A/N: A few of you questioned Voldemort's decision to kill off Xenophilius and the Grangers and I thought I'd address it. One of his primary weaknesses is his arrogance as he has spent his entire life believing that he is the most powerful and intelligent being in existence. Add onto that the fact that there was no graveyard scene in this story and Voldemort's only experiences with Harry are his failure to kill him as a baby, which he can write off as a fluke, and his meeting with him back in '91 when he was at his absolute weakest. He had no reason at all to think that the men he sent wouldn't succeed in their mission and thus his hostages had no further value to him.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table the next morning practically radiating murderous intent. He'd gone up to his dorm after helping see Hermione and Luna to the hospital wing beds that Dumbledore thought it best to keep them in for the night, spending his first night there in some time.
As he came down the next morning, he was faced with an inevitable consequence of how he'd decided to handle the situation. The front page of the Daily Prophet that morning featured a large moving picture of Pettigrew turning into a rat and back with a full account of all that he's spoken of when he interrupted Fudge's press conference. The details about the murders of Hermione's and Luna's parents were buried among everything else, and far greater prominence was given to the disastrous situation in Azkaban, but it was still there, and while he hated the fact that it was only going to hurt his friends further, he knew that the story was going to get out anyway, and they all needed Sirius freed just then.
More than a few people at the table looked like they desperately wanted to ask him questions, particularly the Weasleys for reasons that were obvious, but no one who had looked at him and seen how plainly livid he was had tried to bother him yet. It would, he imagined, take a particularly stupid and oblivious person to go anywhere near someone as visibly angry as he was that day.
Draco Malfoy had gone to bed the previous night feeling great. According to his father, the Dark Lord had very much appreciated the information that he passed on to him and had enacted a plan to lure out and deal with Potter once and for all. The wretched little half-blood had strutted around the school for years at that point, doing whatever he pleased and getting away with it. The only professor who saw him for what he was was his head of house, and what he could do about it was severely limited. Seeing him in the tournament was an outrage, and the fact that he not only survived the first two tasks but was actually in the lead after them was further proof of the ridiculous special treatment he got because of that stupid scar on his face.
He had gone to bed giddy at the idea of finally being rid of his rival once and for all, and it had taken only one glance at the Daily Prophet that morning to utterly ruin his mood. How in the world had they managed to successfully abduct that dingbat and the mudblood's parents and not get Potter? If they had just been killed, he'd have assumed that Potter was too cowardly to go after them, but the result was far worse. He didn't believe for a moment that Bartemius Crouch Junior had done what the paper suggested. He was one of their lord's most loyal followers, after all. That meant that Potter had somehow managed to get someone's help since there was no way the overrated half-blood could have killed frigging Greyback of all things, and that left him both annoyed and confused. His annoyance was only amplified when he found Potter seated at his usual spot among the Gryffindors as though nothing had happened.
"Dragons, merpeople, and now this?" he thought to himself, grinding his teeth as he walked over to the Slytherin table. "How lucky can one guy get?"
"You seen the paper yet?" Theodore Nott murmured as Draco sat down.
"I did," he mumbled under his breath. "I'd love to know what actually happened."
"As would we all," Theo replied. "I haven't seen Potter without Granger and Lovegood for months now. They've seemed even closer than the pair of them and Weasley were prior to the tournament, but more than that, everyone's giving him a wide berth."
"I wonder if they blame him," Draco mused.
His father had intimated that they'd be making use of his information about where Granger's parents lived, as well as Potter's new association with Lovegood for their plan. His takeaway from that was that they had something planned that would involve using the girls' parents as bait, and that was still possible. Had they lured all three of them away from the castle, and only Potter got away? Grinning to himself, he stood up.
"Are you sure that's wise?" Theo asked.
"Yeah, Potter looks...angry," Crabbe piped up.
"I'm aware," Draco smirked, making his way over to the Gryffindor table.
A few of them glared at him as he approached, but he paid them no mind, sitting down right next to Potter.
"Did the loony bitch and the mudblood finally tire of your disfigured face?" he asked, smirking.
"Malfoy, piss off," Ron spat.
"One," Harry grumbled.
"Only one of them?" Draco asked, undeterred. "I'm going to guess it was Lovegood. She might be utterly cracked, but she's still a pureblood. So where's Granger?"
"Two," Harry grumbled, carefully forming a wordless, wandless spell inside his mind.
He envisioned a strong, tight fist closing around Malfoy's tie, focusing on it intently, and charged that mental image with his magic. Wandless magic was something that Voldemort only ever used when he wanted to show off. It took incredible concentration and focus and was so slow that using it in combat was rarely a good idea.
"Malfoy, bugger off back to your own table," Cormac McLaggen groaned. "It's too early in the morning for this shit."
"I just wanted to check in because I noticed two prominent students missing from their normal spots," Draco chuckled. "After that dreadful news in the paper, I wonder if they've finally realized, like Weasley did, that associating with you just isn't worth it."
"That's it!" Ron hissed, jumping to his feet.
"Three," Harry muttered, and, with his hands both plainly visible on the table, he cast the spell.
Draco's face was slammed forcefully into the table with a thunderous crack, shattering his nose. He screeched in pain as his blood sprayed all over the table and was silenced when his face slammed into the table twice more.
"Potter!" Snape barked, rushing down towards them just as he tossed the unconscious blonde backward, letting him fall off of the table. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"
"Whatever for?" Harry asked, forcing himself not to wince as he saw how green Lavender had turned at the sight of so much blood.
"Assault on another student," Snape replied.
"My hands were both on the table, neither one holding my wand, as anyone here can attest," Harry defended himself with a slight smile.
"I'm sure they can," Snape spat, kneeling down to see just how bad off Malfoy was. "You'll be in detention with me every night for the next month."
"No," Harry hissed, and though the rest of the table reacted angrily to Snape's punishment, they all heard him and went silent as the dour professor's eyes first widened and then narrowed.
Glaring at Harry, he growled, "I think you've forgotten how things work around here."
"That waste of space sat down here, pissed everyone off, and then slammed his face into the table," Harry spat. "If you want to assign detention to someone because a thousand years of inbreeding finally caught up with him, give it to him or, better yet, serve it yourself!"
You could have heard a pin drop in the great hall just then, and as Professor McGonagall, arriving at that moment with the Headmaster, noticed the commotion and went to intervene. Snape glared at Harry, who met his glare openly, looking him right in his dark, furious eyes.
"You're just like your father, Potter," Snape spat. "You might think that the rules don't apply to you, but I assure you, you're wrong."
"What in the world is going on here?" McGonagall asked, her eyes widening as she looked down on Malfoy's unconscious form and bloodied face.
"I'm happy to be compared to my father," Harry said, his eyes still trained on Snape. "Even without a single memory of him, I'm sure he was twice the man you are."
Snape's right eye twitched, and his hand twitched towards his robes, presumably moving to his wand. Harry's own wand was in his sleeve, carefully concealed inside the holster he kept strapped to his wrist, and part of him hoped in that moment that the professor would actually draw his. He'd killed a half-dozen arseholes by now. What would one more really mean?
The potions professor stayed his hand, but his blood still thundered in his veins as fury consumed him, and, with Potter staring into his eyes, he didn't hesitate to peer inside his mind. Harry felt the legilimency probe hit and had to fight to keep the grin off of his face. Allowing Snape in unimpeded, he did as he'd done with the horcrux not long ago and carefully led him inside along a prepared path, picking up on the surface thoughts of the unsuspecting man along the way.
"Lily's beautiful eyes are the only part of her James' wretched son got," Snape thought to himself as he tried to look around Harry's mind to find out what exactly he'd done to Draco. "I don't know what would be worse, having him as he is, practically his father's clone, or having him look more like her."
"Oh, so that's why he hates me so much," Harry thought to himself, snickering mentally at the idea that a simple unrequited crush had caused such intense and lasting hatred in the petty prick. Still, it did give him an idea.
Leading Snape further into his mind, he focused on doing something that he was still trying to get a full grasp of from Voldemort. Creating false memories was difficult, and unless one was an absolute master of Occlumency, any memory lasting more than a few seconds would usually present some kind of sign that it wasn't real. The one he had in mind, though, didn't need to last very long at all.
