The Space Between

"Harry?" Ron whispers.

I open my eyes. The manacle is nothing more than a pile of iron filings. Fuck.

"What did you do, Harry?" Ron asks quietly, bringing his newly-free arm up to cradle it against his chest.

I blink. That is the power that resides within me? Torn between fascination and horror, I turn to Ron. "I don't know," I answer. I'm not exactly sure I want to know, either.

A grin flickers across that expressive face. "Can you do it again?"

A bark of laughter escapes me. Relieved Ron doesn't see me as a freak, I say, "Sure." I move around him and repeat the process with each of the other three manacles.

By the time I'm finished, the beast inside me feels moderately appeased - I no longer feel the driving need to maim or destroy. I also can no longer see that green light.

Ron, however, looks worse. His freckles and hair are the only color to his skin; his aura - if that's what I'm seeing - is a pale red very close to his skin.

I stand and call for Hermione. After a minute, she enters, clutching my shirt tightly to herself and levitating Draco Malfoy's body in front of her.

His face is bruising nicely. I notice a few marks on Hermione's hands and wonder how much of the bruising on Malfoy Junior's face is due to our fight in the kitchen and how much Hermione inflicted once he was incapacitated.

Once she sees Ron, she cries out his name and rushes to his side. Having lost her concentration, she lets Draco Malfoy's body fall to the floor with a resounding thud. I can't repress my grin at that.

She makes a quick scan of the room - noting Lucius Malfoy's predicament with a feral smile - then turns her full attention back to Ron. She falls to her knees much like I did and presses soft kisses to his face, resting her hands on his arm.

The light surrounding her flares when she touches Ron. It's a soft golden color that seems to match her somehow, making her radiant. I feel a smile touch my mouth for the first time since I left the locker room.

The longer Hermione stays in contact with Ron, the more the golden color starts to flow into the red, and the colored mists swirl together just above Ron's skin.

Hermione looks over her shoulder at me, red-rimmed eyes fierce. "Harry, get over here."

I mock-salute her, but follow orders. "Yes, ma'am."

Ron laughs weakly, groaning as the movement splits his lacerations open.

I kneel by Ron's side. Now that I don't have the pressure of fending off Lucius or Draco Malfoy, I look at my two - what are they? My two what? Lovers? Partners? Soul mates? Shaggable dishes? Friends? No, they're more than friends; they are my lovers, my partners. Soul mates? Trite sentiment. Shaggable dishes? Yes, they are that.

I study Ron and Hermione. Hermione's golden aura is completely entwined with Ron's now. The red color of Ron's is strengthening the longer Hermione is in physical contact with him.

"We need to save him, Harry," Hermione says quietly.

"I would appreciate it," Ron chimes in.

"Git," I mutter affectionately. Ron merely grins and gasps.

I lift my gaze to Hermione's face. "What do I need to do?"

"Hands over his stomach." As she says it, she releases his arm and holds her hands, palms down, over his stomach. When she breaks physical contact with him, her golden light begins untangling from the red and coalescing around her hands.

With a deep breath to calm my nerves, I move my hands over Ron's stomach. I see the green light materialize around my hands and cloud my vision. "Ready."

"Try to draw your magic within and focus it." With the words, I watch as she pulls her aura in, reabsorbing it into her skin until she's glowing from the inside out. Wow.

But when I do the same, I feel that beast within me awaken again. It wants to kill. The more I draw that green light inside myself, the more the darkness feeds on it. It feels like a creature buried inside me, feeding off me. I don't know how long I can fight it off before its sibilant voice seduces me.

It would be so easy to give in to the darkness, to give in to that seductive call and let everything go into the darkness and come out stronger.

I must have made some sort of noise, because both Hermione and Ron bring their eyes to mine.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asks. Ron repeats her question.

It's only then that I notice I'm shaking and gritting my teeth. I open my eyes and glare at Hermione, then Ron. It's all I can do not to attack one of them, to draw blood, to feast upon them.

I wonder if this is how Remus feels every month?

"Yes," I spit. "What now?"

Hermione looks taken aback at my abruptness and studies my face. I feel like I'm dying from the inside out.

Voice tentative, Hermione finally answers. "Push that healing power into Ron."

She's afraid of me.

I want to cry. The last thing I want is for Ron or Hermione to be afraid of me. Through our scar, I can feel her fear trickle through me, making me cold. The sensation wars with the bloodlust.

I'm going insane.

