Chapter Text
“Blood…” Harry said as they sat across from Hermione at the breakfast table. She nodded and Ron raised an eyebrow. “How much blood?”
“It was enough to cover a normal wall poster.” She said with no hint of amusem*nt and both of them gawked. “Yes, there was the Elder wand, someone telling an old man to give it to him, then there was blood.”
“Does that mean it’s Dumbledore?” Ron thought and Hermione closed her eyes.
“That was the conclusion I drew.” She said, once again, with no amusem*nt at all.
After such a long stint of not eating, both Hermione and Harry had enough eggs, bangers and mash to give them protein for four people. It was at the same level Ron usually ate. The conversation had curbed his appetite a bit, though, but only a bit.
“We need to find out how they are planning to get into Hogwarts and I think we need to get back on the task we were given, Harry.” She said to him and that was when he realised that they hadn’t talked to Slughorn for three weeks, aside from classes. She nodded, obviously having the same thought. There was so much going on, but now, it seemed that there was a pause in much of the noise, and focus needed to be restored.
“Well, yeah, but what about the child?” Ron said and both of them looked at him. “There’s some kid here, right? They’d need to be a first year, I’d wager.”
Both of them thought for a moment and Hermione, once again, gave another long sigh like the one she gave before she explained the vision. Harry and her had been wrapped in each other's arms the entire night and thanking Merlin that it was Sunday and not a school day as they caught up on much needed sleep.
“I may have one that I have been keeping my eye on.” Hermione said and both of them looked at each other, wondering why she had such a pained expression. “The little boy, Crow Grayliene, he works with magical objects.”
“Yeah? So?” Ron asked and both of them looked at him.
“Come on, Ron,” Harry gave him a look of disappointment. “You know as well as we do that you can’t get into Hogwarts by normal means of magic.”
“Oh,” Ron thought once again, and even remembered he gave the same suggestion in front of Hagrid’s hut. “Right! Yeah! I actually thought of something that could actually work.”
“What?” Hermione asked and raised both her eyebrows, taken off guard by his confidence.
“Yeah, you ever heard of a vanishing cabinet?” He asked and Hermione’s eyes widened. “Those things, you get one in Hogwarts and they can come in through the brother cabinet.” He explained and her eyes continued to be widened as she gazed at him in sudden realisation. “What?” He asked after a long silence where Harry thought that she was paused with her brain going twenty miles a minute.
“His father makes vanishing cabinets.” She said, and that was it.
They had a way to go and they decided that spending a bit more time with the first year students may have been something of a good idea.
The next Slug Club gathering was a bit of a Christmas surprise in the beginning of December. Slughorn had turned his classroom into something of a party more suited for high brow wizards. He had waiters and waitresses of students, an enchanted ice fountain that flowed with rainbow punch, entrees and finger foods suited for aristocrats and party favours that he handed out among the guests, to include crackers and bottles of wine for those of age, which Hermione was.
Much to their dismay, trying to talk to Slughorn was something like trying to talk to a competent Minister of Magic. Harry had an itching suspicion that he was trying to avoid them, but that was hard to prove, because he was quite good at keeping busy. He always seemed to have other appointments and he never seemed to linger in one place for long. Anytime they approached him after class, he was in a hurry to be somewhere else and would only stay to talk about their studies.
Now, though, they essentially had him cornered. Harry and Hermione were entirely too prestigious to not invite, unlike Cormac, who had gone very quiet after his showdown on the field. She turned to her husband and nodded to him. That was when he went toward the side of the room where Crow Grayliene stood with another boy of first year. Both of them were looking at a large, ornate wooden chest as Crow admired its lacquer.
“Professor!” Hermione said as she finally saw him break away from a conversation. He looked at her and beamed. He raised his goblet to her and took her hand in greeting. “I didn’t expect such a wonderful piece of Christmas so early. You’ve outdone yourself.”
