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Chapter Text

PART ONE

October 31st, 2005

London

Today we reach the mark of twenty-four years since the one and only family opposed to our laws and community was exterminated by our faithful Aurors. James Potter, heir of a respected pureblood family violated our customs and tarnished our blood when he married a Muggleborn in secret. For years he kept his relationship with Lily Evans in the shadows. If it wasn't for the deposition of close friends who started to suspect Evans' ancestry, it would have been impossible to take action against them. As most of us know, the authorities tried to negotiate with Mr Potter. At the time it was clear that Ms Evans had a fake wand and went by a different name in order to navigate through our inner circles. However, James Potter vehemently denied all accusations. After a few months of the first inquiry, he vanished with his illegitimate wife.

And so it began one of the most famous hunt in the Wizarding Community. The Potters' Persecution. It took the Aurors months to come across a real lead. We've been requesting for years access to details of the investigation, however, the Ministry is strict on the matter. Regardless, the Potters were hiding in a secluded Muggle village. When confronted, they tried to retaliate and it was impossible to give them a fair trial. Mr Potter and his Mudblood wife died on that Halloween night-

Harry D'Angelo sets the paper on the table and sips on his coffee. He watches the streets of London from inside the cafe where he's sitting at a comfortable chair. The day is gray as usual and people walk fast to avoid the impending rain. Harry, on the other hand, doesn't mind. Today is a big day for him. A huge day. His first day as a British Auror. He runs a hand through his messy black hair. He's nervous. It's impossible to know what to expect. And now, living in England and being under their rigid laws, he needs to watch himself. Now that he's already twenty-five, as the Wizarding Law states, he must marry a selected bride. Their obsession with perpetrating the Pureblood lines borders insanity. But he chose this, so, he won't mind. No. He has other things to think about.

Leaving a few coins on the counter and seizing the paper, he lifts the lapel of his overcoat and lowers his head. Harry strides through the street, his mind replaying the words he just read at the Prophet. It was an assassination. Cold blooded assassination. James and Lily never stood a chance against those Aurors. But History is told by victors. The Minister would never expose his own cruelty to society. And Harry knows that the Prophet has a deal with the Ministry. The stories they tell come from the man himself, Tom Riddle.

It starts pouring down as if someone opened a faucet in heaven.

Harry jumps over a hole on the street and realizes he's almost there, the entrance to the Ministry is just across the street. The moment he steps inside the correct bathroom, he shakes his overcoat to free himself from the water, his hair dripping wet. He could use a charm to dry it, but why would he? What's so bad about some water? Shrugging, he enters the stall and flushes himself.

He exits at the famous Atrium he only saw in memories of his fellow Aurors in Italy. Reality does it justice. But he purses his lips at the giant statue in the middle of the room. In Harry's opinion, the concept is just tacky. Ridiculous even. Muggles being stomped by wizards. He stops a moment to observe, crossing his arms. Other wizards come and go without paying him any attention. He snorts to himself. The arrogance. And-

"It doesn't even make much sense, does it?"

Harry turns his head at the feminine voice by his side. He didn't notice someone was there observing the statue with him. Immediately he's a little bewitched by her beauty. Long and wavy brown hair, full lips and piercing chocolate eyes. Then he actually registers what she just said and frowns. To openly criticize the superiority of wizards is an inexcusable crime. He opens and closes his mouth, unsure if he should agree or disagree. She gives him a side smile.

"Are you new here?" She asks.

Harry clears his throat, extending his hand. "Harry D'Angelo. Just got transfered from Italy."

She takes his hand. Soft. "Really? Rome?"

"Yes."

She pulls her hand back. "Well, welcome. Hope you enjoy working here." She tilts her head and he notices how she clearly checks him out. He feels a little hot. "Auror?"

"Yes." Inexplicably his eyes travel to her hands, searching for a wedding band. He sees none. Still not married? It surprises him. Most women are already married at twenty-one. And he's sure she's a little older than that, probably his age.

"Me too." Her smile widens a bit. "Maybe I can walk you to the Head's office."

"That would be great." He answers honestly, exhaling. Harry has no idea who the Head is. He avoids news from the British Community because he disagrees with them on so many levels he preferred sweet ignorance.

However, now he wants to know it all.

The woman walks calmly and silently by his side and he's suddenly very interested in her. But he doesn't prod. Harry waits for the elevator to open and gestures for her to enter. She doesn't smile at him, but there's an amusement in her eyes. The door closes and they're alone inside.

"So," She says, turning to face him, "Care to tell me why your hair is all wet?" He chuckles softly and runs a hand through his soaked hair.

"Well," He shrugs, "It's raining outside." He has no better answer.

The woman narrows her eyes and takes a step closer to him. Harry's nostrils are assaulted by her amazing perfume, but he restrains himself from a reaction. Without warning she lifts her wand and points to his hair, murmuring a charm. In a beat he's all dry. Her hand goes up to one of his strand locks and she pushes it back into his hair. He swallows with some difficulty because of their proximity. The moment is charged. What's happening here? He never had this kind of reaction to a woman he'd just met.

But the elevator stops and she clears her throat, her eyes finally leaving his.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." He says when they exit the elevator at the Auror's floor.

"I didn't give you one." She opens that same side smile. He mimics her.

"Oh, I see. You don't want me reporting you to authorities." He says in a low voice referring to her comment about the statue not making much sense.

She chuckles wholeheartedly and he blinks at the perfect sound. Dio Mio. He's fascinated.

"Oh, Mr D'Angelo, that's not the case at all." She stops in front of a door. "It just happens that you would find out my name sooner or later." She points to the letters on the door and he reads them fast:

Hermione Riddle

Head Auror

"Pleasure." She extends her hand to him again, but Harry is numb. Speechless. "What?" She asks, a wrinkle between her brows. "Surprised the Minister's daughter is Head Auror? Thinking that I don't actually deserve the spot?"

Harry blinks fast at her words, but she recoils the hand he never took and opens the door, entering without turning back.

He might be hyperventilating. He was definitely not prepared for this. Mostly because he instantly liked her. And he feels… dirty. Uncomfortable that he could possibly like someone from this family, especially his daughter.

Setting his jaw he steps inside her office. It's big and oval shaped, a desk in the middle of it, a big shelf with books and files, a couch and another few chairs and like most wizard rooms, this one also has a private fireplace.

"Sit." She says bluntly, all her warmth gone. He obeys and watches as she reads his file. "Interesting, Mr D'Angelo. You have a stellar curriculum." She raises her eyes to him. "I was told you were the best." There's a pause after that, as if she's expecting him to say something. He doesn't. "But, I'm not interested in your achievements as an Auror."

He tilts his head. "You're not?"

"No. To be honest, Aurors bellow average don't even step inside this Ministry. But I'm curious. Tell me, why this transference? Why now?"

Harry chews the inside of his cheek, a nervous tell he tries hiding immediately. But she already saw, he's sure. Dammit.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Mr D'Angelo?"

"Not at all." He straightens his back and narrows his eyes. "I'm here because I was looking for a change in my life."

"Really?"

"Yes. Why? You seem skeptical, Miss Riddle."

"I have my reasons."

"And what are those?"

"Do you really wanna play this game?"

There's a pause then. He doesn't move, frozen on the spot. It's impossible for her to know his secret. Impossible. He slowly opens a seductive smile.

"What game, exactly? Because there are some I'm more than willing to play with you."

He sees some surprise in her expression, not to mention a discreet blush up her neck. Adorable- No, not adorable, she's a Riddle.

"Fine." She leans back on her chair, crossing her arms. "Have it your way, Mr D'Angelo, but I'm tired of these veiled threats. We all know how tense the relations between the British and Italian communities are. Many Italians like to say out loud in public how the British Ministry wishes to control wizards and witches all around the world with strict and brutal laws." Hermione presses a finger against her temple. "Recently five of my Aurors got into a nasty fight with at least ten Italian Aurors who were 'visiting' London. It is also known that Muggleborns are accepted into Italian society and in some cases can even marry Purebloods. And that goes against everything we believe and stand for here." She presses her delicate finger on the table to reinforce her point. "And from what I've seen from you in just a few minutes, I can tell you're as Italian as it gets. You go by their rules and I ask you again, what are you doing here? Are you a spy, Mr D'Angelo?" She opens a knowing smile. "You wouldn't tell me, of course, but I would like you to know that I'm onto you. It makes everything more interesting, don't you think?"

He can't help but exhale a bit relieved. She doesn't know his secret, but her arguments come close enough…

"You can't possibly know my principles, Miss Riddle. I'm here for a reason, I assure you, and spying on you is not it." He locks his eyes on hers, serious. "I know you may not believe me, but there's nothing you can do at the moment."

"I'm Head Auror, Mr D'Angelo, if I suspect you, I can banish you from England in a second."

"I'm sorry, Head Auror, but as fas as I know, only the Minister can do that."

"Do you think my father wouldn't take my decision into consideration?" She sounds angry.

"I know he would. But in this case, he was the one who personally requested for me to be here, Miss Riddle."

He finally strikes a chord. Hermione opens her mouth, not hiding her utter shock. Harry smiles widely.

"I-"

"Didn't know about that?" He taunts her. "Well, I guess Minister Riddle doesn't have to share all his decisions with his inferiors."

She looks like she might punch him. But abruptly her expression changes to one of… fear?

"What's so special about you that the Minister himself requested your transference? That makes things even more suspicious, Mr D'Angelo."

He raises an eyebrow. "Really? I don't see things that way."

"How do you see them, then?"

"Well, maybe he finds his Aurors lacking, Miss Riddle. Maybe he needs the best from another country to… improve things a little here."

She openly bites her lower lip and Harry can't help finding it a bit… sexy.

"This is no joke for me." She stands from her chair and he takes in how well her red dress fits her. Couldn't she be less attractive? Shit. Hermione circles her desk and stops in front of him, leaning in. "I have no idea why you're here, or what your plan is, but if you mess with our laws, if you even dare disturb our order of Aurors, be sure that I'll be there to make you pay."

He feels a chill down his spine. He's half attracted to her, half afraid of her.

"Duly noted."

Merlin. He wants to kiss her. How dare she be this strong and threatening? This beautiful and… the daughter of the man he hates the most in the whole world?

She moves back and, again, extends her hand to him. "Welcome to the Auror Department."

"Just like that?" He stands from his chair, towering her a bit, very close.

"Just like that."

He takes her soft and small hand in his, watchful for any indication of distress from her. He sees none. Hermione squeezes his hand.

"Thank you, then." He says.

"Good. Follow me, we have a meeting in ten minutes."

And as easily as she trapped him with her piercing eyes, she pulls her hand and moves away, back to the other side of the desk. Harry's hand tingles from their contact and he crosses his arms to ignore it.

"A meeting? I can't believe you suspect me this much and is already taking me to a meeting." He snorts. "A meeting with the Head Auror is always an important one."

She falsely smiles at him. "I'm glad you're smart." Taking a few files, she puts on a cloak over her dress. It looks disturbingly good on her and his mind wanders to a forbidden land where he imagines her wearing the Auror uniform, and then nothing at all. Harry looks down and gulps. "You're right in a way. I shouldn't give you much liberty or information, but," She raises a finger, "the more you know, the sooner you'll show your true self, Mr D'Angelo. And I'm anxious to have a reason to hex you."

Harry sincerely laughs. "Oh, you're good, Miss Riddle. But I'm afraid that day will never come. Tough luck."

She snorts and he follows her out of the office, a nice and warm sensation inside him. That has no relation with her whatsoever.

Ministry of Magic

Meeting Room

The room is as simple as it gets. Four white walls and a big round table. There are four Aurors already there, sitting and waiting patiently.

"I want you all to meet our new Auror. This is-"

"Harry D'Angelo." Harry introduces himself, interrupting Hermione.

"D'Angelo?" A blond man says. "Are you Italian?" Harry can feel the distaste in the man's words.

"Yes." He answers simply. "And you are?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Harry raises an eyebrow. He's heard about the Malfoys. And he hates all of them.

"Don't mind my husband's rude manners." A beautiful red haired woman says. "Ginny Malfoy."

"I'm her brother," A friendlier man says, "Ronald Weasley."

Ah. The Weasleys. He's heard of them too. Harry doesn't have a formed opinion about their family, though.

There's just another man inside the room and his eyes are heavy on Harry, menacing.

"I'm Asmodeus Pettigrew."

Harry stops breathing for a second, stiffening. Hermione is watching him closely and he only smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you."

Apart from Ronald, no one pays him much attention. But Malfoy says, "Should he be here, Hermione?"

She sits and Harry pulls a chair by her side. He notices it bothers her and a small smile pulls at his face.

"Are you questioning my decision, Draco?"

A heavy silence settles.

"Of course not." Malfoy says.

Hermione nods. "Good. Mr D'Angelo is one of the best. And so are we. So, I see no reason why he shouldn't join us on our mission tonight."

Harry widens his eyes at that. A mission? Already?

"Scared, D'Angelo?" Pettigrew asks.

"There's only one thing that scares me in this life, Pettigrew."

The other man laughs ironically. "Yeah? Are you sharing it with us?"

Harry leans forward on the table. He already had a good enough motive to hate Pettigrew, but as it goes he's learning more reasons to loathe the man.

"Who knows? Maybe one day." Harry says.

"Okay. Enough." Hermione says with a definitive tone and their attention goes to her. "Let's talk about our mission. D'Angelo-"

"Please." He interrupts her. "Call me Harry."

Hermione discreetly purses her lips. Harry knows she doesn't want any kind of proximity with him. And that's exactly why he's doing it.

"Harry," It's strange how he likes to hear his name coming out of her mouth. "Since you just arrived I'll explain a few things to you, for context. You probably know about James Potter and his illegal wife, right?" Harry's hand that is under the table fists into a ball and he nods to Hermione. "Well, since today marks the twenty-fourth anniversary of their death - and it's also Halloween - we tend to have a lot in our hands. Unfortunately, large groups of Muggles sympathizers still exist amongst our community and on this day they tend to wreak some havoc while they pay homage to Lily Evans."

"That cunt!" Pettigrew exclaims with a smile. "I'm glad my father found out where they were hiding. He's a hero. Do you know that, D'Angelo? A bloody hero."

No one moves. But Harry wished he could cross the table and punch Pettigrew's face so hard it would turn into a pulp. He would be so disfigured no one would recognize him after Harry had his go. But he breathes normally, unaffected. He's expecting this.

"Nevertheless," Hermione goes on, "We have a lead that one of these groups is preparing a big commotion tonight at the Great Wizarding Fair. I intercepted a Patronus a few days ago. The message was pretty clear about how they were ready to make the Pureblood supremacists pay for what they did to Lily Evans. I don't think their claim has changed from what we already know. They want to reintroduce Muggleborns into our society. Not just that, their main goal is that the mixing of bloods be allowed. We know these wizards are minority, but we can't let them spread fear, because is exactly through fear and misinformation that they want to seize power and convince others of their beliefs."

Hermione stops for a second to look at the file and moves her wand to project the informations in front of them. And Harry can't help thinking how conveniently blind they all are. Tom Riddle already rules through fear and misinformation.

"I know we already dealt with a few of these threats, but this one feels different." Hermione says after they all had a better look at the location and possible targets.

"Why is that?" Ginny asks.

The Head Auror shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Well," Hermione gets up. "We'll meet later at the Fair. Harry and Asmodeus, you'll be with me. Draco, Gin and Ron you go together. We'll move in clockwise direction. We only leave when the Fair ends. Is that clear?"

They nod. Harry has to admit that he's impressed by how much they all respect Hermione Riddle. He really thought for a while that she got the spot because of her name… now he's not so sure.

They all start gathering their things to leave the room. Harry hears Hermione telling Ronald to show him his desk and strangely he feels the loss of her. He knows she's heading to her office to spend the whole day there. Out of sight. Harry shakes his head and makes a question he knows will tease her.

"Do we have to wear costumes?"

But it's not Hermione who answers him. She watches as Pettigrew does.

"Actually yes, D'Angelo. It's tradition here. I guess Italians don't care about that, do they?"

The man stands in front of Harry. They're practically the same height. Both very strong. Harry crosses his arms, Pettigrew does the same.

"Italians don't care about a lot of things."

"So I see. You're all lazy and Muggles' worshipers. You disgust me." Pettigrew actually spits on the floor in front of Harry.

But before he can do something about it, Hermione puts herself between both. If he wasn't so enraged by Pettigrew's words and actions, he would be dizzy by her proximity, but at the moment his eyes are focused on the other man, his breathing shallow from sheer anger. The others are watching by the door.

"Stop. Both of you. Now."

"I can't believe you're defending him." Pettigrew says to her and Harry sees something different in his eyes. A hidden softness that only exists when he looks at Hermione. Are they a couple? The thought hits him like a lightning bolt. And he feels an uncomfortable hotness twisting inside his stomach.

"I'm not taking sides in this, Asmo. I just won't have two Aurors fighting between themselves while we have other things to worry about." Hermione puts a hand on Pettigrew's arm. "Okay?" The way she changes her tone makes Harry's insides churn. How this insufferable guy could get her affection? Oh, right. She's just as bad as him.

Harry shakes himself and takes a step back. "Head Auror is right. We have other things to worry about. And I just want to give my best here."

Pettigrew and Hermione don't turn to him. They're enthralled by each other. Harry purses his lips and moves away. Ronald is there to show him around and he's thankful for that. Thankful that he'll finally put some distance between him and Hermione. He can't care about her. He shouldn't.

And yet… it hurts a bit to be away from her.

Great Wizarding Fair

He wished he could smoke a cigarette.

But in England, wizards are forbidden from owning or using muggle objects. They're considered inferior and useless. Harry pockets his hand. The air is chilly and he shivers a little.

"Why don't you perform a warming spell?"

He jumps on the spot. Hermione is there, smiling. "You scared the shit out of me." He whispers.

"You're a trained Auror and it's the second time I sneak up on you, D'Angelo. Should I reconsider your skills? Maybe you should go home?" She's teasing, but there's also a hint of seriousness on her tone.

"Of course not. I was just… wandering a bit." And before she can say anything else he performs the warming charm. And then he really looks at her. Harry forgets how to breathe for a second. Hermione looks absolutely gorgeous. She's wearing high leather boots, a black trouser that leaves nothing to imagination as it clings to her legs, a white blouse and over it a vest with strings. Harry recognizes she's a pirate because of the hat with a skull on it. The notion of pirates is something that reaches both Wizarding and Muggle world. But Hermione is surely thinking about those who had magic.

"What are you suppose to be dressed as?" She asks.

"I'm a student." He turns to show her his clothes. Black trouser, white shirt and a scarlet and golden tie. It's a Hogwarts' uniform. "I always heard great things about Hogwarts." He shrugs.

She tilts her head. "A Gryffindor I see."

"I guess." He has no idea why he feels shy all of the sudden. He wants to ask her about her years at Hogwarts, but a loud crack from Pettigrew's apparition stops him.

"Hey." The man smiles at Hermione and she returns the gesture. Harry looks away. Pettigrew is also dressed as a pirate.

"Okay. Let's head inside. Remember, together at all times. Look out for any strange activity. And as always, our main goal is to protect civilians." Pettigrew nods and walks forward. Hermione stops Harry before he moves into the Fair. "I'm watching you closely, D'Angelo. Don't forget about it."

"I would never, Head Auror." He says through gritted teeth and Hermione narrows her eyes. Then she walks forward and he takes a deep breath before doing the same.

Harry has to admit he's very surprised with the quality of the Fair. In Italy, Halloween is not celebrated the same way as in England. Hell, for Harry every Halloween night was an excuse to get as drunk as possible and pass out in some gutter.

Maybe in years this is the first time he's doing something different.

For starters he's sober.

And working.

But even if he never cared too much for this day, he's awed by the sincere happiness most wizards and witches seem to be sharing. Everyone is laughing and playing fun games, not to mention how serious they are with the whole paying homage to the dead and their spirits thing. He stops in front of a decorated altar. There are letters hanging from it, enchanted candles on the floor and numerous flowers around.

He glances around and sees Hermione and Pettigrew talking a few feet away from him. They're on duty but also enjoying the Fair. Harry purses his lips. His eyes going back to the altar. He never payed homage to his loved ones. To the ones he lost all those years ago. But again, maybe he never had the chance to do it, never encountered an opportunity. He reaches for a piece of paper and scribbles down a short note. He doesn't have much to say. Sealing it he closes his eyes. I miss you. In a blink his message is hanging there with the others. He has his eyes fixed on it, but he senses someone approaching and he stiffens a bit, prepared.

But it's Hermione.

"Didn't know you'd lost someone." Her voice is even and sweet. Affectionate. He opens a small smile and looks at her.

"Yeah, I mean, haven't we all in a way?" He shrugs.

Hermione doesn't answer for a while. Her eyes set on him. Then she moves her wand and a wreath of flowers float underneath his note.

Harry sets his jaw. She can't know how this simple gesture affects him. But it's adoring and he feels like hugging her for it. But they don't move.

"I- I'm sorry if I overstepped-"

"No." He says fast. "Not at all." He smiles to her. "Thank you."

It surprises him how much it means. Her expression softens and she opens her mouth to say something. But Harry will never know what she was about to say because a scream nearby invades their ears. It's that kind of panicked and hurtful scream. Unmistakable.

In a blur they move, Pettigrew meeting them. Very fast they spot a woman trashing on the floor, people gathering around her. She keeps screaming. Harry has seen this already: she's cursed. Hermione is moving in front of them but Harry holds her arm.

"What the fu-"

"Don't get too close to her." He says. Pettigrew is putting up a protective shield around the cursed woman.

"Get back! All of you!" Hermione yells.

The woman abruptly stops screaming and trashing and then she's floating in the air, her eyes red, her expression strange, as if not her own.

"YOU'LL LISTEN TO OUR MESSAGE!" She bellows in an inhuman voice. Harry and Hermione move closer, their wands moving and helping Pettigrew's shield. The cursed woman is a threat. "LISTEN!" And she raises her arms out. Noises and conversation and laughter all die down along the fair. All lights go off and many wizards raise their wands in order to illuminate the place. Harry is sure the woman got the attention she wanted. All eyes are on her. "PUREBLOOD SUPREMACISTS HAVE NO PLACE IN OUR COMMUNITY ANYMORE! YOU'LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO LILY EVANS! AND THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING!"

Harry watches as the woman closes her eyes and her whole body trembles. Then she falls on the floor. All lights and noises are back, but people are silent. Waiting.

Hermione is the first to react. "All of you! Apparate to your houses, now! Out of here!"

People seem shocked at first, but in a matter of seconds the sounds of apparition are heard all around the fair. But some people refuse to move, refuse to give in to fear. Harry wished Purebloods weren't so stubborn. This habit of thinking of themselves as untouchable is what will get them killed eventually.

A Patronus from Malfoy reaches them. He's with Ginny and Ronald at the other extremity of the park. And it's a hell of a big park.

"Hermione. It happened there? Around here we told people to apparate but some resist in staying. We're on alert for any threat."

Harry can see how the information unsettles her. "Someone needs to take that woman to St. Mungo's." Hermione says and Pettigrew sends out a Patronus.

Harry observes. Apparently there's no threat in sight, but he knows something is coming. Only a simple yell and warning wouldn't deliver the real message. He's about to say that to Hermione when a man falls down to the ground close to them. Harry's eyes widen when the man spits out blood, one hand over his also blooded heart.

"What?" Hermione and Pettigrew approach the man and Harry hears a hissing and strong sound, then another man falls on his knees.

Fast enough he sees the red laser of muggle guns targeting the wizards. "GET DOWN!" He yells, but the guns are faster. Wizards and witches are falling like flies.

Hermione acts fast and tries shielding the area. But bullets zoom through her shield with no resistance at all. Harry grits his teeth and does his best to send away bullet by bullet with dispersing spells.

He runs around the place doing that and warning people to apparate away. And now they listen. Hermione and Pettigrew are fast to notice what Harry is doing and they spread out into the park, doing the same. Briefly Harry sees Hermione sending out a few Patronus, probably calling for help.

He's not sure how fast or how much he runs, but he saves a pretty decent amount of people. And when he sees himself alone, he lets his eyes wander to the woods around the park. The shooters are probably there, hidden among the trees. Should he try pursuing them? Could he? They would see me coming from miles away. It would be stupid.

But things are finally calming down. He can't hear the guns anymore and the place is empty. From afar he sees Malfoy and the Weasleys. Pettigrew is far away talking to healers. There are a lot of wounded people. And Harry is sure that most are probably dead. They were aiming for the heart. He has no doubt that when they identify the deceased they'll discover they come from extreme Pureblood families.

It was pretty much an act of war. And are there Muggles directly involved in this?

"Are you hurt?" Hermione's voice brings him back to reality, then he feels her hand on his forearm. It tingles. He looks into her eyes, she seems worried. He shakes his head.

"No, I mean, it's nothing. I guess a bullet grazed me." He's bleeding.

"You should talk to a healer."

He nods. Her hand is still on his arm, touching his skin like a caress. Hermione sighs. Harry can see tears forming behind her eyes. She purses her lips.

"This is bad." She says referring to what just happened. He wants to cups her face and tell her it's all going to be fine. But a commotion ahead stops him.

It's the Minister himself. Harry feels cold. It's the first time ever he's setting eyes on Tom Riddle. And he never imagined how strong the urge to murder him would be.

The Minister strides right up to them.

"Hermione!" Harry is frozen while Riddle hugs his daughter. "Are you okay? What the hell happened here?" Harry senses the worry in his tone, but also the harshness. "You told me you had this under control!"

He doesn't wait to hear Hermione's answer. Finally out of his daze, Harry moves to step away from father and daughter. Tom Riddle barely spared him a look and Harry's glad about it, he doesn't want to draw attention to him. Not yet, at least.

He can see Ginny taking care of Malfoy while Ronald is sending out a Patronus. Pettigrew is walking to Hermione and her father. Harry moves from one foot to another, uncomfortable. Pettigrew seems to be very close to the Riddles. Why does it bother me? He can't find a proper answer.

They talk in hushed tones. The Minister gives Pettigrew all his attention, one hand on his shoulder in approval. Hermione is moving her hands and explaining the situation, Pettigrew seems to be agreeing with her words, his eyes admiring her. Harry crosses his arms and walks forward, a little closer to them. He has no idea what he's waiting or what he's doing. He feels disorientated by Tom Riddle's presence. Not just that, the real notion of the man being Hermione's father… but they look nothing alike. He narrows his eyes. Hermione has a softness to her features that doesn't even come close to Tom's sharp angles.

A strangeness invades Harry. His mind tells him something is wrong.

But he doesn't dwell on it. A red laser appears on Hermione's back and Harry simply doesn't think. He moves. As fast as he can, in a blur. "GET DOWN!" He yells the moment he tackles Hermione to the floor, something hitting his middle on the back. They hit the floor with full force and Harry grunts. Hermione exhales with difficulty under him. "Are you okay?" He asks, dizzy.

"Yes, yes. What-"

He feels her hand on his back and… he doesn't know why but she's fading away and a blackness is taking over. He's sure the last thing he hears is his name. Hermione saying his name.

St. Mungo's

He opens his eyes in a jolt, moving forward. "Hermione!" He reaches out, his heart beating in a crazy rhythm.

A hand covers his and Harry blinks. His back hurts immensely. He can't remember what happened exactly, but there was a red laser on her back and-

"I'm here. Harry." He turns his head, meeting her eyes. She's smiling softly. "Hey." He opens and closes his mouth. She's the one holding his hand. "I'm fine. You saved me."

"I did?" He frowns. Oh, yeah. I took a bullet for her. He gulps at the realization. "Yeah, I-" He looks around. He's at the Hospital. Harry sighs. No matter how much he hates being in a Hospital, one way or another he's always back with some injury.

He leans on the bed. Hermione is attentively watching him. They're still holding hands. It feels nice. Harry presses his lips together and pulls his hand, wincing at the pain on his back. Hermione looks down and crosses her arms, bracing herself.

"You lost a lot of blood. The bullet stayed inside you, and you had surgery to remove it. The healer said another ten minutes you would be dead." Her voice falters a bit. "But you should be good in a few days. There's a potion for you to take. Every 6 hours." She points to a purple potion on the little table by his bed.

Harry just nods and notices that she's still in her costume, only the hat is missing. He can't understand what possessed him to save Tom Riddle's daughter. He should have let her die. She would crumble to the floor in front of her father and Riddle would relive this trauma forever. He bites the inside of his cheek. Even now, it makes him sick to imagine Hermione falling down dead.

"Well-" He begins but she cuts him.

"Why did you do it?" She asks. He tilts his head. "Why did you save me? You almost got yourself killed, D'Angelo." So, back to being D'Angelo.

"What do you mean? You wanted me to let you die? You expected me to let a fellow Auror be murdered?"

She wets her lips with her tongue. "When we know it might cost our own lives… we often hesitate. And I know you didn't. If you had I would be dead."

"Yeah, well." He shrugs and looks away from her.

"It bothers me because I don't know what to think." She sounds honest and he moves to look into her eyes again, surprised. "I don't know if you did it because you want to convince me that I can really trust you, leading me to that and maybe fooling me later, or if you're just incredibly brave and inherently good. And a bit stupid."

"What do you think?"

"I still don't have an answer. But it actually doesn't matter. Regardless your reasons, you saved my life and for that I'm thankful, Harry." He barely registers her words and Hermione is leaning to him, pressing her lips to his cheek. He briefly closes his eyes. It's a fast and chaste kiss, but she stays close to him, their eyes searching each other's. "And for that I'll always owe you one. Hope you get well soon."

And without another word or glance, Hermione rushes out of the room.

As if also startled by their exchange.

What the bloody hell?

He sighs and covers his face with a hand. He grunts. This can't happen. He can't be infatuated with her. No. Anyone but her. Not because she's his boss. Or even because she seems to have a relationship with Pettigrew. But mostly because she's the daughter of his enemy. She carries the name of the man Harry sworn to kill when he left Italy. He didn't lie to Hermione when he said he wasn't a spy. He really isn't. He's worse.

He's the unknown child of James and Lily Potter.

He was practically a baby when Aurors invaded his house and killed his parents under the orders of Tom Riddle. They never imagined his mother had hid him. And Harry only survived because of a nurturing spell they had casted on him before dying.

However, a kind man heard his cry and Harry found shelter at the house of strangers who became his family. He was adopted properly and named a D'Angelo. But when he was old enough to understand, he was told of his true name, of his parents. James and Lily were prepared for a situation like this. Harry had a letter and a bag with photos and memories of him with them.

He's unable to forget their happy faces.

Also incapable of leaving behind the injustice they suffered.

And that's why he's in England. He wants to end every and each one of them who had anything to do with the Potters' Persecution.

His true name is Harry Potter and he'll have his revenge.

Chapter Text

November 2nd, 2005

Harry's flat

He winces.

The pain from the new healing wound he now has because of the bullet he took for Hermione is an annoying reminder that he's an idiot. Sighing, he crumbles down on his couch and sips on a beer - a muggle beer he was able to smuggle. He got three days leave from work and is using his free time to go over his plan of revenge. Not that he hadn't already. Since Harry was old enough to understand what had happened to his parents he's been obsessed with it. He remembers nights he would barely sleep because of the many ways he imagined himself destroying Tom Riddle's life.

It was a reality that seemed out of reach.

But now he's here. In London. Close to Riddle. Now, he finally might get what he's been wanting for more than fifteen years. It's an overwhelming and exhilarating notion.

He taps his wand on his thigh while he observes the mental map he magically drew on the wall. People, evidences, what he wants. His plan is simple, actually. Infiltrate the Ministry, find the evidences of what really happened to his parents, expose Tom Riddle and end this Blood Supremacy nonsense. He moves his wand and pulls an indicator from the word 'people'.

Maybe that's the best place to start. Harry has a good idea who are the ones he must observe and investigate. Again, with his wand, he starts writing on the wall:

- Lucius Malfoy; Draco Malfoy; Narcissa Malfoy.

- Arthur Weasley; Molly Weasley; Ronald Weasley; Ginny Weasley (Malfoy).

- Peter Pettigrew; Asmodeus Pettigrew.

- Sirius Black; Eleonora Black; Sally Black.

- Remus Lupin; Nymphadora Lupin.

- Tom Riddle; Bellatrix Riddle; Hermione Riddle.

He stops at the last name and chews the insides of his cheeks. It's a bit hard to associate Hermione with someone like Tom Riddle. Her father is an assassin. But she was nice to him, warm - apart from the moments she was on his tail just waiting for a tiny slip on his part to send him away, of course. He opens a side smile. Her total shock when he said the Minister himself request his transference was priceless. It wasn't easy, but getting Tom Riddle to notice him as an Auror was the first part of his plan.

Harry was invited to join Aurora: Scuola di Magia when he turned eleven and like most Wizarding Schools, he spent years learning and understanding his magic. He was the best student, excelling in every subject and doing his best to leave school and enter the Auror training as soon as possible. He knew being number one was essential to someone like Riddle. Harry lost count on how many articles about the Minister he gathered and studied throughout the years. It became clear that, powerful, strong and skillful wizards were sought out by him in order to raise his Ministry above any other. It's pretty much like Hermione said, no one bellow average even has a chance in making the final cut and that's mostly because of the way Riddle controls things.

He stands from the couch and crosses his arms, a bottle of beer in one hand and his wand in the other, his eyes on the wall. He wonders what Hermione would do if she knew he was the one who started the fight between the Italian and British Aurors she mentioned. Harry is not one to incite violence, but he needed a reason to talk to his Minister and suggest the idea of an offer of peace with the British. He volunteered to move to London and try to appease things a bit. When Lorenzo - the Italian Minister - talked to Riddle after the brawl between Aurors, Harry's words were spoken and the idea taken, with one condition, of course: Riddle would only accept THE best Auror, mentioning that he knew a certain D'Angelo was it.

And here I am, Tom.

From what he understood, Hermione has no idea about this deal her father made with Lorenzo and it surprised Harry a bit. The moment he discovered she was Head Auror, he immediately presumed her position was only a way for Riddle to manipulate the Aurors, but he can't shake the way he talked harshly to Hermione at the Fair. It seems like she's the real one in charge of her Aurors and that's not what Harry expected. It makes sense in a way... she's his daughter. She wouldn't betray him.

