Krum Do I Love?

Krum Do I Love? - Chapter 8

Birds of a Feather

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"- Kedavra," Voldemort finished. A brilliant green flare left the tip of his wand. It travelled with lightning speed towards Harry. Before anyone in the room could make out its exact form, it hit Harry's chest.

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"How much further do we have to go?"

"I don't know exactly, but we can't be very far." Remus pushed aside a thorny plant just to walk into the spikes of another. "Do you need to rest, Lee?"

"I don't want to cause a delay," answered Lee, his words barely heard over his wheezing.

Remus stopped and looked at him. "You're not going to be much good in the final confrontation in this condition." He scanned their surroundings for a piece of ground bare of spiky rocks and thorns. As he couldn't find any, he chose a small area clear of the flesh-tearing vegetation, and began kicking away the larger rocks. "We have been walking for five hours straight and you're not used to that." Seeing the miserable expression on Lee's face, Remus tried to think of something nice to say. "I could certainly use some rest as well. Let's just sit for a few minutes." Lee's grateful face told him that he had said the right thing.

To his surprise, Remus did not have to drag Lee back to the road. After only a very short rest, Lee stood on his own initiative, looking refreshed and ready to leave. Remus was very pleased with him. He reminisced over his previous missions. If this had been Sirius, I'd have had to threaten him with terrible curses before he'd have gotten up.

As it happened, the place they chose for their respite had probably been their last opportunity for it. A mile further into the hostile terrain, Rita Skeeter's house came into view. The winter's mid-day sunrays shone over the house, making the melted snow on its roof sparkle like diamond powder.

Remus chose a large rock and signalled Lee to crouch behind it. He positioned himself behind a sibling boulder. Every time Lee had tried to take a peek in the direction of the house, he had received angry glares from Remus. On one occasion he had even received a small flying pebble, which caught him on the nose and made him see black spots for several minutes. The pebble finally made him take the hint and just lie back and wait for Remus to assess the situation.

Lee watched Remus' every motion with great care, hoping that his slightest grimace would tell him what he was seeing. He was absolutely right to assume that. Only minutes later, Remus' pale and stunned face had given him a good hint as to what he saw. He opened his mouth to ask for details, but Remus raised a shaky finger to his mouth as a sign to be quiet. He began making his way away from the cabin, beckoning Lee to follow him.

The two only stopped when they were safely away from the house. By then, all the patience Lee had practiced since early morning was beginning to disintegrate.

"Why are we getting away from Skeeter's house?" Lee demanded the minute he felt he was allowed to talk again. "I thought that was our target."

"That was our target," answered Remus, "But we need to rethink our strategy." He looked at Lee's expectant eyes. The boy was very young. Too young to get into such a battle, too young to die. "There are Death Eaters in the house."

"So what?" said Lee with a touch of over-confidence. "We have the element of surprise on our side. We could take even three or four of them." He recognised Remus' downcast expression. "Each," he added with more hesitation.

"Even if we can take four of them - each - that won't be sufficient."

Lee was beginning to appreciate the size of problem. "How many are there anyway?" he asked.

"I can only estimate," said Remus grimly. "I'd say around fifty. I don't know if there's a single dark wizard in this country who's not there. They're having a bloody convention!"

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Harry felt the curse hit his chest with a burning singe. He felt its echo inside his chest like a Ping-Pong ball trying to escape. He saw the golden thread connecting his chest and Voldemort's wand, and saw the golden cage forming around them, carrying the two high into the air. Harry now knew how it felt to be hit by the golden beam of the Priori Incantatem ancient magic, how it was to have the other side in control of the cage, to see your own spells reoccur, and it was not a pleasant experience.

Out of his very chest, being born inside the folds of his robes, came the shape of a broomstick - a Firebolt carrying two young men. It was flying very fast, and yet, it stayed hovering above Harry's head at exactly the same spot. Subsequently, came the unconscious form of someone who was unmistakably Hermione. Something new was beginning to blossom from Harry's chest right after her, but at that second, Voldemort chose to break the link.

They both fell to the ground. Harry fell ungracefully on his back, still surrounded by the two shadows of his spells. Voldemort landed on his legs, roaring with rage. "How dare you escape my curse again!" he screeched. "crucio!" His wand pointed mercilessly towards Harry's helpless form. He held it towards him for very long, letting Harry's anguished screams help regain his own twisted mental balance.

Finally, the Dark Lord was able to relax his facial muscles and remove the cruel grimace that was plastered on his face for long minutes. Some time later, when Harry's screams could no longer be heard, and his body had stopped twitching, he lowered his hand as well.

Harry remained lying on the flagstones, almost motionless. His ribs kept rising and falling in a non-rhythmical and all around pathetic manner. Voldemort gave one of the Death Eaters around a quick squint. "Take him to the secured dungeon cell," he commanded.