This caused him to give a great belly laugh before sipping his wine. “My dearest, given bigger facilities and a few better resources and I could show you the stars as close as you can gaze at them. I do pride myself in throwing a right good soiree, as I have thrown so many.” Slughorn boasted and Hermione smiled and nodded, thinking of what next to say.
“Yes, and I was wanting to talk to you about something that was… well… rather private, if you don’t mind.” She said and this furrowed his brow but also seemed to pique his interest. Her tone was not so pleasant now, as it seemed more hesitant. “Well, you see, I have been having… signs.” She said and his eyebrow raised.
“Signs, Mrs. Potter?” He asked, leaning in a bit closer to give her a closer inspection. Then his eyebrows raised as he looked down toward her belly. “Signs?!”
She very quickly shushed him as she looked around toward anyone that might have overheard. He apologised profusely, but also seemed overjoyed. “Now, now, Professor, it is not a sure thing, of course, but I know you have some experience with such things.”
“Well, my dear, yes, indeed I do have a memory or two of Mrs. Slughorn, God rest her.” He said and she was taken a little by surprise at his phrasing. Such a thing wasn’t normally said in the wizarding world. “What sort of signs?”
She hated this more than anything at that moment. Coming up with symptoms before hand should have been a given, but she had to rush this idea. “Oh, well, you see,” she had a realisation, “I am a bit late and I haven’t been feeling so well in the mornings.”
“Oh my!” He did his very best to lower his volume.
“Yes, and since you have such insights, being a father yourself, I was wondering if you could help me with some of it. I would go to Madam Pomfrey but… well… it would look rather strange if I started paying her regular visits.” She said and he nodded with widened eyes.
“Indeed, my dear,” he thought for a moment and then raised a finger, “yes, further tutelage for extra credit and the N.E.W.T’s, which are fast approaching for you and your beloved husband.” He said and she smiled wide, not believing this actually worked. “My dear, you can count on a gentleman such as myself, through and through. My discretion comes at no price.” He assured her and she thanked him with a great sigh of relief.
Across the room, however, Harry was trapped in a very long, hard staring contest between both Ron and Crow across a Chessboard. His brother’s face was stoic, a mask of concentration and discipline as he glared at the chequered outline and pieces. He deciphered every move that could be made and tried to look ahead to his thought process but such a thing was never his forte. Even his pieces had to admit, this battle was hard fought.
Crow, to Harry’s surprise, was smiling. It wasn’t a smile of confidence, nor smugness at all, “I cannot remember the last time I had this much fun!” He was giddy and Ron merely glared at him with a nod before returning to the game.
Then Ron took his knight as his bishop cast him down, and looked toward the short, dark skinned young man who gazed at the board through his glasses, which he pushed up.
“So, any chance of getting some of those scarves in red and gold?” Harry asked and Crow nodded with a smile.
“Of course, any colour.” Crow said before moving his pawn two spaces forward, looking back at Ron, who glared at the board once again. “Three, you said?”
“Yes, three. They would make wonderful gifts.” Harry said this, but he also wouldn’t count it as a holiday gift for Hermione. He didn’t like to brag a lot about his abilities to give presents, but part of him prided himself and didn’t want to give Hermione something she would expect. “Now, what about vanishing cabinets?”
For the first time, Ron looked up from the board at Crow Grayliene with something other than a glower. “Oh, yeah, my dad’s been wanting one.” He lied, his father was far more interested in those types of shelves that spun around inside a pantry or one with an electric motor with a push-button that his mother expressly forbade. “Can you get one of those into the school?” He asked and Harry glanced at him.
“No, sorry, but my dad can have one delivered to your house, if you’d like.” Crow said before he sneered as Ron took his pawn. “How big of one did you want?”
“How many sizes do they come in?” Ron asked and Crow shook his head.
“Any size, so long as you’ve got the Galleons. Vanishing cabinets are not cheap. The charm to enchant it and allow it to transport objects takes loads of concentration and one wrong move, the cabinet breaks and you’ll usually never get your items back.” Crow said and then took his rook. “Check.”