He takes another sip from his bottle and goes over all the names on the wall again. There are surely other people involved in his parents' assassination, but for him to know their names and faces, he must focus on… the evidence. Harry pulls an indicator from the word and proceeds to write what he knows:

- It happened on October 31st, 1981.

- Five Aurors (who?) were sent by the Minister to the location.

- They found out about the location because of Peter Pettigrew (and possibly Black and Lupin).

- It was reported that James and Lily tried to kill the Aurors without a conversation (lies).

- The Minister considered the mission a success.

- Some uprisings took over England as many thought the action extreme, but Riddle muffled them violently.

- Since then, the Potters are used as example as to how tainting your blood and family is dangerous.

Harry exhales heavily. The Potters' Persecution was the only thing people talked about at the time, but he knows little about it because most was kept hidden. Only one place holds all the information he needs: the Ministry's Archives. He needs to know who were the five Aurors that night, he needs to be sure. He also wants to read the interrogation his father went through when they started suspecting his mother's bloodline. And he's certain Pettigrew gave away their location, but were Black and Lupin involved? In a way he thinks that how they betrayed James was worse than the hatred Riddle incited against Muggles and Muggleborns.

He sets his jaw remembering how Asmodeus talked about his mother at the meeting room.

This leads him to 'what I want' on the wall:

- Punch Pettigrew's face.

- Destroy the lives of everyone remotely involved in what happened to my parents.

- Help the rebels and their uprisings.

- Stop the hate discourse against Muggles and Muggleborns.

- Kill Tom Riddle's family.

He sighs and walks around inside his living room while he ends his beer. His main goal has always been clear and simple: the man who took from him the chance of having a family shouldn't have one. So, it disturbs him that on the first day he got there, he saved Riddle's daughter's life!

Harry grunts.

"This can't be an issue." He says out loud. "She means nothing to me, there's no reason why I shouldn't end her." He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. He admits he felt something towards Hermione. An attraction. But that doesn't matter. "She's just a means to an end." They all are. His fellow Aurors and anyone else he eventually meets. None of them matter.

A bit calmer he sits back down on his couch, the wound on his back hurting. Harry summons the potion for his pain and makes a face at it. Inevitably he remembers Hermione's soft hand on his at the Hospital… and her gentle kiss on his cheek pops into his mind. It's been happening a lot more often than he wished. "Stop acting like a horny teenager, Harry." He mumbles and swallows the potion.

Nothing will stop him from getting what he wants.

November 4th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

He was greeted as a hero. And Harry can't say he's not shocked. Of course, he was expecting some kind of handshake for saving the Head Auror, but in his mind it didn't even come close to what actually happened.

The moment he stepped at the Auror's floor, people cheered and applauded him. And he immediately saw her in the crowd. A big smile on her face and strong claps. He averted his eyes quickly trying his best not to show how her attention and recognition made him hesitant.

After he thanked everyone, most people scattered around going back to their duties, but some stayed behind and talked to him. Harry was patient and charming, welcoming to anyone who might want to be his friend. All the time he kept in mind that in order to be accepted into this environment and position he needed to do this - he indeed noticed many displeased faces in the crowd while they clapped. And in a way he understands, he just got transfered from Italy, something that doesn't help him at all. But Harry needs their trust, their informations, their connections.

So, he talks and laughs and shrugs off his action of saving Hermione as something he would have done no matter what. But the truth is… he has no idea why he did it.

"Okay, okay, let the man breathe." Hermione says as she approaches Harry and two other Aurors. "We have work to do, people." She says pointedly to the two Aurors and just like that they excuse themselves and head back to their desks.

Hermione finally turns to Harry. She's wearing her Auror uniform today and he had no idea these clothes could look so good on someone. Since she's Head Auror, her entire outfit is red with hints of black, opposed to the one Harry is wearing.

He has no idea what to say or how to act. Which is unsettling.

"I-" They say at the same time.

She looks down and he gulps. "Please, you first." He says.

"Well, I just wanted to thank you again for… saving my life." He presses his lips together and shrugs a bit, like it was no big deal. Hermione takes a step closer to him and he stands on alert. They're in the middle of the room, all Aurors around. Harry's pretty sure most of them are watching their interaction. But, lowering her voice, Hermione says, "But don't think that will give you any kind of privilege here, D'Angelo." He opens his mouth. He didn't do it thinking about advantages or- He tilts his head at her small smile. She's teasing me, isn't she? "Back to work, okay?"

Opening a tiny smile he nods and turns to walk away, but… "Head Auror," She raises both eyebrows at his call, "I'm glad you're well." That blush comes up her neck and that's the only thing stopping him from immediately regretting his words. He has no idea what possessed him to say that.

Hermione clears her throat and is ready to walk away when a memo stops between them, clearly addressed to both. They frown. Harry watches while she reads it, discreetly noticing little signs of distress on her, like the way she tightens her jaw and holds the memo too fiercely. But she hides it pretty fast.

"Well," She says to him while putting down the memo, "the Minister wants to talk to us. Now."

Harry was waiting for this, so, he nods. They walk in silence to the elevator and he understands that something compelled him to save her. Maybe he wasn't thinking at the time, but deep down he knew his action would be rewarded. He's sure Tom Riddle will look at him differently now and maybe this can open some doors. Maybe he can get into their inner circle more easily.

They enter the elevator and he can't help noticing that Hermione looks… nervous. She's fidgeting by his side, cracking her knuckles and shifting her weight from one foot to another. He wonders if she's aware how kind of an open book she is.

Such an interesting read.

Still in total silence they exit the elevator to a private floor. The Minister's office is only accessible to those summoned by him. Harry noticed the elevator stopped for a bit before really opening. It was recognizing and allowing them in. It's ridiculous to think that the Minister has a whole floor to himself, but following his logical way of thinking, Tom Riddle surely considers himself the only one worthy of such privacy and greatness.

The whole floor is chilling. Dark walls, red carpet. There's some kind of waiting room with couches and chairs near a huge double door, and in the middle of it, a statue of Riddle himself. Harry can't help raising an eyebrow. Just as tacky as the statue at the Atrium. They're only a few steps away from the door when Harry asks:

"Why are you so nervous?"

Hermione stops. Harry frowns. "What makes you think I'm nervous?"

"Well, I- it seemed that you-" He stutters a bit and she interrupts.

"Listen, D'Angelo," Her posture changes and the anxious woman Harry saw since she read the memo is totally gone. He's talking to the Head Auror now. And she's confident and… threatening. "Just because you took a bullet for me doesn't mean you know me. At all." Her eyes narrow and he crosses his arms in a defensive manner. "I hope you don't forget your place. I'm your boss."

Harry raises both eyebrows and presses his lips together. He nods. "I'm aware."

"Good."

Without another word, she turns and knocks on the door. In a second it opens inward for them.

Harry doesn't know what he was expecting, but Tom Riddle's office surprises him. It's luxurious and warm with a gigantic fireplace and five huge windows that allow the Minister to watch all floors from his chair. The man himself has his hands resting together on his huge table, his posture of someone that has been waiting. And he clearly doesn't like that. Harry's eyes travel to two huge shelves on the wall opposed to the fireplace and he realizes books and files are kept there. Shit. Chances that his parents' file is there are extremely high. And that complicates things a bit.

"What took you so long?" Riddle's voice cut through the air and Harry finally gives the man his full attention.

It's odd to be this close to the person who ruined his entire life. Harry imagined this moment a few countless times and almost in every one of them, he would walk to Riddle and reveal his true identity proudly, finally able to avenge his parents while he told the man that his family was now dead. Murdered by his own hands.

But reality is very different. Patience.

"We came as soon as we got the memo, sir." Hermione says.

They stand side by side since the Minister hasn't told them to sit. There are three huge empty couches in the room. Riddle leans back on his chair and his eyes leave his daughter to focus on Harry. He can't help thinking what this Blood Supremacist would do if he knew he was looking at Harry Potter.

"You look familiar, D'Angelo. Why is that?" Riddle asks.

Harry takes a few seconds to answer... "I don't know, sir. Maybe you saw my face in one of the many articles about me in Italy."

"Maybe." There's a pause, "You're after all the best, aren't you?" Harry doesn't answer. "I hope you can fit here, D'Angelo." Harry nods curtly. "But we'll talk later. First," Riddle finally stands and pockets his hands. "Hermione, I've been postponing this conversation but-" He's interrupted by a knock on the door. Riddle waves his hand and Harry watches as Pettigrew enters the office. The man smiles at Hermione and barely turns his head to Harry. And if he thinks about it now, Pettigrew wasn't there when people greeted him earlier. "Ah, Pettigrew. Good. You got here just in time. I want to know exactly what happened at the Fair." Harry frowns. He was gone for three days and in his mind this subject was already dealt with… "I've already talked with the Malfoys and Weasley and now I want to hear from you."

Hermione clears her throat. "It happened fast. A woman was cursed and started yelling the message they never tire repeating about Lily Evans."

"Our shields didn't work," Pettigrew continues, "and bullets are fast, our reaction was-"

"A disgrace." Riddle says sharply. Harry sees Pettigrew setting his jaw. "Do you know how many Purebloods died that night? Any idea? Huh?" No one dares even breathing, "Ninety-eight." Harry looks down. That's… a lot. "And you said you had it under control, Hermione." The same harshness Harry heard on that night is back.

"I take full responsibility." She says with a steady voice. "If it wasn't for D'Angelo's fast reaction I'm sure many more would be dead. He was the first to realize the shields wouldn't work and started dispersing the bullets one by one the best he could."

Harry widens his eyes a bit, his heart beating a tad faster. Pettigrew snorts but doesn't refuse Hermione's words.

"Is that so, D'Angelo?" Riddle tilts his head, as if amused by this new foreigner Auror.

"I think so, sir." He's glad his voice is normal enough for the occasion.

"Maybe I should make you Head of the Department, huh? What about that? It's a tempting idea since my daughter is clearly not up to such an important position!"

Hermione inhales sharply and Harry feels a sudden urge to defend her.

"If I may, sir?" He asks. Riddle narrows his eyes but moves his hand for Harry to go ahead. "If it wasn't for Head Riddle I'm not sure I would be in the right state of mind to act so fast." He thinks for a second if he should reveal this and decides he should, "I was Head Auror in Italy." He senses Hermione's head turning slightly to look at him - probably in shock because that information wasn't in his file. He decided to keep it for a moment he might find ideal. "And I often saw that an Auror who trusts his superior works better and with a clearer mind. Many times I was saved by my inferiors at the heat of the moment. Not because I didn't think myself worthy or capable to be in that position, but mostly because when on the field… the Head Auror can't think only about himself, sir. He thinks about all his Aurors and what they might need. It's a big responsibility and Head Riddle led the mission brilliantly in that aspect."

His words are followed by a heavy silence.

"Very well." The Minister finally says. "I'll take your words into consideration, D'Angelo. After all you also saved Hermione's life and for that I'm grateful." Riddle looks down. "Hermione and Asmodeus, deal with the press the best you can on this matter." They nod. "You'll also start an investigation on what happened. I want to know how whoever fired those bullets got hold of those kind of muggle guns. I also want to know if there were Mudbloods involved. I want names, do you understand? Someone needs to pay for this!" Again they just nod in agreement and Riddle goes on. "I hope you know that I'm very disappointed on you. Extremely. One more fault like this and it's over for both, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." They say in unison.

"Now, leave."

Harry purses his lips and turns but-

"Not you, D'Angelo. We have a lot to talk about."

He feels cold inside but nods and waits in silence for Hermione and Pettigrew to leave. She gives him a pointed look when she turns and Harry would bet everything he has that there's some gratitude in her eyes.

The door closes and he's alone with Riddle.

In a split and insane second Harry considers killing him right there.

He blinks it away.

"Sit." The Minister says and he moves to a couch. "Water?" Harry nods and Riddle conjures up two glasses. "So," He sits in front of Harry on an armchair. "I'm curious about your family." Harry takes a sip to avoid opening his mouth. He just hopes he doesn't start to sweat like crazy. "I mean, the D'Angelos are kinda of famous. A traditional Pureblood family in Italy. It's rare." Riddle sips. "Are you Bianca's son?"

"Yes." He says. In reality it was Bianca's father - Matteo D'Angelo - who took Harry in. And he knows for a fact that Bianca initially refused to take care of him. She was afraid of any kind of retaliation in case someone found out he was a Potter. But after a few months of tranquility, she - who had a certain difficulty in having kids - took Harry into her household and raised him like her own. Since they lived a bit isolated from the community, no one questioned her when she suddenly appeared with a child.

"And you have a good relationship with your grandfather, Matteo, is that right?"

"Yes, sir." Harry has no idea what Riddle wants to hear. He's sure not willing to talk about his family, but if he keeps answering like this the man might suspect he has something to hide. "I have a strong relationship with my mother's side of the family…"

"I heard your father wasn't very present." Riddle doesn't ask. He states.

"He wasn't, sir. But we found a way of understanding each other." Bianca's husband made an Unbreakable Vow when she took Harry in. He promised never to reveal his true identity. And it's a fact that they never developed a meaningful relationship. Harry never saw him as a father…

"That's why you have your grandfather's surname?"

Harry wants to tell Riddle to piss off. "My father made no objections to my grandfather's request on this matter, sir. Being his only grandson he wanted me to carry out his name."

The Minister nods and takes a sip of his water, his eyes heavy on Harry. He's testing me. Harry feels like he needs to give the right answers. To the wrong questions.

"Interesting." Riddle says. Harry sips on his water now, his throat dry. "Your lineage is impressive. However," Harry doesn't like his tone nor the way he leans a bit forward, "I must bring up an important topic. Your grandfather has a… worrisome past." Harry actually frowns. And he's glad his attitude is genuine because Riddle notices his surprise. "You may not know about this, D'Angelo, but your grandfather used to be very vocal about his support of Muggles and Muggleborns. Now," Riddle raises a finger, "I know he's Italian and in Italy things work differently from here, but since you're here D'Angelo, I hope you go by our laws. You don't have any kind of inclination towards Muggles and their 'rights', do you?"

"Of course not, sir-"

"Since you have a strong relationship with your grandfather, you might share his beliefs, who knows? It's natural to jump to this conclusion, isn't it, my boy?" Harry can feel that Riddle's tone is changing to a more menacing one. "It would be truly a shame if that was the case… and living here you would be trialled in accordance with your crimes."

"Sir… I assure you, I'm not a Muggle sympathizer." He holds Riddle's gaze for a long time, willing himself to hold his ground even if his heart is beating wildly.

Finally, after what seemed five minutes, Tom Riddle opens a discreet smile and leans back on his chair. "Good. I think you'll find yourself at home here, then." Another sip and a content sigh. "Now, I gather you also know that in England marriages are arranged." Harry nods. "Usually the families make this deal between themselves, but you've interested me, D'Angelo, so, it's my duty to find you a perfect match."

Harry can't help tilting his head and asking, "What's a perfect match, sir?"

"Well, since your lineage is very traditional, I must find an equally traditional wife for you." Riddle winks, having fun. Harry wants to vomit. "I always host a Ball at my house in mid November. You're invited. You'll have a chance of knowing the most important Pureblood families of England. It'll be a good opportunity to meet a probable match."

"Sir, I feel honored." His stomach aches from a burning sensation of pure hate.

Tom Riddle gets up and Harry understands the cue. Standing too he takes the hand Riddle extends to him. In his mind Harry is breaking the Minister's arm, twisting it behind his back and punching his face. He blinks. Harry opens a smile to the man in front of him. Riddle takes his hand back and motions for Harry to leave.

He does with a sourness in his mouth and a heaviness in his stomach.

November 5th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

"Thank Merlin it's Friday." Ronald Weasley says to Harry and sits by his side. Harry looks up from the article he's reading and narrows his eyes as he watches Ron eating an apple with ferocity. "So, what are you up to today?"

Harry frowns. "Nothing?" He's not sure he understands what the red haired is asking.

"Oh, come on, mate. Almost every Friday we go out. There's this-" Ron stops talking as he chews, "amazing magical night club we often go. Maybe you could join us."

He wonders who this 'us' might be. Since yesterday at Riddle's office he hadn't seen Hermione…

Harry can't deny he needs to vent a little. These past few days have been intense and maybe going out for a few drinks might be able to make him forget his encounter with the Minister yesterday. The whole scene keeps repeating itself inside his mind.

"I would love to, man." Harry says.

Ron smiles and pats his shoulder, giving him the address. "Meet us there!"

Harry shakes his head and resumes his reading.

Maybe he can have some fun.

The place is wilder than Harry would have imagined. But he's not complaining, the music is fairly good, the drinks just on point and with a simple muffling spell he's able to sit with his fellow Aurors and talk. He wets his lips and sips on his fake Firewhisky. He thought a lot about drinking or not this night. And Harry recognized it would be an amazing opportunity to talk with drunken Aurors while sober.

He laughs out loud at something Ron's wife says. He finds Luna Weasley (née Lovegood) genuinely interesting and a good person. And he also wants to exaggerate his reactions to show how 'drunk' he is. It's been probably two hours since he got there and Ron and Luna, along with Ginny, are excitedly telling him stories and sharing informations about the Ministry.

There was no sign of Hermione so far. Not that I care.

Suddenly Ginny and Luna scream and get up from the circular booth. Harry and Ron raise their eyebrows and watch while they walk to the dance floor singing at the top of their lungs. Ron laughs and drinks some more. Harry's eyes focus on the entrance…

"So, mate, how was the talk with the Minister yesterday?"

"Oh," He wonders if Ron has some kind of ulterior motive for asking this. "It was okay."

Ron makes a face. "Okay? Just that?" Harry shrugs. "Well, you're tough, man. Most Aurors come out of that office crying. I mean, except for Hermione. Although she cries sometimes alone in her office." Ron widens his eyes as if he said something he shouldn't. "Please don't mention this."

Harry presses a finger to his lips to indicate that he won't.

"You know her well, Ron?"

"Who? Hermione?" He takes another gulp of his Firewhisky. Harry nods. "I'm her best friend, mate. We've known each other since we were little and when we got into Hogwarts our friendship grew stronger." Ron leans forward, a mischievous smile on his face. "We used to date, you know?" Harry is taken by surprise. He would never have guessed. "We were together for a whole year, but it didn't work out, we used to fight and disagree on almost everything, it was a bit exhausting. We're better off being best friends." Ron smiles and Harry sees a sincere emotion there.

"Were you sorted into the same house at Hogwarts?" He knows asking this doesn't help on his plan, but he's curious.

"Yes. My whole family is made of Gryffindors. Me and Ginny included." He shakes his head and makes a face. "But when Hermione was not sorted into Slytherin…" Ron whistles. "That was one hell of a surprise… I mean, Riddle is a direct descendant of Salazar."

Harry frowns. He already knew of Tom's ancestry, but he never imagined his daughter would be sorted into… Gryffindor. The knowledge shines a bright new light on Hermione. Again. Maybe I should have studied her too. He lost sleep over searching informations about Tom he forgot about the rest of the family. "Really?" Now he's extremely interested.

"Yeah." Ron looks into his glass. "She was devastated at first. And I'm sure her parents weren't easy on her… but they accepted. Eventually."

Harry nods and sips on his fake drink. He wants to keep talking about Hermione. Clearing his throat and ignoring his thoughts, he says, "The Minister invited me to the Ball at his house-"

"Oh! That's awesome, Harry!" Ron says excitedly. Harry smiles and tries mimicking his euphoria. Ron begins to talk about how this Ball is always filled with the most important families around England, but Harry is not listening anymore.

Hermione just stepped inside the place. With Pettigrew.

They walk with their hands clasped together and people seem to part to give them a clear path. Harry is not capable of looking away. He's aware Ron is still talking and he should probably be paying attention. But he's out of breathe. His heart pounding. Hermione is wearing casual clothes - black boots, dark jeans, a white top and a leather jacket - but it's her presence, her confidence, that draws the male attention. She walks with certainty, her discreet smile taunting others as if she knows something she shouldn't.

He averts his eyes when she looks directly at him. Harry feels his neck hot and moves his attention back to Ron. "…I mean, you'll have to dance, it's a tradition-"

"What? Dance?"

Ron frowns. "Yeah, of course. The Traditional dance, you know?" Harry shakes his head in denial. "You don't? How come? Don't you dance in Italy?"

Harry snorts a chuckle. "We do, but I really don't like it, so, I always avoided the lessons."

Ron laughs and drinks some more. Luna is coming back to their booth and to Harry's despair, Hermione and Pettigrew are just behind her. Ron waves his hand at them.

"You guys, you won't believe this!" He shouts in excitement. "Harry doesn't know how to dance the Traditional!" Luna widens her eyes at him and shakes her head in disbelief. But he's barely hearing, his eyes are following Hermione's action as she sits down and puts a fair distance between them. Pettigrew sits by her side, his arm going around her shoulders and bringing her closer to him, his mouth finding her ear and murmuring something that makes her chuckle.

"But why would Harry have to dance the Traditional?" Luna is asking and he answers.

"The Minister invited me to his Ball."

And that makes Hermione and Pettigrew turn their heads to him. "Really?" She asks in a strange tone.

Harry shrugs, his eyes on the dance floor where Ginny is kissing her husband. When Malfoy got here? He avoids Hermione, afraid he might get lost in her intense gaze. "Yeah. He wants me to meet eligible brides." Since he's not looking directly at her face, he can only see Hermione moving on her seat and crossing one leg over the other.

"Oh! That's right, mate!" Ron says. "Did you have someone in Italy? Because if you did she can come, I'm sure you can marry here-"

"I don't think her blood is pure enough for your standards." He says sharply and it's like a bomb drops at their booth. They all go very still.

Pettigrew is the first to have a reaction. "So, in love with a Mudblood?" Harry sets his jaw and looks at Pettigrew. "Predictable, isn't it?" He opens a nasty smile. "It's a pity that the Minister thinks you worthy of a Pureblood, I mean, you shouldn't even be here, D'Angelo."

"Asmo-" Hermione begins.

"She's not a Mudblood." Harry cuts her, his words directed at Pettigrew. "And if she were, that wouldn't be of your concern, Pettigrew. You like it or not I'm here now and I'll obey your laws. I'll marry whoever the Minister considers fitting."

There's a heavy silence then. The way Pettigrew behaves infuriates Harry, compromising his calm and rational thinking. Not to mention that the sight of him holding Hermione makes Harry's stomach churn.

Pettigrew shrugs and snorts. Then, he turns to Hermione and says, "Do you want something to drink?" She nods. "The usual?" She nods again and they share a kiss before he goes to the bar. Harry purses his lips, averting his eyes again just to meet Luna's. She's squinting at him, her head slightly tilted.

"Ron," She says, "Let's dance." And before he can even answer she's dragging her husband to the dance floor.

Harry sips on his drink, uncomfortable that he was left alone with Hermione. She clears her throat. "I'm sure my father will find you someone excellent." Her voice is off and he gathers his courage to look at her. "I'm sorry you left someone in Italy."

"Not really. We were over before I got the transference, but I guess I still think about her. I mean… we're not forced to marry in Italy and I figured I would ask her when the time came…" He trails, embarrassed and not understanding why he's sharing this with Hermione. "But what about you? I don't see a wedding ring on your finger." He says a bit too harshly.

She raises an eyebrow. "Well," Hermione looks down. "it's none of your business."

Harry purses his lips and drinks. For the first time he wishes it were real Firewhisky. "What? Haven't Pettigrew's family accepted you?"

"Piss off, D'Angelo."

"As you wish." He rises from his seat and heads to the dance floor. Harry can feel Hermione's eyes on him even when he leans on the counter of the bar and orders a real glass of Firewhisky.

He drinks it with one swing and closes his eyes at the satisfying burn.

"Wow. Tough night?"

He opens his eyes. There's a brunette with a dashing smile by his side. "Maybe." He says turning sideways to look at her properly. Harry orders another two glasses and she raises an eyebrow when he offers her one.

They clink their glasses and, never breaking eye contact, swallow down the whole content in one go.

Then they laugh at each other. "Sally Black." She introduces herself and his brain stops for a brief moment. Sirius and Eleonora's daughter.

"Harry D'Angelo."

They hold hands and in an impulse he turns hers and brings it to his lips, gently kissing. He noticed there's no wedding ring on her finger too, so, he's allowed to do this. Her smile widens.

"A gentleman with an Italian name."

Harry opens a seductive smile and takes one step closer to her. Your father betrayed my parents. Do you know that? Do you have any idea?

"È vero." He says.

She takes one step to him also, their heads close. They're still holding hands and Harry can't help noticing how very dark her eyes are.

"That's sexy." She openly says and he chuckles softly. She reminds him of his Italian friends. They're open minded and outspoken. And since he arrived in England, everyone's been so polite and uptight he can't help feeling some sort of affection towards her. Not to mention how utterly important her surname is to my plan.

"You have a beautiful smile." He says. "Bella."

"Are you calling me beautiful?" Her eyes roam his face.

Harry exhales heavily. "I am." He says in a low voice, his own eyes falling to her mouth.

They share an intense moment and a thought crosses his mind. Is she an eligible bride? Imagine being part of the Black family and actually destroying them from inside? His smile widens and Sally must think it's because of her… in a way.

"Sally!"

He takes a step back, their moment over because of… Hermione. Harry narrows his eyes at his boss. She's half hugging Sally and smiling brightly.

"Hermione." Sally says with a cold voice, clearly not so happy to see Tom Riddle's daughter. "It's been a long time. How have you been?"

"Good. Excellent." Even Harry can hear the falseness in her tone.

"Oh, this is Harry-"

"We know each other." Hermione cuts Sally.

"Unfortunately." Harry murmurs and Sally suppresses a laugh. Hermione gives him an angry look and presses her lips together. Then she turns to Sally.

"Actually Sally, can we catch up later? I really need to talk to D'Angelo."

And to his utter surprise she grabs his arm and steers him away from Sally and from the bar. When he thinks she's going to stop, Hermione keeps going and goes through a black velvet curtain at one extremity of the place. They emerge in a silent and cool storage. She finally releases him and he crosses his arms.

"Okay, what was that?" He asks.

"Look," She bites her lower lip. "We can't keep arguing, okay? I don't want that."

He tilts his head. "You don't?"

"Of course not!" She seems honest. "You saved my life." She states. "You defended me yesterday." Hermione gulps and Harry looks down.

"I was being honest." He says in a low voice.

"Regardless, Harry." His name again. Harry feels the intense beat of the music under his feet. The rhythm practically matching his own heartbeats. "I know a fair number of other Aurors who would have taken the opportunity to throw me under the Knight Bus."

He snorts a chuckle and she opens a smile. He nods. "Okay, but you were the one who told me to piss off." He points out.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just… the topic is a bit touchy for me, okay?" He understands she doesn't want to talk about it and doesn't press the matter.

"Fine, Miss Riddle. Truce?" He extends his hand.

She takes it. "Call me Hermione."

His thumb goes over her hand in a caress and they both hold their breathes. They dare looking into each other's eyes. Harry feels hot. And he sees the blushing up her neck. She feels the same. He blinks and releases her hand, taking a step back.

"Okay, Hermione."

"Okay." She repeats.

They don't move. The moment stretches. Stop looking at her. Stop.

He clears his throat. "Do you know if Sally Black is betrothed to someone?"

She barely moves. "One meeting and you want to marry her?" Her voice is cold.

"I'm just considering options. She seems nice. And she's surely beautiful."

"As far as I know she's not betrothed."

Harry narrows his eyes. "Is this Ball any fun?" He changes the subject.

"Sometimes." She tilts her head. "Is it true you don't know how to dance the Traditional?" Her whole expression changes, now she looks amused.

"Guilty." He raises a hand. "But I've seen it many times, maybe I can try if needed."

"Oh, my father will make you dance, I'm sure." She looks over his shoulder. "Maybe…" Hermione trails.

"Maybe what?"

"If you're up to it I could give you lessons." She says nonchalantly. His stomach flips inside him. Dancing lessons alone with her? Not the best idea.

"I would like that." His mouth betrays him and the words come out before he's even aware of what he's saying. She smiles brightly.

"Okay. I think we can begin… on Monday? I mean, the Ball is near and the dance is not that simple-"

"It's perfect. Thank you, Hermione."

The blush is there. But also a smile so wide he's sure he hadn't seen it yet. His heart skips a beat and Harry wets his lips. "Let's get back to the…" He points to the curtain and she nods.

They emerge from the storage and go separate ways. He sees her going directly to Pettigrew and he can't help a wave of anger. He searches for Sally and soon spots her. She's looking at him and raising a glass as a clear invitation for them to resume their conversation. He goes gladly.

He arrives at his flat around 4am. He had a blast with Sally, but after Hermione interrupted their moment, they only talked on friendly terms, the flirtation gone. If I'm obliged to marry someone she'll be the best option. His mind goes to Hermione in a flash and he grunts. Of course he can't even entertain the idea of marrying her. Hermione is off limits.

"Because I plan to kill her." He voices it and feels a stab on his chest. Drunkly he looks at the mural on the wall. Moving his wand he circles a name. "Fucking shit. Cazzo."

Harry crumbles on the couch and closes his eyes. He has no idea how to deal with these troubling feelings. The last thing he thinks of is how beautiful she looked at the night club.

And the name circled on the wall is also hers.

Hermione Riddle.

Chapter Text

November 8th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

His head hurts. Is his opinion, Hermione is crazy for making them arrive this hour at the Ministry. He knows they need to investigate what happened at the Fair, but is it really necessary to wake up two hours earlier? He grunts as he walks through the empty Atrium. I need coffee. Real coffee. Harry found out the Ministry actually has a cafeteria. It's a pretty decent cafeteria, but the coffee sucks. He misses his Italian espressos.

The place is empty and he walks inside with purpose. Sighing, he proceeds to brew some coffee. Harry leans on a counter while he waits. Closing his eyes he presses a few fingers to his forehead and temple. He knows there's a long day ahead of him.

"Headache?"

Harry opens his eyes to face Draco Malfoy. The blond man has a curious expression and Harry frowns. Malfoy thinks he shouldn't be there, Harry knows this, even if the man doesn't say it with all the words.

"Yes. Went to bed late last night."

Malfoy opens a sly smile. "Female company?"

Harry tilts his head while he fetches his coffee. "Maybe." He was talking with Sally Black through the fireplace. Harry is discovering he really enjoys her company.

"Really? Going to be all mysterious about it?"

Harry doesn't answer but his eyes follow Malfoy as the man grabs a sandwich and some tea. Narrowing his eyes he asks, "Why are you being nice to me?" It's a genuine question.

Malfoy actually laughs out loud. "Look, if it was up to me you wouldn't be here, D'Angelo, but since it's not and I have to work with you," He shrugs, "why not? I respect my fellow Aurors, okay?"

Harry snorts. "Yeah, okay."

"And…" Malfoy makes a pained face, "You saved Hermione." Harry widens his eyes. "She… she helped me a lot in our years at Hogwarts and-" Malfoy seems to realize that he's sharing too much with a foreigner and clears his throat. "She's our boss. We need her. You did good, D'Angelo." He pats Harry's shoulder while walking away. "Don't take too long to go to her office, I'm sure she's already waiting for us! In Hermione's eyes we're already late."

Malfoy was right. Hermione complained about him being late and Harry was truly surprised that when he entered her office, Ron, Ginny, Malfoy and Pettigrew were already there reading files and taking notes. He settled himself on a comfortable chair at the corner. Her office is very much like any other, but after hours of reading inside, Harry realized something was making his stomach uncomfortable: Hermione's perfume. The office reeks of it.

Pressing a hand against his mouth, in a murmur he performed a simple spell to keep his breathing odorless. He felt immense relief after that.

Their morning was uneventful, though. Hermione found it better if they read all the transcriptions gathered by Aurors from witnesses after the attack ended. Harry doesn't agree with this line of work but he said nothing, however he's sure his face did because Hermione squinted at him.

They stopped for lunch and Harry was more than happy to leave the office for an hour. He had a nice salad at a magical restaurant near the Ministry. When he went back, the place was erupting with its daily movement and after fetching another huge jug of coffee he went back to Hermione's office.

Ginny was the one who finally broke his concentration when she sat by his side.

"Tell me." She says. "Aren't you getting a heart attack from all this coffee you're drinking?"

He chuckles. "To be honest I'm taking it easy today." He says with his eyes going back to what he's reading.

"Are you interested in Sally Black?"

He widens his eyes at her and is painfully aware that the others are listening to their conversation. He opens a side smile. "Why do you ask?"

"It happens that she's a good friend of mine, D'Angelo."

"Really?"

"Really. And I have no idea what you've done, but she's fascinated by you." Ginny is blunt and he chokes a bit on his coffee.

Hermione clears her throat and raises her head. "Ginny. Not the time or occasion for this." Harry purses his lips at the sharpness in her tone.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. I can't read a single line anymore." Ginny throws her file on the couch and grunts.

"Me neither." Ron agrees and yawns. Malfoy does the same.

Pettigrew and Hermione - who are sitting side by side behind her desk - frown at them. Harry lowers his file and waits.

Hermione sighs. "Fine. Let's take a break, then." Harry looks at his watch. They still have an hour before they can leave.

"Amazing!" Ginny says and turns to him again. "So, Sally." She prods him to say something with her hand. Harry opens and closes his mouth and look at the others. Ron and Malfoy are talking about Quidditch and Pettigrew is reading his file. Hermione is writing something down.

"What do you wanna know?" He asks in a defeated manner. Ginny opens a huge smile, eager to gossip.

"Are you really interested?"

He purses his lips and looks down. Am I? He knows that whatever he says to Ginny will be taken seriously. For his plan, marrying a Black is the best outcome possible. But deep down he's not comfortable with it. At all.

"Well, we're giving ourselves a chance to know each other better."

Ginny giggles. "Oh, I know. She told me everything about it. The late nights talks and such. I think she'll invite you for dinner at her house."

Harry raises an eyebrow. A chance to meet the Blacks. He smiles. "I would love to. I hope she does."

"I have to say, Harry. I've never seen Sally this excited about a man before."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I mean," Ginny lowers her voice, but it won't make a difference, they're all hearing their conversation, "she's not a big fan of the whole arranged marriage thing." Ginny shrugs and Harry's smile widens. Maybe Sally is just what he needs.

"Well, Ginny, I have to say that," He also lowers his voice and leans a bit, "I'm not a big fan either." He scrunches his nose and they share a laugh. "Maybe we're the perfect match."