Snape barreled into the first actual memory he'd found in Potter's bizarrely labyrinthine mind and furrowed his brow as he saw the boy as a baby lying in his crib and staring up at a spinning mobile featuring little wooden stars and broomsticks. He recalled all too well what Potter's bedroom in the family's home at Godric's Hollow had looked like, and it wasn't that. Before he could question anything further, though, he heard something in the distance that made him go still.
"Harder, harder!" Lily moaned. "Oh fuck, James!"
"Ahh!" Snape screamed, feeling like he was going to be sick and desperately trying to get out of the memory.
The man's pain and panic gave Harry the perfect opportunity to turn the tables on him, and he lashed out swiftly. Following the man back into his own mind, he chuckled at his ingenuity. He had but a single memory of his mother's voice: the moment where she frantically begged Voldemort to spare him. It was a horrifying memory, brought up courtesy of the Dementors last year, and he hated the fact that it was all that he had of her, but it suited his needs just then perfectly.
He was sure he'd feel bad and probably nauseous about crafting such a false memory later, but it did its job and allowed him to peer into Snape's mind as he was momentarily debilitated. He followed the entwined mental threads of Lily and pain as he looked around the man's mind and took a look at the memory that those ideas were most closely associated with.
"No, no, no!" Snape sobbed, cradling Lily's dead body in his arms.
"What the fuck?" Harry thought to himself.
"What have I done?!" Snape cried. "I'm so sorry, Lily, I'm so sorry."
He kept repeating that over and over, weeping loudly as his whole body shook with his obvious grief. Harry watched the display in muted shock and felt a pit in his stomach at the sight of his mother's body. This was one of Snape's worst memories from what he could feel, and the entire moment was wrapped in palpable self-loathing and guilt. As he felt the man finally realize what he was doing and try to expel him, he lashed out mentally and moved to follow the train of thought to the source of the guilt.
"You asked for a private audience, Severus," Voldemort hissed, seated on what looked like a throne and peering down at the genuflecting man. "I hope for your sake that this isn't a waste of my time."
"It isn't, my lord," Snape replied. "I overheard something yesterday that you're going to want to know about. Dumbledore was witness to a prophecy being given that spoke of one coming with the power to defeat a Dark Lord."
Snape paused then and tensed. He knew that he had no choice but to bring such news to his Lord, but doing so came with its share of risks, as more than one Death Eater had suffered terribly for suggesting that the man they served could have any such weaknesses. Voldemort tensed, his crimson eyes narrowing, and he was silent for a few seconds before responding.
"Tell me every word you heard," his Lord commanded. "Leave nothing ou..."
Harry was thrown out of Snape's mind just then, but from the look in the man's dark eyes, he knew it was too late. His wand flew into his hand almost of its own accord, and the Slytherins who had been approaching them just then all went still as his aura flared chaotically, enraged beyond reason.
"It was you!?" Harry bellowed, the tip of his holly wand glowing bright green. "You're why they died!?"
Snape drew his own wand with impressive speed, and he wasn't the only one who did so, but just as quickly as he drew it, both it and Harry's wand flew out of their hands, landing in Dumbledore's outstretched palm. The old wizard didn't look like the kind, genial old man that they all knew just then, as his piercing blue eyes glowed with power. His presence filled the great hall then, making every person in the room pause and look at him. In that moment, no one could deny that this was the wizard who brought down Grindelwald, the only mortal alive whom Voldemort had ever feared.
"Wands away, all of you," he commanded. As they all obeyed, he continued, saying, "Mister Potter, Severus, my office; Poppy, see to Mister Malfoy; and Minerva, keep an eye on things here."
"If you're certain," McGonagall replied.
"Already on it," Pomfrey muttered, pausing as she saw the state Malfoy was in. "Dear me."
Harry grabbed his things and marched towards the headmaster's office, so angry he could barely breathe. He had spent four years being tormented by the man who sicked Voldemort on his parents, something that Dumbledore surely knew about and just allowed to happen. Snape spoke the password as they reached the familiar gargoyle, but Harry didn't hear it over the blood rushing in his ears.
"Severus, perhaps it would be best if you waited here for a moment," Dumbledore said softly.
"Albus, I...alright," Snape sighed at the look the older man gave him.
Harry walked upstairs, wanting nothing more than to tear something apart, and Fawkes squawked at the sight of him. The firebird flamed over instantly and landed on his shoulder, trilling calmingly and nuzzling his head against his temple.
"He seemed to have taken a liking to you," Dumbledore murmured as he sat down.
"Did you know?" Harry asked, unable to get more than a whisper out just then.
"I did," Dumbledore replied sadly.
"Why?!" Harry shuddered, angry tears filling his eyes.
"Voldemort's greatest weakness is, as I have said before, love," Dumbledore replied. "He fundamentally cannot understand it, and that makes him prone to terrible mistakes. When Severus told him of the part of the prophecy he overheard, he did not know that it referred to you, and when he learned as much, he was horrified."
"So he was happy to condemn an entire family to death until he learned that it contained someone he used to like?" Harry spat.
"He came to me when he learned the truth and begged me to save her," Dumbledore replied. "My reaction to him then was much like yours."
"I sincerely doubt that," Harry hissed, and Dumbledore's eyes narrowed.
"Your anger at Severus is understandable, but don't think that I am your enemy, Harry," he said softly.
"No, you just bring my enemies here," Harry spat. "How can you justify having a man who once served that monster teaching children? If one can call what he does teaching."
"This gets back to what I was saying before about love being Voldemort's weakness," Dumbledore replied. "He never could have fathomed that he created a terrible enemy by going after your family because he couldn't fathom how Severus felt about Lily. They were friends in their youth, having met before they came here, and despite being in different houses and of different blood statuses, they remained so for years. They did drift apart eventually, but Severus never stopped caring for her and aside from you there is no one in the castle more devoted to ending Voldemort than he is."
"You're certain about that?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing.
"As certain as I've ever been about anything," Dumbledore replied emphatically. "I never accepted that Tom was gone for good and always feared that he would return. With him back, I need eyes and ears in his inner circle, and Severus will serve as such."
"And when he's dead?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore just sighed and replied, asking, "Does he seem particularly happy here?"
Harry closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. He was still angrier than he could remember being in his life, even angrier than he'd been when he heard that Sirius betrayed his parents last year, but Fawke's soothing songs and Dumbledore's words had muted some of it. Objectively he knew that having a spy in the enemy's camp was a good thing and that blasting Snape's still-beating heart all the way into the lake as he wanted to just then would be detrimental, but he wanted to so badly. If he hadn't told Voldemort about the prophecy, the monster might never have come for his family, and he might have actually grown up with his parents instead of the Dursleys.
There was plenty of blame to go around there, though, and the lion's share of it still rested with the man who had actually killed them. Voldemort had to die, and he would, once Harry finished off his final horcrux and put him down for good. Until then, he might just have to tolerate Snape's continuing existence, no matter how much bile rose in his throat at the thought.
"How long have you been practicing occlumency now?" Dumbledore asked, changing the subject.
"Crouch suggested it just before the first task," Harry lied, adding to what he'd said the previous night. "Again, I assume it was to waste my time, and he gave me a couple rudimentary lessons. I continued trying to learn it after he fled and actually picked it up surprisingly well."
"Severus is an accomplished legilimens," Dumbledore murmured. "For you to have not just pushed him out of your mind but followed him into his own suggests that you are far more advanced than I expected. Your skills have grown by leaps and bounds this year."
"Amazing what happens when one applies oneself," Harry replied neutrally.
"A lesson that I wish all of your peers could learn," Dumbledore chuckled. "With your permission, I'd like to test your defenses myself. You should learn the contents of the prophecy, but only if I can be sure that Tom could not pluck them from your mind."
"He already knows it, though," Harry pointed out, confused.
"Only half of it," Dumbledore replied.
That, he didn't know, and it meant that his plans to simply force the horcrux to cough it up wouldn't work.
"By all means," Harry drawled. "Nice to actually be asked this time."
"I'll be having a word with Severus about that," Dumbledore promised, before drawing his knotted wand. "Legilimens."