Concentrating, I try to gather healing thoughts together, but I feel so fractured that all I can seem to collect are the dark parts. It feels like my skin will split open at any moment, revealing the monster within. The trembling worsens.

Hermione whimpers softly and I snap my head up. She's gently pushing that golden light into Ron. On her cheeks, glinting in the light, are tears. Ron's aura slowly brightens and moves further from his skin.

Before I can react, Hermione collapses upon Ron, exhausted. Ron's aura has improved - it's now a medium red and uniformly surrounding him, dark where Malfoy's lacerations were inflicted. But Hermione can do no more.

I yank my hands away with a small cry, closing my eyes. Don't make me do this, Hermione. Don't.

It's up to me to save him now and I'm afraid I'll kill him instead.

"Harry?" Even before I open my eyes, I can feel Hermione's nervousness and fear like a ball knotted in my chest.

I snap my eyes open so quickly, she flinches. Anger flashes hot within me, anger at her for showing fear. Only when I realize Hermione is cowering against Ron do I notice my hand is raised, ready to strike.

"Harry?" she repeats, her voice small.

The Dark wants to strike her, to revel in that moment of shock, that stunned disbelief that her - lover? soul mate? friend? - has struck her. It wants to see blood on her cut lip. It wants to see her shrinking back from me as I advance upon her. Fighting with myself, I clench my fist and jaw.

"I. Can't." Somehow, I manage to force the words between my teeth.

Before I can do the easy thing and give in to the Dark, I leap up and, grabbing my wand, fire a Finite Incantatem at the snake wrapped around the elder Malfoy. It dissipates into a plume of black mist.

Finally letting the Dark spill through me, I awaken Lucius Malfoy. With grim delight, I watch him search the floor by touch for his wand. Bending, I retrieve it from under my foot.

"Looking for this, Lucius?" I hiss, twirling the ebony wand between my fingers.

Quicker than I would have thought for a man his age, he jumps to his feet, squaring off with me. He looks dismissively at Ron and Hermione before turning back to me.

"I see my son failed to subdue the Mudblood." His aura manifests itself once again with his words, shrouding him in a thick black shadow.

This time, however, I can see right through it. I don't think this is a good thing. I raise my right arm, pointing my wand at his head.

My aura is black.

There is no trace of green in the light that surrounds me. The deepest part of me is dismayed, disturbed. But the majority, the part that seems to be in control now, is delighted.

I hear shuffling to my left and I glance over. Hermione is struggling to pull Ron backwards out of the room. He is a nearly dead weight in her arms and she doesn't have the strength to pull him very far.

Lust surges within me when my shirt gapes open to expose most of both her breasts. Both the light and dark within me want to take her, brace her against the wall and thrust inside her. Were Ron well, the same urge to shove him against the wall - or table, or over the back of the sofa - would be there.

Lucius Malfoy grunts softly, drawing my attention away from my lovers and back to him.

His gaze devours Hermione, tracing the edges of my shirt, divesting her of it in his mind's eye. His tongue slips out of his mouth to lick his upper lip as if in anticipation.

If Malfoy Junior was supposed to rape Hermione, was Malfoy Senior going to have seconds? Another memory surfaces, this one tinged with pain more excruciating than the current moment. What is it with Death Eaters wanting to rape Hermione? It was the same way in Voldemort's dungeon.

Almost physical pain wrenches my stomach as my disgust - which must be Light - and the Dark sadistic thrill and the thought war with each other. The idea that Hermione was going to be some sort of plaything for the Malfoys makes me nauseous. It would go toward explaining Malfoy Junior's earlier comment about sharing with "Potty and Weasel." But sharing with his father? It's all I can do not to retch on the hardwood floor.

Silently, I stalk behind Malfoy Senior. Not even when I'm with Ron have I ever been so thankful I grew to six feet tall the last two years of school. My height now allows me to be of even height with Lucius Malfoy.

Like the snake I conjured earlier, I wrap my arms around him - sliding my arms under his to pin his arms at shoulder height - my right hand shoving my wand against the underside of his chin, my left hand wrapped in his hair and pulling his head to one side.

"Looks like you got distracted, Lucius," I hiss into his ear, tightening my hold when he begins to struggle. "Lusting after a Mudblood? What would Voldemort say?"

His struggles lessen but don't cease. He tries to kick my shins, but a softly whispered shield spell protects my vital body parts.

"The Dark Lord is dead." His voice is flat and laced with a faint sneer.

The words of my reply come unbidden to my lips before I can think about it. "Not entirely - he's more alive than you think."