"Are you two done?" Hermione is looking at them. And he's sure that if looks could kill, they would be dead. Pressing his lips together he crosses his arms and locks his eyes with hers. Something passes between them. "Back to work." Hermione says in a final tone and lowers her head to resume her writing when-

"Hermione," Harry says, "I think we've read enough for today."

Slowly and calmly she puts her quill down and stares at him. Pettigrew moves and says, "Who do you think you are-"

"Asmo." She raises a hand and he stops talking but keeps glaring at Harry. "So, D'Angelo, you think we should stop?"

"I think we should be out on the field. Investigating the site. We were there. We should be the ones talking to these witnesses," He lifts the file from his lap, "these are just cold words. If someone was involved we only would be able to tell by talking to said person, looking into their eyes, noticing their nervous tells." He throws the file on a couch. "There's no information here, nothing we can actually work with and you know that, Miss Riddle."

She purses her lips, her eyes going down and then back to his. "I think you should leave then, D'Angelo. If the way I conduct things doesn't please you, maybe you should just go home." He shakes his head. "In Italy." She ends her phrase.

Harry wished it didn't hurt as much as it does.

He stands from the chair and pockets his hands with a snort. "If that's what you want, boss, so be it."

And without another word he leaves the office and walks fast to an exit. He knows he came to London for a reason, but he shouldn't take this kind of bullshit all the time. He's right and maybe Hermione is too stubborn to admit it, maybe she's used to doing things her way - behind a desk, mostly - but that was not how he acted as Head Auror. Harry was always pushing himself and going after the action. There's a kind of knowledge you can only get from talking to others, from understanding people, observing them.

He sets his jaw and apparates to the park. There's a protection made by Aurors around it, but Harry goes right through it. He steps inside where the Fair took place. He knows exactly where Hermione was standing when he tackled her. For a brief moment his eyes are glued on the floor. If he hadn't moved, she would be dead now. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He shouldn't care this much about a bunch of snotty Purebloods being murdered, but he can't help it. As someone who learned to protect civilians and guard the society it feels like second nature to him. Yes, he wants to bring them down, but he knows most wizards and witches only abide by the rules. He's certain many didn't deserve to die and leave behind their loved ones. And surely it's not with this kind of action that Muggleborns will claim their rights. If anything, people will be even more scared of them.

He starts walking around, his feet leading him to the borders of the park, closer to the trees, to the woods around it. The shooters were certainly positioned there, hidden and blending with the surroundings. Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. The Aurors failed on this aspect. They should have led a raid around the place before the Fair even started. But there was no way of knowing. These kind of events are always protected by magical shields, how could they know muggle bullets would be able to go through it?

Harry crosses his arms and ponders about this while he keeps walking. Something is not right. He remembers what happened that night. While he was talking to Hermione at the altar, a woman started screaming. She had been cursed. Harry turns on his heels and goes to the spot they saw said woman hovering and proclaiming the movement's request. What cursed her? Harry doesn't remember reading about it on the file. Did no one interrogate her? He knows most people lose their memories on these cases, but a talk with the woman might be worth it. Malfoy said it also happened at the other far end of the Fair where he was positioned with Ginny and Ron. What about this other cursed person?

Pressing his lips together he thinks about the way the first Pureblood man fell down near them. He was on Harry's peripheral vision but he doesn't remember seeing a red laser targeting the man. Strange. Maybe they should take this memory to a pensive-

Harry freezes on the spot. Someone else is there. The hairs on his nape rise and he tightens the grip on his wand. He can tell the person is approaching from the diagonal behind him. He turns fast and utters an 'Expelliarmus'. A shielding spell sends his own away and he lets out a heavy breath when he realizes it's Hermione.

"I could have hurt you!" He says a bit angry.

"You seemed deep in thought. I didn't want to startle you!"

He makes a face at her and she stops in front of him.

"What? Came all this way to sack me formally?"

She tries hiding it, but Harry is sure she smiles. "No." She looks down. "I- When you walked out of the office I told everyone else to go and considered your words for a moment."

He shifts his weight from one foot to another. "And?"

"Look, I know I'm not wrong." Harry scoffs. "It's important to read the files and depositions, it's valuable information!" She exclaims outraged. Harry wets his lips. "But I recognize that you weren't wrong either." She purses her lips as if saying the words takes too much of her. Harry finds himself wanting to smile at her half-assed apology. "Regardless, I'm here because I imagined you would come and I thought we could… think about what happened that night… together."

Harry can't deny he wasn't expecting this at all. She keeps surprising me. He gulps. "Yeah, I guess we can do that."

Her expression doesn't change much but Harry sees a glint in her eyes. Hermione looks around. "So, tell me what you were thinking." They start… strolling through the park.

"Did someone talk to the cursed women?"

Hermione frowns. "Why? They can't remember what happened."

"People always remember something. Even if they weren't paying much attention, I could bet they saw something strange a while before it happened."

She snorts. "You're very sure of your abilities, aren't you?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Of course I am. I used to be Head Auror, you know that."

She stops walking and he stops by her side. "Why wasn't this information on your file?"

He shrugs. "I didn't see a reason to write it down."

"What really made you move here, Harry? I don't know of any Head Auror who would leave his country to work as an inferior in another Ministry."

He has to give her some credit. Hermione is right. "Okay, if you wanna know so damn much," He lets out a long sigh, "It was because of the woman I was in love with." She averts her eyes from his. "She cheated on me and I couldn't handle it, so, I figured moving away would be the easiest solution."

"Well, I'm sorry about that." Is all she says. Harry congratulates himself on opening up about this. Relationship's problems never fail to be a great excuse. Just as he's about to continue, she says, "It's her loss."

He opens a side smile. "Yeah? I'm irresistible, I've heard." He tries being nonchalant about it but his heart is pounding.

The blush comes up her neck, but Hermione rolls her eyes. "So, we should investigate the cursed women. What else?"

"Well," He motions to the place. "I mean, we failed a bit. We should have looked into the woods before letting people in."

"We thought the place was secure, Harry. The wards and shields were up."

"Exactly. Whoever did this also knew we were counting on these protections alone." He gives her a pointed look.

"What are you implying?"

"You know."

She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. "No. I can't-"

"You know I'm right, Hermione. Someone from the inside must be a traitor." She shakes her head. "And if I'm not mistaken, this person probably enchanted all the bullets with a counter spell to the shields."

"You're making serious accusations here, Harry."

He shrugs. "Not really. But I would consider this option."

"Do you know what our law states for those who kill Purebloods?" He knows but he stays silent. "A Dementor's kiss."

He clicks his tongue. "Not just that but…"

"What?"

"Well," Harry looks down, unsure of how to say this, "they tried to kill you." He states, she makes a face at him, not getting his point. "But, why you? I mean, there were many Aurors here. The Minister himself."

"You think it's something personal?"

"Could be."

She bites her thumbnail and a wrinkle appears between her brows.

"I get your point." Her voice is low now. "We'll search the park and the woods around tomorrow. Later we can think together who should interrogate the cursed women and other witnesses." She keeps looking down, lost in thought.

Harry is surprised she actually listened to him and took his advice. That's what being a good leader means. And again his brain has a difficult time associating her with Tom Riddle.

"And you're going to help me find out who might want to murder me."

He opens and closes his mouth. Guess it wouldn't be a good idea to tell her I'm here with this specific purpose. Harry nods and says:

"I think we should also continue to read the transcriptions we already have. If there's a traitor inside, maybe this person tampered with evidence. It would be good to compare what we already have with what we might get."

"Are you admitting it's important to read the files? That I was right?"

He is. "You'll never know." Harry shrugs and Hermione smiles.

"Okay. I need to go now, meet me later at my house?" He is taken aback by her words. Her house? What? "The dancing lessons, Harry." He opens his mouth, catching up. "Did you forget? Well, if you have something else to do it's fine-"

"No, no. I'll be there."

She squints and conjures up a piece of paper with her address, the apparition coordinates on it. "Be there at seven?" He nods and she looks at him one last time before apparating.

Chewing the insides of his cheeks, he stares at the paper. Trying his best not to think how well they work together, he focus on the fact that now he has Tom Riddle's daughter's address. And that's a huge thing for my plan. She'll welcome me into her house. And the more she trusts him, the easiest it will be to end her later.

Hermione's house

He arrives five minutes late because he was still deciding if this was a good idea or not, but just as something made him save her, it made him apparate to her front door. Harry knocks and waits. The house doesn't look big or ostentatious. It's clearly a place comfortable enough for a single woman. Which makes him wonder again why she's still not married.

Since Ron told him about Hermione and the house she was sorted into at Hogwarts, Harry's been thinking about investigating her for real, and after the way she dismissed him and then recognized she might be wrong, his curiosity about her increased by a thousand.

Just before coming, Harry fumbled through the many articles, interviews and transcriptions he has about Tom Riddle. His focus on Hermione. His eyes browsed the pages and papers, his finger going through the words and searching for her name or even the word 'daughter'.

He was already frustrated when he reached for the last piece of paper. It's no surprise he knew close to nothing about her. The only information he could find was an old article about Riddle's Manor and how he lived there with his wife and daughter of five born on September 19, 1979. Harry looked at the date and realized she'd just turned twenty-six.

It's clear that Riddle's been hiding anything related to her. But why? Father's protection? Or is he hiding something else?

He runs a hand through his hair and Hermione opens the door. When he looks at her he decides that if he wants to know anything about her, he'll have to ask. He'll have to actually be her friend. He opens a sincere smile and she does the same, stepping aside for him to come in.

The house is comfy and just the right size. Harry likes it immediately, as if its warmness can send away any fears and doubts. Every corner has something that shows off her personality. A magical lamp, comfortable furniture, many moving photos, and a white fireplace. But what really makes him widen his eyes is the fluffy orange cat that comes strolling slowly towards him.

"You have a cat." He states, amused.

"Do I? I haven't noticed until now." She jokes and he makes a face at her.

"Will it scratch me if I try petting it?"

She crosses her arms. "First of all, Crookshanks is a family member, so it's a he, not an it." Harry tilts his head.

"What kind of name is Crookshanks?" He chuckles.

"One that I like." She shrugs. "And answering your question, he might scratch you, yes. He's very moody and picky about the humans he interacts with. I mean, he only accepted Asmo's presence recently."

Harry doesn't react when he hears Pettigrew's name, but he crouches and calls the cat. Hermione scoffs as if knowing he's being stupid. But she literally gasps when the cat purrs for Harry, his body going to his extended left hand.

"What?" She whispers.

Harry looks up at her and fetches the cat, standing. "I'm the best person you'll ever know, Hermione, you just didn't accept it yet." He teases her and she clicks her tongue, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I trust Crookshanks' judgment." She narrows her eyes. "Come."

And Hermione guides him to the attic. It's spacious and well lit, good enough for them to dance freely. He stands at the entrance while she prepares the music.

"Are you going to just stand there?" She asks, not turning to him, still checking on the magical gramophone. "I won't bite, you know?"

He gulps and releases Crookshanks, his feet guiding him to the center of the room. There's a huge image engraved into the wooden floor bellow him. Harry frowns. It's a snake eating its own tail, forming an eternal circle. He presses his lips together, the image is strong and imposing, beautiful in a frightening way… much like Hermione.

"Uroboros."

"What?" He blinks, not understanding what she's saying.

"It's a symbol." She points to the floor. "It represents the eternal cycle of destruction and rebirth. Life."

He chews the insides of his cheeks, considering. "It's a nice concept." He admits, still dazzled by it.

"It is." She stops in front of him and he raises his eyes to her, the reason why he's there coming back to him. She smiles. "Ready?"

"I- I don't normally do this."

"What? Dancing?" He nods, his throat dry. "Why?"

"I have two left feet."

She laughs. He blinks. Her laugh is so… warm.

"Don't worry, we'll fix this."

While she does her best to avoid his eyes, Harry wonders if she's regretting her offer. Dancing involves physical contact, proximity and some kind of intimacy… but she looks back up at him, confident.

"I guess we should…" Without finishing her sentence, she waves her wand and her simple jeans and blouse change to a nice long dress. It's blue and simple, covering her shoulders and without a cleavage. He wonders if she'll change his attire, but the only thing she does is change his heavy boots to classy shoes. She opens a side smile and Harry nods in approval.

Hermione breathes heavily and the song starts at the background. Not too loud. They finally lock eyes.

"Do you know anything about this dance?" She asks.

"Not really." He knows a few things.

"Well," She begins, "it's not exactly a waltz, but it doesn't come close to anything else, really. It's more a mixture of styles." Harry is listening carefully. "We sometimes move as if waltzing, others we move separately. This dance is a tradition among wizards and witches of the so called high birth society. It's practically obligatory in many Balls and encounters-"

"Why?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Why what?"

"Why throw these Balls?" He pockets his hands, "The last time I attended one was seven years ago. My family used to host many of these gatherings, but…" He hesitates. She encourages him with a tilt of the head, "It came a time my grandfather decided they had no purpose and stopped hosting. He never took me to another either." Harry shrugs and gulps, looking down.

"Really?" Her voice is soft. Hermione clears her throat. "Usually these Balls have the purpose of… promoting arranged marriages. In this aspect your grandfather was right. You don't have arranged marriages in Italy, so, why?" She shrugs. "But here is kind of a big deal. These Balls boost high society." Harry sees her pursing her lips. "It's an opportunity to create strong and lasting alliances. And the dance is a demonstration of power since we perform one of the most challenging spells in the middle of it."

"One you can do perfectly well, I gather." He teases.

She smirks. "A corporeal Patronus is not an easy task, not just that but we have to make it dance with us from the middle until the end. It requires a lot of practice, control and... letting go at the same time. You'll be amazed by how many wizards and witches won't be able to go through with it."

"Is that so? I didn't think your father would allow any mediocre wizard or witch inside his house."

Hermione frowns. "Why would you think that?" She doesn't let him answer as she goes on. "I know he can be strict and rigid, but he has the best intentions, he wants this society to strive." She stops at that and they share an intense look.

Apart from the music on the background, there's only silence now. Harry doesn't really know if he should say something or even if he's capable of it. He fears he might open his mouth and tell her that her father is nothing but a murderer.

But Hermione breaks the silence. "Shall we begin?" Her voice comes out strange. He regrets his words. Her expression changed from a welcoming one to pure coldness. She has to trust him. If Hermione suspects he has something against her father, she won't hesitate in reaching out and banishing Harry from England.

He nods.

"It begins pretty simple." Her voice is low now. "We begin in front of each other, as we are now, and the man is the first one to step forward and salute the woman. Then he goes back to his spot."

"Okay… that can't be too hard, I guess." He takes a step forward and… with his eyes on hers he slightly bows. "Like this?"

"Yes."

Ignoring her tone, he straightens and steps back to his spot. Her eyes never leave his when she takes her step and bows. It makes his pulse quickens.

"Easy, right?" She asks. "After this we have to move four times to meet sideways at the center. We'll join raised hands as we do it."

"Okay, what should I do with my feet?" He asks sincerely and she laughs.

"You use them to move forward." He makes a face at her. "Your right hand on my right hand, your right foot in front of your left and then it changes. It's easier if we do it."

Hermione moves forward with her right leg and hand. Harry mimics her motion and their palms touch gently, their faces close as they come to the center. "Good. Now go back and do the same with the left." As they do it he can't help noticing how smoothly she moves while he looks like a fool. Harry feels a tingle when their left palms touch. Hermione frowns. Did she feel it too? What is it? He has no idea, but it's nice. "Again." She says and moves back for their right hands to meet at the center. There's no tingle now. "The other side." The tingle is back when their left palms touch. Ma che? She sets her jaw. "We have to do it faster, following the music." Harry nods and they repeat the action, he's as clumsy as hell, but she does it without effort. Hermione smiles. "Again."

They repeat it at least five times until Harry stops fumbling with his own feet. Every time they touched left hands he felt the tingle. It bothers him. It must mean something. But what? He just met Hermione.

"Okay, after this we have to move around in circles. The men walk on the outside and women on the inside one turn, then when we meet again, we have to change, women walk on the outside and men inside. We have to do it four times. But it's not just any walk, it's a purposeful walk."

"Purposeful walk?"

"Yeah. The first part, the greet and the joining of hands is just a way of falling in rhythm with your partner. And the circles represent a loss, you've lost touch of that person and you're looking for them, searching, yearning."

He presses his lips together and nods. Hermione raises her wand again and many dark shapes appear around them.

"They'll represent other people." She explains. "Each goes to its own right."

They wait for the music to be exactly on point and Harry moves, the shapes moving with him in a circle. Hermione is walking gracefully and she really seems like someone looking for something. Harry thinks about meeting her half way and his walk is faster… purposeful. When they reach each other, they share a look and move instinctively past the other, changing circles. The shapes around both follow the motion with incredible ease.

"Remember to always keep your head high and your hands together behind your back." He obeys her and they meet again, changing circles. "We will change one more time." She says as they approach each other again. "And then we'll stop and conjure our Patronus."

He frowns. "Are we taking our wands out in the middle of the dance and yelling the spell?" He pictures all guests doing that. It doesn't seem like a viable option. Hermione laughs.

They stop. "This part was easy." She says referring to the circle. All the shapes disappear. "And to answer your question… many do it without verbalizing the spell, but the ideal, the real way to do it, is not this one. You see, the Patronus is considered a manifestation of the soul, of our most pure magic. If that's so, we should be able to do it without needing a wand."

And just as she finishes, she moves both hands. It takes Harry a moment to understand that she just conjured up her Patronus. However, how effortless it was for her to do it in silence and without a wand is not what makes him step back in surprise.

There's a huge snake, a serpent, around her shoulders. He gulps. It's her Patronus. Why do I keep forgetting who she truly is?

"How- why- how?"

She laughs at him. He blinks. "Impressed?"

"Very." He says in a low voice and her chest goes up and down fast.

"It's not that hard." She states. "It might take a day or two, but I'm almost sure you'll be able to do it."

He tilts his head and extends his hand, fascinated by the snake. "She's beautiful." He widens his eyes at his own words. Hermione fully blushes and looks down.

"But she's double-hearted, you know?" Her voice is a whisper.

Harry realizes just how close they are. The hand which was going to the snake, changes course and pushes a few strand hairs behind Hermione's ear. They barely breath as they share the moment. He has no idea what the hell he's thinking.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"I don't know."

Both set their jaws, unsure. His hand is still there, in the air, close to her ear. He boldly moves it to cup her neck, his thumb on her jaw. He's sure Hermione shudders under his touch. The snake moves and tangles herself on his forearm. Harry's heart is beating like a crazy drum. What am I doing? She's not stopping him, though. His thumb caresses her face, gently, softly… fondly. The snake tightens its grip. He barely gives it any attention. He's fascinated by Hermione, by her eyes and mouth. The snake hisses at him, its head getting closer to his shoulder.

In her turn, Hermione finally moves and her hand stops at his chest, resting above his heart. Harry can see pain in her eyes but he doesn't understand. His fingers go into her hair. Even with everything, the moment isn't awkward. At all. They seem to be making questions to one another, asking for… permission? Acceptance?

He should hate her.

But he doesn't.

Abruptly the snake opens its mouth and scares Harry away with a sudden attack. He gasps for air when he steps back. Hermione blinks a few times and the snake is gone. She opens her mouth.

"We-" She clears her throat. "We can practice the final part another day."

She turns from him and walks to the magical gramophone. The music stops. Harry has both hands on his knees, supporting him. The snake really scared the shit out of him. Double-hearted indeed.

"You should go, Harry."

Sighing, he agrees. Hermione still has her back to him. "Yeah, sure. It's getting pretty late." He clears his throat. "Just… how do I do it? The Patronus?"

She finally turns to him, her expression is one of pure calm. "The wand is just an extension of your magic. And the words are inside our heads. I'm sure you've already performed spells without voicing them." He nods. "So, the only thing you need to think is that the magic is one with you, the wand helps channel it, but it's not fundamental."

He scoffs. "Not fundamental?"

"Not really."

He clasps his hands together. "Okay. I'll try it." She nods. "And… thank you, for the lesson." He moves his hand around and she nods again.

"Anytime."

And on this awkward note he leaves.

Chapter Text

August 1st, 1987

D'Angelo Villa

He runs like the fastest magical creature ever to exist as he crosses the gigantic yard of the Villa. His mother read a book to him yesterday about these creatures and Harry can't stop thinking about them, thinking about how big and fast and amazing they are.

He remembers one name, Zouwu.

Harry keeps running and imitating the giant cat/dragon he saw moving on the book.

"Harry!" He looks back to the house. "Come here!"

His grandfather is calling him, his mother by his side with her arms crossed. Harry frowns and runs back to the house as fast as he can. Opening his arms to his side, he yells and laughs. His grandfather laughs with him, but his mother doesn't. Something must have happened for her to look so serious. Still running he crashes into his grandfather and the older man lets out some air while he hugs Harry.

"Look at you, all sweaty and dirty, Harry." His mother chastises him. Not minding, Harry opens a big smile and hugs her too. Bianca snorts but hugs him back.

His excitement from running around dies a little, he can feel something changing in the air. He looks up at his grandfather. Matteo's face is serious, something practically new for Harry.

"We have to talk." Matteo says and puts a hand on Harry's shoulder. He steers the boy to a comfy couch outside and they sit together, his grandfather and his mother in front of him. Harry's eyes are big, his heart pounding. He can't quite grasp what's happening, but is not good.

"Tesoro," His mother begins but stops, shaking her head. Matteo takes her hand and squeezes it.

"It's okay, figlia. And in English, please."

"What's wrong, mamma?"

"My love, there's something you need to know." Her eyes are big and teary. "I love you with all my heart, I've always loved you since the day we met." She stops. Harry looks at his nonnino, searching for a clue as to why his mother is acting so strange. But Matteo has his eyes casted down to the floor.

"I love you too, mommy." He says sincerely and she gasps, weeping. "Don't cry." Harry moves on his seat, he wants to comfort his mother but she stops him.

"Listen, son, nothing I say now will change this, do you understand?" He frowns and tries nodding. But in reality he's scared. What's happening? They never talked to him that way, never looked at him with worry, he's known only love and affection from them. "I- I'm not your real mother." She says fast and Harry feels his heart beating extremely fast, even faster than it was when he was running a few minutes ago.

"Is this a game, mother?"

She shakes her head. They're used to playing games of pretend and charades of many kinds. "No, Harry, it isn't. I'm- I didn't give birth to you. Do you understand?"

Harry opens his mouth. He's heard about this. He knows of a colleague at school who has been adopted - that's the word the adults use. The boy said that his real parents didn't want him so he went to live with a family that did. Other kids don't like him, they say he's a bastard, a freak. But Harry never thought so. Am I a freak?

"I- didn't my parents want me?" He tilts his head, his mother covers her face.

It's Matteo who answers. "It's not like that, Harry." His voice is deep and firm. "We saved you."

"Saved me? From who? From my real parents?"

"No. We saved you from people who wanted to harm you. Who had already harmed your parents." Matteo finally shows some emotion and makes a pained face. "Your real parents are dead, Harry."

Harry stops at that. He doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. He's old and smart enough to understand that the people who were considered his real parents don't exist anymore, but was he supposed to feel bad about it? It's pretty hard because he's looking at the woman he considers his mother, looking at his grandfather. And even if his father is not around as much, Harry has a great relationship with him.

He has no idea what he's feeling. But the adults are clearly sad and he gathers there's something he's not understanding.

"Okay." He says slowly. "Can I go back to playing at the yard?" Not that he doesn't care at all, but he doesn't know what to do with everything going through his mind.

Bianca sobs and Matteo answers, "Of course. We'll talk more about this later, okay?"

Harry nods. Hesitantly, he stands.

"And Harry," His grandfather calls, "You can't, under any circumstance, tell this to anyone. Do you understand? This is important."

He never dared disobeying his grandfather. And he's kind of relieved that his colleagues won't know. So, he nods and Matteo sighs, satisfied. Harry goes back to the yard. As he runs now, his mind is not thinking about the magical creature. The only thing dominating his thoughts are the words he just heard.

Who were my real parents then? Who wanted to harm them?

November 10th, 2005

Harry's flat

Harry emerges from the memory gasping for air.

Cursing, he crumbles down on the floor in front of the pensive. Pressing both hands over his eyes, he tries to calm his breathing. There's a reason why he avoids these memories. They affect him way too much. Each time he revisits this one in particular, he thinks his mother sadder and his grandfather…

Getting up and brushing away a few tears he begins to get ready for his day at the Ministry. And just thinking about it makes his stomach churn. What he shared with Hermione at her house was bizarre. It was like they were trying to read each other's souls. Trying to figure out what the other was thinking or why they felt that… pull. Not just that, but he's obsessed with the tingle he felt every time their left hands touched. The sensation was good and warm and strangely strong.

But of course that since then they've been avoiding each other.

Yesterday they were supposed to continue their investigation, but when Harry arrived at the Ministry two hours earlier, Ron said to him that Hermione had suspended their investigation for the day. She gave no explanations and Harry didn't see her for most part of the day, but the moment she set foot at the Auror's floor, he immediately escaped to the washroom, stalling there for more than ten minutes, being sure that she would be at her office when he returned to his desk. And indeed she was. Later she sent him a memo canceling on their dance lesson at her house. Again, she gave no explanations. Harry didn't answer. He just went home.

So, he used his time to practice the wandless Patronus while he talked to Sally through the fireplace. He was impressed when she said not many wizards and witches are capable of doing that. She herself will be using her wand at the Ball. Knowing that his enemy's daughter is clearly more powerful than him in a way made him angry. And suddenly he was thinking about Hermione again.

But Sally steered his thoughts away when she asked if they would be dancing the Traditional together. Before Harry could answer, she went on and said that the pair you choose at the Traditional is very important. Harry asked why. She told him that this dance happens only once the entire night and it's a big moment because most couples are tested. When he made a face at her statement, she laughed and explained this happened because of the Patronus, of course. Harry nodded, finally catching up. As a projection of the soul, the Patronus can be very telling when showing how compatible you can be with another wizard or witch.

Feeling a bit under pressure by her questions, he answered that of course they would dance together and Sally smiled widely, but Harry was sure it didn't quite reach her eyes. Sally proceeded to ask him if he would like to have dinner at her house. He said yes.

After that they said their goodbyes.

And in a fucking second his mind was taunting him with the certainty that Hermione and Pettigrew are going to dance together.

He grunts when he finishes buttoning up his Auror vest. Harry looks up at his wall, all his informations there. Taking a moment before leaving, he decides a little trip to the Archives is necessary and overdue. It's a fact that since he arrived things have been intense, but if Hermione cancels the investigation today, he's definitely heading there.

December 8th, 1988

D'Angelo Villa

"Harry, my boy, have you read the book I gave you last week?" Matteo asks him while they walk to the living room. It's time for Harry's piano lessons.

He makes a face to his nonnino. "Not yet."

"You have to!" Harry flinches at his grandfather's tone.

Since the day Harry found out about his real parents, everything has changed. Now his hours are filled with lessons and studies. He barely sees his mother and whenever he actually talks and sees his grandfather he's expected to be excelling at every possible task his tutors might give him. And when he lacks at something, Matteo gives him the longest speech ever. Harry is sure these speeches are getting longer and longer.

"I'm sorry. I will." He says in a low voice. There's only silence from the man who used to shower Harry with hugs and kisses.

Now there's nothing. And he never felt so lonely.

November 10th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

"D'Angelo, hey." Harry looks up from his desk. He was lost in thought and hadn't noticed Malfoy standing by his side.

"What?"

"Hermione wants us in her office in five minutes."

He slowly nods, a bit numb from the memory. Maybe that was the first time he realized - after more than an year - that things would never be the same again with his mother and grandfather.

Malfoy narrows his eyes at him but doesn't prod and walks away.

Harry sighs and closes his eyes, his hands supporting his face while he leans forward. Nothing was the same once he knew the D'Angelos weren't his real family.

"Harry? Are you okay?" It's Ginny's voice.

Looking up at her he opens a side smile. "Sure. I'm just a bit tired." He yawns. "You know, you were right, Sally asked me to have dinner with her family tonight."

Ginny claps her hands, excited and Harry chuckles. "That's amazing! You'll love Sirius and Eleonora!"

"I've heard great things about them." He says with a smile on his face. He's eager to meet them, eager to look at the man who betrayed his parents.

"All true, I assure you." Ginny keeps saying while she motions for him to follow her to Hermione's office. They walk side by side. "I mean, if you truly want to make a good impression, I suggest you take one bottle of Firewhisky to Sirius, an apple pie to Eleonora and flowers to Sally."

"What kind of flowers?"

"She loves roses."

"Does she?" He raises an eyebrow. Ginny knocks on Hermione's door and they step inside, all the others are already there.

"Yes. I mean, she loves them so much you might get a kiss." Ginny winks and Harry chuckles again.

He realizes he likes the Weasleys.

"Who's getting a kiss from whom now?" Ron asks with his mouth full of bread.

"Harry! From Sally, of course!"

Malfoy whistles and teases him. Harry looks down, a bit embarrassed. He's sure he's blushing a little.

"No way, mate! Really?"

"Ginny is exaggerating, Ron. I'm just having dinner with them tonight."

"And giving her some roses!" Ginny completes and playfully smacks his shoulder.

"Enough. I didn't realize my office was the most appropriate place to always have a discussion about D'Angelo's love life." Hermione says in a cold tone while she looks at some papers, her hands moving and reorganizing them. "So, yesterday I had a lot to solve and we weren't able to talk about the investigation, but as I've discussed with D'Angelo, we'll investigate the park and its surroundings, not just that but all interrogations will be repeated by us. When interrogating the witnesses be very attentive to the way they behave, move their hands and their eyes. If you consider anything a probable lie, write it down. Since no one is a suspect, we can't use the truth bubble." She clears her throat. Harry narrows his eyes at Pettigrew, the man is definitely not happy with something. "Draco and Asmo, you'll investigate the site. Ron and Ginny you'll interrogate the witnesses. D'Angelo," She looks at him, their eyes meeting. "You'll come with me to interrogate the cursed women. We leave in ten."

And Hermione doesn't wait for them to agree or anything, she simply goes back to her papers. Pettigrew is the first who moves with a grunt, passing by her desk with a sour expression. When he walks by Harry, he bumps his shoulder into his on purpose. Harry sets his jaw and glares at Pettigrew, but the other man exits the office and bangs the door behind him.

Hermione sighs. "Anyone else wants to leave dramatically?" She asks in an amused tone.

Harry smiles despite himself. Malfoy and Ron laugh out loud. Ginny is the only one serious. Her eyes on Hermione. Harry follows the two men out, but Ginny stays behind with Hermione and he wonders if they're good friends. He knows Ron is Hermione's best friend, but what about Ginny?

Hermione haven't said a word to him since they met at the Atrium to apparate to the house of the first cursed woman. And Harry hates being ignored. But if that's how she wants to deal with things, so be it.

She knocks on the door of an eccentric house. Harry is not used to seeing this type of wizard accommodation. In Italy, most wizards and witches live among Muggles and even in wizarding communities the houses are just fine and normal as anyone would expect. But he knows that in a few secluded places in England wizards like to expose their magic in the way they build their houses. And this one has all kinds of impossible angles and heights.

A teenager opens the door. The girl is probably around fourteen. "Yes?" She asks with a frown, her eyes on Hermione, roaming over the Auror uniform. "Are you Hermione Riddle?" She's awed. "Oh, I can't believe this! I admire you so much!"

"Actually, yes. And this is Auror Harry D'Angelo, can we come in and talk to your mother?"

She nods avidly and steps aside for them to enter. The girl leads both to a cramped living room and tells them to be comfortable while she'll get her mother. Harry and Hermione stiffly sit side by side with a considerable gap between them. His eyes roam the place, there are no pictures in the living room, no fireplace and no indication of who she might actually be.

"What's her name?" Harry asks Hermione without turning to face her, his eyes fixed on the corridor the girl vanished into.

"Lucinda Summers."

Before he can say anything the girl storms back into the room, smiling. "She'll be here in a minute." She sits in front of them on a very uncomfortable chair.

"What's your name?" Hermione asks.

"I'm Hannah! It's a pleasure!" Harry narrows his eyes at her effusive way. Does she have any idea why they're there? "I mean, Miss Riddle, knowing you is a dream com-"

"Hannah," Hermione's voice is gentle when she interrupts the girl, "why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

Hannah's face falls. She opens and closes her mouth without any sound coming out of it. She seems to be at the brink of tears. Something is definitely wrong. Harry can feel Hermione's posture changing.

"It's okay, you can tell me, Hannah." Hermione encourages her.

The girl starts crying and Harry frowns.

"I wanted to, I really did-"

"Hannah!" A woman is standing at the entrance of the living room with a furious expression. "Go to your room while I talk with the Aurors!" Harry takes a moment to realize it's the same woman he saw yelling those words at the Fair. Black hair, small mouth, thick eyebrows and a permanent wrinkle between her brows.

Hermione moves an inch on the couch, ready to protest, but, in an impulse, Harry's hand touches hers and holds her back. She accepts his action, stilling.

"Please, sit, Mrs Summers." He says with a deep voice, his eyes following the girl leaving the room.

With a very unfriendly face Lucinda sits in front of them. "What do you want?" She asks bluntly. "I don't remember a thing. You know that."

Hermione moves and pulls her hands back from his. Harry looks down and intertwines his own fingers. "Mrs Summers, we know, but even so we want to hear from you what happened that day. Do you remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary while you were at the Fair?" She asks.

Lucinda shakes her head. "No. Things were as normal and dull as ever. I got there around 7pm and had some fun with a few games, then I ate with two friends and we proceeded to pay our homages." She stops talking and stares at them. Her eyes on Harry. "I remember seeing you at the altar." She says to him. He sets his jaw.

"I was there, yes." But he doesn't remember her at all. "Was it after you paid your homages that you felt the curse's influence?"

"I guess so because I don't remember much after leaving the altar. I took a few steps and then it was all a blank. I woke up one day later at St. Mungo's."

Both Aurors nod, thinking. "Did you touch anything? Have someone bumped into you?" Harry asks.

The woman narrows her eyes and looks down. "I- I remember holding the necklace of my deceased husband while paying my homage and then…" She shakes her head, "Well I didn't actually see anyone, but I felt a different gush of air passing behind me… it was a chilly night, though." She shrugs.