Harry felt the headmaster's mental probe hit him and grunted as he focused on holding him at bay. His lessons with the horcrux had readied him to face an opponent this powerful, but that didn't make it any more pleasant. Dumbledore's approach wasn't quite as brute force as Voldemort's, as once the initial attack failed, rather than trying to wear him down through sheer power, he changed tactics. Using a touch of finesse, the old man sought an opening and projected feelings of anger and guilt to try and take advantage of how he felt just then.
Harry recognized the attempt for what it was and tried his favorite method of dealing with legilimency attacks, leading his attacker inside along harmless pathways. Dumbledore quickly figured out what he was doing, though, and pulled back at once.
"Remarkable," the old man murmured. "You're that proficient after just a few months?"
"Like I said, it came oddly easily for me," Harry replied.
Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath before replying, saying, "Unless they reach a similar level of proficiency to your own at occlumency, none of your friends can know the exact wording of the prophecy. I cannot overstate how critical it is that we deny Tom the remainder of it."
"Why?" Harry asked. "Does it really just lay out how I'm to beat him?"
"Not as such, but denying one's enemy information is usually a good idea," Dumbledore replied. He recited the prophecy then from memory, and Harry grew more and more confused over the course of it.
"How much of it did Snape overhear?" Harry asked.
"The first half," Dumbledore replied. "Enough to know that his fated enemy would be born at the end of July to parents who had defied him three times. There were two such candidates: yourself and Mister Longbottom, and in the end, Tom chose to believe it was you, a half-blood just like himself."
"Lucky me," Harry hissed sarcastically. "Do you have any idea what 'the power he knows not' might be?"
"Love," Dumbledore replied simply. "As I said, Voldemort's inability to comprehend it is his greatest weakness, and, conversely, I think your ability to love, despite all that you have suffered through the years, is your greatest strength."
There might actually be something to that, considering that two of the women he loved were going to help him tear the man's followers new arseholes soon enough.
"I already informed Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood that they were excused from their classes today in light of everything that's happened," Dumbledore said, changing the subject again.
"I imagine Hermione looked like you'd just expelled her," Harry muttered, wishing he could be as amused by that as he would have been normally.
"Miss Granger did not take me up on my offer," Dumbledore replied. "I would extend the same one to you, though. Take the day off and try to come to terms with everything."
Harry just nodded, happy for the out.
"Now, as for the matter of your punishment..." Dumbledore continued.
"I have a lot of witnesses who can affirm that I was unarmed when Malfoy was attacked, if he was," Harry cut him off, "and as for our illustrious potions professor, I can't imagine that using legilimency on someone without their consent or ministry approval is entirely legal…"
"You drew your wand on a professor, Harry," Dumbledore said dryly. "I cannot have that go without at least the appearance of punishment. Given the...extenuating circumstances, I'll reduce it to two simple detentions, to be served this Friday and next in my office. There are a number of things we should go over regarding Voldemort, and that will provide an easy opportunity."
A petty part of him wanted to argue even that, but he knew that he was being let off easy and why.
"Very well," he murmured. "Presumably Madam Bones will want a word with Hermione and I in the near future about what happened last year, given what's been published in the Prophet. Let Fudge write it off as confounding now."
"Cornelius is in a very difficult position," Dumbledore confirmed. "He couldn't keep word of what happened at his disastrous press conference out of the papers because there were a few international reporters there."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"He was going to speak very briefly about an agreement he's worked out with the Portuguese ministry to help each other deal with any incidents involving figures like Voldemort down the line," Dumbledore replied. "It was a non-binding agreement that Minister Antonio has likely already ripped up in light of the Azkaban breakout, meant to make the both of them look good during peacetime. Cornelius saw it as a way to reassure the public after the World Cup, presumably."
Harry sighed, understanding perhaps for the first time in his life why his uncle so often raged about useless politicians.
"Lucius Malfoy will be a problem, though," Dumbledore warned him.
"Any particular reason beyond how awful he generally is?" Harry asked.
"Lucius has a vested interest in keeping Sirius' present status as it is," Dumbledore replied. "As it stands, his son is the heir presumptive to the Black fortune and lordship, and as a convicted felon on the run from the law, Sirius cannot change that. I am working to counter his influence and get Peter a trial quickly, but it will still take time."
"I see," Harry nodded as a plan formed in his mind. "Is that all?"
"Yes," Dumbledore sighed, tossing him his wand back, "and Harry, while I cannot prove you did anything to Mister Malfoy, any further incidents of, as you put it, 'your classmate's inbreeding catching up to them' will need to be investigated thoroughly."
"I understand," Harry murmured. "Good day, Professor."
He turned and left, picking Fawkes up and placing him on his perch before he did so. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Snape undid his disillusionment charm and stepped in his way.
"Potter, I…" he went to say, looking paler and more rattled than Harry could ever remember.
"Do you want him dead?" Harry asked quietly, looking around to make sure that they were alone.
"More than almost anything," Snape replied, swallowing thickly.
"Then we can put a pin in this discussion for the time being," Harry muttered, refusing to look at the overgrown bat for fear he'd be unable to keep himself from attacking him. "Once he's in the ground for good, if we're both still breathing, we can settle things then."
"Very well," Snape nodded before heading upstairs to meet with Dumbledore.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the door closed behind him before reaching out in his mind to Rias.
"Rias, are you there?" he asked.
"Harry, hi," Rias replied, sounding both relieved and worried to hear from him. "How are Hermione and Luna?"
"I haven't seen either of them yet," Harry replied. "Listen, I think I have a way to strike back against Voldemort, but there's something I'll need you and Akeno to pick up for me."
"I zink your new friend is in trouble," Genevieve said as Fleur listlessly stirred her subpar coffee.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Potter nearly got into a fight with one of ze professors 'ere," Genevieve replied. "Ze dour one with oo's always scowling."
"Joy," she thought to herself, closing her eyes and yawning.
She hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night, both due to concern for her new friends and the conversation she had after that phoenix took them away.
"I cannot believe zis," Fleur muttered. "I knew zat zings got bad during ze war but zought it was over."
"Apparently not," Akeno grumbled. "The purpose of that trap was to capture Harry and, failing that, to cause as much pain as possible."
"He wants to isolate him and hopes that killing off his friends' loved ones will make them fear associating with him," Rias scowled. "I almost wish he'd try."
Akeno laughed humorlessly at that, saying, "It might actually make him worth something for a change."
"Luckily, my family is all in France, and as Papa is a prominent member of ze local ministry zere, Voldemort would not dare for fear of bringing a whole other country to bear against 'im," Fleur said.
"I'm surprised you're staying," Rias murmured, turning to her. "You've been given more than enough reason to distance yourself from Harry tonight."
Akeno cocked an eyebrow at her but stayed silent.
"Zat man 'as shown me nothing but kindness from ze moment we started getting to know each other!" Fleur swore, glaring at the redhead. "'E risked 'is life to save mine under ze lake and rescued my sister with no expectation of reward."
"Though you did give him one, I'm sure," Akeno grinned.
"I…" Fleur spluttered at the sudden shift in tone. "'E is a good man, and I will not abandon 'im just because zings 'ave gotten a little frightening."
"Good," Rias smiled. "He's going to need all the help he can get right now; all three of them will, and Akeno and I can't be here all the time."
"You...actually care for him," Fleur stuttered, genuinely surprised.
"I love him," Rias replied, and Akeno looked at her in surprise before smiling widely, "and I intend to do everything in my considerable power to keep him safe. I underestimated this Voldemort."
"We both did," Akeno scowled. "From Harry's description, I expected a somewhat simpler creature, dangerous but simple."
"Yes, I expected him to go straight for Harry, at which point you and I would be able to show up and tear him apart," Rias added, tapping her fingers on a nearby table.
"'E is one ze most powerful wizards of our age," Fleur explained. "Even in France, we knew zat 'e was at least Dumbledore's equal."
"So Harry said, but given that the man had been a disembodied spirit all this time and he had never actually seen them fight, I wasn't sure how accurate that was," Rias muttered. "Dumbledore I know of because the war with Grindelwald was so expansive and caused such widespread damage, but English history isn't exactly my forte."