“Bloody hell.” Ron bit his thumb.
“Dost thou bite thy thumb at me?” Crow asked in a very strange, growling tone, drawing odd looks from them both.
“Wait, was that Shakespeare?” Harry asked and Ron looked at him.
“Romeo and Juliet, very good, Mr. Potter.” Crow grinned at him, but then the grin melted away as Ron moved his other rook to the corner of the board, taking out Crow’s rook, who cried out as he fell off the board. “What?” He widened his eyes down at the board.
“Checkmate, mate.” Ron gave a big grin and Crow, to their surprise, began to laugh and clap.
“Brilliant! Simply brilliant! Well done! We will play again in the coming year, good sir, and I will beat you two out of three.” He assured him and Ron nodded with brimming confidence as they clapped hands together and shook on it.
“I look forward to it.” Ron said with a chuckle.
Ron had found himself a new opponent, but they couldn’t help but notice how readily he gave out the information about vanishing cabinets. Still, with Ron playing him in the Chess club and Hermione coming back with a nod to Harry, they were set.
While their first outlook was rather bleak, now they had all players set up the way they wanted for the moment. The month progressed and the winter became rather dreary as the ice and the snow began to build into a blizzard once Christmas break came about. As much as they would have loved taking a room at the Three Broomsticks, they had a perfectly good house to return to and Sirius burst with joy as they came through the fireplace.
“Yes! My dear children!” Sirius said and Remus smiled as he sipped his tea from his chair.
They embraced Sirius and basked in how he had, once again, turned the house into something of a marvel for Christmas. He’d never said it, but it was rather obvious that Sirius had a great flair for the holiday, as he lavished in it and couldn’t stop singing carols as he did Christmassy things around the house like make eggnog or hang mistletoe. One, of which, Harry and Hermione had found themselves snogging under.
Then, to their surprise, the loo opened and in walked Nymphadora Tonks. “Oh, hi, Harry! Hermione!” The blue-haired Auror greeted them both with hugs and laughter. She seemed rather giddy, though it was not out of character, it seemed to show a bit more than usual. They didn’t question it, though, nor why she was there to begin with.
They sat down to a wondrous meal that Sirius prepared along with a smiling house elf who bowed to Harry and Hermione as they entered.
“Master and lady, welcome back to Grimmauld.” He went back to making the pies that were cooking in the oven as he spoke. He was a completely different house elf, it seemed. His face was in the perpetual state of smiling and he had a wonderful style of cooking, it seemed, as they were both treated to sweet smells of cherry and apple. He also had another oven beside it, full of homemade pumpkin pasties. “Dessert will be ready momentarily.” He declared and they left him to it.
That was when the Weasleys started to arrive. They were more than happy to welcome Fred, George, Angelina, Ginny, Neville, Ron, Luna, Arthur and Molly to the party and all of them sat down to dinner.
There was much to talk about as they all dined together around the table. Lupin carved the turkey and Sirius brought large jugs of daisy juice, pumpkin juice and two bottles of wine. They ate, laughed and even Tonks was joining in on the conversation when the Quidditch World Cup came up from their summer before fourth year.
“Ya, Harry, I kind of wish we could have celebrated the Ireland victory, but France won the next year.” Tonks lamented and they all grumbled. “Got to say, it hasn’t really improved.”
She said it before she realised it and all of them looked a little downward. She raised up her hands in apology, but it was taken by Remus, who nodded to her that it was alright.
That was when all of them stopped what they were doing as yet another rush of flames was heard from the living space. Many of them looked toward the sound and more than a few of them drew their wands. There came a shock to all of them as they saw who it was. At first, Harry thought it may have been Dumbledore coming to see them once again, but instead, it was none other than Severus Snape.