Harry finally dares looking at Hermione. Her expression gives away nothing and he understands she's a brutal interrogator. She's the one who can get any informations she wants. He gulps. Lucinda clears her throat and fidgets on the chair. She's feeling the pressure of Hermione's steely gaze.

"There was no strange object with you when you woke at St. Mungo's?" Harry asks.

The woman just denies. Hermione is still silent and Harry himself is getting a bit restless. What more she expects to learn from this? The something he was talking about, Lucinda already gave them, the gush of air, even maybe her own necklace…

"Why isn't your daughter at Hogwarts?" Hermione finally says and Harry opens his mouth. "It's mid November. She shouldn't be home. She said she wanted-"

Lucinda stands abruptly. "You should go. Leave my house."

Harry widens his eyes. This woman shouldn't be talking to the Head Auror like this. Hermione seems just as stunned as him for a few seconds, but then…

"I beg your pardon?" Head Riddle stands too, closing the gap between her and the woman. "You're surely not-"

"I surely am, Miss Riddle."

Harry waits for an aggressive response from Hermione, but she holds her ground and asks again, "Why isn't she at Hogwarts? Answer me."

The woman opens a nasty sneer and the atmosphere of the house seems strange and menacing in a blink. Harry stands fast and inevitably puts himself between the two, his instincts yelling that Hermione might be in danger. Surprisingly, she accepts his unexplainable protection and lets out a heavy breath, relaxing a bit with his presence.

"Mrs Summers," His voice sounds off, he had no idea he was so nervous. Is there real danger for them in this house? Two trained Aurors against one civil witch? "It's a logical question. She should be studying, it's the law."

The woman's eyes go to him and he sees a clear threat, a sharpness that's always dangerous in his experience. A look from someone who is protecting a loved one. His hand seeks for Hermione behind him and meets her middle, he takes a step back, forcing her to do the same.

"You're a traitor." Mrs Summers says to Harry and he freezes. "A traitor of your blood."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She only laughs. Hermione tenses behind him, one of her hands closing around his wrist.

And then it happens pretty fast.

A sudden darkness invades the house and he's completely blind, Hermione tightens her grip on his arm and he comes closer to her, immediately fetching his wand. There's a numbing silence filling their ears. The hairs on his nape rise. They're totally exposed and vulnerable like this. Hermione moves and intertwines their fingers with their left hands, that same tingle and rush invade Harry. It's a warm sensation wired directly to his heart. But he understands what she's doing and they give their backs to each other.

They should apparate. Leave and deal with this another time. But from the little he knows Hermione, he's sure she's not considering this idea. She'll stay, fight and take whatever evidence she can. In that sense they seem to be on the same page.

Patiently, they wait. Hands clasped together, wands ready, backs touching. Having her with him makes it a lot less stressful. Harry considers their options. A Lumos now would be reckless. They have no idea how many others are there and it's impossible to tell from where the attacks might come. Even raising their wands without this knowledge could be fatal.

However, soon they hear it. A spell coming from their right. They turn, and, amazingly, without communicating, Hermione raises a shield around them while Harry utters a counter spell at the same direction. The faint light from the spells gives them a scarce notion of what's happening. Harry is sure Lucinda and her daughter are close together at a corner. It's only them.

Hermione starts uttering a nocturnal vision charm but another spell comes her way, stopping her action. Harry grits his teeth.

Another spell comes and this time is actually a curse. The Cruciatus. It angers him. He raises a shield and Hermione utters the counter spell. She squeezes his hand more tightly and he reciprocates the action.

He's sure he knows where their attackers are. Harry takes a tiny step, gently pulling Hermione with him. She follows without resistance. And if it wasn't for Hermione's quick reflexes, a Stupefy would have certainly hit them. It's clear that only Lucinda can perform spells. What about her daughter? He doesn't dwell on it when another spell comes their way.

Losing a bit of her patience, Hermione takes a few wider steps in the direction they were already going. The action must surprise Lucinda since there's a brief pause from her spells and Harry uses the moment to finally utter a Lumos. The room brightens up and he releases Hermione's hand. They move fast and in unison.

Mother and daughter are indeed at the corner. Harry stops. In a blink Hermione takes Lucinda's wand and binds both with spells. Harry notices she's ready to send out a Patronus to warn other Aurors, but he closes a hand around her wrist.

"Wait." He says and she turns to look at him, frowning.

"What is it?"

He purses his lips, his eyes on the women at the corner. "Something feels off."

"Exactly. I need to warn the Aurors-"

"No." His voice comes out firm.

She lets out a heavy breath. "What do you think you're doing, D'Angelo?"

He stares at her, their faces close, only the light from his wand allowing him to see the chocolate color from her warm eyes. Hermione is clearly angry with him, but he recognizes a curiosity there, intense and… indulgent.

"You really think they're a threat, Hermione? Look at them." His voice is low and he watches her eyes falling to his mouth while he talks.

Then she looks at their attackers. Hermione sighs. "They were attacking us." She states. "We need to take them into custody, Harry."

He knows she's right, but his gut tells him they shouldn't. From the messy house to Hannah not being at Hogwarts and the incredible aggressiveness Lucinda showed from the first moment, Harry is sure they're hiding something and he thinks he knows what it is. If they are taken under custody…

Sighing, he lowers his voice in a way that only Hermione can hear, "The girl is a squib, Hermione. You know." She closes her eyes. "Squibs and their parents aren't welcome here in England."

Hermione sets her jaw, her eyes narrow and her voice comes out sharp, "It's the law, D'Angelo. My father's law. And I live by it."

"Are you seriously considering murdering two innocent women-"

"Innocent?" She finally takes a step away from him, her voice a tone higher. "She was probably never cursed. They surely worked with those terrorists who assassinated ninety-eight wizards and witches at the Fair! Or have you forgotten about them?"

"You know they did not pull the trigger on those guns!" He loses it for a moment, "And you know as well as I do that this mother is only trying to protect her child-"

"ENOUGH!" Her voice echoes between them. Harry bites his lower lip, obeying. Hermione's eyes are wild. She moves her wrist and Harry fists his hands when her Patronus goes out into the void.

It hurts. And he wonders why he keeps expecting something else from Hermione than the obvious nastiness and evilness these wizards and witches live by. She is a Riddle. She was only two when his parents were murdered and she surely doesn't have their blood on her hands. But what about since she took over the Auror Department? What about all the decisions she's been making for years? How many more Muggleborns or sympathizers has she allowed or commanded to die?

Because that's what a Dementor's kiss is: death. Or maybe not, maybe it's worse.

They don't break eye contact until the Aurors start arriving. Harry at last lowers his head when Hermione explains both women should be taken to the Ministry for interrogation and to Azkaban right after.

Not caring, he exits the house. The sun is already setting and the wind is blowing wildly. In a mild run he distances himself from the place. He feels nauseous. Harry supports himself with both hands on his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut he thinks about his parents, about the reason why he's putting up with such atrocities.

A memory invades him instantly.

August 1st, 1990

D'Angelo Villa

"How was the lesson?"

Are the first words his grandfather says after a whole week without properly talking to him. But Harry is now used to it, and he finds himself not caring anymore.

"Good." He says firmly.

Matteo stops walking and Harry stops by his side at the wide corridor of one of the many aisles of the Villa. His grandfather taps his golden cane on the marble floor, two thuds. He's not happy.

"You have to understand, Harry… these lessons, everything I'm doing here… it's all for you, for your education," Matteo surprisingly crouches in front of Harry, "for your revenge."

Lately Matteo has been using this word a lot: Revenge. Harry knows what it means, but the reality of it seems far away from what he's doing. Reading, fighting, memorizing spells, excelling at anything remotely difficult and exhausting himself at English lessons are things which fill his days and mind. And he has a hard time associating it all with… revenge.

He chews the insides of his cheeks.

"Don't do that." Matteo says sharply as he stands. "It's easy to tell that you're nervous when you do that and I hope you learn how to conceal all your emotions."

Harry looks down and sighs. His grandfather resumes his walk but Harry stays there…

"What if I don't want revenge?" He says, finally. This burning question has been bothering him for more than a year now. Gathering his courage he looks up at Matteo. The older man has both hands resting on the top of his cane while his lips are pressed together and his jaw is set. Recently, his hair and beard had gone white and Harry still thinks the new look doesn't quite suit the blackness of his eyes and eyebrows.

"Believe me, Harry. You do." His tone is final and Harry nods timidly. "But maybe it's time for you to see something. Come."

In total silence he follows his grandfather to a study where he's being trained in one of his most hated subjects. Every Tuesday and Thursday, a professor comes and magically invades his mind. Harry's only objective is to shield his thoughts, each and every one of them. But he's been failing miserably. And he really hopes the strange professor keeps it all to himself. He has no idea what he would do if his grandfather found out how sad and lonely he's been feeling…

"I have a memory to show you." Matteo fetches a vial amongst hundreds magically protected and stored inside big drawers. He holds up the vial. "I found this with you, Harry." His grandfather sits down on a couch and pats his side for Harry to join him. "You see, I was actually searching for your parents. They were being hunted down by the British Ministry and I was eager to show them that their union wasn't wrong." Matteo presses his lips together, his eyes lost, "I'd just discovered where they were hiding but when I got there… it was a bit too late." Harry tilts his head, there are tears on his grandfather's eyes. "Your mother and father were dead… the Aurors long gone and I don't know what made me search the house, a gut feeling, maybe," He shrugs, "But I searched every inch and when I was about to give up, I heard… your cry." Matteo opens a sad smile. "Your parents were freakishly smart, Harry. They casted a few spells around you, one of them being a guarantee that no person without good intentions would be able to find you. There was a little door under a rug at your parent's bedroom. You were inside, behind that door, Harry. Such a little and chubby baby, crying, fat tears rolling from your eyes." Matteo stops for a moment. "No one knew James and Lily had had a child. They hid you pretty well. And then, I took you in my arms, Harry. And I've loved you since that day." Harry feels his heart beating faster, he wants to hug his nonnino. He doesn't, though. "I found a bag with you and this memory was one of the many inside." Matteo stands, walking to the pensive. "Wanna see it?"

Harry just nods and goes to the pensive. The pull takes him to years ago, through his parents' eyes.

August 14th, 1981

Potter Household

"Lil! Fast! He's about to walk!" James yells. He's up with both arms open, a bright smile on his face. There's a baby in front of him, hesitantly trying to stand on his own little feet.

"That's impossible!" Lily cries from the kitchen, "He just turned one!"

"I'm not joking this time, honey! You'll miss it! Don't blame me later!" James laughs sincerely. "Come on, Harry, you can do it, son." He says in a low voice.

Lily grunts loudly and the sound of her footsteps take over the place while the baby giggles when he finally stands, his two short arms stretched out seeking balance. James nods his head encouragingly to his son. That's when Lily finally arrives and lets out a timid squeal at the sight of her baby standing on his own. She joins James with a smile and reassuring words.

"Look at you, baby boy, you can do this, come to mama, come." She moves her hands and the baby giggles again.

They hold their breathes when little Harry tries taking the first step. He crumbles down, the balance gone. He hits the floor with his butt and lets out a pure laugh. James and Lily smile so widely their faces might tear apart.

"He'll try again." James says.

Lily raises an eyebrow. "And you're so sure because?"

"Because he's a Potter." He looks at her and they share an intense gaze. "And an Evans. Stubborn as they come, love." She can't help laughing at her husband.

And indeed, obeying his father's prediction, Harry stands again, this time faster than the first, as if he already learned how to simply handle his weight. Again, Lily calls to him, his eyes going from his mother to his father.

Letting out a little yell - like a warrior - Harry steps forward. This time he's able to keep still, and then he tries taking fast steps, one after the other, which obviously leads him to another fall, this time closer to his parents.

They all burst out in laughter and James fetches his son from the floor, kissing his cheek. "Don't worry big guy, there'll be a day you'll walk and run and even fly."

Lily hugs James' middle and also kisses Harry, the boy trying to hold her face with his hands. "And I can't wait to see it." She smiles and her eyes go to James. "I love you."

He gently kisses the tip of her nose and then her lips. "I love you way more."

He's breathing hard. He remembers clearly how he felt after seeing the memory of his real parents for the first time. He went to his room and looked at himself in the mirror for hours. He sought out all the similarities he inherited from them. The shape of his face - so much like his father's - not to mention the black hair and probably the poor eyesight - something which Matteo corrected as soon as possible saying it was out of question for him to wear glasses - but what really struck him was his mother's smile. Pure and loving and warm. And her eyes. Emerald eyes. Just like his own.

Everything changed after that memory. It did because the tragedy of what happened to them felt more real. They had plans of teaching Harry how to walk and run and fly, they had love and they had themselves.

Until they didn't.

Until Tom Riddle came with his Aurors and obsession of Blood Supremacy and murdered them. A couple that just wanted to live their life raising their son in peace, harming no one. Harry is sure that if Tom Riddle had had the chance, he would also be dead by now.

A hand touches his shoulder and he jumps in place, startled and lost. He'd almost forgotten where he was or what had just happened.

It's Hermione.

He feels acid in his stomach, a burning and terrible sensation taking over him. He wants to yell at her. He wants to shake her into reality and ask if she knows how she's destroying these women's lives, ask if she has any idea what it feels like to be discriminated like this, yell at her face how privileged she is, how fucking lucky she is to be the daughter of the man who decides who lives and who dies just because he feels like it.

It's the first time since they met that he feels real hate towards her. Maybe what she just did was what he needed to put himself back on track, to make him see that all of them are cut from the same cloth. And this cloth is a nest of vipers. Of assassins. Of supremacists. Of monsters.

Something must be showing on his expression because her eyes widen, the only indication of some bewilderment. But Harry clears his throat and straightens his back. It was easy forgetting his revenge around Hermione, but that won't happen again.

Instantly, all his training, all the lessons his grandfather put him through come back to him and he steels his posture and face. Nothing can touch or affect him anymore. Not even Hermione. How it should have been from the start.

She opens her mouth and he raises a hand. "Look, I'm sorry," He says, the words coming out easily. It's impossible to get his revenge if Hermione sends him away. "It was the heat of the moment. You're right in sending them to Azkaban. They deserve what they're getting. They hid information from the Ministry and this can't be allowed." He stops for a moment. Hermione crosses her arms. "Not just that but they surely had some participation in what happened at the Fair. They knew for sure and they should have warned the authorities."

His voice dies in the wind. She frowns. "Apology taken." He nods, pocketing his hands. "I sent out someone to the house of the other cursed woman. They just reported the place is abandoned. I guess she was in it too."

"Probably."

Hermione puts some strand hairs behind her ear, biting her lower lip and looking down. She seems… shy. "Look," She sighs, "I won't take another outburst like that from you." She states firmly, her eyes finally meeting his. Harry holds her gaze.

"I won't happen again, boss." There's no mockery in his tone. He's being totally serious.

"Good." She doesn't sound confident. "But you can come tonight if you want to practice the waltz." She abruptly changes the subject and Harry blinks.

"That's nice of you. Thanks." She's already nodding, "But I'll have dinner at the Blacks'." He sees her eyes narrowing, her whole body stiffening a bit. "And I think Sally wants to teach me, I mean, we're dancing together at the Ball, so…" He shrugs.

Hermione blinks a few times. "Sure. Of course." She waves a hand. Harry bites his tongue. He wants to ask if she's dancing with Pettigrew. She can dance with whomever she wants. It's none of my business and I don't care.

He opens a tight smile and glances at his watch. "I guess I'll be going then."

And not waiting for an answer, he apparates.

Sally gave him the address and now he's standing in front of a nice and charming building. It's in the middle of a Muggle street and this surprised Harry so much he chocked on his own saliva. Holding Sally's bouquet, he searches for number 12.

"Eleven… thirteen?" He frowns.

Then he turns when a laugh reaches him from behind. It's Sally. And she looks gorgeous.

"Harry. I'm glad you at least found the street." She comes closer to him, still smiling. He smiles with her. "Are those for me?" Her eyes widen at the sight of the bouquet. "I love roses." Locking his eyes on hers, Harry gives her the bouquet and leans closer to kiss her cheek.

"Just as beautiful as you." He says close to her ear.

Sally turns her head. "You're good, D'Angelo."

He recognizes the look she's giving him. "You haven't seen anything yet." He lowers his voice and she lets out a heavy breath before raising a hand to his nape and pulling him even closer.

"Show me."

She kisses him. Harry corresponds immediately, surprised by the softness of her lips, his tongue exploring her mouth slowly.

A car alarm sounds at the end of the street and they separate.

"Good enough?" He asks smugly.

"Sì."

He wants to kiss her again because of the adoring Italian and with the alarm still sounding, they share a quick kiss. Then Sally grunts and moves her wand to stop the alarm. Harry opens his mouth at the way she's openly using magic at a Muggle street.

"Don't worry. Muggles are used to us here, we've already magically blinded practically everyone on the street. They can't see us doing magic." She moves her wand again and this time he takes a step back. The buildings start moving and number twelve reveals itself to him.

He snorts a laugh. "Why live in the middle of Muggles?" He takes her hand in his while they head to the front door. She smiles at him.

"This place has been in the family for too long to just leave it. My dad has a hate/love relationship with it."

Without ceremony she opens the door and pulls him in. The inside is warm and bright. Harry can immediately smell something good and, in a snap, a house-elf appears in front of them. "Can I take your coat, sir?" The elf is old. Harry has no idea how long they live, but this one is surely one of the oldest he's ever seen.

"This is Kreacher. He's been in the family forever." Sally waves a hand.

Harry gives the elf his coat and his mind betrays him as he thinks about Hermione not having a house-elf. He at least didn't see one when he was there. Forget her.

Turning his attention back to Sally, he hears a voice coming from the kitchen, "Sal? Is that you? Is he here?" It's a woman, probably Eleonora.

Harry follows Sally to the kitchen. Eleonora is indeed there, cooking. With black hair, blue eyes and a round face, she smiles at Harry and opens her arms for a hug, he chuckles and hugs her, introducing himself. If he's not mistaken, this kind woman had nothing to do with his parents' assassination. She met Sirius a while after. So, in a way, he feels more comfortable around her. And before he forgets, he magically conjures up the apple pie he brought. In that particular moment he's sure he earns Eleonora's eternal love. And he can't help smiling because of it.

"So, I wanna know everything about you, dear." She moves her wand and two stools move from the isle. Harry and Sally sit side by side. "Sirius will be a while longer, so we can talk until he arrives."

Eleonora pours them some wine and Harry accepts it promptly. The fact that Sirius is running late stirs something inside him. He's eager to meet this man. From what he gathered from his parents' memories and superficial informations about the Persecution, Sirius Black was James' best friend. And Harry can't believe how a best friend was able to do what he did. Did he, along with Pettigrew, gave away their location, henceforth, killed them?

"Well," He opens a dashing smile, "I'm from Italy and-"

"Oh, I know your family! I mean, I've heard about them. Matteo D'Angelo is a well known man." Her eyes glint, "I've actually met your mother once." Harry widens his eyes and Sally clears her throat.

"Mum, come on. Be nice." She drinks some wine, "Harry's here to enjoy a calm evening, isn't that right?" She nudges him and he drinks from his glass, not really knowing what to say. "We'll practice the waltz later." Sally states.

"Are you dancing together at the Ball?" They nod. "That's nice." Her voice sounds off. "The Traditional is indeed beautiful." Then, Eleonora scrunches her nose, "But not very modern, the whole thing with the Patronus is ancient. And despite what many may say, I don't think it's a demonstration of power... maybe more of compatibility than anything else, but still." She shrugs.

"Mother. Let's not forget Harry here is an Auror. I don't think telling him how you disagree with our Pureblood's customs is a good idea." Sally's tone is playful and he raises his hands in the air when Eleonora puts a hand on her waist, staring at him.

"Are you arresting me, D'Angelo?"

"Please, call me Harry, and of course I'm not arresting you." He fetches his glass again and before sipping on the wine, he murmurs, "After all, I'm not Hermione." He knows he sounds bitter, and he probably shouldn't have said that, but the only reaction he gets are loud laughs from mother and daughter.

Eleonora resumes her cooking and Sally gives him a side glance. It flashes into his mind the dissatisfaction with which Sally greeted Hermione at the night club. She doesn't like her. He can't help being curious about it… Sally could be a great help in revealing Hermione's weak spots. If she has any. He narrows his eyes. I'm thinking about her again.

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to compliment the food's smell when a strong voice comes from the entrance. Harry freezes. Sirius Black is finally there and he's about to meet him.

Sally takes his hand and guides him to the corridor, but it all seems a blur to Harry. He tries steeling himself but Sirius looks nothing like what Harry imagined. He has dark and warm eyes and a welcoming smile.

They don't last much, though. His whole expression changes at the sight of Harry and he's suddenly very pale. Sally even asks if he's okay, but his eyes are fixed on Harry.

Sirius finally opens his mouth, letting out a heavy breath. Harry sees his hands fisting. And Sirius' next words almost stop his heart:

"James?"

Chapter Text

"James?" Sirius' voice echoes through the hall.

No one moves for a moment.

Harry blinks a few times, his palms are sweaty, but he feels cold inside, not to mention a dizziness that threatens to ruin his fake coolness, but maybe Sirius is even more shocked than him. So, Harry moves forward and smiles, extending his hand to the man.

"I'm Harry D'Angelo, sir. It's a pleasure." His heart is pounding inside his chest. Harry waits for Sirius to break out of his frozen state, but the man doesn't move, still watching Harry with wide eyes… as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Dad?" Sally snaps her fingers in front of her father and, finally, he blinks and shakes his head, his eyes on his daughter. "This is Harry, remember I told you he was coming for dinner tonight?"

"I- Yes, yes. Of course!" He lets out a strange laugh and takes Harry's hand, firmly. "It's a pleasure, Sirius Black." Harry nods and tries pulling his hand away, but Sirius holds on to him. "So, tell me, boy, are you here to ask my daughter in marriage?"

Harry opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure. But Sirius laughs out loud this time and winks at him, finally releasing his hand. He briefly tells Harry it's a joke and pats his shoulder when passing by to kiss his wife.

Sally is shaking her head and when their eyes meet she shrugs at Harry mouthing 'Sorry'.

Eleonora tells them dinner will be served shortly and fast enough they're all occupying a dinning area that Harry finds extremely small for such a traditional and known family as the Blacks. His mind is on overdrive as he takes all in, pictures on the mantle and other hints of their lives. One thing stands out, though, and he can't help walking to the portrait and stopping in front of it. It's Sirius, Eleonora, Sally… Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy… and Hermione, Tom and Bellatrix. He frowns. They don't look exactly happy.

Then, his mind catches up as to why this portrait is there the moment Sirius comes to gaze at the picture with him. He offers Harry another glass of wine and sips on his. "Family." His voice carries a hint of annoyance. "Do you wanna see the tapestry?"

Even not being sure what Sirius means, Harry nods and, while Kreacher and Eleonora set the table, Sally follows them to another room.

"Dad's incredibly proud of this tapestry." She rolls her eyes. "It's kinda of sad." Harry can tell she's mocking her father and Sirius snorts.

"We have to appreciate where we come from, Sal. It's who we are."

The man's words strike a deep chord inside Harry. Indeed. He's a Potter. An Evans. He's a proud Half-Blood. Setting his jaw he lets his eyes roam over the tapestry, it's big and old, dusty and imposing. Sirius opens his hands and starts explaining a few things to Harry. He doesn't really care, but he fakes interest and nods his head occasionally. Just when Sirius reaches the names Bellatrix and Narcissa his attention perks up. Andromeda is also mentioned - Nymphadora's mother.

They're Sirius' cousins.

Of course.

He barely listen to Sirius' next words. He's reviewing inside his mind the few times he mentioned Hermione to Sally, or even how Ginny made it pretty clear she was close to the Blacks, but Hermione - who is related to them in a way - never even mentioned being friends with Sally… interesting. Could they hate each other? If they do, why is that?

And what about Hermione and Draco? The man thanked him for saving her at the Fair…

"What do you think?" Sirius asks him.

"It's amazing, sir. Beautiful."

"You could be up here some day, huh?"

Harry almost chokes on his wine, but Sirius laughs again and he sees Sally whispering a few words to her father before they go back to the dinning room. Harry lingers behind, his eyes on the tapestry. His mind repeating a certainty: You'll pay for what you did to my parents. All of you.

Sirius gladly opened the Firewhisky Harry gave him, something which made their dinner a lot more fun as they progressed to a state of blissful inebriation. It didn't go unnoticed to Harry how the man kept looking at him when he thought he was focused on someone else. Harry knew his physical appearance might stir some doubts, he even mentioned this to his grandfather a few years ago, but Matteo said "They won't notice a thing, Harry, they want to forget about Lily and James, I'm sure no one remembers their faces anymore. But be careful to those who were closer to them, they might see the resemblance."

And indeed. Tom Riddle said he looked familiar and Sirius thought he was James. Probably he'll get a few more looks at the Ball…

His upper hand is the fact that his parents kept him a secret. Others may find him similar to James Potter, but they never will go as far as to imagine that the Potters had a child. He's safe on that matter.

Mostly because people tend to see what they want, not what is right in front of them.

"Well, Mrs Black, I have to say, it's been a long while since I've eaten so well. Everything was amazing."

"You're kind, dear. Thank you." Eleonora says back and he politely nods.

And when Harry thinks he can finally leave the table with Sally for them to practice the waltz, Sirius says:

"I'm curious, D'Angelo." Harry raises an eyebrow. "Why did you move here? Is there something special in London? Something meaningful for you?" Sirius' eyes are heavy on him.

"I needed a change in life, sir."

"Is that so? Intriguing… I heard you were Head Auror in Italy. An important position for someone to just walk away from it." Sirius smiles despite his words and Harry feels cold. "Has someone already told you how much you look like the deceased James Potter?" Eleonora gasps, her eyes on her husband. "I mean, it's really uncanny."

Harry realizes he has two options here: Change the subject or-

"Is that so, sir? No one ever told me this. Curious. Were you close to James Potter?" He acts as cool as possible, his eyes on Sirius and his hand firm while he extends it to grab the glass of Firewhisky.

"I was." It's the answer. Short and sharp.

"It surprises me that you say this openly, sir. From what I've learned here, talking about the Potters is practically taboo." Harry sips on his drink. "I guess they got what they deserved, didn't they?" There's a sour taste in his mouth. If he had any choice he would never talk like this about his parents, but his desire to test Sirius speaks louder.

However, the man in question barely moves, his eyes glinting while he tilts his head. "I guess they did." It's all Sirius says. And then, Sally breaks the moment.

"Okaaaaaay," She clears her throat, standing, she puts a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come, Harry, we still need to practice that waltz."

Sirius and Eleonora smile encouragingly to both and Harry takes another sip before standing and following Sally out, his mind still replaying his words and Sirius' answer. He barely pays attention while Sally guides him through the house - it's not a big place - and soon they enter a room clearly enchanted to look like a ballroom.

She smiles at him. "We've always loved dancing, my father has been teaching me since forever." Harry opens a side smile, nodding and noticing the magical gramophone at the corner. Sally walks over there and starts to search for the right waltz to play.

But if Harry's truthful, the last thing on his mind is dancing this waltz.

When he blinks and looks up, Sally is already in front of him.

"So, Hermione taught you the basics, right?" He nods, flashes of his dance with Hermione popping into his mind. She looked stunning in that simple dress- "Now we only have to conjure our Patronus and waltz away."

Harry makes a face. "I tried doing it without the wand, it's pretty damn hard." She nods at his words. He wonders why his grandfather never included wandless magic in his lessons. It would be a nice advantage. He clears his throat. "Do you know if Hermione can perform many spells without a wand?" He tries hiding his curiosity, as if the question means less than nothing.

Sally shrugs. "Who knows what Hermione can really do?" She asks.

"What do you mean?"

Biting her lower lip and looking around she says in a low voice, "She's abnormally powerful, Harry. Don't you know?" He opens and closes his mouth and Sally rolls her eyes, "It's not common knowledge, Riddle has been shielding her from everything and everyone her whole life, always making sure no one notices how truly powerful she can be… I have no idea why the secrecy. But I don't really care. My father told me Hermione could perform powerful magic since she was a kid."

He raises his eyebrows. He hates this new information. "Really? I had no idea. She seems pretty normal to me." But he knows it's not true the moment he says the words. Every spell or charm or hex he's seen her perform so far were perfect and… clean. Powerful.

"Yeah, I mean. Since she was like two or three." Harry is at a loss of words. He has no idea what he was doing when he was two years old, but surely not practicing magic. "So, don't feel bad about not being able to do the Patronus."

Pressing his lips together he nods. But he feels bad. He feels terrible. What was the purpose of all his training if it's practically impossible to compete with someone so naturally talented? Hermione's face while she told him he soon would be able to perform the Patronus pops into his mind. She seemed sure, confident in his abilities. He feels something in his stomach and shakes his head.

Sally doesn't notice his internal turmoil or she chooses not to. Taking a step back from him, she raises her wand and without a word her Patronus invades the room. Harry smiles. It's a big dog. Friendly and energetic like her. Much better than a serpent. The dog runs around them, his tongue sticking out while he sniffs Harry.

"So," She begins, "At the traditional, after we do the walk in circles, we stop in front of each other and take a moment to conjure our Patronus." She moves her hand, extending it in his direction. "Your turn."

Harry takes a deep breath. He can conceal the true form of his Patronus and he's not sure which one he should show to Sally, because whichever he chooses, is the one he's going to perform at the Ball in front of everyone else. In front of those Purebloods…

Gritting his teeth he moves his wand.

The spell takes its shape and soon a big lion is standing in the middle of the room. Sally claps and lets out an excited squeal. "That's awesome!" She says in awe. Harry looks down a bit awkwardly and thanks her, feeling shy all of the sudden.

In a beat the dog is wiggling its tail and trying to play with the lion. However, the feline just looks at the dog, not moving. Harry wills it to be amicable and the lion relaxes a bit, opening its huge mouth and shaking his mane. Sally crosses her arms. Harry can almost read her mind because he's thinking the same: their Patronus have nothing in common. Not even if he had chosen the other one, the real one… It matches Hermione's perfectly-

"Are you nervous?" She asks and he blinks.

"Not at all. Shall we?" He moves into her frame, arms stretched open at the correct stance of a waltz. "So, I know the basics." He winks at her and Sally smiles as she takes his hand and puts another one on his shoulder. Harry looks at the animals: the dog is trying to bite the lion while he only raises a paw to stop the erratic dog… almost as if he's totally and completely bored. Harry clicks his tongue. "What about them?"

"Well," Sally is very close, "we focus on the waltz and they will behave accordingly to what we're feeling."

He narrows his eyes. "Okay."

Sally raises a finger and counts the beats of the song. "3, 1, 2, 3." Harry knows enough to understand that he leads.

And they waltz.

It's not the most difficult dance and he's glad because he can focus on her eyes, on her nose and mouth. He enjoyed kissing her earlier. Their time together is always fun and he can't deny he finds her attractive. Not like Hermione- He smiles at Sally. Harry gets a glimpse of the lion and the dog. The dog is trying to lick the lion's mane while the feline is still at the same position, sitting on his hind legs and ignoring the canine.

"Don't worry about them." Sally says in a low voice, close to him, her eyes on his lips.

Harry just nods. Then his mind wanders… "Why do you still live with your parents?" He asks also in a low voice.

"Well, I'm still not married."

Frowning, he states, "Hermione lives alone."

Sally snorts. "She's the Minister's daughter, Harry. She has some privileges. And…" She closes her mouth and looks down. His curiosity perks up.

"And what?"

Sally shakes her head. "It's not my place to tell."

He doesn't prod. But he feels an anxiousness inside him. Now he's sure there's a good enough reason why Hermione isn't married yet, and it's something extremely personal. "Is she marrying Pettigrew?" He asks before he can stop his own tongue.

"I guess. They've been together for a while now. Two years, I think."

Harry doesn't answer and they keep waltzing. Now, his lion is up, strolling across the room, still ignoring the dog, but very much aware of his surroundings. Harry realizes the Patronus is restless just like him.

"Harry, I'm sorry about my father." Sally says out of the blue and he widens his eyes.

"Why?"

"About the whole James Potter thing. He shouldn't have said that."

The lion roars, actually producing a strong sound and Harry stops dancing to observe. The dog lowers his tail in fear and Sally scrunches up her nose. Not compatible at all. Before the situation can escalate, Harry moves his wand and the lion disappears. Sally does the same and they stare at each other.

"You waltz pretty well." She says.

Harry tilts his head. "I know. I just wanted an excuse to be here tonight." He opens a seductive smile in an attempt to try to forget what just happened with their Patronus.

She moves to him and he holds her by the waist, their faces close. Without a word they move to share another kiss. Harry can feel her hands on his hair while their tongues meet, while his mouth opens up to her and his hands close tightly on her waist. The kiss is… okay.

But his heart doesn't beat faster. His mind is not a puddle of thoughts. He's very aware of what's happening. And very aware that maybe he'll have to marry her. Be part of the Black family. Know their secrets. Destroy them from inside.

Harry moves back, smiling and giving her a quick kiss. Her arms are around his shoulders and there's a glint in her eyes.

"See you soon?" She asks bluntly.

He nods and they share another kiss. Then he moves away and apparates back to his flat.

November 11th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

Harry washes his hands, glad that he's having a moment to himself. It's been a hell of a morning. Hermione is meeting with the investigation team one-on-one, asking questions about the witnesses and the site, but Harry knows she has nothing to discuss with him since they were together yesterday. Thinking about what happened still gives him a terrible sensation, but, at least, this way he's being spared of her company. Which he can't quite decide if he likes or not. And that makes him angry with himself.

Ginny and Ron on the other hand were all over him, asking about his dinner with the Blacks. He gave them sincere answers, it was a pleasant evening after all. But many questions came out of it. Sirius talking about James Potter with an Auror; The portrait he saw with the Riddles and Malfoys and the way Sirius uttered the word 'family' with total dissatisfaction; His clear incompatibility with Sally and how that's going to affect his plans… not to mention what she said about Hermione.

He looks at himself in the mirror, his hands resting on the sink. Hermione Riddle has a secret. Or secrets. And Harry is eager to unveil all of them. Marrying a Black, befriending the Weasleys, working with the Malfoys, saving a Riddle… he hasn't met a Lupin yet, but he will… at the Ball. He'll meet everyone at the Ball. Grunting, he closes his eyes. One thing is to plan a revenge, another one entirely is to live with his enemies and find the time and opportunity to plan his next steps. Maybe I should head to the Archives.