"You are...not what I would 'ave expected of devils," Fleur murmured.
She didn't want to believe that they were truly genuine, but she felt the reality and depth of their feelings for Harry when he was there, and she couldn't declare them false outright. It was possible that devils were so duplicitous that they fooled even veelas' senses, but she just didn't know. At any rate, Harry's feelings for them were entirely genuine, and if she wanted to pursue anything with him, she was going to need to find a way to either trust them or prove that they were out to hurt him.
"I know our peoples haven't had the greatest history," Rias winced, "and in truth, I've always thought that we should have taken you in, but…"
"Zat is ze last zing we would 'ave wanted," Fleur spat. "Our purported association with your kind 'as nearly been our ruin more zan once."
"Purpor...what exactly do the Veela think our history is?" Rias asked, confused.
"We don't 'ave one," Fleur hissed. "Ze wizards and witches started claiming zat we were descended from you centuries ago and arguing zat, as such, we represented a great risk to ze statute of secrecy. It 'as taken us so long to distance ourselves from zat nonsense. It is almost as bad as zeir idea zat we somehow got our powers from sacrificing phoenixes."
"Oh," Rias sighed. "Um, as far as we know, you actually do descend from us, specifically from a very special devil of the line of Phenex."
"What?" Fleur asked.
"Phenex is one of the great houses among the devils, like the Gremorys," Rias explained. "It was actually a son of Phenex that I was betrothed to and escaped from with Harry's help..."
"And penis," Akeno added, chuckling.
"You've been spending too much time with Luna," Rias said dryly. Turning back to Fleur, she murmured, "The first Phenex did get her powers from ritually consuming a phoenix, but that doesn't reflect on you in any way. None of us are responsible for the actions of others, and Fawkes certainly didn't seem to mind your presence at all. If anything, he was quite taken with…"
"Zat's not true!" Fleur exclaimed. "Zose are lies zat 'ave plagued my people for generations. You're deceivers by nature, and I don't know what you 'ope to gain with 'Arry but…"
"We are creatures of sin, but that doesn't make us pure evil or anything like that," Akeno interjected. "Phoenixes are creatures of light, and Fawkes didn't attack us just now or anything."
"Perhaps our records are wrong," Rias allowed, not sounding like she believed that in the slightest, "but if they aren't, it just means that we're very, very distant cousins and that relation wouldn't be the only thing we have in common. We both care for Harry, and if we're going to be in his life, it would be better for us to find a way to at least tolerate the other."
"Fleur?" Genevieve asked. "Are you okay?"
"I didn't sleep well," Fleur replied tiredly, shaking her head and trying to put her frustrating conversation with the pair of devils out of her mind. "I'm sure 'Arry's fine."
"If you say so," Genevieve murmured, going back to her breakfast.
Fleur helped herself to a couple surprisingly well-made croissants along with her coffee before leaving the great hall. She's been late to arrive and was one of the last to leave, but she didn't have an early class that morning, so she was fine. As she walked through the halls, intending to go to the library, she ran into Luna and felt her heart lurch at the sight of the blonde.
Her long hair was disheveled and straggly, and her robes looked like she'd thrown them on with little care. Most distressing of all were her eyes, the big silver orbs looking unfocused and puffy. Fleur rushed over to her.
"Luna?" she asked.
"Fleur?" Luna asked, blinking a couple of times as though she didn't truly recognize her.
"Luna, I'm free right now if you want to talk," Fleur offered, extending a hand towards her.
"That would be nice," Luna replied, taking her hand.
Casting a couple warming charms on them, Fleur led the younger girl back to the carriage and into her room. Under normal circumstances, she'd have expected Luna to comment on the scenery or at least the giggling lock on the front door, but she remained mute. Sitting down on the bed, she patted the spot next to her and wrapped an arm around the other blonde's shoulders as she joined her.
"Thanks, Fleur," Luna whispered, resting her head on her shoulder. "I really didn't want to be alone."
"Where's 'Ermione?" Fleur asked.
"She went to class," Luna replied. "She thinks that if she buries herself in schoolwork, it will be possible to ignore everything. I wish I could too, but I don't think I could focus on anything right now."
"I'm so sorry," Fleur whispered, running her nails through Luna's hair. "Your papa seemed like a nice man."
"Daddy was the best," Luna croaked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't know what I'm going to do. He was the only family I had."
"You're not alone, Luna," Fleur replied, hugging her. "You have friends oo can help, oo will be there for you. 'Ermione is in the same situation, but you know that you can both rely on 'Arry."
"And you?" Luna asked, looking up at her. "We're friends, right?"
"Of course," Fleur replied, swallowing thickly.
She hadn't known Luna and Hermione as long as she'd known Harry and didn't know them as well, but she liked them and wanted to get to know them better. She just wished that circumstances weren't as terrible.
"Could you sing for me again?" Luna asked. "It felt nice last night."
"Of course," Fleur replied.
She started into a simple little French tune she knew well and had loved for years, smiling a little when she felt Luna relax a little. She didn't really know how to help someone whose world had been ripped away from them, and that was something that she knew she'd have to learn by doing. For the time being, she'd offer what comfort she could and hope that it would help.
"Harry? Whoa, whoa!" Sirius exclaimed as Harry practically ran inside 12 Grimmauld Place. "How are you here? Did Rias drop you off?"
"I can apparate," Harry replied shortly. "Have you seen the paper today?"
"I'm not exactly an active subscriber just now," Sirius replied dryly. "Are you okay? You look kind of...rough."
"Voldemort killed Hermione's parents and Luna's dad," Harry replied.
"What?!" Sirius exclaimed. "Oh, fuck...shit, I mean...that's horrible."
"It is," Harry replied. "If you were free, would you take them in? They're going to need someone to look after them and keep the ministry from doing something stupid."
"Of course," Sirius replied, "but freedom is a long way off for me if it's even possible, and I don't want you getting yourself hurt trying to capture the rat."
"I have him," Harry replied. "He's confessed everything to the aurors."
"What?" Sirius asked, feeling like the slightest breeze could knock him over just then. "Why...how...why did you not lead with that?"
"I doubted that you'd focus on much else after you heard that," Harry replied. "You'll do it, though, right? You'll be their guardian?"
"Yours too, preferably," Sirius replied. "How did this happen?"
"Voldemort had his goons abduct Xenophilius Lovegood and the Grangers to lure me out," Harry replied. "Rias, Akeno, and I went where he showed us and killed them all, save for Pettigrew, but...we were too late."
That feeling like he was going to explode that he'd grappled with since he first learned that the Death Eaters had already killed their hostages came back hard, and he slammed his fist down on the nearest table.
"I failed," he croaked, his vision blurring from his tears. "It's all my fault."
"I've got you," he barely heard Sirius say as everything he'd been bottling since the previous night burst out, and he broke down crying.
Sirius hugged him tightly as he sobbed, finally giving in to the urge he'd refused to in front of anyone else.
"Hey, let it all out," Sirius murmured. "There wasn't a single one of us that didn't do just this during the war. Letting it fester won't help anyone."
"It's all my fault!" Harry repeated.
"No, it isn't," Sirius insisted. "It's Voldemort's fault and the fault of his lunatic followers."
"He wouldn't even be alive if not for me!" Harry shouted. "If I had just gotten Dumbledore or Rias instead of going after Crouch myself, Voldemort would still be a bloody ghost!"
"He would have come back either way!" Sirius shouted back to him. "Harry, there's something you need to know. The reason that Voldemort's so obsessed with you is…"
"You...you know about the prophecy?" Harry asked, rearing back as if struck.
"I don't know what it says," Sirius replied. "Did Dumbledore tell you?"
"Today, yes," Harry replied, wiping his eyes. "Why did you not tell me?"
"I couldn't tell you what it said or for sure who else even knew," Sirius replied. "I just guessed that Dumbledore did because he knows everything."
"Not everything," Harry mumbled under his breath.
"James told me before you all went into hiding that the reason they needed to was that a prophecy said you'd kick Voldemort's sorry arse someday," Sirius replied.
"Not exa...it doesn't matter," Harry muttered glumly, sitting down heavily. "It just means that their deaths are also on my hands."