He wore a black top hat atop his long oily curtains of hair that framed his face. His cloak was black and his cane bore the head of a raven. He took his top hat from his head and nodded to all of them.
“Severus…” Sirius said as he stood, the look on his face saw that he was the most affronted by this. “What gives you the right to come into my house and interrupt our Christmas meal? Give me one good reason.” He said, his wand very firm in his hand, at his side.
“I come on instructions from Professor Dumbledore himself.” Snape said as he placed the hat on a coat rack, along with his cloak. “He was not well enough to attend, I’m afraid.” His face seemed to take on a very melancholy look for a moment before returning his gaze toward Sirius with a scowl. “I assure you, I am not responsible for this turn of events.”
This took the wind out of Sirius’s sails, at first, but then he pointed his wand at Snape, drawing a puzzled look from him and all at the table. “Alright then, if you’re Snape. What substance did I put in your underwear, third year, swimming in the Black Lake?” His wand hand was still very well trained on the Slytherin Head and there was a very long silence.
At length, Snape sighed and glowered toward Black, “it was ketchup.”
Fred, George and Ron did their very best to keep straight faces. With a scowl, Sirius put away his wand and he had no choice but to invite him in and allow him to seat himself at the empty chair at the opposite end of the table. He nodded and graciously accepted a goblet of wine offered by Ginny with the tiniest smile. This drew wide glances from onlookers.
“I do apologise for my interruption, Sirius, but it seems that there are grave tidings and our beloved headmaster requires the aid of the Order.” He said, and all of them there were well within the confidence as such.
“Are you talking about a plan to assassinate Dumbledore?” Harry asked, and all eyes bolted to him, with a few gasps. Severus seemed the most taken aback by this revelation of his knowledge and he scowled toward his student. “I know of it, yes, and we have been working toward the assassin.”
He went into Crow Grayliene, of whom Snape was well acquainted, as he was top of his class in his first year and an exemplary student. He did not go into the Horcruxes, nor Slughorn’s potential involvement, but he told them everything pertaining to his vision, including the large, shadowy figure.
When he was finished, the grave nature of his explanation had brought about a very sterile atmosphere in the room. Even what little was left of the meal was starting to look rather mundane as appetites were beginning to dwindle.
“That is rather troubling.” Remus said and there was still a great deal of silence. He turned to Tonks and she met him in his gaze as they met hands once again underneath the table, which Hermione and Harry caught more than once. “We need someone to look after Dumbledore.”
“I have been keeping an eye on him quite often.” Snape explained before sipping his wine and muttering how it was excellent before taking another, longer quaff. “It seems that our spies are nothing compared to a sixteen year old with a scar. Tell me, how long have you been having these… visions?”
Harry looked at him, then looked at Ron and Hermione, who looked toward him as well.
“It was fourth year, wasn’t it?” Ron whispered to Harry and he shook his head, honestly not remembering.
“Two, three years?” Harry said and Snape’s eyes darkened.
“I don’t know how you came about this ability, Potter, and I am rather unsettled by how casually you bring about this information to us at a dinner table. Any one of these loved ones could be a dark wizard, as dear Sirius so admirably demonstrated.” He glanced toward Sirius, who pointedly did not return the glance and ate a big tight of his turkey leg instead.
Sirius muttered something, but Remus patted the back of his hand and whispered for him to ease himself. “Well, Severus, it is good of you to come with tidings, however bleak. Will you not join us?”
This drew several incredulous gazes from around the table as Snape drained what remained of his wine with a moment to savour the taste. “Terribly sorry, but I am needed elsewhere. Please, enjoy your meal, and Happy Christmas.” He said, drawing more incredulous looks at such a show of courtesy.
“Off to go prattle on with the old Death Eater alumni?” Sirius said, and Molly whispered his name, reproachful. Snape turned a death gaze toward Sirius and it took even Hermione a moment to realise what that meant.
“Good evening.” He gave him the foulest of nods before donning his cloak, hat and turning to depart.