Snape felt the Dark Lord's glance burning on his skin. "Yes Master," he said. He bowed deeply to him, and then heaved Harry's limp body, loaded it over his shoulder and took it with him through the hearth's burning green flames.

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Taking Harry out had done wonders to Voldemort's confidence. Before Harry was removed, his presence was well felt in the room. Now, it absolutely consumed every dark corner. He also seemed to have grown an inch taller. He had started ordering his minions around.

In a matter of minutes, there were a dozen Death Eaters aligned in front of the hearth, Ron and Draco among them, waiting to use the tagged floo powder to get to Ron's initiation ceremony. Ron himself was trembling with fear, trying his best to come up with some plan that didn't end up with him dead or carrying the Dark Mark. So far, all his plans could be categorised as either of the two unappealing options.

Lucius Malfoy was at the head of the line. He stood, getting last-minute orders from his Master. "I will see you there," concluded Voldemort with a hiss.

"Master, please have the honour to be the first to step into the fireplace."

"No Lucius, I will apparate there." He started walking towards the door of the hut.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, I think the ceremonial chamber is blocked to apparation."

"Are you questioning my abilities, Lucius?"

Ron could feel Draco wincing by his side.

"No Master -" Lucius Malfoy got down on his knees. "I am truly sorry My Lord -" He grabbed the rim of Voldemort's robes and kissed it. "I didn't realise -"

"Of course you didn't," said Voldemort in a voice as calm as the centre of a hurricane. He raised his wand, and with a swift motion lowered it onto Lucius' jaw. Lucius' lip split, and blood trickled all over his robes, soaking his collar. The side of his face swelled and shone vivid red. It looked like there was a good chance his jaw was broken.

Lucius, however, ignored the blood and the obvious pain. He got up and took back his place at the front of the line, the remainder of his chin set to the front. He led the others one by one through the flames, concluding with Ron and Draco.

They emerged in a large yet unremarkable room. It had plain plastered walls and was completely unfurnished except for the plain wooden fireplace through which they came. Ron was somewhat disappointed by the lameness of the place. "Is this it?" he asked Draco in a low whisper. The dispassion was noticeable in his voice.

"This is just the transition room," Draco whispered back. "Wait."

Ron waited. The flames behind his back made a menacing hissing sound, swelled, and then spat out Lucius Malfoy, who had seemingly used the few seconds alone on the other side to heal his bruised face. He found a place beside Ron and Draco, and waited with them.

A short and somewhat plump Death Eater entered the room through one of its many doors. Without looking at the other assembled wizards, he reached a bare wall and stood in front of it. Ron recognised the Death Eater immediately. Although he was wearing a mask, and his head was covered with the hood of his unrevealing black robes, Ron had no doubt in his heart as to the man's identity. He had spent too many years with him to forget. Even if he had assumed the form of a rat during those years. It was Scabbers - Wormtail - Peter Pettigrew.

Ron's ex-rat raised a silvery hand and placed it on the wall in front of him. The mumbled words of a chant reached Ron and Draco's ears. Thin, deep purple circles started forming around the silver fingers, surrounding the hand with a purple glow. As the chant proceeded, more and more circles formed around the hand, growing wider to include a large portion of the wall. When Pettigrew had stopped chanting and removed his hand, there was a large magenta puddle decorating the wall.

Peter Pettigrew stepped into the puddle and disappeared from their sight. As they did with the hearth earlier, the other Death Eaters formed a single file line, each waiting his turn to pass through the glowing puddle. Ron and Draco tried to join the line, but were stopped.

A Death Eater unknown to them held both their arms. "You cannot go in, not just yet," he told them. Both boys paled, afraid that their intentions had been discovered. The dark wizard seemed oblivious to their reaction. He led them to side room and ushered them inside. "Get dressed," he ordered. "I'll wait for you outside."

The room was just large enough to contain two wooden chairs, one very big wardrobe and the two boys, standing uncomfortably close to one another.

Draco opened the wardrobe's heavy wooden door, not too carefully.

"Hey! Watch it," cried Ron. "You almost knocked me out with that thing."

"Oh," said Draco, unimpressed.

Ron gave him a glare, but that, too, went unnoticed. He was about to continue reproaching Draco, when he noticed his open mouth and wide eyes. He followed his gaze into the wardrobe, and his own jaw dropped as well.

The wardrobe was almost empty. Almost. Two full body suits were hanging in there, including black trousers, black robes with silver serpent-shaped buttons for closing the front flap, black socks and black shoes. Each outfit came complete with a white Death Eater's mask. These were very clearly left there for them. There was also no mistake which robes were intended for which of the boys. Ron and Draco exchanged amazed looks, and with some effort due to the dimensions of the room, changed places.