Harry exits the bathroom and looks around, not many Aurors are there at the floor. Many are out on missions. The few remaining are focused on their tasks. Draco and Pettigrew are inside Hermione's office and Ron and Ginny are in a heated debate. Harry narrows his eyes at them. What could they possibly be discussing this fiercely? He's sure there's a bubble around them, muffling their words. He could stay there trying to understand what they're saying, but he decides going to the Archives is more important at the moment… Ron and Ginny are siblings, maybe they're discussing a family matter, who knows?

So, stealthy, he walks fast to a staircase at the far end of the floor and starts running down to the Archives. He knows there's no kind of protection there, any employee can access the files, and in a way he's doing nothing wrong, but he really hopes he doesn't have to come up with a lie to explain his presence amongst the dusty files.

Taking a deep breath and hoping that no one will notice him, Harry enters the room. There's no door, just an open arch.

The Archives are quite impressive. Huge, tall shelves stand side by side with thousands of drawers with explanatory tags. He goes past a few, his eyes swiftly scanning every tag. None are even remotely close to something that might refer to the Potters' Persecution. He crosses his arms and stops behind a shelf. There's no one near by and he observes the way files are being displayed. A huge indicator catches his eye, it says: Law Enforcement.

Narrowing his eyes, he realizes every huge shelf has an indicator. Breathing relieved, he walks forward searching for the Auror Department. While he does it, he encounters a few others who are leaning against some shelf and reading a file. None raise their eyes to look at Harry and he's thankful for that.

And, after way longer than he wished, he sees an indicator with the words: Auror D. Missions.

He walks faster and stops at the first shelf. He sets his jaw. There are files since the creation of the Department, since 1740. Why have magic to complicate things this much? He can't help wondering. Shouldn't the whole Archives be a single drawer where you wished for a file and it came right up to your hand? Grunting, he goes past the years in a blur, at least everything is tagged. 1978, 1979, 1980, 1981. He stops right there. The Potters' Persecution began around these years, so he's not sure if the file will be under the year it started or the year it ended.

He opens the first drawer dated 1981. Maybe his chances are better at the year of the mission.

Harry was not prepared for the infinitude of the drawer. There are hundreds and hundreds of files inside. Ma che cazzo! Taking his wand he tries facilitating his life with an Accio. And he almost yells in excitement when a file with the tag 'Potters' comes to his hand.

Closing the drawer he leans on the shelf and with shaky hands he opens the file. The first page is a repetition of the name and the next one is a statement from the Minister:

The Potters' Persecution is a Highly Classified File (H.C.F.). If in need of it, request the file directly to the Minister of Magic. The request can take up to fifteen days while the petitioner goes through an evaluation.

As it is known, H.C.F.s are protected by law and must be kept from prying eyes as their subjects are not to be taken lightly.

Minister of Magic

Tom Riddle

Chewing the insides of his cheeks he closes the file. There's nothing more inside. He shuts his eyes. In a way he already knew. The moment he saw that shelf at Riddle's office, he knew the informations he needed about his parents were there. And now he has no idea how he'll get them. Putting the file back inside the drawer, Harry walks fast out the Archives, his head going a million miles an hour.

He could ask Hermione. Would she suspect him? Would she give him the file? He shakes his head while he goes up the stairs. She's out of question. Hermione would definitely tell her father about his curiosity and Tom Riddle might find a way to interrogate Harry under Veritaserum, and it all would be over. He knows how to lie to an interrogation bubble. He knows how to shield his mind from expert Legilimens. He can even resist the Imperius Curse.

But the only thing Harry isn't able to trick or resist is the Veritaserum. And is not as if he hadn't tried. He even forgot how many times he took the potion while at his training in Italy. His grandfather thought it would be easy to resist since Harry is an excellent Occlumens, but that's not what happened. He has no idea why, but the moment the first drop touched his tongue he was ready to answer any question, to give away any truth. Every. Single. time.

Scrunching his nose he enters the Auror's floor, and just as he takes a few steps, he's violently tackled down.

Harry hits the carpet with a thud, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. He tries understanding what's happening and sees Asmodeus Pettigrew above him. With incredible reflexes he protects his face from a punch.

Finally regaining his senses, he hears a few people yelling behind them. Another punch comes from the other side and Harry blocks it again, not understanding a thing. Pettigrew is yelling something to his face and he focus on it.

"I knew it! I knew you were a traitor! Filthy Italian!"

Pressing his lips together he prepares himself to punch Pettigrew. If the man found out something about his true identity, at least he'll fulfill one of his wishes: Punch his smug face.

But the moment Harry raises his fist, Pettigrew is thrown with an extraordinary force to the far opposite wall, hitting it and falling unconscious to the ground. Harry gaps at the scene. And his heart quickens when he notices Hermione did it. She threw her boyfriend against a wall with an incredible spell to… protect me. He feels himself blushing, his breathing coming short and his insides twisting in satisfaction.

Not to mention how hot she looks with a ferocity in her eyes and expression that Harry hadn't seen until now. She's also breathing hard and their eyes finally lock. It definitely takes his breath away. Harry feels like he could kiss her right there. In front of everyone. And he wouldn't care at all.

Slowly he stands and swiftly she comes to him. "Are you hurt?" She asks, her eyes roaming over him, her face completely stripped from any mask or blankness. She's truly and insanely worried about him.

Harry shakes his head in denial and he sees her letting out a deep breath. In what seems a daze she raises her hand and pushes his hair back. Harry briefly closes his eyes at her touch.

Then someone clears their throat and they realize they're not alone. At all.

Ginny is pursing her lips, Ron by her side with his arms crossed and Draco is standing there with an eyebrow raised. And many others are watching from a safe distance. Hermione takes a step back from Harry and he fights his urge to pull her back to his personal space.

She turns to the Aurors and says, "Tend to see if Asmo is okay." Her voice comes out low. "D'Angelo, come with me."

And just like that she walks to her office. After giving the others one final look, Harry follows. When he closes the door, it truly shocks him to notice that he wants to hug her. Badly. He stays put and Hermione leans on her desk with both hands, her back to him. Just as Harry can't understand what's happening, she seems to be questioning her action.

"I-" He begins and she turns to face him. She still looks livid. "What happened? Why was he calling me a traitor?"

Hermione blinks and crosses her arms. "We were talking about the cursed woman we went to interrogate yesterday. And in these situations, we have to report everything since the moment we step inside the house or whichever place," She waves a hand, "Asmo… he lost it when I said Lucinda called you a traitor of your blood. He was already questioning the fact that you were close to her at the altar before the supposedly cursed object made her say those things."

Harry pockets his hands and… chuckles.

Hermione narrows her eyes. "You think this is funny? He has a point, you know?"

He raises an eyebrow at that. "You think so, Hermione?" He walks forward, closer to her. "You think I'm a traitor? You think I helped those women? Had a part in murdering ninety-eight wizards?"

She wets her lips. "Did you?"

"No." He says simply. He's a bit offended she's actually asking. But he understands where she's coming from. He just got transfered and on his first mission a thing like that happened. He had never seen Lucinda in his life, but surely the woman suspects - or have an idea of - what he might be there to do. Harry can't imagine how. But his grandfather knows lots of people. Lots of rebels. Of Muggleborns. Of sympathizers.

"Are you sure there's nothing you want to say to me, D'Angelo?" She takes a step and they stand pretty damn close. So close he can see her tiny freckles.

"Just thank you for saving me from your deranged boyfriend." Her eyes flicker at his words and he opens a tiny smile. "It was satisfying seeing him flying to that wall."

She shakes her head, resigned. "He shouldn't have done that. It's not our way of dealing with things."

"I understand he wants me gone." Harry shrugs. "I can't say I like him either."

Hermione tilts her head. "I'm still keeping my eye on you, Harry."

"Is that so, Hermione?"

Their exchange of words is low and in hushed tones, their proximity almost intoxicating. She gulps.

"Apart from what I already told you, Lucinda said earlier that she'll only respond to you." She presses her index finger against his chest. "Why is that?"

"I have no idea."

"Will you do it? The interrogation?"

"If you want me to, I will." She widens her eyes and he understands the words didn't quite come out with the intent he was aiming for, so, "You're my boss."

Hermione moves back and clears her throat. "Yes. Exactly." She blinks a few times, as if centering herself. Harry notices the heat from the moment after she "saved" him from Pettigrew is gone.

"When the interrogation is-"

"Now." She gathers a file on the desk. "Come with me."

He joins his hands on top of the table. The interrogation room is the same as the meeting room. Lucinda Summers is in front of him, looking totally lost and exhausted. Harry narrows his eyes. Hermione and the others on the investigation team - except Pettigrew that's probably at the infirmary - are watching at an ad jointed room.

He drums his fingers on the table. Harry fears she might say something that can compromise him, but if he refused interrogating her, Hermione would certainly suspect his actions even more.

"Mrs Summers." His voice is deep and firm. "I'm activating the interrogation bubble now. Are you aware that if you lie, the bubble will reveal it and I'm going to have to take drastic measures?"

He waits for her to answer as it's protocol. But Lucinda lowers her head and laughs. Hysterically. Harry presses his lips together, not moving even an inch.

"Drastic measures, Auror D'Angelo?" She shakes her head. "I'm already going to Azkaban, aren't I? Receiving the Dementor's kiss. What could possibly be more tragic than that?" There's a glint of defiance in her eyes and Harry can't help admiring her courage a bit.

"Maybe you're right, Mrs Summers. Maybe there's nothing more drastic than that. But we also have your daughter under our-"

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCHING HER!" She screams at his face. Harry raises an eyebrow. And waits. Of course he wouldn't torture her daughter or anything of the sort. Lucinda starts crying. "I'll tell you everything, just- please- my daughter-" She says through sobs, "She's not guilty, none of us are-" She stops, choking.

Harry moves his hands from the table and rests them on his lap. It cuts his heart open to see this mother suffering. To know that he's partially responsible for hers and her daughter's destiny. It rekindles his hate towards Hermione, mixing it with all the emotions he felt the moment he saw her standing there after throwing Pettigrew to a wall.

"Were you involved in the attacks that took place at the Fair on the night of Halloween?" He asks sharply.

"Yes." She answers and the bubble turns green.

"Were you truly cursed?"

"No." Green.

"So you planned the attacks?"

"No!" She widens her eyes. Green.

"What was your part, then?"

"I was…" The woman sighs, crying. Leaning back on his chair, he can tell a full confession is coming, so, Harry lets her tell her story, "While my husband was alive, hiding Hannah's… condition… was easier. You see, he was the provider, he worked here at the Ministry and no one bothered us. But since he died… things have been incredibly difficult. It's hard for me to provide for us and keep Hannah safe at the same time." She's hugging herself, her head down, "To be honest, I thought I was doing a good job with everything considered, but… one day I came home and there was a man inside. I've never seen him in my life," Harry glances at the bubble, still very much green, "and he was talking to Hannah. She's an innocent girl, Auror D'Angelo, she had no idea what she was doing, she never truly understood why she was being casted out in society and the man tricked her, he exposed her… lack of magic." She stops. Harry silently lets out a deep breath he didn't notice he was holding. He crosses his arms, trying to stop himself from his nervous manners. He knows Hermione is also watching his reactions. "The man threatened me. He said that if I didn't do as I was told he would expose Hannah in front of everyone, in front of the Minister. He said the Minister would kill her himself." Out of the blue she bangs a fisted hand on the table. "And I believed him! I did! We know how squibs are treated! The word is almost taboo. Almost a curse itself! It shouldn't be this way, it shouldn't!"

"And he asked you to play a part at the Fair? This man." Harry cuts her, noticing the woman is getting a little too emotional. He knows she's probably condemned already, but talking shit about the Minister while his daughter is watching is not an extra to her sentence that Harry wants for her.

She shakes her head. "Yes. I was supposed to say those words, act as if I had been cursed."

"How this man looked like, Mrs Summers?"

"I… I'm not sure." Green. "I think he confused me after… I can't quite remember his face. But I remember his presence."

"And how was that? His presence?"

"Menacing."

Harry drums two fingers on the table. He's deadly curious about this man.

"He told you anything about his plans or cause?"

"Very little. I had no idea what was going to happen after I said those words, please, I-"

Even with the green bubble, Harry asks, "But you would have done it regardless, wouldn't you? To protect your child." She sobs, tears falling from her eyes. She confirms with her head, nodding. "I can understand, Mrs Summers. There's nothing like the love of a parent." He sets his jaw. Stop talking.

She raises her eyes to him, opening a tiny smile. "I knew I wasn't wrong when I said I would only talk to you, Auror D'Angelo."

"Why is that?"

"You're the first Auror I see who shows true compassion." He holds his breath. "I saw what you did for me and my daughter back at our house. Even if it didn't work, it meant the world to me. It meant someone saw my Hannah and actually cared."

There's a moment of pause where Harry is at a loss of words. He's grateful Pettigrew isn't at the other room watching. He's sure Hermione hadn't told them how he acted… how he tried to spare mother and daughter. And Pettigrew would definitely have another fit over it.

He gets back on track. "Did you know the other cursed woman?"

"No." Green.

"Did the man visited you again after the Fair?"

"No." Green.

"Do you know who were the attackers? Muggles? Wizards?"

"No, I've told you, the only thing I knew was that I had to act like I had been cursed and repeat those words." Green.

Harry looks at the left wall of the room where he knows they're on the other side watching. There's nothing more he can ask this woman. She was just a pawn in the scheme of things.

"Just one more question. Why didn't you run? Vanished after the Fair?" He's truly curious about it.

She gives him a sad smile. "Even after all, this is my home, Auror D'Angelo. And I had nowhere else to go." She shrugs.

He presses his lips, nodding and after a little while, the door opens and Hermione steps inside with Malfoy. "Take her, please, Draco." She says in a low voice and the man nods. With surprising gentleness he steers Lucinda out. The door closes and Hermione stares at Harry.

"Satisfied?" He asks.

"She's hiding something."

Harry opens his mouth. He frowns. "I don't think so."

"I'm sure."

"How?"

"It's a gut feeling."

She crosses her arms, her eyes still on him, trying to pierce his soul, making him uncomfortable. He snorts and points at the bubble. "Green all the way."

"Maybe she tricked it."

"Not many wizards can do that, Hermione. She doesn't strike me as one who can."

"Please, D'Angelo, you don't wanna see it just because she said you had compassion."

He irritably chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "I still think she was just trying to protect her daughter."

He stands from his chair and walks around the table, stopping in front of her. He's taller and they're so close she looks up at him. He opens a tiny smile at the way she doesn't move away, challenging him to move closer if he dares. He doesn't, though.

"It doesn't matter now," Her voice is low and at this distance he can see some… - guilt? - in her eyes. "They'll be taken to Azkaban tonight. The sentence will be executed tomorrow." She bites her lower lip.

"What?" He sounds outraged. "Already? Both of them?" Hermione nods. He feels nauseous again. Harry leans closer to her, his mouth on her ear. "This is on you, Hermione. I hope you sleep well tonight."

Without looking back, he exits the room, his heart beating erratically. He shouldn't put his position here and his revenge on the line like this… but it's who he is. And as he walks into the Atrium, he wonders if there's anything he can do to help mother and daughter. After all, he also came here to set fire to this ridiculous Ministry, and that's exactly what he plans to do.

Chapter Text

November 11th, 2005

Outside Azkaban

The water hits him from all sides. It's pouring down and he can't see a thing because of the moonless night. Murmuring a few spells - one to keep the water from drenching his clothes and one for the freezing cold - he finally can see two Aurors at the entrance of Azkaban.

Even if the prison is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sea, Harry found a way of hiding in plain sight with a charm. So far the Aurors haven't seen him at the edge of the platform, but even if they had… he's an Auror. He can say he's there to oversee the transference.

It's the first time he's setting his own eyes on Azkaban. It looks pretty imposing and he can feel the strange air around it, probably because of the Dementors. And it makes him even angrier. To imagine mother and daughter enclosed inside just because they were easy targets in a society which condemns something you can't change is too much for him. He still remembers Hannah's fear when she told them she wanted to go to Hogwarts…

She admired Hermione. He shakes his head. This isn't right, he can't let these two die, it would be too much of a burden. He still has no idea how he's saving them since he just decided he's doing this, but no matter, he'll plan as he goes.

Glancing at his watch he realizes the hour is close. It's almost midnight and the Aurors and prisoners should appear any minute now. His face is all covered with a mask, the only exception: his eyes. He transfigured their color because their natural emerald is too remarkable and if someone sees, it'll be his end. Inevitably, when he was doing it, he thought of the chocolate ones from the Head Auror and he's sure his are matching hers now.

Pressing his lips together, he tries to move as little as possible while he waits. He's not too close to the entrance, keeping a safe distance from the two Aurors, but still close enough to mess up his illusion charm if he's not careful. A man and a woman are there, talking and laughing, not caring at all with the rain or the transference that's about to happen.

He can't see the interior of the prison as it is just a big black block. He imagines these two are in front of the door and he bets that if he gets closer, he'll be able to see its shape. But he does nothing. He waits.

Not too long, though. Suddenly, at the far end of the block aisle, mother and daughter appear with three Aurors. Harry grits his teeth. One of them is Pettigrew. And at total they're five. He taps his wand on his thigh, not happy. He plans his next move.

Five against one is… bad. And he half planned to apparate to his flat tagging the two women along. He wonders if he'll be able to do it now. Will he even get a chance of knocking out the other Aurors and getting to them before they find out who he is? He groans internally. He should have already eliminated the two Aurors at the entrance… or maybe not, Pettigrew would retreat, knowing something was off.

He watches as the two Aurors leave the entrance and walk to the arriving team. Chewing the insides of his cheeks he decides he needs to be fast. It's his only chance. It's also imperial no one takes his wand or else they'll trace it back to him. Combat? He sure wants to punch Pettigrew. Tilting his head to himself, he agrees on these terms… which aren't much, but whenever he gets into a fight, is more instinct than planning, so, he's in familiar ground.

Taking a deep breath he prepares to run to them, the first one he needs to take out is Pettigrew, he's by far the most experienced and threatening one. But just before he takes the first step, his heart pounding inside his chest, he wonders if he should. If they get me… it's all over. Is it worth it? He looks down. It is.

He runs. The aisle is long and wide, and the Aurors are talking, standing on the middle of it. He hopes his charm doesn't fail and-

He stops, stunned.

In one motion, the two Aurors from the entrance are swept away by an incredible force that Harry is sure was a spell coming from their left. Both Aurors fly back to the entrance and fall on the ground. The other three Aurors are already shielding the prisoners and raising their wands. He runs even faster. He has no idea what happened, but it's his best chance.

Pettigrew is yelling orders and looking everywhere. While he approaches Pettigrew, Harry decides to bind the other two with a spell and swiftly, he does it. The two Aurors tumble back, not understanding why there are ropes on their legs, and Harry uses the moment to - with immense satisfaction - deliver a strong punch to Pettigrew's face.

He watches in delight while the man stumbles and yells, furious. Harry advances, moving with quick legs and expertise at these kind of hand in hand combats. He punches Pettigrew's side while the man utters spells aimlessly, then he punches his other side and stomach. He realizes he could punch this git all night, but when Pettigrew falls with his back hitting the floor, Harry's attention goes to the prisoners and his eyes catch the other Aurors fighting an invisible enemy. Who is it? They seem to be fighting at least two other people, by the looks of the spells - and Harry is deadly curious-

A spell hits him hard, and he falls back, sure that his charm is gone and now anyone can see him. But he doesn't care, he's burning on the inside, everything hurts and a thousand knives are cutting through his flesh and bones, taking his breath away and making his heart beat as fast as possible as he tries to stop this terrible feeling. Pettigrew hit him with a fucking Cruciatus. He grits his teeth, trying his best to stop shaking and hitting the ground. He needs to stand, he needs to put distance between him and the Auror or else he's doomed.

With incredible effort, he opens an eye and sees Pettigrew standing slowly, cursing and holding his stomach. It was a great punch - he vaguely thinks as he tries crawling away. The pain is unbearable. He remembers his grandfather tried to train him on this, tried to teach him how to resist this curse, but it was too cruel, too ruthless and his mother stepped in and said he was going too far and she wouldn't accept that. Harry was only eleven.

And now he feels the scream ripping out from his throat, raw and visceral.

But suddenly the pain stops.

Pretty fast there's a hand helping him up and he stands just at the moment Pettigrew is throwing another spell his way, but a powerful shield comes up around him. Harry blinks. Whoever is there, is also protecting him. In a second he notices the two other Aurors are down and mother and daughter are crouched together, crying, but waiting.

There's only Pettigrew now and Harry is furious. Without thinking he goes to the other man and with a yell he physically deviates his next spell. He shoves the man with a shoulder and then he grabs Pettigrew's arm and twists it behind his back, forcing him to release the wand. Pettigrew grunts in pain and Harry twists his arm harder. With the wand on the floor, he doesn't resist the impulse of breaking it in two with his foot. The cracking sound is satisfying.

"NO!" Pettigrew yells. Harry knocks him out with a punch and throws him to the ground.

Exhaling heavily and supporting himself with both hands on his knees, he stops for a moment. The rain washing away some blood from his nose. His whole body hurts, his muscles sore, his only wish is to lie down, but he still needs to save them. He walks there and crouches in front of mother and daughter.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I won't hurt you."

Lucinda widens her eyes. She probably recognizes his voice, but she says nothing.

"And what's your plan exactly?"

He jumps in place.

There's someone else there by his side and when he turns his head he can see… her. It's Hermione. She's also disguised but he's sure it's her. There's no doubt in his mind. He would recognize her eyes anywhere. He opens and closes his mouth. Dumbfounded.

"Cat got your tongue?" She asks and he can hear the soft chuckle in her tone. His heart swells. Hermione also recognized him, of course she did. "Do you have a fucking plan or not?"

"I was thinking about taking them to my place-"

"No. No way, are you nuts?" She shakes her head. She turns to mother and daughter. "Listen to me, I have a Portkey that can take you out of England. You have to go and save yourselves, do you understand? Start your lives elsewhere, okay?"

Lucinda nods while she holds a sobbing Hannah. "Okay, okay." They stand together and Hermione takes an yellow rubber duck from her pocket. Harry tilts his head and she shrugs. She gives them the Portkey.

"It will be activated in twenty seconds." She says.

Lucinda takes their hands. "Thank you. I'll never forget this."

In a blink they're gone. Harry can't believe he did it… with Hermione. He turns to her and when he does his heart stops.

It happens fast. So fast. Pettigrew is coming from behind and he grabs Hermione by the waist, pulling her to him and - Harry sees with terror - stabbing her middle with a knife.

NO. He takes his wand, blood is already oozing out of her and she's grunting in pain. Pettigrew raises the knife and slashes her leg, from the hipbone to the knee. She yells and elbows him back and Harry takes the moment to Stupefy the man. Pettigrew flies through the aisle hitting the ground at the far end. Harry accio the knife and runs to Hermione on the floor.

She's holding her middle. "I need to take you to St. Mungo's." He says, his voice shaky, his hands trembling as he tries pressing the wound. He feels weak at the sight of so much blood. It's her blood, it's-

She shakes her head. "You can't. They can't know." She's having a hard time talking and he fully sits on the ground, bringing her body to his, cradling her.

"Shit. Shit."

"You need to save me."

"I- I suck at healing, I-"

He's stuttering, desperate. And he has no idea if it's the rain or if his own tears are wetting his face. He had training on healing, but it's like he can't think properly now.

"Pull yourself together and save me, D'Angelo. I'm your boss, obey me." She looks up at him and he sees the resolve in her eyes. She would do it herself if she had the strength to.

"Okay, okay." He lets out a deep breath and apparates them to his flat.

They land on the carpet still in the same position they were at the cold floor in front of Azkaban. But the rain and the darkness are gone and Harry can see exactly how bad it looks. He pulls his mask off and hers too. She makes a pained face and he gently lays her on the floor.

He conjures up a pillow for her head and, by her side, on his knees, he leans to her. "Stay with me, Hermione. Talk to me. Tell me a story or whatever." He knows how important it is for her to stay awake and she groans in response.

Harry raises her black shirt and winces at the sight of the wound. It's bad. There's a lot of blood. It's pretty close to her belly button, at the middle on her right side. "You're not going to faint, are you, Harry? I mean-" She coughs, scrunching her whole face, "You look so pale."

He chews the insides of his cheeks madly, hurting himself, tasting his own blood. They're drenching the floor with water and blood. "I'm just nervous thinking about what I'm going to say if they find the Head Auror dead inside my flat." He tries cracking a joke and she laughs with difficulty.

"It won't look good." She narrows her eyes to him. "You have to magically stitch it."

He presses his lips together. "I know." And he hates it. He's terrible at this. But he takes his wand and before uttering the spell, he gently feels the wound, pressing his fingers against her warm skin.

"What are you doing?"

"It's the way I do it, I have to feel it first, have an idea in my mind of what exactly I'm stitching." He says in a low voice.

"Sure. Take your time, after all is not like I'm dying here."

"Don't say that." His tone is serious.

He closes his eyes, his hand on her stomach. With his other hand he raises his wand and starts uttering the spell. Hermione groans. He knows how painful this is. And it takes time, stitch by stitch he puts her insides back together, healing. The blood starts to lessen and she holds his wrist, their eyes locked.

They share something intense.

Since they met they've been protecting each other without a second thought and he has no idea why, but he knows he fears for her, he cares. She seems to be saying the same things to him, her hand going up from his wrist to his elbow, as if asking him to move closer. And he does. He leans and they touch their foreheads, their eyes closed, their hearts beating fast. Harry can feel a strange connection to her, a powerful emotion.

He gasps when the stitching ends and she sighs. He leans back and, pulling his hand, he observes the scar on her stomach. He makes a face. "It looks like a lightning."

She shakes her head and snorts. He can tell she's feeling better but… there's still blood oozing out of the nasty gash on her leg. Without thinking Harry moves and tears apart the fabric of her black trousers with his bare hands. Hermione opens her mouth, shocked. But he's not thinking about the fact that she's almost half naked in front of him. He inhales sharply at the gash.

"That fucking bastard. I should have killed him." He says more to himself than to her, but she blinks at him, surprised.

His hand is already tracing the length of her leg, from her hipbone to her knee, feeling the gash. It's not deep. Hermione leans back on the pillow, exhaling, her forearm on her forehead. And inevitably he notices how his touch makes her skin react. There are goosebumps all over her leg and stomach and arms. He knows the moment isn't proper, but he blushes a bit when he realizes what he did to her trousers. He can actually see a fraction of her tiny black underwear. Flustered, he starts murmuring the stitching spell, trying his best to leave a thin scar.

This time she doesn't turn to him, but he can tell the moment is just as intimate as before. He wets his lips, the silence is oppressing and he decides breaking it.

"You were there." He states. "To save them."

She turns to him. "I guess I wouldn't sleep well if I didn't." She says back his words and he looks down.

"I was a jerk-"

"You were right." Hermione sighs. "I may think she's hiding something, but it doesn't change the fact that they were blackmailed and she was just trying to protect her daughter… how that can make her a bad person?" Her voice is low. "And I had a feeling you would do something stupid."

He chuckles. "There's no way you knew I was going to be there."

"Please, Harry, you're like an open book."

He opens his mouth. He remembers thinking the same about her. He looks at her leg. The gash is huge so it's taking forever. At least a hundred stitches.

"I'm glad you were there, though." He says sincerely. "To be honest I hadn't planned it very well."

"Is that so?" She mocks him. "When you said you were bringing them here, I figured."

"I don't think I could have done it alone. I mean, I decided at the last minute and I was swinging it as it happened."

She truly laughs now. "I should reconsider your position as Auror." He laughs with her, sincerely. "You took the knife." She states.

"Yes. It had your blood. He could trace it back to you."

She nods. "I shouldn't reconsider your position as Auror, then." They share a loud laugh and when it subsides, she lets out a heavy breath when their eyes meet. "Your eyes. They look like mine."

He blinks. "They do?" He shrugs. "I had to disguise them somehow, I mean-"

"They're truly unique." She clears her throat. "The true color of your eyes. They're beautiful." She whispers the last words.

He feels an impulse to kiss her, but he stops himself and she averts her eyes.

The wound is finally closed and Harry exhales, exhausted. Everything hurts. But he traces a finger on the thin and almost imperceptible scar on her leg. From her knee to her hipbone, slowly. Her eyes go back to his and she gulps, the goosebumps back on her skin. And now that she's fine, he shamelessly lets his eyes wander to her figure. To her firm stomach and then long leg.

"Harry." He can't tell if it sounds like a warn or a plea.

He closes his eyes.

If he gives in to his desire and kiss her, it will mess up with his revenge. He knows.

If he stops himself, he can still keep a safe distance between both…

His life-time revenge or… an attraction?

He removes his hand and stands. But he moves too fast and feels dizzy, wavering in place. She groans and stands too. "You're too weak, you idiot." He feels her hands on his arms as she steers him to the couch, helping him sit. "You just did a great deal of healing and you were already drained from the Cruciatus." One of her hands goes through his hair and he almost moans in satisfaction, her nails scrapping his scalp. He opens his eyes. She's close.

Instinctively he pulls her to him by the waist and she stands between his legs. He knows he can't cross a line with her, but being this close makes it almost impossible. And sometimes is exhausting resisting it. Harry sets his jaw. Her other hand go through his hair and he marvels at her caress. "So," Her voice is low, "Did Sally teach you the waltz?"

He raises an eyebrow at that, his hands still on her waist, hers caressing his hair. There's a hint of playfulness in her eyes. He opens a tiny smile. "She did. She's pretty good at it."

Hermione scrunches her nose. "It's not that hard."

His smile gets wider. Is she… jealous? "But to be honest… I don't think our Patronus like each other very much." He says in a whisper.

She moves even closer to him. "Yeah? What's your Patronus, Harry?"

He's tempted to reveal the truth of his Patronus, but he says, "It's a lion." Her hands stop on his hair.

"A lion?" She sounds truly amazed. "He must be beautiful. But I can see why it doesn't match Sally's." She tilts her head and her hands move again, her fingers relaxing him as they move to his nape and them back up. Down and back up.

Shit.

He wants her.

It's a terrible realization, but one he's been denying since he found out her name. She leans closer, her mouth on his ear. "There are only a few animals who can defeat a lion, you know?" He nods and moves back to look into her eyes.

"I know. One fatal bite from a serpent can kill him in seconds."

She opens a side smile. And moves away from him. He immediately misses her presence.

"I should go." She says.

"No. You're too weak to apparate. You can sleep here, there's no problem."

And suddenly he remembers they're at his flat. His eyes go to the wall that holds all his plans of revenge and he's glad he concealed it before leaving. She narrows her eyes at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You lost too much blood." He stands from the couch. "I mean, we're both weak and we shouldn't spend this night alone, what if we need more healing?" She nods. "I can transfigure this couch into a bed." He moves his wand and the couch is suddenly a huge and comfy bed with clean sheets. He opens his arms, demonstrating his abilities and she chuckles.

"Nice. Is there a bathroom I can use? I mean, I really need a shower."

For the first time since they got there, he notices that they're covered in her dry blood. And he's glad his flat has two bathrooms, he also needs a cold shower. "Yeah, yeah, sure." He moves to show it to her and Hermione thanks him before disappearing inside and closing the door.

He immediately goes to his own bathroom and removes his clothes, ending the charm on his eyes and scrubbing himself with force while the water hits him. Her blood is all over his arms and he watches it going down the drain. Why do I care? Why do I want to protect her so badly? He leans on the tiles and presses both hands to his eyes. The only reason - apart from the fact that she's Tom Riddle's daughter - he had to hate her - arresting mother and daughter and sentencing them to a Dementor's kiss - is gone. She actually helped him save them.

Does her father have any idea? He wonders if this was the first time she did something like that and analyzing her calm and planning during all of it… he's sure it wasn't.

Turning off the water, he slowly dries himself. Who is Hermione? When he thinks he knows, she surprises him and proves all his theories were wrong. He keeps repeating she's a Riddle to convince himself, but maybe this apple actually fell very far from the tree…

"Harry?" He frowns. Wrapping the towel around his waist he exits the bathroom and finds a towel wrapped - naked under it - Hermione standing in the middle of his room. She opens and closes her mouth at the sight of him and his ego gets a tad bigger at the way her eyes devour his torso. But she masks it pretty fast, clearing her throat, "Do you have any clothes I can sleep on?"

He blinks. "Sure." Walking to a drawer - and very aware of her eyes on him - he decides lending her the only pj's he has and never uses - he always sleeps with a t-shirt and boxers. She takes the pj's - comfy pants and a t-shirt - and clicks her tongue. She doesn't move out and he tilts his head, opening a tiny smile. "Checking me out, Head Auror?"

"Maybe." She winks and finally walks out of the room, not before saying, "Looking good, D'Angelo."

He chuckles alone in his room. Blushing. For fuck's sake.

He opens his eyes. His room is dark and chilly. Harry frowns. He was so exhausted he thought he would sleep the whole night but-

A scream comes from the living room and he stands in such a hurry that his feet tangle on the sheet and he falls to the floor, hitting his knees. "Cazzo." Another scream makes him widen his eyes and move faster.

Hermione is trashing on the bed, sweating and mumbling incoherent things. He immediately sits by her side, his hands on her shoulders, "Hey, Hermione." She shakes her head from one side to the other, "Wake up, it's just a nightmare."

"No, no, please, no." He understands these few words and frowns.

Moving a hand to her nape, he cups her cheek and leans closer, bringing her to his arms in a protective way. "I'm here. It's fine. Wake up, Hermione." He keeps calling to her and is surprised by her strength while she tries freeing herself form his arms, yelling in a painful way. He bites down his lower lip, nervous. What's she dreaming about?

Only after minutes she relaxes in his embrace, her arms coming up and closing around his middle, bringing him closer while she inhales deeply against his chest. He rests his chin on her head, one of his hands going up and down her back in a soothing way. Tenderly they stay that way. Harry feels… safe. Which makes him raise an eyebrow in question. He barely remembers the last time he felt like this, maybe before his grandfather and mother told him about his parents... maybe with-

"That was embarrassing." She mumbles.

