large nipple. She was ready to just pull her jumper off completely and finishing the job, but then she felt and heard Buckbeak jump back in alarm at her cries, and she crashed back to reality. Releasing her breast, she pulled the pillow from beneath her head and pressed it to her face, barely in time to catch her scream of weary, muffled frustration.
Two years. Two years it had been since that day on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, when she felt his lips on hers for the first time, felt his tongue dance with hers and her hands on his chest....
Damn it!
Two years! Two years since he told Victoire that he loved someone else, two years since he proposed to someone else, two years since he made it clear to everyone in the world that he was for Hermione Caroline Granger alone. And Victoire had convinced everyone in her life that she was over him--
Well, except for Luna and Hagrid and Uncle Charlie. And Maman and Dad gave her a look occasionally, and Aunt Jean and Matilda--
So why couldn't she convince her own fucking brain to blow out the bloody torch and move on? Why did so many of her dreams have to end with Teddy Lupin beneath her in a meadow? Or Teddy Lupin on top of her at a party, her in nothing but a garter belt with all of the guests watching? Teddy Lupin behind her, fucking her mercilessly as she was bent over the Lupins' kitchen table? He even entered the innocent dreams and, as tonight proved, the nightmares, twisting them and perverting them, and--
The heat and the moisture between her legs only increased as these thoughts rolled through her head, and she groaned again into her pillow. Part of her brain just wanted to cry herself to sleep. Another part of her just wanted to furiously masturbate until she dropped off into blissful unconsciousness. With the way she was feeling, "borrowing" the handle of one of those shovels leaning against the tent's wall might not be out of the question. Or maybe her wand--
"What the hell are you thinking?" she screamed into the pillow before throwing it away. A few of the horses sharing the barn with the hippogriff and the young woman kicked and neighed restlessly at the disturbance. Victoire sat up, pulled her knees to her chest, and began to cry.
She couldn't help it. She wanted to be strong. She so wanted to move on. She wanted to be like Uncle Charlie. She wanted to be like Madam Lovegood. She wanted to use their example of how to live a happy life without someone--
But that wasn't quite right. Uncle Charlie had Luna. Luna had Uncle Charlie. They might have love for each other, and they might not. But that didn't matter. No matter what they called what they were doing in Luna's tent right now, they had each other. They had somewhere to go, someone to go to. And that fact made Victoire feel heart-wrenchingly alone.
Who did she have? A family she only saw once every few months. A dwindling number of friends who sent her a dwindling number of owls stuffed to the brim with stories of how much more fulfilling their lives were. She had Uncle Charlie's co-workers, each gruffer, older, and more grizzled than the next. The type of men who spent their entire lives alone and had the social graces to show for it.
And she had a hippogriff for a best friend.
You haven't given yourself much of a chance to move on, that's all, her mind reasoned. Two years is a long time if you haven't at least tried to fill that void.
Well, she had tried. Once. Miserably.
From the slit beneath the tent's flap, Victoire could see a welcoming orange glow. She could hear the crackle of the bonfire, and the quiet mumbling of voices.
Maybe I should move on, she thought. There's Dominik. He was in my dream. That's gotta have something going for it. Besides, he's cute, he's around my age, he's interested in animals, too. He barely speaks a word of English, but who needs to talk?
Victoire imagined herself leaving the tent and walking to the bonfire. Grabbing Dominik, the Polish zoologist who was a member of Luna's team, and dragging him back to his tent to relieve some pent-up energy. It's not like she had that stupid virginity to worry about, after all. Not after that one night with Nate...
It was stupid of her, she knew that now. Hell, she knew it from the moment Nate had slid into her. It had been Christmas holiday during her seventh year of Hogwarts. Nate was dating a sixth-year Blood Traitor Slytherin at the time, and he and Victoire were doing their best to put their animosity behind them and finish the year off as comfortable acquaintences, if not close friends. Nate had even invited Victoire over to his house two days after Christmas. His parents were at his father's office party, and Nate thought it might be fun to sit around, listen to the wireless and play some board games or some Exploding Snap.
As the night went on and the games grew more and more boring, Victoire found herself edging closer and closer to Nate. By nine o' clock, they were snogging. By five after, they had their hands in each others' pants. By nine fifteen she was on her knees with his cock in her mouth. By nine twenty...
She rationalized it later, in many different ways. Maybe she had decided to lose her virginity to Nathaniel Smith that night because she thought it wasn't a big deal in the long run. Maybe she thought that there was some shred of a relationship between the two of them that could be salvaged. Maybe she thought that finally taking this last step would give her the clarity she needed to move on from Teddy.