Draco started to loosen the many strips that held his multi-layered silk robes. Ron watched him, first with dread, and then with submission. That's not so bad, he tried to tell himself. I've changed in the boy's dormitories many times before. He shrugged, and pulled his ragged hand-me-down robes over his head.

"Nice pants," commented Draco, as Ron reached for the wardrobe.

Ron blushed. He was wearing his dancing fruit boxer shorts, enchanted to change the fruits with the change of the season. Right now, they featured apples, strawberries, and little white mice. Ron suspected that the mice were the works of his older twin brothers.

Ron hurried to put on the new robes, noting that Draco's pants were made of black silk - a perfect match to his former robes. For the first time in his life, Ron felt completely comfortable in his clothes. They were exactly the right size, as if they were tailored especially for him. The fabric felt smooth and caressed his skin like a gentle lover.

Draco was already trying to pull up the trousers, a job that was made difficult by his frequent pauses to scratch his shins. "This material is rough and itchy," he complained. "I hate it." His whining stopped abruptly as one of Ron's elbows mistakenly hit his bare back. He grabbed Ron's arm, knowing that the fault was on the crowded place, and still feeling vexed.

Ron had stopped trying to fix the buttons of the robes, and turned to Draco, following the pull on his arm. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. Something about Draco's uncovered chest made him choke. Draco was quick to drop Ron's arm. He didn't even bother to use the opportunity to make snide remarks at Ron's expense. He returned to putting on clothes, no longer complaining about the fabric.

When the two were fully dressed and shod, they opened the door back to the transition room. As he promised, the Death Eater was waiting for them outside. "Put on the masks," he ordered.

Draco placed the mask on his face with an experienced hand. Ron followed suit. They walked with the wizard up to the purple glow, at which point he placed torches in their hands, and beckoned them to walk through before he did.

An incredible sight unravelled in front of them as they went through. They had entered a round arena, enclosed by tall black walls. The walls were so black that it was hard to tell exactly where the room stopped and the walls began. In the middle of the room was a large green marble altar. It was decorated all around with snakes and other creatures, all made of pure silver. There was a girl lying on the altar, very tightly strapped to it. Her arms were stretched above her head so violently that she had trouble breathing without dislocating a shoulder. Ron gasped as he recognised the girl as Hermione.

Ron looked up. The walls seemed to go on forever. The ceiling was not visible, but it had to be there, since the room was very hot. The Death Eater who accompanied Ron and Draco entered the room. From this side, the purple portal looked like an ordinary door. However, after the last wizard stepped inside, the opening seemed to have vanished.

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The door to their cell opened with no previous warning. A masked wizard stepped inside - a Death Eater. He was carrying a tray of food in one hand, and held his wand ready in the other. Sirius rose to his feet, preparing to jump the wizard. Not taking any risks, the Death Eater mumbled a curse. A jet of grey light came shooting out of the tip of his wand, hitting Sirius' legs. Sirius fell on the flagstones, unable to sense anything but the pang blowing where the curse had hit. A second later, the dark wizard fell, too, sending the food tray clattering to the floor.

Severus Snape stepped into the cell, his tiny eyes running to all directions inside their sockets like scared little black mice. He picked up the Death Eater's fallen wand and tossed it to Mundungus. "Unbelievable, how you managed to overtake him all by yourself" he exclaimed. "You should get out of here now," he added in a low whisper. "The house is almost empty. There are nine guards left, including me and him." He prodded the stunned Death Eater with the toe of his boot. "Your wands are in a desk drawer in the room right above you."

"Where are Harry and Hermione?" asked Arabella.

"They're not here any more," Snape answered curtly. "I'll draw you a map."

The pain in Sirius' legs began to subside. He was able to see again beyond the cloud of blinding agony. The sight that penetrated his brain via his eyes surprised him. He looked at Snape. "You did this?" he grumbled.

Snape nodded.

"You could have done it before he hexed me," groaned Sirius through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I could have," agreed Snape. He went out of the room, leaving the three to make their plans for escape.

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Including Ron and Draco, there were about fifteen Death Eaters in the room. They all stood in a circle around the green and silver altar. Hermione made no move except for her laboured breathing, and Ron seriously doubted she was conscious.

Voldemort stood by the altar, scanning the circle around him. His sudden silent appearance made the dark wizards gasp. Some of them looked like they wanted to run away, but didn't dare. With the dark lord, by his feet, appeared a large, intimidating snake.