"No, they're not!" Sirius growled, slamming his fist on the table next to him and startling them. "That responsibility lies with Voldemort and Wormtail."
"He went after them because of me," Harry spat. "He went after my friends' parents because of me, and he's only bloody alive because of me."
"He tried to kill both of your parents before he ever learned about the prophecy," Sirius argued, "and as for the others, Xenophilius Lovegood would have ended up a target eventually for not siding with him, and plenty more families of muggleborns have been attacked by those monsters. Voldemort came back because fate decided that you two will fight. It's not your fault."
"Well, if I ever meet fate, remind me to kick its arse," Harry sighed.
"Give it one for me, will you?" Sirius asked.
"Count on it," Harry muttered, feeling a little lighter than he had when he arrived.
He still blamed himself and probably would at least until he finished Voldemort off, but he didn't feel like a ticking time bomb to quite the same extent, which let him focus a little better.
"Who all did your girlfriends kill?" Sirius asked.
"Akeno only killed Greyback," Harry replied. "I took out the others."
"Wha...what?" Sirius asked, his jaw dropping as he struggled to decide whether to focus on his godson killing multiple Death Eaters or the man who made Remus what he was finally being put down.
"Keep mum about that for the next little while, will you?" Harry asked. "Professor Lupin will be thrilled either way, but I need everyone to think that Crouch went mad and killed the others."
"Why?" Sirius asked.
"Because that's what Wormtail's telling everyone, and I can't really say more than that for now," Harry replied. "I need you to trust me at least until your trial is done."
"About that, is anything scheduled yet?" Sirius asked.
"No, and your kiss on sight order is still in effect, so stay put," Harry replied. "It's only been a day, and the ministry moves slowly at the best of times."
"Unless they're screwing you over, then they can move faster than you can blink," Sirius muttered.
"Crouch Senior got his in the end," Harry said, "and someday soon, you'll be free. I can't make up for the decade you lost, but I can do that much."
"It shouldn't fall to a bloody fourth-year Hogwarts student to fix anything," Sirius argued.
"Maybe it's fate," Harry quipped, and Sirius laughed humorlessly.
"Can I be a terrible influence and offer you a drink?" he asked.
"No," Harry replied. "Thanks, but I need a clear head today. I need to see Hermione and Luna."
"All I'll say is don't push them," Sirius advised. "Offer support but let them come to you on their terms."
"Dumbledore said more or less the same thing," Harry murmured.
"We've all been where you are," Sirius sighed.
"Sirius, thanks for this and for everything," Harry whispered, and Sirius hugged him again.
"I can't make up for the decade you spent in your own prison, but I can be there for you now," Sirius vowed. "Whatever you need, you can come to me."
"Thank you," Harry smiled, unable to remember the last time he was able to feel unreservedly like someone older than him was actually in his corner. "I need to get back."
"Of course," Sirius nodded.
"Dobby really isn't needing help," Dobby insisted as Hermione swiftly worked to copy the words of various texts to fresh paper.
"I'm helping myself more than anything, Dobby," Hermione replied tiredly. "I need something simple and menial to focus on right now, and you'd be doing me a favor by letting me take on some of this."
"Oh, well that's okay then," Dobby shrugged. "Is Harry Potter's Hermione having problems?"
"Something like that," Hermione replied, swallowing thickly.
"Well, if Dobby can help…" the house elf went to offer.
"Thank you, but it's not something anyone can really help with," Hermione nodded, taking another book from the latest pile Dobby had created for himself.
It was in German, and that was as far as her understanding got, but she didn't really care. After copying the text onto blank paper, she bound the pages in freshly glued leather with a quick charm, and Dobby imprinted the title on the spine. The two of them worked together quietly after that, with her handling the copying and Dobby the binding, going through dozens of books, which the house elf floated over to the table designated for finished copies.
Hermione had tried going to her classes, hoping that throwing herself into her familiar routine would take her mind off of her losses, but she'd barely been able to focus on any of it. Going to the library and trying to get even farther ahead in her studies than she already was proved similarly ineffective. When Ron showed up to express his condolences, she appreciated the gesture, but it was just one more reminder of what had happened, and she left soon afterward. The Room of Requirement was perfect, a vast empty space occupied solely by a creature capable of realizing that she really didn't want to talk to anyone, filled to bursting with more work than she could hope to get through.
"What the devil?" Hermione asked as she picked up a small, leather-bound book with markings unlike any she'd come across so far.
"What is that?" Dobby asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"It's...it's Elvish," Hermione stuttered, opening the book and looking through it in shock.
"Elves is not having a language," Dobby insisted.
"No, it...it's from a fictional world," Hermione clarified, the misunderstanding bringing the closest thing to a smile she'd had on her face all day. "It's something that a muggle author came up with and then wrote a whole epic because of. This is Tengwar, one of the scripts he invented. This must be a collection of Tolkien's letters, or else the work of a far greater Tolkien dork than I am."
She chuckled at that, flipping through the book in awe. She'd loved Middle Earth since she was a girl, ever since her father read the Hobbit to her when she was very young. They were both sick as dogs, home alone, and he decided to pass the time and try to make them both feel a little better by reading the whole thing through in one sitting. It was one of the only genuinely parental moments she could remember with either of her parents during her developing years and something that she hadn't even thought about in ages.
"What's wrong?" Dobby asked as tears started flowing down her cheeks onto the book.
Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe and put the book down, desperately wishing in that moment that she could slip away into nothingness and stop feeling the all-consuming pain that made her feel like her chest was going to cave in.
"Harry Potter, sir, thank goodness," Dobby squeaked. "Something's wrong with her."
Hermione turned and saw Harry standing there, having come from the training room. He hadn't been in there when she arrived, and she wasn't sure when he showed up, but she didn't care. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing her eyes out.
"I've got her, Dobby," Harry whispered, nodding to the house elf.
Harry held her tightly to his chest and flew them both into the bedroom. Hermione clung to him like he was a piece of driftwood out on the ocean, as though if she let for a moment, she'd surely drown. He spoke to her, but she didn't hear him for several minutes, lost in her outpouring grief.
"I'm so sorry," Harry repeated for what felt like the hundredth time as he held his oldest friend tenderly, running his fingers through her hair as carefully as he could.
"It's not...your fault," Hermione grumbled, wiping her nose with a conjured handkerchief. "Sorry for snotting up your robes."
"They can be washed," Harry chuckled, cleaning them with a wave of his wand.
"I meant what I said, by the way," Hermione mumbled as she dried her eyes. "Yesterday is one long, nightmarish blur, but I know you said that they were already...there was nothing else you could have done."
"I could have killed Crouch," Harry muttered darkly. "I could have brought Rias in and had her deal with him."
"Voldemort would have still been out there, still likely come back eventually, and I would have still been a target for what I am," Hermione spat. She stopped then, looking away from him, and whispered, "I want them dead."
"Those who had a hand in the murders already are, save for Pettigrew, who's behind bars," Harry murmured. "The others will die, too, though, all of them."
"Good," Hermione spat, clenching her fists. "I hate thinking and feeling this way, but…"
"You're a good person," Harry said softly. "The Death Eaters aren't, though; they're evil, a cancer on the world, and you don't negotiate with or show mercy to cancer."
"You cut it out," Hermione whispered. Swallowing thickly, she added, "Whatever you're doing, I want in."
"Hermione…" Harry went to object.
"No," Hermione hissed. "At the very least, I want to train with you. If they come for me, I want to be ready."
"If they come for you, I'll tear them apart," Harry swore, his eyes blazing with fury at the very thought.
Hermione looked into them and felt her heart flutter. Hearing him speak like that about protecting her lit a fire in her, and before she even realized what she was doing, she kissed him. He responded automatically, wrapping his arms around her and deepening the kiss before he recalled where he was and pulled back.
"This...isn't right, you're grie…" he went to protest, not wanting to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state.
"Fuck right," Hermione hissed, cupping his face in her hands and staring into his eyes. "I've searched all day for something I could focus on to stop thinking about...everything, and nothing's worked. Take my mind off of it, please, Harry; save me like you always do."