The air in the room was saturated at that point. Kreacher put their leftover food into bags and storage as all of them tried to warm their troubled minds by the two fires on either side of the living space.
“Snape was a Death Eater?” Ron asked in a voice that was not so silent. Hermione shook her head, still trying to wrap her mind around this. There were so many questions and all of them around that sofa couldn’t help but ponder this.
“Well, he’s the nicest Death Eater I ever met.” Neville said as he sipped his pumpkin juice, remembering when Snape told him his potion might not kill the consumer.
“I mean, he is the head of Slytherin.” Angelina reasoned and Hermione couldn’t help but sigh at the implications. “Do you think he might be the one who is trying to kill Dumbledore?”
“No, Miss Johnson,” Remus Lupin said as he walked out of the kitchen with a cup of tea and walked toward their side of the room. “The matter of Severus Snape is… rather complicated.” He said as he sipped from his cup.
“My father did not like him.” Harry said and this caused a moment where Lupin nearly blew tea back into his cup. He swallowed and cleared his throat.
“Bit of an understatement, Harry. Both he and Sirius were rather relentless on Severus. I cannot say that I was the most mature in those days and I may have had a laugh with them, but I knew that Snape was troubled. He disliked Sirius a great deal, but there was one thing that differed between him and James.”
“What?” Harry asked and Remus sat down among them, like a storyteller in a comfy chair.
“Your mother.” He said, simply with a shrug. This drew wide eyes from all of them and their mouths dropped.
“What? Are you— what?” Harry asked, trying to wrap his head around this revelation. “Snape—”
“Was very taken by Lily. They’d known each other since childhood. He was the one who told your mother about the wizarding world, and how she was able to float and turn soil into flowers. Even before Hogwarts, she was a very talented child.” As he explained all of this, Hermione’s cheeks began to flush. “However, as I said before, Snape was… very troubled. He was so very studious, especially in potions and the dark arts.”
This came as no real shock to any of them, but Harry barely heard that portion of the story. His mind dwelled over every single thing having to do with Snape and his mother, whom he had never truly met. “That can’t be right.”
“It is, and you could have been born Harry Snape, if it were not for your mother drawing away from him and his new crowd.” Remus said and all of them blanched at the horrid name, especially Hermione, who couldn’t imagine taking such a surname. “People change, Harry, and Snape had a very life-changing experience… the night you received your scar.” The last words were heavy for him to say. He put on a somewhat dismal expression and quelled his choked throat with another long sip of tea. “He was absolutely devastated and swore to Dumbledore that he would never join their ranks ever again.”
Such information, none of this was ever told to him, but why? His mother, reflected in his own green eyes, must have been that gaze Snape gave him in his first Potions class. The more he thought about it, the more it made a little bit of sense, but that name still rang in his ears like the screechings of a banshee.
With that large pile of baggage laid on his chest, Harry laid in bed, on top of the sheets as Hermione had a book propped up on her knees, which were under the covers. There were so many things he had never known about those days and the impulse to start grilling Padfoot and Mooney burned in his brain but a Christmas celebration was no place for such things.
“You know it’s rather cold above the comforter.” Hermione remarked in an off-handed way, drawing a look. “Yes, I know I will never fully understand, Harry, but you’ve got to remember that everyone has a story and not all of them can be told from the beginning.”
“Yes, I am aware, but there are things that I think I should know and it seems many of them are more than willing to hold back very pertinent information.” Harry shook his head, turning toward the fireplace to watch it crackle.
“Yes, like my father and the kitten story.” Hermione mused as she looked at him with a little smile. “That was the first time I’d heard that. To think that I could have never been born because of a little mixup with a stray.”
This made Harry blink. All of the variables in the cosmos seemed to stack against their births, yet somehow, they were both in bed, in a house that could not be tracked, married and retaliating against an assassination plot.