"We are here for a very festive occasion," began the Dark Lord. His hiss, albeit very low, was well heard by everyone in the room. "Today, a young wizard from one of the ancient wizarding families is about to join our ranks." Ron's stomach lurched when he realized he was the wizard in question. "Come to me, boy." Voldemort raised his hand, signalling Ron to approach him. When he was in arm's reach, Voldemort closed his fingers around his wrist with the clamp of a steel-vice.

"I know you all have doubts littering your loyalty," continued the Dark Lord as he held Ron close to him. "You all saw the Potter boy today refuse to die once more." He viewed the gathered wizards one by one, making them all cast their eyes to the floor in fear and shame. "But you also witnessed him get a taste of my rage." The hissing became a roar like an approaching hurricane. His eyes shone with yellow ardour. "He is not resistant to all curses. Soon, we will break the spell that temporarily protects him against this one specific curse." His slit-eyes regained their red dullness. "But now, more pleasing events are at hand."

Ron felt himself being pushed towards the altar. Hermione looked up at him. Apparently, she was not unconscious, just very still. "You were sly enough to provide us with this Mudblood," Voldemort complimented him. Hermione's eyes were two brown pools of caramel - sweet and slightly scorched. There was no pleading in them, just deep, primal fear. "You will now have the honour of casting your very first Avada Kedavra curse on her. Then, you could become one of us."

Ron looked at him, shaken. So it had come to this. Either he would kill Hermione, or he'd refuse and get killed himself. It was a difficult decision, but one he was prepared to make.

Voldemort misinterpreted his hesitation. "Don't be afraid, my boy," he said, grabbing Ron's wand hand and helping him aim it at Hermione. "Nobody expects you to make it on your first attempt. Just give it your best try. You can make as many attempts as you like, she's not going anywhere." He released a dry chuckle.

Ron relaxed a bit. If he wasn't expected to be able to master the curse on his first attempt, then there was no reason he shouldn't fail on his following attempts as well. All he had to do was pretend to be tired after failing enough times, and ask to try again tomorrow. Then, they'd have the night to figure out what to do.

Ron aimed his wand at Hermione. His hand, that was very steady up to this moment, started shaking. Not big, wavy quakes that would raise Voldemort's wrath. Just tiny shivers that made the wand tip create minute circles over Hermione's navel. "There are other things I'd rather do with her," he muttered.

"Unbelievable, this Mudblood!" squealed Lucius from his place in the Death Eaters circle. "She's got my Draco infatuated with her as well."

The stare Draco had fixed upon his father for letting out his secret could easily compete with the dangerous glare he himself received from Ron.

Voldemort's face split up in a condescending smile. "So both youths want to play with her a little." He stalked over to Hermione and gave her an appraising look. Hermione shut her eyes against the hideous view. "Yes, I can see why our future generation finds her attractive." He placed a long, pricking finger on her forehead, and moved it slowly towards her chin. Hermione felt as if he was slicing her face in half with an icicle. When he reached her chin, he jabbed his finger under it, making her tilt her head backward as much as the neck strip allowed, which was, actually, very little.

"Very well," he said. He turned to Ron, forcefully grabbed his left arm, and without further warning placed his wand on Ron's forearm, hissing the words of an ancient spell. "morsmorde corpus sculper".

Ron had a sensation he had never felt before. A wave, which was comfortably warm and stimulatingly cold at the same time, was formed where the wand had touched him, and was rapidly spreading all over his body. He shivered slightly. He closed his eyes and allowed the pleasant wave to pass before remembering where he was and whom with. He shivered again, for a different reason.

Ron had seen the Dark Mark on Draco, Harry, Snape and a few others during their stay among the Death Eaters. The mark felt almost familiar now, and still, seeing it branded on his own arm had a strange effect on Ron. More than anything right now, he feared his mother's reaction to the new development.

Voldemort had lost interest in Ron. He mumbled a spell over Hermione. In response, the metal straps that held her pinned to the altar all popped open. They were instantly replaced by thin ropes, which tied her wrists and ankles together. He signalled one of the larger masked wizards to approach. "Put her in the cell with Potter," he commanded. "He won't come around for a long time."

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"Four down, five to go."

"You're counting Snape?"

"We need to get through him as well."

"But surely he won't put up a fight."

"Don't bet on it," muttered Sirius bitterly. "And anyway, we have to stun him too, or they'll suspect him."

"You're right."

"And we need to beat him up. You know, to make it look real."

"We didn't need to beat up this one." Arabella pointed at the last fallen guard, who was left behind them as they moved along the corridor.

"Well, we don't mind if they'll suspect him, do we?" moaned Sirius. "But we do care what happens to Snape. Believe me, it's for his own good."

"I think this is it," whispered Mundungus. He stopped in front of a door painted fluorescent yellow.

"Well, open it. You're the one with the wand."

"alohomora"

"Padfoot, Don't just walk into a room, check it first."