He snorts. "Not at all. We're all entitled to have nightmares."

She moves away from him and he wished he could keep her in his arms. "Thank you." Her voice is soft.

"No problem. Feeling better?" She nods. He should go back to his room, but he stays there. Watching her. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." She says sharply.

He raises his hands in the air and moves to stand, but she holds him there, her hand on his thigh. Without voicing it, Hermione leans back on the bed and lies on her side, she pulls him and Harry understands what she wants. He lies by her side, at a safe distance, and with his belly up, moving both hands to the back of his head. She exhales heavily.

Harry closes his eyes, sleep claiming him back to its blissful and wonderful land, but her voice comes to him and he opens them.

"I hate sleeping alone." He turns to look at her, their eyes meet. "Usually Asmo is with me and I sleep all night, but whenever I'm alone… terrible things invade my mind and-" She closes her eyes, shaking her head. Harry sees a tear running down her cheek.

He doesn't move. Or talk. Hermione needs a listener and he watches the ceiling while she pulls herself together.

He closes his eyes again, shit, I'm exhausted. He's sure he sleeps, but he wakes up when she moves closer. They're not touching but he can feel the heat of her body. She's still awake.

"I'm sorry. It's pretty hard getting back to sleep after these… episodes."

"No problem." His voice is deep and low. "Does this happen often?"

"Not so much anymore… when I was a child I- my parents had to practically drug me. I barely slept."

He can feel the pain in her voice and he resists the impulse of hugging her. "That must have been hard."

"It was. But after… when I started sleeping with my boyfriends, I realized it was pretty easy relaxing knowing that there was someone else there with me. Now, with Asmo, there's barely a night I sleep alone. And when it happens I usually take a potion."

Harry presses his lips together. Something clawing at his heart. "Are you getting married?" He asks gently. He wants to know why she's still single at twenty-six. Most women at twenty-one - Sally's age - are already married or getting married.

"I think so." She sighs. "I know you're curious about it." She says without accusing him. "Most people are when they notice my age."

"So, are you telling me or do I have to guess?" She chuckles and he feels good about distracting her from the nightmare.

"My… father never thought any of my boyfriends worthy enough of our family. Asmo is probably the only one he sort of approves. And in arranged marriages… if my father doesn't accept my fiance, there's no way of arguing, the last word is his." She abruptly stops talking and brings her knees closer to her chest.

"That's…" He trails, lacking a word.

"Fucked up." She completes for him. "Asmo hasn't proposed yet, but I'm sure my father will accept when he does." Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. "But-"

"What?"

"I shouldn't say this." She shakes her head. And apparently decides she wants to say, regardless, "Sometimes I think my father resents the fact that I'm not a man. That I can't perpetuate the Riddles."

Harry frowns. "You can't choose your child's name? I mean, the D'Angelo I got from my grandfather…"

"The child takes the father's name. That's it. If I have kids with Asmo they're going to be Pettigrews. The same I am." There's a hint of something in her voice that Harry doesn't recognize.

"Hermione Pettigrew." He says out loud and frowns. "It's… awful." He says sincerely and she laughs out loud.

"I know. I've already thought about it."

Without his consent, his mind goes to forbidden places. Hermione D'Angelo. Hermione Potter. He gulps, suddenly feeling hot.

"Well," He begins just to say something else and change the subject, "what do you think we'll find tomorrow at the Ministry? After what we've done tonight?"

She makes a face. "I'm surprised Asmo didn't contact me after it happened." She raises both eyebrows. "Merlin, he's fine, right?" Hermione supports herself on her elbows, worried. "You just stunned him, didn't you?"

Harry nods, annoyed that she's so worried. "Yeah. He's fine, don't worry. I mean, I broke his wand."

Exhaling, she lies back on the bed. "That wasn't quite nice. It's a pain in the ass for adults to get new wands." She gives him a side glance. "He probably saw that there was nothing more we could do tonight. But tomorrow he'll be crazy. All over the place and… certainly accusing you."

"Me?" He opens a mischievous smile and points a finger to himself. "Come on, of course not, the guy loves me."

Hermione laughs again and his heart swells. It's a nice feeling. "Don't worry. He has no proof." She moves on the bed and his t-shirt rides up on her body. Harry sees the scar on her belly. Turning a bit to her, he says:

"You'll have to conceal your new scars from him. Or else he'll know, Hermione."

Her eyes go to his. "Don't worry. I have a lot of concealed scars, these ones are just two more."

"You have?" He lowers his voice. She nods. "I do too." And some other things. Being an Auror is getting new scars day in day out and he likes concealing them to… hide possible weaknesses.

She says nothing. And after staring at him for a while, she turns on the bed. "Thank you for staying with me, Harry. We should sleep, though. There's a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

He doesn't answer, his eyes on her back. Exhaling he turns to the other side, giving his back to her and closing his eyes. Soon they're both fast asleep.

This time it's the sun that wakes him up. The brightness is almost unbearable and as he opens his eyes he becomes aware of his surroundings. Right. The living room. And everything that happened the night before comes to his mind at once.

He freezes and the pit of his stomach is mad with butterflies, all his blood going south when he understands that the gentle snore he's hearing and feeling against his nape is Hermione sleeping attached to him. They're both on their sides and she's hugging his middle from behind, a hand under his t-shirt on his bare skin and one of her legs up around his waist, dangerously close to his groin. Her mouth touching his neck softly. He takes a deep breath. She feels warm and soft against him. He smiles. The way she's holding him is odd and adorable. She feels like a human backpack.

And he can't decide if he wants to move or not. Harry glances at the clock. It's already 8:30am. They're insanely late to work. He raises a hand to cover hers that's on his stomach but she moves, grunting close to his ear and squeezing his stomach. He presses his lips together. Her nails slowly scratch his abs. His breathing becomes shallow, he's getting hard insanely fast. And then… she gently kisses his nape, her lips a sin against his hot skin.

He holds back a moan. It feels like she's still sleeping and reacting as if he were… Pettigrew. Suddenly he stops the hand on his stomach and finds his voice.

"Hermione. We're late, it's time to wake up."

"Just five more minutes, Asmo." She mumbles.

His heart squeezes inside his chest and - maybe too harshly - he disentangles himself from her. Hermione opens her eyes in one go and sits up on the bed. It takes her a second to understand.

"Harry. I- I'm so sorry! I mean, I-"

"It's fine. Really." They lock their eyes and he moves a bit to hide his evident arousal. "We need to go." This brings her back to reality and Hermione jumps from the bed when she sees the time.

"Oh, shiiiiit." She fetches her wand and bloody clothes, but reconsiders, "Maybe I can leave these here?" She's talking about the clothes and he agrees. "Okay. See you at the Ministry." And she's gone.

Harry lets out a grunt, exhaling heavily. "Fuck." Running his hands through his hair, he decides he needs a shower… he's already late anyways.

Ministry of Magic

"Merlin, man, where have you been?" Ron approaches him when he arrives at the Auror's floor at exactly 9:15am. He took his time in the shower… "It's been chaos here today."

He raises an eyebrow. "What happened?"

They walk side by side while Ron tells him, "Lucinda Summers and her daughter were rescued last night when they were being taken to Azkaban."

"Rescued?"

"It's what we imagine, at least, I mean, they vanished, Pettigrew was there and he's furious. He's been inside Hermione's office since she arrived and everyone is trying to listen." Ron lowers his voice, "They've been yelling like crazy."

"Why?" Harry frowns.

"From what I understood, he's blaming her." Ron shrugs. "He even said he's talking to the Minister."

Harry sets his jaw. Is it possible that Pettigrew recognized them? No, we were careful. Reaching his desk, Harry stops. He can see Hermione's door from there. Ginny comes to them, whistling.

"My, my, things are crazy today." She says. Then her eyes pierce Harry. "You look good, D'Angelo. Slept well?"

Harry knits his eyebrows together. "I guess I did." He's not even sure, but he slept like a rock with Hermione.

"Huh, funny." She says enigmatically.

"Funny?"

"Yeah, Hermione also had a great night. And also arrived pretty late." Ginny moves a few files on his desk as if she hadn't implied something just now.

The moment he opens his mouth to answer, the office's door opens and Hermione comes out. She takes a deep breath, her head low. Then, she raises her eyes, looking for… Harry.

"D'Angelo," Her voice echoes through the hall, "in my office, please." And she goes back inside.

Ginny clicks her tongue and Ron frowns.

"Uh, this is about to get interesting." A voice says behind Harry and he turns to see Malfoy. The blond man is smiling. "Tell us everything later, D'Angelo." He smacks Harry's shoulder.

Shaking his head he walks to the office and with a new found coldness he turns the knob. Pettigrew is standing close to the fireplace and Hermione is in front of him, her arms crossed.

"You!" Pettigrew says, pointing at Harry and baring his teeth. "This is all your fault!" He takes a step to Harry and Hermione stops him with a hand on his chest. "You think I'm an idiot, D'Angelo? Since you arrived ninety-eight wizards died and two Muggle sympathizers, one of them a fucking squib, escaped from Azkaban!"

Harry pockets his hands. Hermione is quiet, watching. "From what I've already heard they didn't even enter Azkaban, so, technically they didn't escape from it." He taunts Pettigrew and the man tries again walking to him.

"Asmo." Hermione warns him, and he turns to her, angry.

"And you, Hermione, acting like a teenager around him!" She blinks, "Giving him importance and handing over suspects for his interrogation when we should be interrogating HIM!"

"I won't have you talking like this to me." She says firmly.

"Like what? The truth? Just because he saved your life in an attack he probably planned you keep defending him!" He fully turns to Hermione and Harry understands that this is all happening because Pettigrew is jealous of him. "You threw me at a wall yesterday!"

"You crossed a line!" She finally loses some control. "You were trying to punch a fellow Auror, Asmo! For fuck's sake!" She yells, fully irritated. Then, to Harry's utter shock, she cups Pettigrew's face. Harry grits his teeth at the scene. "Look at me!" Pettigrew reluctantly obeys. "I'm your girlfriend. I love you." Harry's heart stops. Shit. "You have to stop being this jealous, Asmo." Her voice changes to a softer tone and Harry can see the change in Pettigrew's face as he relaxes into her touch, Hermione steps closer to him. "D'Angelo is a fellow Auror and he's here to help us, he's part of the team now. And that's it. We're not even friends, so, please, stop this nonsense."

Harry's hands close in fists inside his pockets. Not even friends. Not that he wanted to be her friend, but after what they shared last night it's so strange to hear her talking like this… as if he's truly nothing to her. An alarm sets off in his head. Do I want to be something to her?

Closing his eyes, Pettigrew sighs. "I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry." He hugs her waist and buries his face into the crook of her neck.

Harry wonders, "Excuse me, what am I doing here?" His voice is firm.

Hermione releases Pettigrew and turns to Harry. Her eyes are glinting and there's something she's trying to say with them - something he doesn't understand. But her words are, "You can leave, D'Angelo." He curtly nods and turns to leave, but when he opens the door, "And the next time you arrive at this hour prepare to be sacked."

Despite everything he opens a tiny smile she can't see and still with his back to her, he says, "Duly noted, Head Riddle."

Harry's flat

After the commotion in the morning, the day was pretty dull. Hermione and Pettigrew were inside the office all day long discussing what happened at the transference and Harry kept reading his files - new interrogations Ron and Ginny made - and found nothing interesting. He tried his best not to think about what happened inside Hermione's office and he did a pretty good job.

Until he got home.

The bed was still in the middle of the living room, her bloody clothes and the knife Pettigrew used on top of his dinner table. And when Harry dealt with all of this, he was left with a bloody carpet. It was impossible not to think about everything they talked and did. How nice it felt. And then how crystal clear she was when she said they weren't friends or anything at all. Reluctantly he admits to himself it hurt.

But now he's good. Now, every trace of her is gone and his flat looks just as plain as it always did. He sits on his couch with a bowl of vegetable soup, glad that he finally has some peace to look at his wall and think about-

An owl taps his window. Harry rolls his eyes and sighs, going to the owl. He immediately sees the Blacks' emblem. It's a letter from Sally. She's asking if she can come over to his flat-

Someone knocks on the door.

It can't be her yet, but Harry answers the letter with a Patronus, of course she can visit him. He thinks her company will do him some good.

Whoever is outside knocks again.

"Coming!" He yells and with the letter in his hand, he opens the door. "Hermione." He says her name before he can stop himself. She opens a tight smile.

"Hey. Can I… come in?" Her eyes travel fast to the letter in his hand then back to his. Nothing goes unnoticed by her.

Without a word, Harry steps aside and she enters his flat. He closes the door and crosses his arms, waiting. Gladly his wall is still concealed from prying eyes. Hermione just wanders inside.

"Why are you here?" He asks bluntly. "Do you want your clothes back? Because if that's the case I'm sorry to say that I've burned them."

"You've… burned my clothes?" She asks with an amused expression.

"Of course. They were evidence."

She snorts. "No, I'm not here because of my clothes." She raises her chin. "I wanted to talk about what you saw at my office today."

Harry narrows his eyes. "Talk about what? It was pretty clear to me."

She shakes her head and walks to him, stopping very close. "You don't know Asmo like I do, Harry. He's crazy jealous of you and I had to have you there when I said those things for him to actually believe."

"Why is he jealous of me? It's not like he has a reason to, Hermione. We're not even friends." The words are bitter in his mouth, he hates that them hurt so much.

"Harry," Her voice is soft, "you have to know that-"

A loud crack interrupts her. Sally is in the middle of the room. Harry looks up at her. Hermione turns to see who is it.

"I… brought us dinner." Sally says as she raises a bag of food. "Mum made for you, Harry." And, not even a bit flustered by Hermione's presence, Sally puts the bag on the table and takes off her coat, then finally, she turns to them again, saying, "Hermione, nice to see you. Leaving?"

Harry almost chokes at how direct the woman is.

"Sally. How you've been?"

"Amazing. You?"

"Never better."

Harry could cut the tension with a knife. He clears his throat. "Sally, hey." And he moves, walking to her and doing something he doesn't want to admit he wouldn't do if Hermione wasn't there. He kisses her lips gently. They smile at each other.

"Hey, handsome. I brought your favorite."

"Lasagna?" She nods and kisses him again.

"I'm gonna go." Hermione says, smiling tightly to them. "See you at the Ministry, D'Angelo. And you at the Ball, Sal."

"Good seeing you, Hermione." Sally sounds so fake Harry actually snorts when Hermione is gone.

"What's up with you two?" He asks while they set the table.

She shrugs. "We don't like each other."

"Why?"

"Why?" She makes a face. "Have you actually met Hermione? She's insufferable." He wants to refuse her words-

"Yeah, you're right."

It's a dark and abandoned ballroom. A place where many danced, laughed and flirted. But now is just a wreck filled with dusty furniture. Its big windows block the sunlight instead of letting it in and the tarnished curtains are like rags hanging by a thread. Harry can only hear his own footsteps while he wanders inside.

He's totally alone.

But he doesn't mind, he enjoys the loneliness, the silence, the stillness. The certainty of his own mind and ground. The serenity of darkness and its predictability.

There's a music filling the place, and now, instead of being at the middle of the room, he's atop of a huge flight of stairs.

There's a lion where he was a second ago. His lion. His Patronus.

Oddly the animal is dancing. It's unexplainable to Harry's mind, but possible.

And now the darkness and stillness are no more. The curtains are gone, the sun lits the whole room and Harry squints at the brightness. When his eyesight goes back to normal, he realizes there's someone else there at the other far end of the room atop of the other flight of stairs.

It's a woman. The long dress makes it obvious.

His lion keeps dancing.

A sense of danger makes him look down. There's a huge serpent slithering past his feet and going to the center of the room. To his lion.

He blinks and suddenly he's at the center again, the lion in front of him, the serpent around its neck, squeezing.

"She'll be the end of him." The female voice says by his side.

It's Hermione.

She's watching with a smile while Harry's lion tries releasing himself from the serpent's suffocating hold.

When he moves to stop the serpent, it's too late. The lion is dead, the place is filled with darkness again and Hermione is gone.

November 13th, 2005

Harry's Flat

He sits on the bed. It wasn't exactly a nightmare, but it was neither a nice dream.

It's Saturday and he's happy he doesn't have to go to the Ministry. Work yesterday was again uneventful and he used his free hours to practice the conjuring of his Patronus without a wand. Ron, Ginny and Malfoy wagged a bet between themselves: Ron was the only one saying Harry would do it. Ginny and Malfoy earned their money since Harry wasn't able to. But he felt closer, almost there…

Rubbing his eyes, he starts his day thinking if what he just dreamed had some kind of meaning or if it happened because the Ball is tonight.

He leans on the sink at the bathroom. It's a big night. He can't deny how huge this event is going to be for his revenge. He'll meet everyone. And get a chance of wandering inside Tom Riddle's Manor without much surveillance, which is a golden opportunity-

Two fast knocks bang on his front door. His heart quickens and Harry walks fast, swinging the door open. He has no idea what he was hoping to find, but it wasn't a huge box with a note attached to it.

D'Angelo, my father insisted I picked you a proper three piece suit for the Ball tonight. Maybe he thinks you lack good taste when it comes to clothes - which is odd since I'm sure he's only seen you in your uniform.

Regardless you like it or not, USE IT.

HR.

(See how HR can be both Hermione Riddle and Head Riddle?)

He snorts a laugh at her poor remark and bites down on his lower lip. A suit picked specially by Hermione? He doesn't fight the smile on his face while he pulls the box inside.

It's going to be a truly unique night indeed.

Chapter Text

The Ball (part 1 of 2)

Night of the Ball

He would be an idiot to expect anything different from the Riddles. Earlier, a Patronus was sent to his flat, revealing the coordinates to Riddle Manor. And now it's been some good ten minutes since he apparated at the front gate. But as he watches people arriving and heading inside, he can't quite find his will to move.

Harry once thought his grandfather's Villa was the biggest house someone could own. But he was wrong. Terribly wrong. This Manor is not like anything he's seen so far in his life. The mansion itself is so far away from the entrance is ridiculous. Harry pockets his hands, still standing behind the huge open gates that lead inside the very well illuminated property. There are many Aurors scattered around. In a quick glance Harry saw at least ten. He wonders if Riddle's being cautious after what happened at the Fair or if he's afraid of something else.

It's hard to be sure why he resists on moving inside. He was eager for an opportunity like this, for a moment where he would be able to see his enemies, study them and maybe make connections. But his stomach churns at the thought of having to put up with them all night. He sighs, lowering his head. He takes a deep breath, filling himself with courage and determination. This revenge won't get done by itself.

Raising his head he squints at a figure leaning on the visible third floor front balcony. It's a woman. Her long dress makes it pretty easy to discern. Immediately his mind goes back to his dream. Hermione on the opposite far from him… is it her? Is she looking at me? He can't possibly know, but his eyes stay on the figure. From this distance he can't tell much about her choice of dress, but he can see her long hair down in wavy curls. The woman only moves when a man comes from behind her and she turns.

Harry blinks. He can't stall forever. It's time to enter and use this night to his advantage. He'd already seen enough people going in to understand that he needs to walk all the way to the Mansion. And so he does. The front lawn is majestic with two fountains flowing water and well trimmed bushes. Some are animal shaped and they magically move as Harry understands it's an analogy to the Traditional dance and the Patronus.

It's clear that everything on the place screams of a wealthiness that maybe only the Minister is able to display. It's another way of retaining power. Who would go against Tom Riddle? He's ruthless and he has all the money he might need to shut people up or ruin their lives. Harry glances down at his own clothes - picked by Hermione while obeying Riddle's orders. Another way of showing power, of making it clear who's in charge. Whose Ball he's attending.

But he won't complain. He looks good on the black suit Hermione chose. Only the shirt is white. It fitted perfectly and he wondered when Hermione payed him this much attention to know exactly the size of his clothes. He can't help a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. He's been denying it to himself, but he knows exactly who he's most eager to see tonight… and it's not Sally.

As he finally reaches the front door, a big hand stops him, resting on his shoulder. Harry looks sideways to a huge man standing all in black by his side.

"Name." The man utters.

"Harry D'Angelo." He narrows his eyes, he hadn't noticed people were being stopped at the entrance.

The man waves his wand and a huge scroll unfolds in front of him, revealing what Harry is sure are the guest names. When he locates Harry's name, fire burns it, branding his entering. Arching an eyebrow, Harry moves to cross the door, but the man stops him again.

"Just need to be sure it's really you."

And before he can even ask what the man means, with a wave of his wand he checks Harry's identity with some spell. Harry feels a pull at his insides, something tugging at his body, but it's soon gone. Then the man nods curtly.

"Welcome, Mr D'Angelo." And he waves his hand to the door, allowing Harry inside.

Still not fully comprehending what just happened, Harry pockets his hands and prepares himself to enter his parents' murderer's house. For a brief moment he stops and lets himself be awed by what he's seeing. It's pure luxury in a very traditional way. The open entrance has a huge crystal chandelier hanging from an insanely high ceiling. Double huge stairs lead to the second floor and as Harry moves further inside, he can see people talking and drinking at all three floors. The way the stairs continue up is surely the product of strong magical architecture.

It doesn't take much for a glass of champagne to appear out of thin air, soaring beside him. Harry takes it and keeps moving, searching for familiar faces. The ballroom is at the ground floor, and he wasn't prepared for the immensity of it. He tries not biting hard on his lower lip when he realizes the place looks extremely similar to the one he envisioned in his dream. The only thing different are the huge french windows that lead to another huge lawn. Harry can see many more people outside, and he wonders exactly how many were invited to this Ball.

"Hey! Harry!"

He turns on his heels at the familiar voice. It's Ginny. He can't deny she looks beautiful in her long cherry dress that perfectly matches her styled up hair. Her makeup also stands out and Harry smiles at her while she approaches him with her husband by her side. Malfoy is wearing all white…

"Do you intent on blending in with the walls, Malfoy?" Harry can't help teasing him while complimenting Ginny.

"I told you." Ginny says to her husband and he turns to her with his mouth open.

"I like this suit!"

"Love, you already are as white as a sheet and with the blond hair, honestly." She sighs and Harry chuckles. Ginny steers the conversation. "So, enjoying the Ball?" She asks Harry.

"I literally just got here."

"Oh well, let me introduce you to my family, then." She smiles and deep down Harry wonders why she's so nice to him. Sure, this could be her natural self, but in his situation it doesn't hurt to be more careful. He's still a foreigner and in a way they all accepted him easily… probably because I saved Hermione. If he thinks about their first meeting, he remembers pretty well the cold stares he received from all… which changed after the Fair.

"Sure." He says to Ginny and she leads him to a side of the room he hadn't looked yet.

But the Weasleys are impossible to miss. Their red heads all turn when Ginny calls to them and Harry spots Ron there. Strangely he feels a bit of the tension leaving his body while he politely smiles to all of them. Ginny keeps making introductions and he wonders how many Weasleys are out there. Inevitably his attention zooms in on Molly and Arthur. Harry is sure they knew his parents, - or at least his father - sure they used to be friends, used to frequent each other's houses. And his suspicions are confirmed when…

"Don't I know you, Mr D'Angelo?" Molly Weasley narrows her eyes.

"I don't think we ever met, Mrs Weasley." He says calmly.

"Doesn't he look familiar, Arthur?" She turns to her husband who presses his lips together, his eyes on Harry.

"Maybe." The man says and they share a strange look.

"What is this about? Have you met Harry?" Ron chimes in. Ginny is distracted with something Malfoy is saying in her ear and the rest of the Weasleys are lost in conversations with other people.

Molly chuckles dismissively. "I must be thinking of someone else." She moves a hand in front of her to change the subject. "But tell me, Mr D'Angelo, how is London treating you so far? We all heard about the brave way you saved Hermione that night." She remarks and he briefly looks down.

"I think London is… growing on me. I mean, of course it takes some time to adapt, especially to the laws around here." He says as casually as he can while he sips on his champagne.

Arthur wets his lips in what Harry can only assume is a nervous mania. "I can imagine." The man says. "Life in Italy is extremely different…" He trails and Harry tilts his head, "Tell me, Mr D'Angelo, does the Ministry there have a branch which" He lowers his voice and Harry even moves forward to listen, "studies Muggles?" The last word comes out so low Harry assumes 'Muggles' is what the man said.

Molly inhales sharply at his side and Ron calls out to his father in a low warning. Harry almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. Like saying the word 'Muggle' would turn them into one.

"I apologize for my husband-"

"Why?" Harry cuts in, "There's no problem in making a question, and the answer is yes, Mr Weasley, we do have a whole Department for it." Harry sees a glint in the man's eyes while he nods approvingly.

Molly is making a face and Ron looks extremely concerned, his eyes meeting Harry's. Then Molly grunts lowly and Harry turns to look at the direction she's observing.

Walking together with Draco Malfoy are his parents, Lucius and Narcissa, and they're heading straight to where they stand. Harry gulps. He never suspected Molly and Arthur had any real involvement in his parents' death, but the Malfoys are another thing entirely. Harry read countless interviews they gave after the end of the Potters' Persecution. Lucius always made it clear how he loathed James Potter and how he felt dirty knowing he'd shared the same rooms with a man that tarnished his bloodline marrying a 'Mudblood'. Narcissa also made similar statements, her words less aggressive but hurtful nonetheless. And now as he faces them, Harry feels cold inside the same way he felt when he met Sirius.

It's hard to explain what goes through his mind, but if he could, he would burn this whole Manor down with all these Supremacists inside. Because even if many of them had nothing to do with what happened to his parents, they never tried stopping it either.

Lucius comes to a halt in front of them, his eyes cold and his posture one of superiority. "Good evening." He says slowly as he addresses the Weasleys and they all politely return the greeting. While Narcissa repeats her husband's words, it becomes clear that the two families only stand each other. Probably for the sake of Ginny and Draco's union. Harry can't help being surprised by it. From what Hermione told him, the father makes the ultimate choice when it comes to arranged marriages… and Arthur Weasley strikes him as someone who wouldn't choose a Malfoy for his only daughter. So probably the decision was Ginny's. Harry clears his throat at the thought, they're not that traditional. Maybe the Weasleys can give him answers regarding the Potters' Persecution, maybe-

"And you are?" Lucius' voice is almost a snarl by his side and Harry lifts his head to gaze into the man's eyes. Fear goes through Lucius' eyes while he gazes at Harry, his mouth opening slightly. He also saw the resemblance.

"Harry D'Angelo." He says firmly, extending his hand, but Lucius doesn't move.

"Italian?" He says with his lips pressed together, clear distaste in his posture as he takes a step back.

Harry recoils his hand and opens a tight smile. "Yes. Got transfered a few weeks ago."

Lucius opens his mouth but Draco is faster. "Harry is a fellow Auror, father. He's the one who saved Hermione at the Fair."

"Ah, yes." Lucius narrows his eyes. "Now I can see why Tom would allow someone like you inside."

"Someone like me, sir?" Harry's grip on the glass of champagne tightens while he opens an ironic smile to Lucius. "Devilish handsome, you mean?" He takes a risk at the joke, and gladly it works while Molly, Arthur, Ron, Ginny and even Draco crack a chuckle. Lucius on the other hand barely flinches and Harry can feel he wants to say something, but Narcissa takes hold of his arm and, at the same moment, a voice Harry recognizes bellows:

"Cousin! Don't you love these family meetings?" Sirius Black comes to them, Eleonora holding his arm, Sally behind.

Harry moves, a sincere smile on his face while he watches his dance partner approaching. She looks extremely beautiful in her navy dress. Her black hair is up, revealing her long neck and a beautiful necklace with the Blacks' emblem carved in gold. The dress is long and simple in a way, strapless with a velvet bust, not exactly clinging to her figure, but not swaying loosely either. Her makeup is not heavy, only enough to accentuate her natural beauty. She looks indeed beautiful.

And he realizes his mouth is hanging slightly open at the sight of her, which makes her smile widen, a glint of mischief in her eyes when she stops in front of him.

"You look gorgeous." He says when he leans to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Bella."

She lets out a sigh, one of her hands resting on his chest. "You look very, very good yourself. I'm looking forward to our dance." She winks and he winks back.

Then Sirius is already all over them. "D'Angelo!" Sirius smacks his shoulder in greeting, his eyes going from him to Sally. "Good seeing you here! I hope my cousin wasn't being too bitchy!"

Harry tries holding back his smile while Narcissa grunts at Sirius and Eleonora comes to greet him. Sally walks away to talk to Ginny and Ron. Draco is having a word with his father and they both look incredibly angry. He wants to keep observing them, but the Blacks want his attention and he resigns himself in giving it.

But it doesn't take long for Lucius to walk away and Harry follows with his eyes. In a beat he feels cold again, Eleonora's words about how handsome he looks getting lost in the air. His eyes are set on a family walking to Lucius. One of them he recognizes pretty well, Asmodeus Pettigrew. And by his side, the man who's probably his father, the man Harry is sure betrayed his parents. Peter Pettigrew. There's a woman with them - probably Asmodeus' mother - but Harry doesn't care.

Belatedly Harry notices Sirius is watching him with small eyes. Harry clears his throat. He wants to pretend he wasn't looking at the Pettigrews but the man is faster:

"What's wrong, D'Angelo? You look pale all of the sudden."

He grits his teeth. He knows he's not pale, he knows Sirius is trying to provoke a reaction from him, but Harry can't possibly fall in this trap. And to his relief, a booming voice around the mansion saves him from answering:

"The Minister of Magic, Tom Riddle, his wife, Bellatrix Riddle and their daughter, Hermione Riddle."

Instinctively, Harry looks up at the huge set of stairs, and indeed, the three are coming down together. But he barely notices the man who's his enemy, or the wife he was eager to set eyes on and have a conversation with. He only has eyes, ears and every sense of his body for Hermione. Her long black velvet dress shines in a way as if it's full of tiny diamonds. Without a cleavage and with long sleeves all of her chest is covered up, but as she takes step by step, Harry can see a slit on the right leg that makes his heart stop for a beat. It goes from very high up her leg - almost indecently up - all the way down to her feet. Her stilettos are high and silver. With her long hair down, Harry is more than sure that the woman he saw at the balcony earlier was her. And as the dress hugs her body it leaves little to his imagination and he gulps. He can feel himself hardening at the sight of her.

But nothing really comes close to the heavy makeup she's wearing. The blackness around her eyes are like a beacon to the true beauty of their color. And when Harry finally looks at them, he realizes she's staring right back at him. They hold their gazes as she comes down the stairs and he faintly notices her lipstick is blood red.

It's hard to breathe, his heart trashing inside his chest.

And at the back of his mind he hears claps. People are welcoming them into the Ball, but Harry is unable to move. His body only relaxes the moment they break eye contact when she reaches the bottom of the stairs and stronzo Pettigrew goes to her. Hermione blinks, her eyes moving away from Harry and focusing on her boyfriend.

Sally clears her throat by his side and he lowers his head. He thinks everyone around him noticed what just happened. But he himself is not even sure what it was. It's hard to understand what he feels for Hermione or what they share. Because one thing he can tell… there is definitely something between them. He's just still trying to figure out what it is exactly.

Setting his jaw he lifts his eyes to Sally and smiles, ignoring the obvious question written all over her face. "So," He begins, "wanna explore this place?"

He needs a distraction. He needs to be far away from the Riddles that are now walking slowly into the room, greeting everyone. Harry averts his eyes. He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, he doesn't want to face Tom or Bellatrix. He needs a moment to put himself back together-

"Ah, dear cousin." Sirius says to Bellatrix who's approaching them and Harry sets his jaw. Fuck, so much for my escape. It's a bucket of cold water.

"Sirius." It's Bellatrix's answer. "At least you're dressed properly." She says bluntly but with a smile and they seem to share an inside joke. Immediately, Bellatrix turns to Sally, "Dear, you look beautiful." And to Harry's immense surprise, Bellatrix shares a hug with the woman.

And finally her eyes set on Harry. "Bellatrix, this is Harry D'Angelo-"

"The one who saved Hermione." She says in a breath. And she comes to him, opening her arms and closing them around him. Harry has no reaction, his eyes wide, his whole body tense, almost rejecting the gesture. But Bellatrix doesn't seem to mind while she hugs him even tighter. "Thank you. Thank you, Mr D'Angelo."

She finally loosens her hold and Harry looks at the woman in front of him. "Mrs Riddle. I- of course, I mean-" He stutters and he hates himself for it, but Bellatrix smiles at him. She's nothing like he expected. And to his relief he realizes Tom and Hermione are heading the other direction, talking to other people.

"I heard you're from Italy, is that right?"

"Yes." He nods, still not sure what to think. The same way it was hard finding any information on Hermione, it was on Bellatrix. "When I was offered the position here, I seized the opportunity."

"Really?" She cocks her head to the side. "I don't know of many Italians who would be willing to move to England, Mr D'Angelo." She arches her eyebrows. "But I'm glad you did, I've heard wonderful things about you."

"Is that so?"

"Hermione has been talking about you incessantly." There's a hint of mischief in her voice and Harry feels a blush coming to his cheeks. "She values your work ethics."

"Well, Head Riddle is indeed…" For a moment he's not sure of what to say, but it comes to him in the most sincere way, "a force of nature." Bellatrix smiles, satisfied. And there's nothing more he wants to say as she gives him a knowing look that is confusing as hell.

"Hope you enjoy the evening, Mr D'Angelo. It was a pleasure." She squeezes his arm. "Excuse me." And just like that, she's gone, gliding away to talk to Narcissa.

Sally tugs at his hand and he turns his head sharply to her, words of apology already on his tongue - in case she found his exchange with Bellatrix strange - but the weird look on her face is not directed at him. Her eyes are staring fixedly to a point at the entrance where Harry can see Remus Lupin and his wife. But before he can dwell on what's happening, a voice calls to Sally and she turns to Harry.

"Do you mind if I… I need to talk with some people." She says mysteriously, but he nods, not minding at all.

"Sure, I'll roam around a bit."

"Okay," She leans gently to press a kiss to his lips. "Veer away from my father or he'll give you hell for this." Her words are followed by a laugh while she walks to a group of three - two men and another woman - probably her age.

Shrugging, he decides to explore a bit, and as he steps forward to do it, another glass of champagne appears out of thin air in front of him. Seizing the glass, his eyes scan the room fast enough to notice that Hermione is not there anymore, nor her, nor Pettigrew. Nor Ginny or Ron. He frowns.