He pulled her in for a searing, hot kiss, pushing his tongue inside her mouth. She pulled him back onto the bed, loving the feeling of his warm, strong body draped across her. Her classes hadn't worked, the library hadn't worked, and even the menial task of copying texts hadn't worked, but this would. It was hard to think about anything when a cock as big as Harry's was buried to the hilt inside her; she knew that from experience, and just then she wanted to feel him as intensely as she could.
"Fuck my ass, Harry," she begged, breaking the kiss to whisper in his ear.
"What?" Harry asked, pulling back and staring down at her shock.
"I want you to take this," Hermione said slowly, wrapping her hand around his hardening cock through his pants, "and bury every inch of it inside my tight, hot little asshole."
She knew that sex and pleasure generally could be used as an unhealthy coping mechanism to deal with pain, but she didn't care. In that moment all she wanted was to feel something that wasn't the gnawing ache in her chest, and having Harry bugger her until she screamed was what it took; she was more than happy to. With a wave of his wand, they were undressed, and he kissed her again while pushing her legs apart and grinding his cock against her hairless slit.
"Mmm!" Hermione moaned into his mouth, feeling the sublime pleasure of his hot, incredibly hard cock stroking her sensitive flesh. It wasn't enough, not by a long shot, but it was a start.
"Whatever you need, Mione," Harry whispered as he trailed hot kisses down along her neck, pausing to nibble on her earlobe. "I'm here for you."
"I know," Hermione moaned, grazing her nails against his scalp as he nipped at her pulse point. "More."
Harry smiled and continued moving downward, cupping her breasts and capturing one of her reddish pink nipples with his lips. The little nub hardened under his ministrations, and he grazed it with his teeth, making her gasp, before sucking gently.
"Feels good," Hermione sighed, still holding his head to her body. "You're always so good."
"It's a gift," Harry chuckled, switching to the other nipple.
He traced little patterns on it with his tongue while kneading her perky mound, enjoying the feeling of it growing more taut as he went. After a moment of this, he focused on the image of a snake in his mind and spoke a single word in parseltongue.
"Ahh!" Hermione cried, squirming under him as she felt heat pool rapidly in her core.
"How was that?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.
"It tickled," Hermione replied, laughing. "It really tingled too."
"I figured it was worth trying," Harry smiled before kissing the valley between her breasts and continuing downward.
His eyes never left Hermione's as his lips painted a trail down along her belly and poured all of the affection he could into the look. She still looked pained, but there were other things in her gaze as well; desire, gratitude, and love all shone through, and he hoped that he truly was able to distract her, at least for a little while. She gasped when he gave her clit a little kiss and quickly wrapped her thighs around his head as he began bathing her fleshy folds with his tongue.
He moaned at the taste of her, and she giggled, saying, "I sometimes swear you love that as much as I do."
"I just might," Harry rumbled, making her shudder. "You taste so good."
"Oh, fuck," Hermione gasped as he swirled his tongue around her clit in a tight little circle before returning down to lap up her flowing juices.
He continued that pattern of paying her clit a little attention, just enough to make her cry out, before moving back down. It drove her towards her peak frustratingly slowly, and just as she was about to complain, he pushed two of his thick fingers inside her. She let out a keening wail as he stroked her g-spot, and her shaking thighs clenched harder around his head.
"Oh, fuck, don't stop," Hermione whimpered as he sucked on her clit. "I swear if you move away from there again…"
"Oh don't worry," Harry chuckled, flicking his tongue over the taut little nub as he stroked her more quickly. "I wouldn't dream of it. Cum."
The second she felt his tongue vibrate against her clit, she saw stars. She shrieked his name so loudly she'd have worried that the whole castle might hear her if she could have given thought to a single thing in that moment. The pleasure was like a cleansing wave of bliss, driving the tension from her body in an instant. For a solid precious minute she couldn't focus on anything else, and it was like reaching paradise. She rode out the waves of ecstasy happily, wishing she could have stayed there forever. Eventually, Harry relented, though, and she curled up into a ball, shaking and panting for breath as she came down from her high.
"Ahh!" she cried as she felt a rush of cold fill her bowels.
"I seriously need to find a way to alter that spell to be less cold," Harry grumbled as he set his wand back down.
"I'd rather...you didn't play around...with the lubrication charm," Hermione panted.
"Maybe for the best," Harry chuckled, giving one of wonderfully, round arsecheeks a kiss.
Under normal circumstances he'd have teased her a little about practically begging him to bugger her, but he knew well why she wanted that just then and was more than happy to give it to her. He had the room conjure a jar of lube and covered his cock thoroughly before bringing it to her winking arsehole.
"Are you sure you want this?" he asked, just to be certain.
"I am," Hermione replied. "Please, Harry."
"Trust me, love, this is one request I'll never deny you," Harry chuckled, lining himself up.
He pushed firmly and groaned when he felt the head of his cock pop inside her. Hermione groaned too, burying her face in the pillow and clawing at the sheets below her. He hadn't carefully fingered her ahead of time this time around and knew that he'd have to move a little more slowly to let her get used to him again, but the spell made sure that she was cleaned, lubricated, and relaxed, so he didn't have to worry quite as much as he would have otherwise.
"I feel so full, and I've barely taken any of you," Hermione groaned.
"You feel so fucking amazing," Harry smiled, reveling in the vice-like heat of her tightest hole.
If anyone had suggested to him a year ago that he'd someday fuck Hermione Granger in the ass, he'd have sooner punched them than believed them. He never would have imagined that she'd let him bugger her, much less enjoy it as she had last time, but he knew virtually nothing of sex back then. That certainly couldn't be said of him now, and as he watched inch after inch of his thick cock disappear inside her, he was very, very happy about that.
"Ugh...sometimes I swear you're part horse," Hermione grunted as his hips came to rest against her thighs.
"All human, as far as I know," Harry chuckled, making her snort.
He ghosted his hands down along her forearms and interlaced his fingers with hers on the bed as he nuzzled her neck. She turned her head to look at him and kissed her softly, peering into her eyes.
"You can move, Harry," Hermione whispered. "Fuck me."
Harry pulled a few inches of his cock from her impossibly hot depths and thrust back in, earning a squeak from the bushy-haired brunette. He worked slowly, despite how clearly she wanted more, wanting to be absolutely sure that she was okay before speeding up.
"Harder!" Hermione demanded after a couple minutes of that, throwing her arse back against him. When he picked up his pace, she joined in, moving in perfect rhythm with him, and yet even that wasn't enough. "Harder! More!"
"Fucking hell," Harry groaned, grabbing onto her wide hips and fucking her even harder.
Hermione's cries grew louder and more desperate, echoing through the room and blocking out the sound of his hips clapping against her arse. He watched her full, plump cheeks jiggle eagerly, groaning in delight at both the sight and how incredible she felt. Her arse was so fucking tight and it had been so long since he had buggered anyone that was only his sheer experience that kept him from flooding her bowels with cum immediately.
"Harder, fuck!" Hermione screamed. "I don't want to sit right for a week."
Reluctant to hurt her but determined to give her what she wanted, he picked up his pace again and reached under her, cupping one of her breasts and rubbing her clit. The effect was immediate as her moans turned to screams and she clawed desperately at the sheets below them.
"Cum for me, Mione," Harry murmured in her ear.
"I'm...ah...close," Hermione cried.
"You're going to cum," Harry rumbled in her ear. "You're going to cum from getting fucked in the arse good and hard."
"It's your...fuck...cock!" Hermione cried, her whole body shaking as the pressure inside her core grew too intense to bear. "I swear that huge bloody cock is magical."
"Is it a magic cock, or are you just my perfect little butt slut?" Harry asked, letting go of her breast so he could gather her hair into his hand and gently pull on it.
It was a risk saying something like that to her when they hadn't done that kind of dirty talk before, but she seemed to want to be treated like this this time, and he figured it was worth trying. Sure enough, the effect was immediate, and she shrieked in delight. He felt her start to spasm around him, clearly being right on the edge, and tugged a little harder.
"Cum for me, Mione," he whispered. "Be a good little anal slut and cum."
"HARRY!" she squealed, falling forward as she came hard.