Sirius ignored her warning. The room looked deserted enough, and there was no sign of wards. He circled the only desk in the room, and reached for the drawer. "Wow!"

"What?" Arabella and Mundungus could not conquer their curiosity before Sirius' stunned expression, and jumped to his side. "Wow!" they called concurrently.

There were wands in the drawer. Nothing unusual or impressive about that. It was their number that caused the trio to stand there with their mouths hanging open. The drawer was magically enlarged to contain more than its physical volume. It was very deep and the wands stood in it, held in thin rectangular boxes. Thousands upon thousands of wands, all peeping from the top of their boxes.

Arabella put her hand inside and began moving it an inch above the tips of the wands, waiting for the familiar tickling sensation of her wand. It took several minutes, but eventually she found it tucked in the depth of the drawer. Mundungus was next. It took him approximately the same time to find his wand, which was the one closest to them. When they both held their wands, Arabella and Mundungus cleared the way for Sirius. Sirius took a step back, held his arm stretched forward, and said, "accio wand". His wand jumped out of the drawer and placed itself in his palm.

"Show off," muttered Arabella.

Sirius gave her his most charming smile. "Let's go," he said. "We still have five dark wizards to overtake before this house is cleared."

"Four."

"Four to overtake and one to beat to a pulp."

Arabella wanted to protest, but Sirius chose that moment to launch into the parlour and attack one of the three Death Eaters that were standing there. Arabella and Mundungus were not caught by surprise. They were used to Sirius lashing out the second he recognised the enemy. They shot out right behind him, sending impeding curses at anything that didn't run away fast enough.

The three death eaters put up a reasonable fight, which gave Snape and the last guard time to respond to the racket that was well heard all around the house and join the struggle against the three escaping prisoners.

Several minutes later, Arabella went between the fallen guards, waving the smoke away from her and assessing their condition. Much of the furniture in the room was stunned senseless. Beside this damage, there were four guards in deep coma, and one in deep coma who was sprouting tiny dog-shaped hair marks all over his face. "Sirius Black!" she exclaimed. "What have you done -" she stopped her scolding very abruptly.

Her attention, as well as the others' was directed to the main door of the house. Very quietly, the three spread along the wall beside the door, waiting to see if the noise coming from behind it was a real person, or just a figment of their imagination. No more sound could be heard. They were about to declare themselves insane when the door suddenly blew clear off its hinges and fell a few feet away from the portal with a loud crash.

The three jumped in front of the open doorway, their wands pointing forward ready for action. The two wizards in the door also had their wands drawn, prepared to put them to immediate use.

Sirius cut the curse he was creating in mid-word. He let his wand drop an inch lower, and cleared his throat. Then in a more hesitant tone, he asked, "Moony?"

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It took her the better part of an hour, but finally, Hermione was able to loosen the ropes around her wrists. With a violent pull she removed the remainder of the rope and turned to attack the ones binding her ankles together. There was urgency in her motions, despite the fact that she'd been at it for so long, and though she knew there was no real emergency. Harry had been lying there, motionless, from the moment she was thrown into the dungeon, and there was no reason his condition would change now.

She tossed aside what was left of the ropes after her relentless assault, and scooped Harry into her arms. He was completely limp, and with the lack of his cooperation, he was also quite heavy. She laid his head in her lap and hugged him to the best of her ability, as if trying to shield him from the rest of the world. The tension that was building inside her during the time she was wrestling the binds burst out in a series of body-jerking sobs. She tightened her arms around Harry's motionless body, seeking comfort in her own act of vain protection.

Something unexpected made Hermione's weeping cease. She sat completely still, trying to feel it again. Sure enough, it came - the slightest movement from Harry's direction. This wasn't just his breathing. This was more of a voluntary motion. She straightened up and looked down into Harry's emerald green eyes.

Harry felt a jolt passing through his body, and then another. He opened his eyes. Someone was holding his head in a firm hug. By the smell of honey and daisies, that someone was Hermione. She released her hold, not letting go of him completely, and detached herself from him just enough to look into his eyes. Her own eyes were red and swollen.

Harry reached out for her and stroked her hair. "How long have you been crying?"

"Oh, not very long," Hermione answered. "But I was very serious about it." A bashful smile played on her lips.

Harry didn't feel particularly strong, but he was strong enough to pull her closer to him. It was especially easy since she showed no objection. His hand was on the nape of her neck, holding all of her hair but a few soft strands that fell over his face. He could feel her breath, or rather the lack of it. Their noses collided, stopping their lips from meeting. They both tried to tilt their heads to the same side, and then to the other. After several attempts they were actually successful in putting their mouths to each other's, but by then their mouths were too busy with embarrassed laughter to be able to kiss.