Only Malfoy is there talking with his father and Peter Pettigrew.

Wandering in the ostentatious living area, Harry ponders if he should face those two men, provoke them or tell them something which might ruin their night. But he knows that in any circumstance he won't be treated properly. Lucius already made it pretty clear what he thinks of his presence and he's fairly sure Papa Pettigrew shares the same opinion as his son.

But before he can decide, on their own accord, his eyes travel the room to a french window and he sees Hermione coming back from outside with Pettigrew, their faces a mask of anger and disappointment. Harry watches her face as she starts talking to other people, Pettigrew distancing himself. For the first time in the night he notices she's wearing a diamond necklace in the shape of a serpent, its head falling exactly between her breasts. He wets his lips. His mind again betraying him, all his senses screaming how stunning she looks, how utterly ridiculous is that a woman like her is… a Riddle - off limits.

He moves his glass to take another sip, but stops mid motion. All his blood surely goes south at once, his heart beating faster and his stomach tugging… Hermione's dress has an open back. But not just any open back. One that goes dangerously close to her butt, stopping right at the edge of revealing something, exposing her lean muscles and back dimples.

Harry downs his champagne in one go and briefly closes his eyes after.

Maybe talking with those vile man can take his mind off of her. And so be it.

But someone comes into his way, stopping him with a hand. It's an old man. Old and imposing.

"I don't think we've met." The old man says, watching Harry closely from behind his half moon shaped glasses. His long white hair and beard catch Harry's eyes, but not just that, the purple cloak he's wearing truly brings together the image Harry used to have of old wizards. He almost chuckles. "I'm Albus Dumbledore."

Harry's mouth hangs open a bit. This is Hogwarts' Headmaster. Having no idea why this man is talking to him, Harry tilts his head and extends his hand. "Harry D'Angelo." A glint goes over the man's eyes.

Dumbledore takes his hand and shakes it firmly. "D'Angelo? Really? You don't strike me as one."

Pulling his hand back, Harry pockets both, the glass of champagne instantly gone when he finished it. "I think I don't understand what you mean, Mr Dumbledore."

"Oh, please, Harry, call me Albus." Harry smiles tightly. "Did you know I can remember every student that ever went to my school?"

This is so out of the blue that Harry has no other reaction than frowning. "Yeah?"

"Surely. I'm proud of this little achievement. I remember your father very well. He was a great wizard."

The words hang in the air.

Harry grits his teeth. If this old man is talking about Marcello Donatto, then he's completely crazy, because Marcello never even stepped foot in England… but James Potter did. James Potter was a Gryffindor.

"I'm sorry, sir, I think your memory failed you there, my father never went to Hogwarts." And he shuts his mouth.

Dumbledore looks at him in a way that pierces his soul and Harry can feel a chilly shiver running down his spine. This old man knows things. And he's letting Harry know that he knows.

"Oh, really? My mistake then, Harry." He winks conspiratorially, "But if you need me for anything, you know where to find me."

Dumbledore acts like an old friend and not someone Harry just met, and he finds it extremely difficult to deal with these turns of events after being mistreated by almost everyone the first time he met them.

"Okay…" It's his only answer. Dumbledore smiles.

Someone calls to Harry and he turns his head to look at Sirius Black. When he looks back at Dumbledore, the old man is gone. Harry scrunches his nose. Sirius reaches him.

"Harry," He says easily, "Can I call you Harry?" He nods, "Good. So, Minister Riddle wants to talk to you at his study, apparently something came up." Harry tries not reacting. Could it be that they found out the truth about him?

He nods to Sirius and follows him through the enormous place, the mansion is indeed packed with guests, all of them seeming extremely comfortable in this kind of gathering. It doesn't go unnoticed to him how many have the same posture and attitude he saw in Lucius Malfoy. Entitled jerks.

Sirius comes to a halt in front of a huge wooden double door. And for the first time Harry asks himself why Sirius went to fetch him. Regardless, the doors open and they move inside. It's a study and a huge library at the same time, filled with comfortable chairs, desks and a fancy fireplace. But the room itself doesn't matter, what stops Harry on his tracks are the people inside.

Tom Riddle, Bellatrix, Asmodeus Pettigrew, Sirius, Sally and-

Hermione.

Their eyes meet.

She looks… nervous.

Pocketing his hands in an attempt to stop them from running through his hair, Harry opens a tight smile.

"Minister." He greets firmly.

"D'Angelo." It's Tom's answer. "I'll be direct." Harry holds his breath. "We have a problem."

Riddle says nothing further and Harry cocks his head, "Sir?"

"You see," The man exhales in a way that shows clear annoyance, as if whatever is going on bores him. "Asmodeus here," He waves a hand at Pettigrew, "Is an incompetent Auror and had his wand broken in two by a criminal." Harry narrows his eyes slightly, "So, without a wand, no spells, right?" Riddle is actually asking, maybe to humiliate Pettigrew even further.

"Right." Harry says slowly. Daring to move his eyes to Hermione who's leaning on a shelf now, watching with interest.

"And, unfortunately, my daughter, who I'm almost certain has a terrible taste in choosing a partner, is left with no one to dance with tonight."

Harry takes a moment to understand. But he says nothing. His eyes go to Sally and Riddle notices.

"Now, D'Angelo, I know you were going to dance with Miss Black tonight, but if you agree with my simple request, I'm sure Miss Black will understand."

"Request, sir?" He voices the obvious question.

"You'll dance with Hermione, D'Angelo." The tone is final and there's a hint of harshness in his voice.

Various questions go through his mind: Why him? Can't Pettigrew borrow a wand? Why doesn't he try doing it wandless? Is it imperious that Hermione actually dances with someone? What about Sally?

He opens and closes his mouth and before he can say anything, Bellatrix intervenes. "Great. So it's settled."

That sets Harry into motion. He won't bow down to Tom Riddle's wishes so fast.

"Only if it's okay with Sally." He says in a deep voice, his eyes on her. She smiles fondly at him. Tom Riddle on the other hand is narrowing his eyes, his lips raising almost into a snarl. With his chin high up, Harry walks to Sally, holding her hand. Sirius, who's by her side, gives him an amused glance. "I don't want you to be alone." He says sincerely and she cocks her head, turning to look at him.

"It's okay, Harry." She says in a low voice to him and then louder, "The Minister's daughter has to dance, after all. It's not our fault Pettigrew can't keep track of his wand." Harry wants to laugh at that, the memory of the rain pouring down on them while Pettigrew screamed in pain when he broke his wand comes to his mind. Incredibly satisfying.

"Father," Hermione finally says, moving away from the shelf, closer to Pettigrew. "Maybe Asmo can do it wandlessly. Can't you?" She turns to him and the man sets his jaw.

"You know I can't." He murmurs.

"Try." Tom Riddle says.

Harry watches while Pettigrew suffers internally, incapable of denying a request from the Minister. He only nods and raises his hands. Riddle lets him try for three times before ending his torture. Harry purses his lips, wanting to laugh at his failure and wondering why Hermione suggested such a thing if she knew the outcome-

"D'Angelo." Harry moves his eyes to Tom. "You try it."

Both his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He's been trying it for the past days, the last time he almost succeeded, but… with all eyes on him he's not sure he's capable. However, since he already defied Riddle in a way, he decides he won't fight on this one. Leaving Sally's side, he moves to the middle of the room and takes a deep breath. His eyes inadvertently focus on Hermione. She discreetly nods at him, letting him know she believes he can do it. And as he thinks about his happiest memory, he moves his hands in the air and voices the Expecto Patronum inside his head.

And he does it.

The lion materializes in front of everyone. Hermione opens a wide smile. Pettigrew looks down, fuming. Bellatrix seems impressed, but Tom Riddle is frozen on the spot.

"Very well." He says and Harry extinguishes his Patronus. "See. You're far better suited to dance with my daughter tonight, D'Angelo." Then he waves his hand. "You can all leave now."

Sally and Sirius are the first ones out, followed by Pettigrew. Harry lingers a bit, but without another word he moves out. When he crosses the door, though, Pettigrew comes to him.

"If you think you can come here and be the grand savior, you have a surprise coming your fucking way, D'Angelo. You're not welcome here and you should have never left your filthy country of Muggleborns worshipers!" He's practically spitting at his face in a low voice, but Harry doesn't budge. "And you should stay the fuck away from Hermione! She's way out of your league!" He hisses.

"I want nothing with her." Harry answers flatly.

"What's going on here? Asmo? What the hell?" Hermione moves to them, putting herself in front of Harry and torturing him with the sight of her exposed back. He could touch her if he simply raised his hand. "D'Angelo has nothing to do with this. You have no wand and it was my father who chose him to take up your place!" Her voice is low but furious. "And I've had enough of this crap!" She says through gritted teeth.

For a moment Harry sees a streak of violence so vicious in Pettigrew's eyes that he fears for Hermione - a flash of the way Pettigrew slashed her leg outside Azkaban invading his mind. Without thinking he takes a step forward and actually sets one hand on her lower back in a protective and… possessive way. The warmth and smoothness of her skin making his whole body come to a halt. Pettigrew sees his movement and how Hermione doesn't refuse it sets something off on the other man. Clicking his tongue, he snorts and turns away, walking further into a hall and leaving Harry and Hermione alone on that particular spot.

Strangely they don't move. She doesn't turn to look at Harry, but she doesn't walk away either. And he stays there with a hand on her lower back, his fingers itching to trace her spine, to caress her in a way.

"I'm sorry about the whole thing, Harry." She says in a low voice. "I know you wanted to dance with Sally." She states, her words echoing between them. But in reality Harry tries his best not to think how relieved he is that Hermione won't be dancing with Pettigrew anymore.

"Couldn't he borrow a wand?" He whispers back.

She shakes her head. "It would be a demonstration of weakness. Of frail magic."

Hermione turns and he realizes they're very close. His hand slips from her back and immediately he pockets both to keep them away from her body. But his eyes fall to the slit, - damn slit - her long leg exposed just an inch in front of him. Unconsciously he wets his lips, letting out a ragged breath. Hermione is watching him intensively, her own breaths coming short.

"There's another thing." She whispers.

"What?"

"We dance first. Alone. Before anyone else."

He widens his eyes. All the attention will be on them. "Why?"

"Because I'm Tom Riddle's daughter, Harry." There's a hint of something in her words and they're a slap to his face, the reality of who she is and who he is swallowing him whole in guilt while he takes a step back, clearing his throat.

"Right. Of course."

She opens her mouth, but he'll never know what she wanted to say because the wooden door of the study opens and they move their heads to see Bellatrix coming out. She narrows her eyes at them, a tiny smile pulling at the side of her mouth.

"Hermione, love, is everything alright?" Hermione just nods. "D'Angelo, it was quite an impressive Patronus you showed us." There's only admiration in her tone and he almost frowns. She's… kind. Which is odd.

"Thank you, Mrs Riddle."

She nods. "Hope you have a great dance. Hermione, can you come with me for a second?"

They move away from him and Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. This it not going how he imagined. At all. And before he starts stressing about their dance, he searches something else to occupy his mind with. Fetching another glass of champagne, he moves to the middle of the room. There isn't a single face he recognizes. No one approaches him and Harry doesn't mind, maybe this way he can explore the mansion on his own. He would give anything to have an entire hour alone inside Riddle's study. There's not a doubt in his mind that he would find evidences of his cruelty and maybe ways of weakening his sway on these Pureblood families.

Because as Harry walks and drinks, he understands that bringing Tom Riddle down is going to be more difficult than he imagined at first. It's not only him. He has the support of numerous Pureblood families, Supremacists that will fight off anyone who tries changing things. Matteo used to say to Harry that there's nothing more addictive than power. And these wizards know no other life… only the one where they're above right or wrong, their blood and ancestry the only things that matter.

"Harry, dear." He turns on his heels. Eleonora Black is there with… Remus Lupin. "I don't think you've met Remus." She gestures to the man.

"Remus Lupin."

"Harry D'Angelo."

They shake hands firmly and he tries not flinching at the way Remus is staring at him. With hunger. Searching and analyzing.

"It's refreshing to see a new face around here, Mr D'Angelo. We're so used to meeting always the same people that I'm honestly wondering why we keep doing it."

Harry chuckles slightly. "It beats me."

Remus laughs. "I heard you're dancing with Sally tonight!" Remus says excitedly. "I have to say, I hope you treat her well-"

"Actually," Harry interrupts, "I- there's been a change… I'm dancing with Hermione."

Remus frowns and Eleonora gasps. "As in Hermione Riddle?" Remus asks. Harry just nods. "Wow. What her father thinks of that?"

Harry doesn't fully understand the question, "He was the one who suggested it."

Remus and Eleonora share a glance. Remus looks down and before he can say anything else, the deep sound similar to a bell tolls inside the mansion.

Arching his eyebrows he looks around, surprised by everyone's rigid posture as they open way on the ballroom. Harry presses his lips together. Hermione is coming to him, her stride firm and intentional. Remus and Eleonora step back like all the others and it's crazy how hard his heart is beating inside his chest.

It's time for their dance.

The bell tolls again.

Hermione takes his hand. He holds hers tightly. The contact warm and reassuring. And he lets her guide him to the center of the ballroom. There's total silence around them and Harry can't help feeling a bit overwhelmed. She turns to him and when they lock their gazes, he remembers the day they practiced together, how he touched her and how they silently tried to figure out something between them.

All lights go down. It's total darkness and she moves forward, her lips pressing against his ear.

"It's just us. Forget about the others."

He nods and when all lights come on again, she's already that extra step away from him. The music invades the ballroom. Hermione nods her head discreetly and he understands perfectly when it's the right time to move, after all, she taught him well.

He takes the step and bows and she does the same, their eyes glued on each other's. She's absolutely breathtaking. Harry falls into step easily, their hands meeting at the middle, that same tingle on their lefts, intriguing both. He keeps his eyes on hers, his feet moving on their own, the music making them really dance around each other.

It happens so smoothly that Harry almost misses the way many wizards and witches step into their dance to take part in the circles. But he doesn't care about them, only about her. He can only think of Hermione. Of her eyes on him, of their bodies studying one another in this old and strange dance. It's crazy how what they're doing doesn't seem like a simple dance anymore, it feels like… something more.

They stop in front of each other. Hermione moves first, following the music and casting her Patronus. Harry sees the serpent appearing behind her in a rigid stance and when he realizes it's his turn, he silently prays he can pull off that wandless Patronus again.

To his relief, he does, his lion appearing behind him.

And now he takes a deep breath.

They step into each other's space to take their stance to start waltzing. Harry has a hard time concentrating when one of his hands goes to her upper back, her arm above his, her hand on his shoulder. They ground themselves. And when their other hands come together, it's... powerful.

And not giving a damn for the rest of the world, they start waltzing. Their feet move incredibly fast and with dexterity, as if they were made to do this, to perform this dance together. Her posture is flawless, her neck a bit exposed to him, his senses on alert while he feels consumed by her skin, by her scent, by her.

She squeezes his hand tighter and he reciprocates the gesture, his mind running fast, trying to catch up with what's happening, with the magnitude of it. And he swallows a lump in his throat, something tugging at his chest. He realizes he doesn't want it to end.

But the music starts fading and they slow down, knowing they'll stop soon and part from each other. And when Harry becomes aware of the rest of the room, he notices they're all clapping in rhythm. If he had to guess, this surely isn't common.

They come to a halt at the center and Hermione opens her mouth slightly, her eyes falling on their Patronus. Harry follows her gaze and inhales sharply at the scene. His lion is lying down lazily, the serpent around his whole body, its head under the lion's jaw. It could be, but it's not predatory at all. It's intimate. It shows trust. Desire. Involvement.

The music ends.

But people keep clapping. He raises an eyebrow at Hermione, lowering his arms, instinctively bringing her closer. "Why are they clapping?" He asks in a low voice, seeing the doubt in her.

"It-" She's holding firmly both his arms. "They do this when the couple dancing shows… perfect harmony." He cocks his head. A tiny smile on his lips. "And they'll keep clapping until we kiss."

"Kiss? On the lips?"

"Yes. You don't have to. I mean," She says fast, "don't do it. If you do, you'll probably be forced to ask me to marry you. It's kind of a tradition."

He frowns. Denying how much he wants to really kiss her, he only leans and gently, reverently, kisses her forehead instead. Hermione sighs, her body moving closer to his. He lets his lips linger. After a few beats people stop clapping and he closes his eyes.

I don't wanna let go.

Their Patronus disappear.

Their dance is over.

.

(...)

Chapter Text

The Ball (part 2 of 2)

(...)

Their dance is over.

He takes a step back, smiling sincerely. And it shocks him to see a brightness in her eyes, as if she wanted to cry. But she smiles and bows curtly. He does the same. Having no idea why, he takes her hand again and they walk together out of the dance floor. All eyes on them.

Hermione keeps tugging at his hand while they go through the sea of people and he lets her guide him wherever she wants to. He feels like a willing hostage. As they go, he spots Tom and Bellatrix and prepares himself to talk with them, but Hermione takes a sharp turn, entering a wide hallway and guiding him away from the crowd and her parents.

Frowning, but not stopping, he intertwines their fingers and she turns her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder with a smile. He wants to ask where she's taking them, but it shocks him to understand that he'll go with her regardless.

And as they keep walking, he sees many rooms, open spaces and something really close to a training arena, which he recognizes well since he trained endless hours in one of these. He wonders if Hermione did the same. Wonders how similar they can possibly be for totally different reasons.

He stops abruptly when they're going by the kitchen. He never saw a kitchen this huge. And filled with so many house-elves. Hermione clicks her tongue, her eyes on what he's looking at. There are at least fifty elves working there. So, that's how glasses of champagne pop up in thin air.

"This is sick." She hisses and he turns to her, seeing anger in her eyes. "They shouldn't be explored this way." He can see real concern in her words and face. But before he can say anything, Hermione shakes her head and resumes her walk, leading him.

"Where are you taking me?" He finally asks.

"Somewhere we can talk in peace." It's the only answer she gives.

"Do we… need to talk?"

She stops and fully turns to him, close. Her eyes go from his mouth to his eyes. "You think we don't? After what just happened?"

Harry can't quite grasp what she means. He has no idea if people thinking they had perfect harmony is some kind of big deal, but his whole life his grandfather kept him away from these kind of gatherings and traditions, so he can't be sure if Hermione is overreacting or not. He cocks his head.

"I'm not sure I fully understand what happened, Hermione." He says gently. "It was just a dance."

Something swims in her eyes and she recoils a bit, but shakes her head, more to herself than to him and tugs his hand again. They descend some stairs into a place where he knows a guest shouldn't be going. Harry doesn't protest and they keep going down and down. Is she taking me to a dungeon?

However, the place she finally stops is a dim lit room, just as big as a ballroom, but more like a storage room. He can see many objects laying about, forgotten things. Old. There are no windows and she closes the door behind them with a wave of wandless magic. He can tell no one will interrupt them there.

"What is this place?" He asks.

"It's my father's version of a basement." She shrugs. "And I guess he has a hoarding problem too." She waves her hand to show her point.

He wonders if there's valuable information inside this place, his heart beating fast at the thought of finding something to use against Tom Riddle, anything.

But Hermione is stepping into his personal space, so close that their fronts touch. And all his attention goes to her. She takes his breath away. It's probably the tenth time tonight that he thinks she looks absolutely stunning. He's mesmerized by her eyes, even prettier with the heavy makeup… and the look she's giving him raises the hairs on his nape, chills running down his spine in intense anticipation. Without effort he could lean forward and kiss her, or raise his arms and pull her to him, crashing them together.

The air shifts around them, something heaving on both as they don't talk or break this moment.

The tension is almost concrete - as if he raised his hand he could touch it. He can see in her eyes. And he knows his show the same thing. The same desire. The same lust.

"Maybe dancing together was a mistake." She says.

"You think so?"

This close he can see her lips gently pressing together and his focus on other matters is indeed totally gone. There is only her lips. Her eyes. Her smell. He's bewitched. And the truth is that he wants to be. He wants to get lost in her arms. He takes a deep breath.

Hermione raises a hand and touches his face, her warm palm on his cheek. He leans into her touch, kissing her wrist. He can see her chest moving up and down fast, her eyes darkening.

Harry closes his eyes.

Am I able to keep resisting? The question sounds ridiculous to himself. If there's something he has been doing since he stepped inside the Ministry, that something is thinking of her. And each time he tried putting a distance between them he failed. In sick jokes of the Universe, they've gotten even closer.

But he can't let go of his revenge, especially now after what he's seen and heard at this Ball. Getting closer, intimate with Hermione is the recipe for his failure-

"What are you thinking?" She asks.

Opening his eyes, Harry decides.

His hands move up to her waist and he lets himself marvel at how perfectly they fit when her arms close around his neck. He shouldn't even like Hermione. But that doesn't mean he has to deny all his desires. If they keep this - whatever this is - strictly physical, maybe he can have both: her and his revenge.

"How do you see this thing between us, Hermione?"

She averts her eyes from his briefly, thinking.

"What do you mean?" She returns the question, wanting to know what he feels before exposing herself. Always so clever.

"It's obvious we share a… mutual attraction." He says.

She opens a seductive smile and her fingers go through his hair. "I guess."

"And you have a boyfriend."

She moves her head slightly, her red lips coming to meet the pulse on his neck. Hermione plants gentle kisses there, and he tightens his embrace, breathing shallowly. "Hmm, I do. Yes." She says between two kisses. "And? Your point?"

"Don't you feel guilty cheating on him?"

"Am I?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Cheating?"

He wets his lips, chuckling. One of his hands move all the way down her back, he almost groans as he gets his wish of trailing his fingers down her spine, smoothly, until he reaches her butt and squeezes her flesh the way he's been wanting since forever. She fists his hair, smiling, a glint in her eyes. "Aren't you?" Harry leaves his hand there and she doesn't complain.

"Maybe." She kisses his jaw. "But, I'm probably marrying Asmo." Harry raises an eyebrow not understanding her train of thought. "And I'll have to be with him for the rest of my life." One of her hands moves down from his hair to his chest. "You and I." She moves a finger between them, "this is pure, unadulterated lust, isn't it? Because as far as I know," Her hand keeps going south, reaching his belt, "you'll ask Sally to marry you. Aren't you cheating on her too?"

"Am I?"

Her hand moves past his belt to his groin and she slowly strokes his already hard cock through the fabric of his trousers. His breath hitches. "Aren't you?" She opens a devious smile, her hand not stopping, still moving slowly, oh, so slowly.

He grits his teeth. He can't let her play with him like this. The hand that was resting happily on her ass moves to the slit that has been driving him crazy all night. Understanding what he's doing when he squeezes her inner thigh, her hand stops stroking him and she closes her eyes, her forehead resting on his shoulder.

Harry was not prepared for the fact that she's not wearing any underwear and he actually moans when his fingers find her folds, opening her up to him. She's incredibly wet.

"Fuck, Hermione."

He wants her. Badly. But he controls himself and, still wanting to tease her, he massages her clit gently, making her squirm in his arms, then one finger goes inside her, two… abruptly, he stops. With both hands again fisting his hair she pulls his head back, her eyes meeting his. "I don't like to be teased, Harry."

He's so very hard for her. "Tough luck, then." He says when he retreats his hand and, never breaking eye contact, sucks on the fingers that were inside her. She opens her mouth, her eyes extremely dark now while she watches him. "You taste wonderfully, Head Riddle." Just like I've been imagining since we met.

Hermione seems to be at a loss of words. Then she inhales sharply and he takes a moment to react when her lips crash on his. He groans when she bites down on his lower lip. It's more a battle than a kiss. And he doesn't want to think about the softness of her mouth or how easy they seem to understand each other. He wants to focus on their desire. On the way they fight for dominance with their tongues. It's not gentle, not loving, it's just a part of what they really wanna do: fuck.

With a hand on her nape, he steers her head to explore her mouth with his tongue and she sighs while he tries devouring her. He's already dizzy from a lack of air and from how inebriated he feels because of her smell and taste, but when he traps her lower lip between his teeth, Hermione moves back, opening her eyes.

But he can't. He can't look into her eyes. It would be too much to stop and think about what they're doing. So, averting his, he holds her waist firmly and lifts her from the floor in that position while she supports herself with both hands on his shoulders. Harry walks them to the nearest wall, putting her back down and leaving kisses on her neck.

Her hands starts to unbutton his shirt and vest, fast and determinate. He bites her neck, not caring if it will leave a mark, not caring if he's hurting her. At the moment he feels crazy, wild. He can't believe what they're about to do, he can't believe he's betraying years of training and studies because he can't resist her. She finally opens all buttons and sighs, turning her head a bit to kiss his temple, his cheek, whichever part of his face she's able to while her hands explore his torso and his back, her nails scrapping him, digging into his flesh. His mouth goes back to hers and they kiss sloppily, ugly, tongues and teeth.

He presses his hips against hers and she exhales a moan, closing her eyes in bliss. He can't take this anymore. Fumbling with his belt he shoves down his pants and underwear, freeing his cock. Hermione licks her lips, their eyes meeting.

"Just sex." He says harshly.

"Just sex." She says back to him with a guttural voice. "Fuck me, D'Angelo."

"As you wish, boss."

And he turns her around in a swift motion. He can't look at her face. Hermione supports herself on the wall, spreading her legs a bit and pulling him to her by his hair. He kisses her earlobe while his hands ride her dress up and to the side. His heart is beating so fast he's a bit afraid it might explode the moment he enters her. Harry tries not thinking how that will feel. It's only sex. Convincing himself, he brings her back with a firm grip on her stomach, she's ready for him.

He closes his eyes, hissing when he feels her hot entrance. He can't go slow. She wants to be fucked and that's what she's getting from him. In a thrust he's inside her. Hermione muffles a scream, biting down her own hand and Harry doesn't wait to move, he does it fast, his own senses going out the window.

She's perfect.

His mind betrays him while he moves in and out of her, slamming her against the wall, holding her waist so tightly he's sure he'll leave marks on her. But Hermione doesn't seem to care. In fact, it looks like this is exactly what she wants. And it turns him on even more.

"Faster." She says in a hushed tone, almost non existent, and he obeys, grunting and enjoying every second of it. She takes one of his hands from her hip and moves it to her clit with her own. Hermione shows him exactly what she wants and he learns fast, his thrusts moving in sync with his fingers. She rolls her head back, exuding pleasure.

He grits his teeth. He's insanely close to his orgasm now, he can feel all his muscles tightening, the pleasure reaching its peak. But he wants her to come first and he kisses her neck, her cheek.

"Come for me." He says in her ear.

And that's her undoing. Her back arches, her whole body tensing and then relaxing as she shudders in his arms. She moans a bit too loudly and he presses a hand to her mouth, silencing her. He's glad he didn't see her face when she came. It would be printed in his mind forever.

Closing his eyes he grunts while he comes inside her. She closes her walls around him, and it's pure bliss while he rides it out.

For minutes the only sounds in the room are their heavy breathes. They don't move, not daring to break the moment and having to deal with its consequences. But Harry decides he can't regret this. It was the best hook up of his life.

He finally moves back, clearing his throat and recomposing himself with a spell. In a second it looks like nothing happened. Hermione turns to face him and the way she looks so throughly fucked gives him immense satisfaction. He can't help chuckling and she narrows her eyes, laughing with him.

Something tugs at his heart.

She motions to herself. "Would you mind?"

He gets what she means and with a flick of his wand, her dress, hair, face, makeup, everything, is back as it was before they got there.

"Well, thank you, D'Angelo." She mocks and he bows a bit.

"Oh, no, I should be thanking you." They're both smiling like the cat who ate the canary. "I…" He chews the insides of his cheeks, "sure hope this wasn't a one time thing." Idiot.

She snorts a laugh, looking down and then back up at him. "Definitely not, I hope."

They sustain their gazes. There's a lot he wants to say, but he shuts his mouth and his thoughts.

Hermione suddenly frowns, her eyes at the far wall.

"What?" He asks, but she's already walking there, he follows and stops behind her. She's standing still, barely breathing, there's a… "It's a mirror. So?" He crosses his arms. "An old one for that matter."

He tilts his head. He can see their reflection. But Hermione is frozen on the spot. Then she turns her head to him. "A mirror?" Her voice is shaky and strange.

"Yes." He motions his hand in front of them. "Are you okay?" She's pale.

"And you see us?" She whispers.

"Yes, Hermione. It's us at the reflection in the mirror." He makes a face at her. Has their sex making driven her mad?

"You see just us?"

"Yes, just us. Why? Should I see something else? Is it magical?" He opens his mouth, understanding that maybe this is not just a mirror, but when he tries moving past her to check it out, Hermione holds his forearm and pulls him back.

"You're right. It's just an old mirror, Harry. We should head back to the Ball. They're probably wondering where we are." He agrees and they start moving back to the entrance of this strange basement. "Sally must be crazy looking for you." There's a hint of meanness in her tone and he shakes his head.

They exit the room and Hermione closes the door with magic, it turns slightly red. Blood magic. Harry leans on the wall at the corridor.

"You should go first." He says.

She nods. They don't share another look and he closes his eyes when she leaves.

Harry exhales. If it weren't for the spell he casted on both, he would be smelling of her now, of their encounter. "Shit." He crouches, hands on his face. "What the fuck have I done?" He shakes his head, it's not the time to freak out. They had sex and that was it. And if it happens again… well. Standing, he rests his forehead on the cold tile. It's not like I have feelings for her. Of course not, and he's a man, he has his urges, his needs…

Horniness won't stop me from ending them. He straightens his back and clears his throat. Time to head back to the viper's nest.

Right when he got back to the ballroom, after snooping around a few rooms - and finding nothing worthy of a second glance - many pairs were dancing, but not the Traditional anymore, apparently this one happened while he was burying himself inside Hermione.

But the Ball is at full swing now, looking more like a party than an encounter of pricks. He searches for Sally or any face he might recognize, but the place is dark, a few lights dimly illuminating it, sufficient to discern people when pretty close to them.

However, he spots Hermione easily. She's dancing. With Pettigrew. Harry averts his eyes fast. Maybe they needed that fuck. Maybe it will put an end to all the mixed emotions he has regarding her. Maybe he was confused in hating her because he felt attracted to her.

Or maybe now everything is going to be worse.

Before he can dwell on that, someone grabs his arm. "Harry! Where were you?" It's Sally. He thought she would be angry after what happened. After the dance and the way he vanished with Hermione, but no, she's smiling, her hand seeking his and pulling him to dance with her.

He smiles back at her and brings her closer by the waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. He doesn't feel guilty about fucking Hermione. He barely knows Sally, he may like her, but it's not love, it's not real affection. Not for her. Not for Hermione either.

Everything he's living here is a means to an end. Nothing more.

Her arms go around his neck, the music is very upbeat, something Harry would call an electronic rock. And as he lets himself be taken by the rhythm, he leans and kisses Sally. She corresponds immediately, her tongue opening his mouth as they share a slow and sensual kiss. He does his best not to think how Sally's taste has nothing to do with Hermione's. Sally tastes of pineapples and firewhiskey. Hermione is a mixture of champagne and strawberries.

Their kiss is long and he enjoys it, his hands roaming over her back and side, hers messing with his hair. And when they finally stop, Sally begins to sing along with the music, totally entertained and sure of herself. He laughs out loud, trying to do the same and messing up, making her cry from laughter. He feels light. Good. He kisses her again, bringing her even closer. And he takes the moment to pretend that he's not inside a mansion filled with people who wouldn't bat an eye to kill him. Filled with people who would most definitely make an example out of him. He tries not thinking about how much he hates Tom Riddle and how unfair it feels that a certain woman is his daughter.

Sally's hands move to his shoulder and they break the kiss. "Take this off." She's talking about his jacket. Harry agrees, it makes it pretty hard to dance with it. In one swing he throws it at a corner and a glass of firewhiskey appears in front of Sally. One of champagne in front of him. He shakes his head. He wants firewhiskey too. And his wish is granted. They down the drinks in one go like crazy people. And Harry has no idea what takes over him, but he kisses her again, a need to forget about what he shared with Hermione taking over him as his lips find her neck and she grinds her hips against his. He knows he's being inconsequential, he shouldn't be making out with Sirius Black's daughter in front of everyone like that. But he finds it hard to care. And she seems to think the exactly same.

They separate abruptly when someone bumps hard into them. "Hey!" Harry yells at the man by his side, someone he never saw in his life, his arms still around Sally.

"Sorry, mate! Someone bumped into me too!"

Harry looks further into the crowd of people and squints when he sees Hermione and Pettigrew in the same direction as the man who bumped into them. Did she just…? Hermione turns at this exact moment, her eyes finding his easily. She looks angry. Pettigrew positions himself in front of her, blocking his vision. Harry takes Sally's hand. They probably should leave the room. He should be investigating people…

Blinking a few times, he frowns. Something is wrong. Sally is still dancing in a frenetic rhythm. But he releases her hand and stops moving, his eyes scanning the room. Everyone seems to be lost in their own world, dancing, kissing, drinking. He spots Hermione again. She's saying something to Pettigrew, furious. Her hands on both sides of his neck, as if trying to get his attention. But from what Harry can see, the man is also dancing, a drink in his hand.

Harry looks up. There's a dense smoke in the air. Suddenly it's hard to breathe. He loosens his shirt and vest. They're being drugged. The whole room. For a while now. His eyes scan the french windows. They're tightly shut.

"Sally." He tugs her hand, his own brain slow, heavy. She doesn't turn to him and he fumbles for his wand inside his vest. Harry tries a spell to sober up, anything to take his mind off this sensation, but nothing works. He closes his eyes in frustration. He can feel himself falling further into an abyss.

"Here." He opens his eyes. Hermione is in front of him, one of her hands on his neck. She's using a healing spell and he can feel as it takes over his chest and mind, sending away the heaviness. He inhales deeply. Inadvertently his hands rest on her waist. "Better?" He nods to Hermione. "Heal her and make her leave, Harry." She's talking about Sally. "I have a terrible feeling about this. I'll try to heal the Aurors I can see here. Be prepared for anything."

He nods again. But before she can walk away, he cups her cheek. "Be careful." She bites her lower lip. Her eyes on his.

"Always am."

He brings Sally to him and sees Hermione walking away, heading to a corner where Ron is kissing his wife. Not wasting a second he begins healing Sally and he watches as she comes to herself, blinking in shock, scanning the room. "Merlin." She rests her head on his chest. "Did my father see us kissing like that?" Even with what's happening he lets out a laugh. Sirius is probably as drugged as they were.