He felt her pussy gush as she squirted against his balls but barely noticed as her arsehole gripped him almost painfully. He let go with a roar of her name, painting her insides white with his cum, and fell forward with her, catching himself on his forearms. His heavy form enveloped her utterly, and between that and the mind-melting ecstasy turning her brain to mush, Hermione felt a measure of peace. It was what she'd been craving all day, and she giggled like a loon at something her brain was too fried in that moment to understand.
Harry heard her laugh and smiled, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. He was perfectly content to just hold her like that for as long as she wanted, but the sound of the door behind them opening drew his attention, and he whipped his head around to look at it.
"Oh, I can come back later," Luna said, her voice sounding rougher than he'd ever heard it.
"No, please, come in," Harry smiled, pulling his softening cock out of Hermione's gaping arsehole and rolling onto his back. "We just finished."
"Uh-huh," Hermione whimpered into the pillow, sounding utterly dazed.
"How...are you?" Harry asked lamely, unsure what to say.
"I miss Daddy," Luna replied sadly, undressing herself with a wave of her wand and climbing into bed. "If it's all the same to you, I really don't feel like riding your penis right now."
"Of course," Harry snorted, wishing he could find her eccentricity as funny as he usually did. "The three of us can just cuddle until dinner. We can even have food brought here if you prefer."
"That would be nice," Luna whispered, resting her face on his muscular chest.
Harry wrapped an arm around her and pulled Hermione over to join them. The three of them lay together like that, him on his back and the two of them using his chest as a pillow in silence for several minutes. He wished that he could do more for them, but he couldn't and just worked to soothe them as best he could, ghosting his fingers over their backs in random patterns.
"Please don't die," Luna whispered shakily, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "I can't lose you too."
"Luna…" Harry went to say, and Hermione sighed.
"Please," Luna begged, her big silver eyes looking watery.
He knew that he couldn't actually promise that, especially since he was actively planning to go to war against an entire group of very dangerous people, but as he looked at her, there was only, answer that he could bring himself to give her.
"I promise," he whispered, kicking himself for doing so.
"I love you, Harry," Luna whispered, snuggling closer.
"I love you too," Hermione added, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
"I love you both too," Harry replied.
Unlike his promise, that he could say without a hint of reservation, for he truly did love them. He loved Akeno too and would need to tell her when he got the chance, but that could be later. For the moment, his sole focus was on holding and comforting these beautiful girls he loved with all his heart. They were both very, very far from alright, but he dearly hoped they would be someday and swore to do all that he could to help them.
The three of them cuddled together until they grew hungry and then had Dobby bring them dinner. They didn't have sex again, all three of them being content to just enjoy each other's comfortable company, nor did they discuss anything that had happened in the last day. Instead, they just sat and tried to have as normal an evening as they were capable of. As Harry felt the two of them drift off in his arms later on that night, he found himself wishing that all of their days could be so peaceful. His own peace was interrupted a while later when Rias' voice sounded in his head.
"We have him," she said. The three simple words made Harry's pulse spike, and he scowled for a moment before grinning grimly.
"A pleasure as always, Lord Malfoy," Borgin grinned as he handed the man the sum of gold they'd agreed on.
"I'll likely be back next week," Lucius replied silkily. "Recent developments have made it necessary to let go of some of my less treasured collections."
"I'm happy to take anything I can use or sell off your hands," Borgin smiled. "Anything legal, of course."
The two of them shared a conspiratorial grin at that, and Lucius departed. With the Dark Lord back and apparently on the move, he knew it would be a good idea to have far more gold on hand than he would have normally. The goblins charged ridiculous rates for large withdrawals, paranoid as ever that the wizards might drain their vaults all at once someday, and so most of the wiser lords kept plenty of minor artifacts on hand that could be liquidated quickly if the need arose.
As he walked out into Knockturn Alley, he pulled his cloak up over his head, though mostly out of habit, as, at that late an hour, he hardly needed to. He traversed the dark streets, his cane tapping the cobblestones as he went. It had always given him a sense of power, knowing that his wand was always in his hand, always close by. Others tended to prefer wrist-strapped holsters, if they gave the idea any thought at all, but he thought them terribly crude, preferring something more elegant. It befitted the lordly station that he coveted with all his being.
"Though that is now under threat," he thought to himself, his blood boiling as he recalled Pettigrew's betrayal.
Marrying Narcissa Black had been an absolute masterstroke on his part. At the time, he'd thought himself brilliant, for though she was fourth in line to the black lordship, only one of those ahead of her was worth anything. Bellatrix was a lunatic who would have eventually bitten off more than she could chew even if their Lord hadn't fallen and Sirius was a blood traitor, sure to fall sooner or later. Regulus was loyal and a proper pureblood, but Lucius had always sensed a degree of weakness in him. When he started courting Narcissa, it was with the certainty that he'd eventually manage to ensure that the Black lordship fell to her, and through her, their heir.
Though the line of Malfoy was ancient and their history storied, they came to England from France only in the seventeenth century, and therefore, though they were wealthy and prominent, they were not true English nobility. Those like Borgin called him lord, but out of respect and fear alone. The title was not his in truth, and he desired it more than anything.
"And with one disastrous press conference, that little rat threatened everything," he thought to himself, his grip on the silver head of his cane tightening until his knuckles turned white. "Regulus is dead and Bellatrix is sterile; something I didn't even need to slip that potion into her tea to pull off, given the long dementor exposure. Draco's ascendance should be a certainty."
If Sirius Black was freed, though, and allowed to name a new heir, all of his careful plotting would have been for nothing. He should have had him killed in his cell, but the man seemed to be so very doomed that he didn't think to waste the coin on it. Now it was a genuine threat and one that he needed to deal with.
"He's still my lord's enemy, and his most likely heir will be Potter, given his connection through old Dorea," Lucius thought to himself, taking a calming breath. "It just means that I have even more reason to want them both dea…"
He didn't get a chance to finish that thought as something slammed into him and his world went dark. When he awoke, he found himself in a room he'd never seen before, one lit by muggle bulbs, and when he saw who was standing in front of him, his eyes widened in shock.
"Potter?!" he hissed, trying to rise only to realize that he was bound to the chair he was in by ropes.
"Hello, Lucy," Harry replied. "Where's Voldemort?"
"You…" Lucius trailed off laughing, wondering how exactly the little brat had pulled this off. "I'm sorry, has your failure to save your friends' parents driven you to actively seek death? Let me go, and I'll happily give you what you clearly want myself."
"We both know that he'd kill you for taking that from him," Harry murmured, looking unaffected by his words. "I'll ask you once more: where is Voldemort?"
"I'll happily take you to him," Lucius smirked, his eyes widening slightly when two women he'd never seen before walked in.
They were dressed in what looked like muggle school uniforms he'd seen before and were two of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. If not for their hair color, he'd have almost assumed they were veela, and he wondered who exactly they were.
"I must admit, the idea of taking care of things like this in empty manor homes is a good one," the redhead said.
"One of Voldemort's better ideas," Harry replied, drawing his wand.
Lucius sneered, wondering what exactly this boy thought he'd be able to do to him. If he thought that he was the slightest bit intimidating to one who had knelt at the feet of Lord Voldemort himself, he was gravely mistaken.
"Crucio," Harry murmured, and Lucius immediately realized that he was the mistaken one.
His every nerve ending lit up with agonizing pain, making him scream and thrash about helplessly in the chair. The sheer power and malice behind the spell was shocking, almost on the level of the Dark Lord himself and arguably equal to when Bellatrix cast it. The six seconds Harry held the spell on him felt like hours, and when he was released, he could only laugh.
"What would...Dumbledore think if he saw this?" Lucius gasped, his chest spasming as he cackled. "The fabled boy-who-lived succumbed to the dark arts. What a scandal?!"
"I did think he wouldn't break quickly," the dark-haired one chuckled.
"He doesn't have to break quickly," Harry said calmly. "He just needs to break."
"I'll be reported missing soon enough," Lucius spat, "and then you'll have both the aurors and my Lord's forces searching for me."
"You did hear, Rias, right?" Harry asked rhetorically. "We're in the middle of the country, in a manor house that likely won't be visited again until the snows melt, and no one has the faintest clue where you are. I'll keep this up until daybreak, and if you're still resisting by then, I'll leave you in the loving care of Akeno here and return tomorrow. The question isn't if you'll tell me what I want to know, Lucius, it's when."