"I'm sorry," Harry said after Hermione sat straight again. "I shouldn't have tried this. I know you're with Viktor Krum -" Her odd look made him stop talking.

"It was as much my fault," Hermione said in a detached tone. "And anyway, I broke up with Viktor just before we left."

The awkward moment just turned worse. Harry had nothing to say to this that didn't sound like probing.

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked, both because she was trying to break the silence, but also because she simply wanted to know.

"Nothing," Harry answered quite foolishly. Hermione struck him with a look that made him burst into another fit of laughter. His laugh sank rapidly into a pang in his chest.

"What is it?" Hermione asked as she saw Harry press his fist to his chest.

"It's probably just a little cut," he answered. "It's where the curse hit."

"What curse?" She watched Harry swallow hard. He didn't offer her an answer. Realisation dawned on her. "Is this why You-Know-Who said that he failed again in his attempt to kill you?" Harry nodded. "Was this the - Avada Kedavra curse?" she choked over the question. Harry nodded again.

"How were you able to escape it?"

"I have no idea." Harry shook his head. "For some reason it caused the same Priori Incantatem effect that occurred when I used my wand against it."

"But you didn't have your wand."

"No."

"Then it's not possible. Only twin wands cause that effect. If you didn't have a wand, how could it happen?"

"I don't know."

Hermione prodded Harry to sit, and moved slightly away from him. She measured him thoroughly. With this comprehensive examination, she could see the blood on his chest, making his black robes look wet. There were tiny bits of ash all over his front. "Take your robes off," she ordered.

"What?!"

"I said, take your robes off. I want to see your wound, and I think I have an idea what was it that saved you." Her lips curled to form the beginning of a playful smile, which she wiped off immediately.

Harry knew that determined look on her face. He knew he was about to lose the argument, and didn't feel like going through its full length before doing so. He unbuttoned the neck studs and pulled the robe over his head. The stretching motion made him groan with pain. He folded into a ball and bit his lower lip.

Hermione placed the robes behind him and tenderly rolled him onto them. She did her best to ignore the Snitch that was flapping on his boxer shorts, although she had the urge to reach out her hand and stop its rapid flight. She noticed that the wizard chasing it bore a disturbing resemblance to Harry.

"It's not me," mumbled Harry, following her gaze.

"Who's not you?" Hermione tried to look innocent, but her flushed face betrayed her. Her blush was replaced with unhealthy pallor as she unfolded Harry's arms, and exposed the wound underneath.

There was a deep gash across his chest, right above his heart. It was still bleeding, although Harry was no longer rapidly losing blood. She thought she could see rib bone peeping from the deepest area of the cut, but she wasn't sure. One thing was certain - It had the shape of a lightning bolt.

"So, you're going to have another one of those," she tried to joke, mainly to keep herself from fainting. Harry dared a look, and turned a sickening shade of white. He took a few deep breaths to relax. Hermione tore off the cleaner hem of her robes and used it to wrap Harry's chest. The improvised bandage stopped the bleeding completely.

"This actually hurts less," Harry made a feeble attempt at a smile.

Something caught Hermione's eye as she tied the edges of the bandage over the cut. Something was glowing on Harry's skin. Hermione touched it, and looked at her hand. She had gold and red powder on the tips of her fingers. She looked frantically around, but saw nothing. Without realising she was doing so, she pulled Harry's robes from underneath him.

"Ouch!" protested Harry, but his protest died when he saw the shocked look on Hermione's face. She was making an effort to release something that was tangled inside his robes. Eventually, she pulled it out. It looked like a thin stalk with few shining red threads attached to it.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Exactly what it looks like!" Hermione breathed.

"A straw that was left with the red laundry for seven years?" Harry tried.

Hermione didn't look amused. "No," she said. "It's a torn up, scorched phoenix feather."

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"What are you doing here?" demanded Sirius, lowering his wand further.

"What do you think we're doing here?" grumbled Remus. "You went without saying a word… left a message that you'd be back yesterday afternoon… I was worried." He took a deep breath. "We saw the blasts inside from our observation point and ran here as fast as we could."

"Well, we had to leave in a hurry, and you were -" Sirius looked at Lee. "Busy." He took a step into the room. "We had to stop that Skeeter woman from publishing whatever it was Voldemort wanted published." Lee winced to the sound of the name. "Oh no," groaned Sirius. "I guess it was published yesterday, wasn't it?" Remus nodded reluctantly. "Do you have a copy?"

Remus pulled the folded piece of paper out of the pocket of his robes. "It's not very pleasant," he warned.

"Well, and I expected Voldemort to say something nice," mocked Sirius. His sardonic smile evaporated as he scanned the Daily Prophet article. "That's bad," he said, dispirited. He passed the paper to Mundungus. "That could explain a few things, though."