“Just think…” Hermione placed her book on the side table and slid the covers from her very naked body. “All of this could have been undone by a simple refusal.” She said as she motioned with a waving hand toward her breasts, her stomach and her nether region. “Wouldn’t that be quite tragic?”
“Quite,” he eyed her from head to toe but then went back to the fire, drawing an eye roll. Of course he was going to play hard to get in such a state. She still smirked, though as she moved toward him and laid herself onto his side, cuddling up close to him and putting two very wide eyes very close to the side of his face.
His lips pursed and he had to fight the urge. This became nearly impossible as she blinked twice in quick succession and he had tamp down a snort.
“But Harryyyyyy…” She whined pitifully and this drew a crack from him as he fought a losing battle against a smile. “Oh, there you are, my love.”
He finally looked at her, causing her to give him a little kiss. “I’m sorry, I know this should be our time together but there’s just…” He started and she turned his head back to her, gazing into those beautiful, green eyes.
“Harry, what’s past is past and everything else is in the outside world. Yes, there is a child in Hogwarts trying to kill Dumbledore, and yes, your mother nearly married a dark wizard, but guess what?” She started and his brow raised. “Your mother became pregnant with James Potter’s child and Dumbledore is still alive.” She nearly added, “for the time being” but thought better of it. “Why don’t you focus on things that you can control, Mr. Potter?”
Her breasts began to rub against his bicep as she asked this, and her hand trailed over his chest, his abs, and down a runway to a very rigid contusion in his boxer briefs.
“Oh, Harry, I don’t know why I even try.” Hermione said as she climbed atop him. Though, to his surprise, she didn’t mount him as she did before. This time, his face was met with the very close image of her ass and naughty bits. Before he could ask what she was doing, he felt the hem of his underwear slide over his shaft and her mouth immediately sucking him in with hunger.
This drew very hard gasps from him as her skills had quite improved for one reason or another over that year. In the bed, in the shower and sometimes on colder nights, her studies had turned to this very lovely appendage he possessed.
There was nothing to it, he used both his thumbs to spread her cheeks and he lunged his tongue deep into her very wet labia folds. He felt the vibrations as she moaned against his tip, making him shiver at the indescribable sensation. It was something of an endurance competition at that point, but Harry was playing rather dirty as his tongue began to swipe across her little bump that caused her to grip the comforter both hands.
“Harry! I’m trying—OH!” She said but then gasped and clenched up as he stopped.
“Yes, dear? What are you trying to do?” He asked as he leaned to the side into her view and her scornful gaze glared toward him.
“Don’t you dare stop, Harry James Potter!” She hissed before taking in the majority of his very stiff co*ck. Her sucking became much more lively with much more lavishing from her tongue and she suddenly spasmed. Juice ran down his chin but he did not stop. He couldn’t stop because Harry was also reaching his climax. As he twitched, she released him for a moment, gasping for breath as she felt hot spunk splatter her in the face.
To his surprise, she put his penis back into her mouth and began to lick the tip as more drained from it. He let out a hard breath and nearly squirmed at the sensation before she stopped, allowing his co*ck to plop back down onto his stomach. She rested her head on his leg, and for reasons he was uncertain of, prominently put her foot onto his face.
He blinked at her from the side of her little toe and she was still gasping, though glancing at him with little, breathless giggles. “What?” She asked, making him blink. “What other position can I do this in?” She patted her foot onto his face and he shook his head in deep judgement.
“Well, unless you’d like to take on this fetish, I’d appreciate it if you stopped dripping all over my leg.” He said, grinning as she gave a gasp of mock reproachfulness. Her forehead glistened with sweat and his manly juices, which dripped down her cheek. It was something of a very pleasant image.
Their foreheads leaned on one another in the bath. Despite the decompression and rest, Harry couldn’t help but feel troubled with it all. She understood completely and did not question him as he gave little sighs. Hermione’s hand went over the back of his neck and pulled herself onto his lap in the water.
They did not speak. They slept.