"You have hate, boy, and you've already gotten a taste for the darkness, but you are no Lord Voldemort," Lucius growled. "Nothing you can say or do could make me betray him."
"Your claims of undying loyalty might hold more weight if you hadn't folded the second he was defeated," Harry chuckled. "If you were Bellatrix or one of the other Azkaban escapees, I might believe you. As it is, though, crucio."
Lucius screamed again as Harry held him under the torture curse. Speaking of Bellatrix Lestrange reminded him that he'd forgotten to mention the breakout to Sirius, and he shook his head at that. Considering that he was related to Voldemort's most dangerous servant, he deserved to know that, and he made a note to mention it tomorrow.
"Go to...hell," Lucius gurgled as he released him from the spell.
"Where's Voldemort?" Harry asked calmly. Only his seeker's reflexes let him dodge as Lucius spat his way, and he immediately cast the unforgivable again.
This went on for a while, with the head of the Malfoy family proving that he wasn't quite as much of a pampered peacock as he appeared . Any reluctance he might have had to torture Lucius died with his friends' loved ones, and it wasn't as though the bastard didn't deserve it. This was the man who unleashed a fucking basilisk on a school full of children just to mess with a man over a policy disagreement. He was a dick of the first order and should have been put in the ground years ago.
"Ahh, ahh," Lucius gasped as he released him from the curse yet again. "I almost...felt that one."
His bravado was blatantly forced at that point, and he really looked the worse for wear, but he didn't seem to be much closer to breaking than he was in the beginning.
"Do you want me to give it a go?" Akeno asked.
"Yes," Harry replied, beginning to tire from repeatedly casting the powerful, taxing curse. "Be my guest."
"And what exactly do you think you can do, little girl?" Lucius spat. "If someone who looked like you went to Hogwarts, I'd have heard of it by now, which I can only take to mean that you're a muggle."
"The 'muggles' as you put it, have all kinds of fun torture methods," Akeno grinned, stepping forward. "There are the really basic ones, like tearing out teeth and inserting thin strips of bamboo under fingernails, but there are really cool ones too. I once read an account of a man who was forced, naked, to sit in a chair with a hole cut out of it. His balls hung through the hole, and the torturer placed a sizable rock in a sock, which he used to repeatedly strike them. Can you imagine how painful that would be?"
Lucius gulped as he looked into the odd purple eyes of the girl in front of him, realizing that she wasn't nearly as soft or gentle as she appeared. That kind of sadistic glee was rare in women, and even Alecto Carrow didn't truly possess it. Only Bellatrix ever had, and he really didn't like the idea of being stuck in a room with someone who put him in mind of his sister-in-law.
"They also hook people up to these things called car batteries," Akeno continued. "When turned on, it forces electricity through the body, causing unimaginable agony. Fortunately for you, I don't have a car battery on hand. Unfortunately for you, I don't need one."
Before he could even think to ask her what she meant, two bat wings sprung from her back, and he realized, to his horror, just what he was dealing with.
"Devils," Lucius thought, his eyes widening in terror. "That's why my master wanted to look at that book."
Her hand glowed then, a strange circle of light appearing in her palm, and all Lucius knew was pain. He writhed and screamed as lightning coursed through him, in some ways not as bad as the cruciatus and in others worse. He could actually smell himself smoking by the time she relented, and he slumped in the chair against his bindings, trying to somehow make sense of what was happening. Harry Potter, Dumbledore's golden boy, had enlisted the forces of the Underworld against them. Under any other circumstances, something that absurd would have made him laugh, but laughing was the last thing he felt like doing just then.
"You see now just what you're dealing with," Rias grinned. "Harry here has become very precious to me, and I am very precious to my older brother, the great devil Lucifer. Tell us what we want to know and this all ends. Refuse and…"
"I'll have them tear Draco's soul apart," Harry cut her off, growling menacingly.
"Okay, okay!" Lucius cried, shaking with fear. "I don't know where he is."
"Akeno, did you see socks upstairs when you looked around?" Harry asked.
"I'm telling the truth!" Lucius practically screamed. "W...when my Lord saw what happened to Crouch, Greyback, and the others, it scared him. He took those whom he freed from Azkaban and fled to the continent in search of other allies. I don't yet know where he went, but I'll learn in time, I swear."
"I think he's telling the truth," Rias murmured. "That complicates things a bit."
"Is he so unused to experiencing actual opposition?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Nothing like the massacre at the manor ever happened during the war," Lucius replied. "We lost men here and there but never in numbers like that. We avoided large pitched battles for a reason, and both Dumbledore's forces and the aurors were always more inclined to try to take us in alive."
"Fucking ridiculous," Harry grumbled.
"Let me serve you, Potter," Lucius rasped.
"Are you serious?" Harry asked.
"You said yourself, I turned my coat once when the Dark Lord fell," Lucius replied. "You're only a fourth year, and you can already stand against all but the very worst of us, and with the allies you've acquired, you'll be a terrible force to be reckoned with soon enough. I can be your eyes and ears in his inner circle, your spy."
"I need to get back to my Lord," Lucius thought to himself, keeping his eyes fixed on Potter's lips in case the little monster knew legilimency as well. "He needs to know that he's right about Potter's connections, though even he might not suspect that the boy's allied with Lucifer's little sister."
"Open your mind to me," Harry murmured. "Let me see for myself that you're being honest with me."
"My mind is yours...my Lord," Lucius stuttered, bowing his head respectfully before peering into Harry's eyes.
"Legilimens," Harry cast, and he entered Lucius' open mind with ease.
The head of the Malfoy family realized almost immediately that his foe hadn't truly mastered this particular art and had to use occlumency to prevent his relief from being made obvious to him. He led the boy towards his last memory of his Lord, a simple little conversation where he told him that he was taking the others to Europe and would make contact later. He let Potter see the whole memory, including the instructions that he ensure he had a fair amount of galleons on hand in case he had need of them. He needed the boy to think he'd broken him and was seeing everything that he needed to. It was his only hope.
"Damn," Harry hissed.
"He'll turn up," Rias assured him, running her fingers through his dark, messy hair, "and in the meantime, we'll begin picking off his followers here and there. They'll all pay for hurting Hermione and Luna."
"The devils are fond of his friends too," Lucius thought to himself, fighting the urge to shake his head. "Damn it all."
"You say you'll serve me?" Harry asked.
"As I served the Dark Lord," Lucius replied.
"So until someone more powerful comes around," Harry chuckled.
"That doesn't seem likely in this case," Lucius said silkily. "You've gone down a path even the Dark Lord feared to tread. To have accrued power like this by your age...it's incredible."
"Laying it on a little thick," Harry thought to himself. "There is a message that you could send Voldemort for me."
"Name it," Lucius begged, relief filling him at the thought that Potter might actually fall for this.
"It isn't the sort of message you convey in words," Harry replied coldly.
"Wait, no…" Lucius went to shout before Harry slashed his wand across, taking his head clean off with a wordless severing charm.
Blood sprayed everywhere, splattering against them and every other surface nearby.
"You've come so far," Rias whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. "The boy who summoned me into his bed would never have handled a mortal enemy like this. You're well on your way to becoming the warrior I promised to turn you into."
"And so I'll wage it," Harry murmured. "Akeno, could you move his hands into his lap? I need to place his head in them."
"Why?" Akeno asked as she did so.
"It's something that Voldemort used to do with 'blood traitors' during the early days of his reign of terror," Harry replied. "He liked the imagery of making someone hold their head in shame."
"Pompous ass," Rias chuckled as Harry placed Lucius' severed head in his hands.
"He lost the drive to add any flare, or artistry to his terror after he made his fourth horcrux," Harry replied. "The more of his soul he sliced off, the more he came to favor basic brutality. Let's go; there's only one last thing I need to add."
"Oh?" Rias asked.
"It's best done outside," Harry murmured. He transfigured the nearest window into a gaping hole large enough for the three of them to fly through. Returning it to normal, he landed on the ground and pointed his wand at the sky.
"Morsmordre," he hissed.