"So I take it Harry is here," stated Remus.

"What?" jumped Sirius. "How do you know?"

"Because you didn't ask how he is taking it. You're always so worried about him. If you didn't know he's not at Hogwarts, you'd have asked about him."

"Is Ron held here too?" Lee intervened.

"Not exactly," said Sirius. "From what Harry told me, he is posing as a Death Eater. But -"

"What?!" cried Lee. He strode to the centre of the room and looked around. "I'm taking him home right now. Where is he?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," muttered Sirius. "None of them is here. Harry and Hermione were taken someplace else, and I think Ron and Draco are the ones who took them."

"Draco? As in Draco Malfoy? What's he got to do with this?"

"Apparently he's been helping them. I have absolutely no idea why."

Remus shrugged. "Whatever. We'll take him with us too, but I can't promise anything about the state of conscious he'll be in." Both he and Sirius smiled at the thought. "So, where do we find them?"

"Snape here told us he'd draw a map." Sirius approached Snape's unconscious form. He was lying on the flagstones in a somewhat grotesque posture. The dog-shaped hair stains on his cheeks were already half-an-inch long. Sirius kneeled by his still body and started searching his pockets. The others stood by and watched him.

Finally, Sirius found what he was looking for. He pulled a small package out of Snape's chest pocket. The package was wrapped several times with a large piece of parchment. He pocketed the inside of the package, and unfolded the parchment. It carried a crudely drawn map. Sirius stared at it, then turned it by ninety degrees and stared at it some more.

When he turned it again, Remus stated his annoyance, "Oh, just give it to me." He snatched the map from Sirius' hand. A brief look was all he needed. "All right," he announced. "We have about two hours walk ahead of us. Is everyone up to it?" He looked specifically to Lee, who wasn't used to such missions, and had already needed to rest often during the one-mile walk back to the house.

The reservation came from an unexpected source. "Sirius has injured legs," announced Arabella. "I don't think he could -"

"I'll be just fine, thank you," Sirius cut her off. "Let's go." He went out the front door and stopped a few yards away from the house. He really had no clue which way to go without Remus' navigation.

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Hermione rolled the battered feather between her forefinger and her thumb. She raised her eyes to Harry. "How did it get into your robes anyway?"

Harry opened his mouth to say that he didn't know, but he suddenly remembered how the feather could have found its way to his robes. "I was in Dumbledore's office. Fawkes was moulting. He was about to combust. He stood on my shoulder seconds before he did it. He was shedding feathers all over the place. One must have caught in my robes."

Hermione nodded. The explanation sounded, albeit improbable, true. "Harry, this feather saved your life," she said. "But this isn't enough to stop the curse. Did you try to use any magic?"

"Not exactly," Harry muttered. "I did say 'expelliarmus' or something like it."

"Well, that must have been it." Hermione looked at his chest again. In a closer look, it was covered with fine red-golden powder. "Were there beads of light, like the ones you told me about last time?"

"No, no beads," said Harry. He was very aware of her gaze on his bare skin. "It didn't start in the middle, like last time. The spell started on my side. It was as if I had lost the battle before the first bead appeared."

"Oh," said Hermione. "At least there were no dead bodies in your closet." She reached her hand to take some more of the powder, but got more than that. As her hand touched Harry's chest, he placed his hand over it, pinning it to him. Hermione could feel the beating of his heart under her palm. It was strong and steady, although a little too fast. She had a sudden urge to listen to it directly, and that's exactly what she did. She put her ear over his heart and listened.

She didn't have a chance to do it for long, as Harry held her upper arm and pulled her up. She found herself inches away from his face, her heart rate closing in on his rapidly. This time there was no awkwardness in their kiss. Their mouths found their way to each other's, their lips connecting in an unbreakable lock.

Things were very easy on Hermione. Since Harry was already undressed, she allowed her hands to roam his back and shoulders freely. She noticed that without the concealing school robes, his shoulders looked much wider. Harry had his hands on Hermione's waist and he felt that with a bit of an effort, he could surround it with his fingers.

They rolled on the floor kissing and fondling each other, lost inside each other's warmth. Hermione found Harry's kisses different than anything she had experienced so far. Draco's kisses were harder to control, but they came from someone she despised. These were closer to Viktor's kisses in their warmth and feeling, but they were so much more. She closed her eyes and surrendered herself fully to the unreal happiness that was transferred to her through his lips.

Their passionate interlock was broken with a loud blow coming from upstairs.

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Ron passed the next several hours in a cloud of haze. From time to time he rolled up his sleeve and looked at his newly branded mark. Every time he looked at it - every time he thought of it, restored the wonderful sensation he had when it was burned on his skin. He felt sick to his stomach by this sensation. He would have much preferred it if the mark had caused him unbearable pain.