In the end it didn't matter, because in the end it didn't do anything. She climbed on top of him, and all that she got from the deal was two seconds of awkward thrusting followed by a few drops of blood on Mr. and Mrs. Smith's couch and a magically sterilized mess of sticky inside her. Afterwards, she went into the bathroom while he cleaned up the living room. They dressed in silence. She left his house ten minutes later, Apparated home, went to bed, and woke up at three a.m. to the thought of losing her virginity to Teddy Lupin on her parents' couch.
It was a fantasy worth two orgasms that night.
She and Nate barely spoke after that night. Except for awkward classroom projects, they did their best to avoid each others' presences. Victoire never told any of her friends about the experience and, as far as she knew, Nate didn't, either. He didn't have anything to brag about, for one. For another, he had a girlfriend not named Victoire Weasley, and the last thing he'd want would be a pack of vengeful Slytherins on his tail.
So, really, it wasn't a big deal if Victoire climbed off her cot and fucked Dominik's brains out. Everyone else was doing it, and it had been such a long time since she had felt anyone touch her...
Alright, stop it! her rational mind screamed. You're lonely, you're depressed, you're horny. You have a long day, maybe a long week, coming up, and you need your rest. What you don't need is to make a mistake like sleeping with someone you just met a few hours ago. So unless you're ready to blast yourself with a Memory Charm, you either drop your knickers now and deal with your screaming twat or roll over and go the fuck to sleep!
"Fine!" she said firmly, tossing her blanket off of her. "I'll just... No way I'm falling asleep like this..." At that, she pulled her jogging bottoms and knickers around her ankles, lay down on her back, and pulled her jumper up to her armpits. As she did on those nights when a tired body collided with a raging desire, she did the work quickly and efficiently: one hand working her rock hard nipples (made harder by their sudden exposure to the cold night air), and the other rigorously working between her thighs. The whole time she tried to leave her mind blank. This was something that needed to be done fast, after all, and the last thing she needed was to keep thinking of Teddy Lupin in that way.
In the end, it only took a few moments. Victoire reached twice, bucking with two hard pistol shots of orgasms. And if Teddy had slipped into her thoughts once or twice during the process, what of it? Except for Buckbeak, who had gone back to apathetically laying his head between his taloned feet as Victoire stripped her clothing, she was alone. She wouldn't have to fool anyone about her feelings tonight, even if she couldn't fool herself.
Afterwards, as she lay on her cot, her knickers dangling from one ankle (her jogging bottoms had fallen to the dirt floor) and her arms now completely out of her jumper, which was hanging around her neck, she knew she still couldn't sleep. That damn hormonal surge had subsided, but her mind was still racing. Rest would be a long time coming. She turned her head back to the tent's door, where the firelight still blazed beneath it.
Maybe I will see if Dominik is still awake, she thought, pulling her jumper back on. I don't need to jump his bones any more, thank Merlin, but he still might be fun to talk to. Maybe I could teach him some English. Or he could teach me some Polish. He is cute, after all. And about my age. And I'm sure we have loads in common.
Maybe I should start trying to move on.
She reached down to her ankle to pull up her knickers, but flinched as she grabbed them. Soaked clean through, and smelling like she had actually squirted into them during the orgasm that had driven her from her nightmare (Must have been a good one, she thought sadly. Too bad I wasn't awake for most of it), she contented herself with using the few dry spots to wipe herself off before tossing in on top of her duffel. She then stood up and walked around to the end of the cot and grabbed her jogging bottoms.
"Might as well go commando tonight," she said to Buckbeak, pulling them on and tying the drawstring. "Remind me to bring a spare pair of knickers next time we go on holiday, yeah?"
Buckbeak stood up as Victoire sat back down (And there's the wet spot, she thought with a silent sigh as her bottom connected with the cot. Yup, definitely squirted). As she pulled her boots on, he gave her another questioning head tilt, which was hindered slightly by the collar around his neck. Victoire told the horse trainer that Buckbeak was safe untied, but the trainer insisted. He didn't want a hippogriff wandering around the giant tent spooking his charges. In the end, both Victoire and Buckbeak relented, and the hippogriff was currently tied to a post.
"I'm just going outside for some air, Beaky," she said, not even bothering with her shoelaces. "I'll be back in a bit. Go back to sleep, alright?" she said, rubbing his beak. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow... I wager..." she added with a shrug, realising she wasn't quite sure what Luna Lovegood had in store for them.
She stood up and stretched. Walked away from her cot, leaving her wand, her duffel, and her Buckbeak behind.
She left the tent.
And that's the moment when Victoire Weasley's world turned into a living nightmare.
Fourteen / Previous Chapters / Darkness Man