Draco spent some time with his socializing, but was mainly standing right by Ron, keeping an eye on him, worried that his new situation might cause him to do something desperate, like cutting off his hand. If that happened, everybody would know Ron was not a real Death-Eater, and then they would know Draco had betrayed them. Draco had no intention of letting that happen.

Lucius Malfoy approached the two and placed paternal hands on both their shoulders. "Don't worry, boys. The banquet is about to begin, and after that you will be free to play with your Mudblood. I suggest you take turns," he said very seriously. "It could get embarrassing if you're both with her together." He winked at Draco. "Take it from me."

At that moment, the flames in the hearth changed their colour to green, marking that there was someone on the way. Every eye in the room was turned toward the fire.

Even Voldemort stopped listening to Dr. Simon Branford's grovelling and watched the swelling flames. "Are we expecting anyone?" he hissed at Dr. Branford.

"Not that I know of, Master," said Dr. Branford and lowered his head with submission.

As the preliminary signs indicated, a moment later, one woman stepped out of the hearth, letting the flames abate behind her. She was a woman of average height, but that was the only average thing about her. Ron immediately decided that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had long black hair, curled in thick corkscrew curls that came down to her hips and created a wonderful contrast to her milky-white skin. Her eyes were large and cat-like. He could not make up his mind as to whether they were green or blue. She was wearing a tiny leather outfit that hardly covered her most essential assets, and that surely could not have been much good against the cold. In addition to all that, she also looked extremely angry.

"Malfoy!" she hollered even before brushing the ashes off of herself.

Both Malfoys looked at her. Everyone else in the room looked at the two of them. Only then Ron noticed that Draco looked particularly pale, and that he was standing a few feet back, as if he was caught in the middle of getting out of room in a hurry. "Run" he mouthed at Ron, while he himself was pinned to the spot.

Ron stepped closer to Draco. "What's wrong?" he asked in a whisper that was drowned in the murmur of the other Death Eaters.

"That's Saitaina Moricia," whispered Draco back. His voice was trembling.

"You attacked me, Malfoy," Saitaina was closing in on Draco, and it was now very clear to which Malfoy she was referring. "You stunned me, and left me in the communications centre locked up and wearing this!" She pointed a disgusted finger towards her leather skirt. "Why on earth did you turn my clothes into this?"

Every Death Eater in the room had drawn out his wand and pointed it at Draco. Voldemort had completely abandoned his conversation, and commenced taking small steps towards the two shaking boys.

"I thought this would look nice on you," Draco smiled nervously. "The others were right behind me. I had to stun you and hide you so they wouldn't kill you."

"Yes," Ron supported Draco's story. "Harry Potter would have killed you if he knew there was a Death Eater in the house."

"You could have told me that instead of stunning me!" Saitaina glowered at them.

"There was no time," explained Draco. "I didn't want to take the chance that you would start screaming when you heard that Potter was coming. It would have risked your life."

"Then why didn't you enervate her before you left?" demanded Voldemort. By now, he was standing very close to the two boys. He was the only wizard in the room who did not point his wand at them, but he held it with a firm hand.

"We couldn't," stammered Draco. "Potter and the Mudblood didn't let us out of their sight. I think that by then they were suspecting that we were your servants."

"Are you a traitor, Draco?" asked Lucius Malfoy. His wand, like everyone else's, was pointing at his son.

"No, Father," breathed Draco.

"Liar!" rasped Voldemort. "You know Potter would never kill her. He didn't kill Pettigrew, he wouldn't start his killings with a petty communications clerk." Saitaina scowled at being called that. Voldemort turned his back to the two. "Kill them," he hissed. "But make it a slow, painful death."

The first curse was shot from Lucius Malfoy's wand even before Voldemort was done speaking. It caught Draco in the back and sent him toppling to the floor, biting his lips against the scream of pain.

Ron dropped to the ground beside him. "Stay down," he advised Draco while warding off a well-aimed curse. "We'll try to crawl out of here. That way less curses can get us." As he spoke, another curse had hit Draco's back. "Come on!" Ron urged him. "Roll over and fight!"

Draco gritted his teeth, but did as Ron had said. He managed to send several curses back to their initiators, but several others were able to penetrate his defences. He felt weaker with each curse that hit, and every time rendered him less capable of defending himself. He heard Ron cry out beside him, and knew that he wasn't doing very well either. All I wanted was to have a few rounds with Hermione, Draco mused bitterly. It really shouldn't have come to this.

With another successful curse, his vision had begun to blur. Ron's shouting had stopped, and so had the flashes that had previously shot past him, aimed at Ron. He barely managed to ward off two more curses when the third hit him in the head, and he knew no more.

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