"You need to go." He says fast. Hermione already healed Ron and he's doing the same to Luna. She walks away and he can see she's heading to Draco and Ginny at the far corner. "Listen to me." Sally looks up at him. "Something is wrong. We're being drugged." She widens her eyes at him. "You need to leave. Okay?"

She nods and without him saying another word, she moves away from him. Harry pushes through the crowd to reach Hermione, Ginny and Draco. When he finally does, both are already very much aware of what's happening. "Where's Asmo?" Ginny is asking, her eyes falling on Harry and Ron who's coming behind him. The music is still pretty loud and as the minutes tick by, people are getting more and more out of control.

"He went to find his parents and mine." It's Hermione's answer. "We need to open those windows."

Draco nods. "Let me try." He raises his wand and murmurs a strong spell to banish glass. But nothing happens.

"Maybe an Alohomorra." Ron says. "But we need to get closer."

Hermione agrees and starts moving with Ron, but- "No." Harry calls to them. "No." He says again and Hermione gives him all her attention.

"What is it?"

He shakes his head. "This is a distraction." He knows it, deep inside. "We won't be able to open those windows and we'll lose time." He points out to the stairs. "Does your father have a safe room or something?"

"Yes."

"He's probably there already, but I'm almost certain that was the plan all along."

Harry sees when it dawns on them what he's saying. "Shit." Draco is the first one to move.

They all leave the crowd and the ballroom, their feet fast as they try to run up the stairs. He hears Hermione grunting at her 'useless dress' and he takes her hand to help her, her movements short because of the piece of clothing.

Instinctively they intertwine their fingers, the contact warm. Draco and Ron are already at the top of the stairs, Ginny behind them. "Can't we apparate?" He asks Hermione.

"It can't be done inside the whole Manor."

Of course.

Harry is surprised by how much he wants to reach Tom Riddle. He should be exultant that someone is invading the Manor and will certainly try to kill the Minister. But… He's mine. This fucker is mine. This revenge is mine. Not to mention that maybe Molly, Arthur, Sirius, Eleonora must be with him. And he has ambivalent emotions about this.

When he reaches the top with Hermione, Draco, Ron and Ginny are trying to tear down a huge door. "Move!" Hermione warns them and releasing his hand she goes to the door, her hand touching the knob and turning it red. Blood magic again.

It opens instantly and they enter the room fast. Indeed. Tom Riddle is there. Bellatrix. Peter Pettigrew. Lucius and Narcissa. Molly and Arthur. Sirius and Eleonora. Remus and Nymphadora.

But they stop at the entrance. There is one hooded and masked person with each one of them, their wands ready to strike.

"Finally." A voice says. "The precious Riddle Heiress."

Harry takes a step forward, putting himself in front of Hermione out of pure instinct.

"What do you want?" Hermione asks. He can feel the tension emanating from her and he wished he could stop her when she moves from behind him, her posture of someone who has nothing to fear. Harry sees Bellatrix shaking her head to her daughter, a clear warning of 'go, leave us'. But Hermione moves even further inside the room. A barren room with the clear purpose of being a safe haven and keeping people out.

"We want you, miss Riddle." The voice says. "Leave with us and we'll spare everyone else."

Harry's heart starts to beat faster, he sets his jaw, pondering. Hermione will strike this deal if she doesn't see another way out. He considers their options. They are in five. If they find a way of releasing the others from the intruders' grasp, they'll have the clear advantage. They can win this and bring this people to justice. He's sure she's thinking the same. And before she takes another step forward, her eyes find his and he knows what to do. He knows what she wants. What she plans. It tugs his heart how they truly share something… special.

"You can't think I'm this innocent, can you?" She asks in a menacing tone. "I need a guarantee that no one will be harmed."

"Don't do this!" Bellatrix says fast and the masked person by her side slaps her face. Hard. Hermione doesn't move. Tom Riddle is rigid like a stone too. Sirius is the only one who reacts more openly as he turns his head to check on his cousin, one eyebrow raised. He seems… amused.

"If you touch my mother again, I'll kill you."

Harry can feel the depth of the threat in his bones. It's hard to forget how powerful and dangerous Hermione truly is. And he's playing with fire getting closer to her, sharing secrets with her, protecting her… fucking her.

"No need for this kind of threat." One intruder, the one that has been talking since they entered the room, raises their hands in a clear sign of surrender. "I can Vow for their lives. If you leave with us, no harm will come to them."

Hermione steps forward again. Now she's pretty close to this person. Ron and Ginny exchange a few glances with their parents and Harry is sure Draco is doing the same with his. He hopes they're all on the same page he is with Hermione.

He prepares himself.

"Is that so? I have to say that I'm damn curious to know how you intend on leaving the premises with me as hostage." She says ironically but extends her hand. "Let's make a Vow then, and I'll come with you."

Harry can tell the others know what's about to happen. They don't have a choice. The moment the intruder raises their arm, Hermione wandlessly stuns him and Harry immediately does the same with the one that is holding Sirius, then the one holding Eleonora. The others act as fast as he does and soon the place is a mess of spells. Someone cuts the lights and Harry has a difficult time moving forward. It's hard to understand what's happening around him, but his main concern is… Hermione. He wants to reach her and-

A Stupefy hits his side hard and he flies through the room, hitting the floor and groaning. He barely has time to react, someone is on top of him, hands around his neck.

He's being chocked to death.

Harry struggles, moving his legs and arms, trying to land a punch, trying to free himself. Unsuccessfully. He tries reaching for his wand, not finding it.

Slowly he feels the air failing him, his lungs burning, his limbs heavy. But he's not that gone when whoever is chocking him leans closer and says into his ear:

"I would recognize you anywhere. Those eyes. Identical of that Mudblood. You shouldn't exist. Nothing more fitting than dying like a Muggle."

It's Lucius. Lucius Malfoy is killing him.

Inexplicably he feels his left hand burning. He can't die. Not now. Not like this. But he can feel his end, he knows it's near.

With his last breath he puts a hand against Lucius chest and-

Avada Kedrava.

He feels the curse leaving his hand and hitting the other man's body. The pressure on his neck is gone and he gulps for air, sitting on the floor. Coughing.

Harry stands fast, and even faster he puts distance between him and Lucius Malfoy's body.

I killed him.

A million emotions go through him, but he finds it hard to feel remorse. The man was killing him. He had no choice. We always have a choice - it's his mother's voice. He shakes his head.

He falls to the floor, still coughing with a hand on his throat trying to soothe the burning sensation. He finally realizes the room is more silent, the duels dying around. He summons his wand. It comes easily to his hand and he understands that after performing a Patronus and a killing curse without a wand, he might be able to do anything at all without it.

His left hand still burns and just as he's ready to get back into the fight, he feels soft arms around him. "Are you okay?" He sighs against her hair, her smell unmistakable.

"Are you?" His voice is barely there.

Hermione leans back and her left hand finds his. He can see her shape in front of him in the dark. It's bizarre how soothing the contact is. He exhales again.

"Someone tried chocking me. I almost died." He confesses.

Hermione clicks her tongue, her body moving closer to his. Her right hand touching his neck, her forehead against his. "But you didn't. It's over."

And just as she utters the words, the lights come back on.

Hermione moves away from him incredibly fast and he purses his lips. Pettigrew is entering the room, his eyes on her. She goes to him and they embrace tightly. Harry averts his eyes while he looks around. All the intruders are dead on the floor. it's a brutal scene. And then-

"No, no, no." Narcissa is kneeling beside Lucius, crying. "Draco!"

Harry stays frozen in place while the blond man walks to his father. Shock and anger on his face. Ginny is behind him, both hands covering her mouth in disbelief. The others finally notice what's happening. Harry stands from the floor, pocketing his hands and wetting his lips. There's a dark satisfaction running through his body. One down. He surely won't miss Lucius Malfoy.

But it unsettles him to see Draco and Narcissa crying, hugging each other and trying to understand what happened. Harry is almost sure no one saw him doing it and with everything happening at the same time inside the room it's only logical they assume one of the intruders is responsible.

While they all give a moment to the Malfoys, Tom Riddle is… fuming. Harry's eyes settle on his enemy. He stands still, but his hands are fisted so strongly his knuckles are white, his nostrils showing his utter anger while his eyes roam over the faces of the intruders. Riddle probably doesn't recognize any of them. Harry doesn't either.

And his voice invades the place. "I want to know what the fuck happened. I want to know how these filthy rebels entered my house and had the audacity of making me and my family hostage. I want to know whose fault this is and I want them dead." His voice is pure ice, detachment. He barely glances at Lucius. But Peter Pettigrew is by his side, his fat face and small eyes observing everyone. "Call the healers." And not turning to Hermione or Bellatrix, he leaves the room.

Harry watches in place while everyone else starts moving. Molly, Arthur and Ron stand with Ginny while Draco is still holding his mother, his eyes wide on his dead father. Remus and Sirius exit the room with their wives, probably ready to call for help, end the Ball, whatever it takes to give this night a closure.

Asmodeus is talking to Hermione, their faces close, his hand on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek while she sighs, extremely spent after such a thing. Harry knows she'll sleep with Pettigrew. Knows he'll be there if she happens to wake up in the middle of the night with another nightmare. He'll be the one to hold her, kiss her, tell her reassuring words. And she'll kiss him back, she'll lay her head on his chest, inhale his scent and exhale in contentment for having him there.

He swallows the lump in his throat.

"I don't think we were properly introduced." A raspy voice says behind him.

Harry turns and narrows his eyes at Peter Pettigrew. "We weren't." He says sharply. He has no intention in being friendly with this man.

Peter narrows his eyes at Harry. He leans closer and Harry leans back to keep the distance between them. Harry is taller and he looks a bit down to meet the other man's eyes. "Lucius was my best friend." He states bluntly, a glint in his eyes. Harry doesn't move. "You won't get away with this. I know who you are and what you did. And I'll do whatever it takes to end you." Pettigrew whispers at last and then he turns and walks away slowly.

Harry's eyes follow the man, his heart squeezing inside his chest. He knows Pettigrew can't prove a thing, but he already had Asmodeus on his neck at the department, and now he's sure his father will talk about the Potters, talk about how he thinks Harry killed Lucius… and Asmodeus will make his life a living hell. His first tiny step out of line will be enough reason for an investigation on him. Fuck.

Harry has no idea how Lucius and Peter were so sure of his identity, no one was supposed to know that James and Lily had had a child… He chews the insides of his cheeks. What if someone knew? Then he's truly fucked. But if they did, I would be dead by now. He wonders if this will reach Tom Riddle, if the Minister will believe this absurdity. Because it is an absurd, isn't it? If the Potters had an heir, Tom won't accept that he didn't know, that he didn't kill the kid. Maybe his insane ego will be Harry's salvation, maybe he'll scoff at Peter and dismiss the subject.

But there's nothing Harry can do right now, he needs to play cool and wait. If he reacts first he may call unnecessary attention to him.

It's Ron who takes his mind out of these thoughts. "Can you come with me to check the wards? To see if there's something odd?"

Harry nods slowly and discovers that his feet are practically glued to the floor.

"What happened to your neck?"

"I- one of them tried to choke me."

Ron nods. Harry finally moves and they walk to the door. He can feel Hermione's eyes on him, her presence strong on his internal compass. But he doesn't search for her eyes, he barely looks at anything while he follows Ron.

They don't say a thing until they reach the huge yard. Ron stops and exhales heavily when they're all alone. Harry crosses his arms, sure that the red haired wanted to be as far away as possible from that room and used the first excuse he could in order to leave. He doesn't blame him. He also wanted to leave.

"This is fucked up." Ron finally says. "Lucius Malfoy is dead."

Harry looks at him, raising an eyebrow. His tone isn't exactly one of sadness. "Well…" It's all he manages to say.

To his surprise, Ron snorts a laugh. Harry widens his eyes. "He was bloody insufferable! I don't think even Narcissa or Draco will miss him much." Ron stops abruptly, turning to Harry. "Don't tell anyone I said that." He says fast. "I mean, he made everyone around him miserable. Draco never really liked his father and Narcissa never had the courage to divorce him." Ron shrugs. "I don't want to sound like a dick, but I'm glad my sister won't have to deal with that asshole anymore."

Harry clicks his tongue. He definitely likes the Weasleys. He hides a small smile. He never planned on killing Lucius, yes, he knew he had been pretty vocal about the Potters, had helped financing the investigation in order to find them, but Harry wasn't sure if he took part in the mission that actually killed his parents. Lucius wasn't even an Auror.

Maybe my biggest problem now is Pettigrew.

"I can't believe they invaded the Manor." Ron says. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to breach any Riddle security? His office at the Ministry is a fortress. And this is his house." Ron shakes his head. "He must be livid."

"They wanted Hermione." Harry says slowly, his mind replaying what happened. "They knew she was coming." He runs a hand through his hair. "I think she was the only one not affected by whatever drug they used. It was their plan all along." He knows he's right the moment he says the words.

Ron nods. "Who are they, Harry? That's the real question."

A heavy silence follows.

"Probably the same ones who attacked the Fair. The same who tried to kill her." Harry whispers, not sure why he's sharing his thoughts with Ron.

The Weasley turns to face him. "Look, mate. I like you." Harry frowns. "I hear Pettigrew talking shit about you every day, and maybe a few things are indeed… weird."

"What are you talking about?" Suddenly he's cold. From head to toe. Does Ron suspect who he really is?

Ron sighs. "You're Italian, mate. You're new here. And I confess I made a little investigation… your grandfather has some strong ideals regarding Muggleborns, Muggles and the mixture of bloods." Harry sets his jaw. Fuck, nonnino. "I know you're not him, but I have to say that… these things started happening the moment you got here, Harry. If you were me, wouldn't you suspect yourself?"

Ron has some pretty damn good arguments. And Harry himself can't deny these coincidences are… too much to be coincidences. He has no idea who's behind these attacks, but is almost like someone wants him to take the blame.

"I get your point." He says to Ron and sighs. "And I don't know if you'll believe me, but… I have nothing to do with these attacks, Ron."

Ron holds his gaze, his expression one that shows how much he's considering Harry's words and deciding if he'll believe him or not. To his surprise, Harry is nervous. He wants Ron to believe him, wants to have a friendly relationship with him… if not that, well, at least it's one less person to suspect him.

"Yeah, I believe you, mate." He says at last and pats Harry's shoulder.

"Well, there you are."

Harry turns to see Ginny coming to them. She stops by her brother's side and lets out a long sigh. Ron puts his arm around her shoulders and Ginny looks down. Harry imagines she's trying to hide her tears, but when he pays more attention he realizes she's… laughing a bit.

"That bastard!" She says. "To die like that!" She shakes her head. "I mean, Draco was so shocked with the way his mother was crying-" She stops, her eyes wide on Harry. She opens and closes her mouth.

"Ron told me he was a prick." Harry says to make her feel better for talking like that about her father-in-law just minutes after he died. Was killed. By me.

Ginny scoffs. "I can assure you he won't be missed, Harry."

Harry nods and pockets his hands. An exhaustion threatens to take over him. It's been a long day and an even longer night. He yawns. Ron and Ginny do too. They smile at each other.

"Did you check the wards?" Ginny asks.

"Oh, yeah, right." Ron says. Raising his wand, he searches for something strange. "There's nothing wrong with the wards."

They all make a face at that.

"How in the world they got inside?" Harry asks. "They were checking every guest."

"Someone let them in." Ginny says. "It's the only explanation. People were being checked at the entrance and there were at least twenty Aurors on duty. The wards are up. Nothing strange happened. Nonetheless, we were drugged. The Minister was made hostage inside his own mansion and the intruders wanted his daughter. We're dealing with people with connections. People who know how to plan. It's the same thing that happened at the Fair."

"Bloody hell." Ron says in a low voice.

"They're laughing at us. Laughing at how unprepared we are. At how low our guard is." Ginny finishes.

"Then we should raise our guard. Be prepared." Harry says. "I don't like being laughed at." Not to mention how these attacks might fuck up his whole revenge.

"D'Angelo is right." The three turn on their heels. Hermione is there, bracing herself. Exhausted. "We won't rest until we discover who's behind all of this, do you understand?" They have no other reaction than nod. "Good. Ron, Gin, Draco is looking for you."

Nodding a goodbye at Harry, brother and sister walk back to the mansion.

And he's alone with Hermione. Again.

Harry sets his jaw. He doesn't know what to feel. They lock their eyes and it takes his breath away. Hermione moves closer to him and he feels his skin reacting to her proximity. She looks like someone who needs a hug. And he wonders how it would feel. They never shared a hug, not really. Just when she was waking up from a nightmare and in his mind it didn't count.

But he looks down. This thing with her has gone too far.

"Is there something you need from me?" He asks and she frowns. "I'm tired." He exhales. "If there's nothing I can do right now, I think I'll be going home." He communicates, waiting to see how she'll react.

But Hermione nods. "You can go then." There's a hint of sadness in her voice, something he never heard from her. And it cuts him open.

He nods, fully intending on leaving, but… He closes his eyes. And when he opens them, he takes the two steps separating him from Hermione. Not thinking much about it, he puts his arms around her, bringing her closer, one hand on her head, the other on her middle. She melts against his arms, her face on his vest. He inhales deeply, her smell engulfing him.

"I'm sorry about what happened." He says.

Hermione doesn't answer. Instead, she cries. She's crying in his arms, slightly shaking. He holds her tighter. I shouldn't be doing this. But he wants to comfort her. He wants to make her feel better. Wants to take away her pain… He chews the insides of his cheeks while his hand caresses her hair.

"It's okay, Hermione. It's okay."

"Fuck." She chokes. Sobbing. "I'm usually not like this." He smiles.

"I know. You're a badass." She chuckles. His heart swells at the sound. "Head Riddle, the badass."

"Should I change the inscription on my door?" It's his turn to laugh.

"Not a bad idea."

She sniffs and he can tell she'll move away from him. He kisses her head and takes the step back before she does. Hermione looks up at him. Stupidly he brushes a few tears from her cheeks. She leans a bit into his touch.

There's so much between them he doesn't understand.

"See you at the Ministry?" He asks as a way of saying goodbye. She purses her lips and nods.

And before he can make another stupid move - like hugging her again - he pockets his hands and walks to the open gate.

He doesn't look back, but he knows she watches him all the way until he apparates away.

Chapter Text

November 15th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

Tom Riddle decided they needed a meeting. But not just any meeting.

Harry tries his best not to fidget on his seat. Everyone is there. Riddle called his best Aurors and his counselors - who Harry is discovering at this very moment are those who were with Riddle when they were held captive by the intruders: Bellatrix, Narcissa, Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur… Peter Pettigrew.

An empty chair for Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione is sitting a few chairs away from him, by Asmodeus' side. Ron is on Harry's left and Draco on his right, Ginny by his side.

It's an understatement to say that he's uncomfortable.

The Minister is the one in charge of the meeting, so, on his feet in front of everyone, he's doing all the talking while the others only nod and agree.

Harry had to suffer through an opening speech in which Riddle thought it would be proper to point out the many qualities and superiorities of Purebloods. A twisting knife to his chest would be preferable than hearing such nonsense. However, it was a nice moment to observe the others. The counselors showed little to nothing, their faces serious and their eyes on their leader. But Harry could tell Ron was… uncomfortable by his side. The man shifted a bit on his chair and his hands moved many times on his trousers, almost as if Ron was trying to dry them. Interesting.

Harry didn't as much as flinch the entire speech. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin, his training helping him to keep a straight face.

Hermione only glanced at him once.

It was enough for memories to come rushing back to him. Their hands pressed together while they danced; Their Patronus lying on the floor with such intimacy that it bordered the obscene; The way she moaned while he thrust inside her; How tightly he held her; How good it felt; How hard he came; The way she acted in front of the mirror; The attack; Their hug before he left.

They haven't talked since.

And Harry has no idea what to expect when they do. Pretending it never happened might be a good idea. Maybe they lost control because of the dance, maybe they hugged outside because they were too shaken. Maybe.

And he can't deny Hermione is like quicksand. He never knows what to expect. When he thinks he's stepping into solid ground, it gives in and he starts being swallowed and the struggle to find a way out is immense. He's afraid that if he lets her, she'll trap him under forever.

"Now," Tom Riddle is saying, "words can't express how utterly dissatisfied and disappointed I am. Since the Fair my rule is being incessantly questioned by families that were always by my side," He raises both hands, "and I understand the concern. Ninety-eight dead. It's unheard of, it's a massacre we never faced. Then, a squib," Riddle makes a face of disgust, "escapes right under our noses." He fixes his gaze on Asmodeus. Harry almost smiles. "But what happened at the Ball." Riddle shakes his head. "They dared invade my house!" He yells, startling everyone a bit. "They held me hostage, threatened my wife and wanted to take my daughter!" His tone is still a bit higher than usual. "And I can't, not even in my wildest guess, fathom how they got inside. It's something that has been bothering me gravely." He takes a deep breath, recomposing himself. "I did not want to take such measures, but there's no other explanation for this. There's a traitor, or traitors, on the inside."

Harry raises an eyebrow at that. Many move on their seats, clearly anxious. Hermione looks down, her fingers drumming the table a bit. She probably remembers Harry said the same to her. There's no way these things could have happened if someone from the inside wasn't meddling.

He narrows his eyes. Indeed. Hermione helped him save Lucinda and her daughter. His heart beats faster. If it wasn't for the fact that a bullet was shot at her at the Fair, Harry would be certain that Tom Riddle's daughter is sabotaging her own father. And his mind and heart battle internally at the thought. He doesn't want to admit how much he wished it were the case.

"I won't rest until I find this traitor or traitors." Riddle resumes his speech after the dramatic pause for the information to set in. "Inside this room are the people I trust the most to bring justice for us. All of you will be part of this investigation. My counselors will be my eyes and ears outside these walls, while my Aurors will be responsible for interrogations and taking action. And let me be clear on this matter, I want answers regardless what it takes, is that clear, Hermione?" He asks his daughter directly.

"Yes, sir." Her answer is firm.

"Good."

Harry doesn't even want to think about what Riddle means by that. At the same time, his brain is catching up with what he just heard. Does the Minister really considers Harry one of the few he can trust? It seems improbable. And it unsettles him. He remembers a few conversations he had with his grandfather and the only conclusion he reaches is that Riddle is using an old tactic, one Harry is making use of himself.

Keep your enemy close.

It's easy to envision a list of suspects made by the Minister, and for Harry is even easier to imagine himself at the very top. Maybe his best excuse is that he arrived the day the attack happened at the Fair. He had no informations on the inside, it would be pretty hard to hold him accountable for that.

Which he can't say the same regarding the squib's escape and the invasion at the Manor. Having Matteo D'Angelo as a grandfather makes things a bit harder for him too.

"The attack at the Fair," Riddle keeps talking, "As I know, the investigation team already settled the bullets were shot from the bushes around the park," It doesn't go unnoticed to Harry how the muggle word comes out of Riddle's mouth with disgust, "the interrogations led nowhere, and the cursed women vanished. However, we know, from the interrogation Auror D'Angelo conducted with Lucinda Summers, that a man set her up to that." He opens both hands, fed up, "I want to know who this man is. What he wants. What he plans. Who are the people supporting him. Everything. Again, I don't care how, you'll find him, do you understand?" He's again looking at Hermione. She only nods. "The alchemists are trying to figure out the spells used on those bullets, working hard to unravel how they were able to penetrate through the heavy shields around the Fair, but from what I know they're getting nowhere. Hermione, I'm handing this over to the Aurors. Put together a team that can at least think, people who aren't total incompetents for a change."

Harry sees Peter Pettigrew smiling at Riddle's acid comments.

"This brings us to Lucinda Summers and her daughter, the squib." Harry avoids even turning his head to Hermione. "From the deposition Pettigrew and the other Aurors gave, two rebels were responsible for rescuing them. They were able to immobilize and knock out five highly trained Aurors, which still bothers me immensely. Again, only staff from the inside knew about their transference and the condition of the daughter." He stops. He's looking fixedly at Hermione. "Auror Pettigrew said one of them was certainly a woman, he stabbed her on a last attempt of detaining her, but the partner, that Auror Pettigrew bets was a man, stunned him. When he woke up they were gone." Tom Riddle clicks his tongue. "I also want a heavy investigation on this. I want names. Of those who knew about the transference and that one of them was a squib. Is that clear?"

He asks no one in particular, but Harry is sure Hermione nods again. There's a lump in his throat and he swallows it. This particular investigation will be a pain in the ass. The list of people who knew about the transference is small. Mostly because it all happened pretty fast. They seized mother and daughter, both were interrogated the next day and rescued right after.

Riddle walks from one side to the other. "However, nothing makes me angrier than knowing they had the audacity of invading my home at one of the most important nights of our society as a whole." Way to go, guys. Harry secretly marvels at this particular thing. "Lucius Malfoy is dead and we'll never forget how much he did for us, how vital he was in the uprising of this society and in maintaining order. He was our most vocal and fierce voice when the Potters' Persecution began." Harry feels cold inside. At least Lucius' death wasn't an error. Peter Pettigrew sets his eyes on Harry. Nasty and accusatory. No one else seems to notice. "But I want to talk about what these rebels did. They drugged a whole ballroom, shutting down any ventilation. We still don't know how. They took advantage of this and easily dragged me and my counselors out to our safe room. They said loud and clear we would wait for Hermione." Harry looks at her. Hermione is pursing her lips, her only reaction. "I have no idea why they want you." Riddle says directly to her. "But we'll find out. We'll stop them. We'll end this uprising and bring order to our community!" He bangs a hand on the table, his last words loud. Harry can see fury in Riddle's eyes. "I want to know how they got inside. Every and each guest was being checked at the entrance, so, they surely were on the list-" He exhales. "But we were unable to identify the invaders because… apparently they don't exist." Riddle purses his lips.

Harry widens his eyes at this new information and sees Hermione lowering her head in thought. Evidently, whoever is doing this, is extremely prepared. Both situations were well thought and planned. There's hardly anything for them to investigate and find the slightest lead to follow.

"Hermione," Riddle calls her, "set up a team to investigate possible wizards or witches who might have been vocal about Muggleborns' rights. The tiniest evidence is to be taken seriously. Bring them in to interrogation. No one will be spared. Am I clear?"

He asks to all of them. And in unison they nod. Harry follows the motion automatically.

"Good. That's all. For now." Riddle pulls a chair and sits between Bellatrix and Sirius. "You may leave. Back to work."

Harry observes as they all rise from their chairs. Apparently the counselors will stay inside to discuss things further.

As he stands, his eyes immediately seek Hermione. She's quiet, putting her chair back in place while observing her parents. Walking out of the room, he sees Pettigrew putting a hand on her lower back, wanting her attention. Hermione turns her head and says something to the man that Harry doesn't comprehend. Pettigrew nods and pulls her closer to him by the waist. Harry looks down and walks back to his desk in silence, his eyes now intentionally avoiding her.

He chews the insides of his cheeks. He knows that Hermione is alone inside her office because he's been observing her door incessantly. Maybe he was a bit naive, but in a way, deep down, he thought Hermione would come to him. Seek him out for them to talk about everything that happened at the Ball. But she didn't even say her usual 'Good Morning'. She ignored his presence at the meeting and after. And he's not proud to recognize that he was indeed waiting for… something.

Harry moves his right leg up and down. Anxious. He could knock on her door and bring up the subject. But he's not even sure of what he wants to say. Or hear from her. Taking a deep breath, he stands and strides to her door, not thinking twice or else he might give up, he knocks, his hand cold. She calls from inside and he enters.

She's sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, a paper in her hand. She raises her eyes to him immediately and Harry searches for a reaction, but her expression stays the same. In fact, she seems bored to see him there.

"D'Angelo." She greets him.

He wanted to talk about the Ball. About their dance. Ask again what was the big deal in people clapping for them, the whole 'harmony' thing. Not just that but he wanted to talk about the fact that they… fucked. Ask if it changes things or not. Make sure that she wants it to happen again or not.

But his resolve falters and instead he clears his throat and says:

"We need to talk about the investigation."

She raises an eyebrow. "Which one?"

He wets his lips and looks around, raising a finger and motioning through her office. He mouths the words "Is it secure to talk here?"

She narrows her eyes, putting the paper down. With a flick of her wrist, Hermione locks the door. "It is. What do you wanna talk about? Lucinda Summers?"

"Yeah, I mean…" He moves, uncomfortable.

He trusted Hermione blindly. And now he sees what an idiot he was. They never talked about hiding what they did that night. Harry presumed Hermione would never mention that to anyone because she was there, she helped, but he can't really know. And the fact that she might… accuse him of something to save her own ass makes his heart drum inside his chest. It would be only logical, wouldn't it? He gulps.

Hermione snorts a nasty laugh. "You're afraid I might turn you in." She states.

"You can't blame me." He says, defensively. "We didn't actually talk about-"

"Doesn't matter." She says harshly. "I was there, D'Angelo. I helped you. What do you take me for?" She stands from the couch. "A back-stabbing bitch?" She asks bluntly, angry. He opens and closes his mouth. She scoffs. Two fingers against her temple. She sits again. "Fuck it. Whatever. You don't have to worry about it." Her voice is lower now.

"Hermione-"

"Was that all?" She raises her eyes back to him and there's only coldness there. Detachment. "I have a lot to do. So, if you could just leave, that would be great." And not even waiting for an answer, she moves her wrist again and the door opens violently, waiting for Harry to leave.

He pockets his hands, his eyes on her while she goes back to whatever she was reading.

Maybe he should close the door and sit by her side. Tell her it was a misunderstanding. He doesn't actually think she would turn him in, he never did. Maybe he should take her face into his hands and kiss her. Travel his hands through her body and smile against her mouth. Hug her tightly while making her squirm from pleasure.

Harry blinks.

Without another word he walks out.

November 22th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

It's been a whole week since the meeting and the disastrous talk he had with Hermione… but apart from that, things have been calm. Harry has done nothing more than paper work and dealing with their customary problems. Not to mention the endless conversations with Ron, Ginny and even Malfoy in their attempt to understand how the intruders got inside the mansion and who might be the traitor. Considering everything they discussed at the meeting, their investigation is going… terribly.

Along with that, many questions about the Fair haven't been answered yet. They're not closer to finding out a thing about the man Lucinda Summers mentioned; The other cursed woman indeed disappeared, probably left England, taking with her any other lead; The group of Aurors designated to study and comprehend the spells around the muggle bullets is also getting nowhere.

Harry sighs, a hand on his face, massaging his forehead. He's alone at the Auror's floor, it's way past working hours and he should head to his flat for a well deserved night of sleep, but his mind is working too fast, his thoughts scattered while he tries to wrap his mind around everything. His revenge, the attack at the Fair, the Ball, the intruders, him killing Lucius Malfoy.

And of course… Hermione.

They barely talked the whole week and he can't help wondering if he fucked everything up. He tried telling her a few things, but she always found an excuse not to be alone with him. It also didn't go unnoticed how she's been with Pettigrew all the fucking time now, as if they're attached to the hip. It annoys Harry. And consciously he doesn't let this bother him, but when his guard is a bit down… yeah, it bloody annoys him. Mostly because his traitorous mind is unable to forget what they shared.

Sometimes it takes over him like a powerful wave, ready to drown him.

Her smell, taste, how her skin felt against his, how impossibly right they fitted. Only thinking about it sends a shiver down his spine. He struggles to admit that he yearns to be with her like that again.

Maybe I should spend some more time with Sally.

He hadn't seen or talked with Sally since the Ball. Sirius on the other hand is now a constant at the Ministry. He's always there talking with Tom Riddle. The same for all the other counselors. It's obvious they spend their days discussing who might be the traitor.

Sighing, Harry turns off his desk lamp. It's total darkness, except…

He stands from his chair. Inevitably his heart starts to beat like crazy inside his chest. There's some light coming under the Head's door. He was so absorbed with his own work that he didn't notice she hadn't left yet. He lowers his head and pockets his hand. She's definitely alone.

And as he takes a few steps to the elevator, he stops. Chewing the insides of his cheeks, he curses himself when he turns around, his feet leading him to her office.

He knocks, gently. There's a soft 'come in' from inside and he runs a hand through his already messy hair before entering.

Hermione is at her desk, scribbling furiously, piles of papers in front of her, books laying about inside the office, at least two trays of tea at one corner. He raises an eyebrow. Has she been working nonstop? It almost looks like she barely left the office.

He takes a moment to look at her. Her eyes still on whatever she's writing, she still has no idea Harry is the one standing there and for a second he fears she might send him away when she does look up. Her hair is up in a bun and her cheeks are a bit red, as if from exertion. There's a hint of bags under her eyes. Maybe nightmares are keeping her up at night.

He steps further inside and she finally raises her eyes.

There's a beat of silence. Of them looking at each other.

"D'Angelo." He watches his name coming out of her full lips. She frowns. "What are you doing here?" He purses his lips at her bluntness.

"I was just leaving and saw your light on, so…"

She glances at the clock on the wall and he sees her eyes widening, as if she had no idea what time it was. Hermione sighs and puts down her quill. Harry can see some ink tainting her fingers and palm. To his utter disbelief he finds it adoring and sexy. Gulping he takes another step towards her desk.

Leaning back on her chair, she observes him. "So, working extra hours, I see." Her tone is not the friendliest, but she's not sending him away either, so, that's a start.

He nods. "I expect to be paid properly." She opens a small smile at his playful tone.

"You will." There's no hint of playfulness in her tone, though. Things are strange between them. Definitely. And it's dramatically laughable how eager he is to set things back to how they were before-

"We barely had the chance to talk this whole week." His words are ridiculous even to himself.

"We've been insanely busy." She's kind enough not to mention the way he accused her a week ago.

He nods. "I know. Of course. But there are a few things I wanted to discuss with you. Is now a bad time?"

"Weren't you leaving?"

He grits his teeth.

"I can stay a little longer for this." He tries not showing bitterness and he has no idea if he succeeds or not. Hermione drums her fingers on the desk. Pondering. "Unless you want me to go." Please, don't.

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. "What do you want to talk about?"

It disturbs him how she clearly wants him to stay away. Of course she does. "Well, I've been thinking a lot about the bullets fired at the Fair." She keeps looking at him, the question in her eyes, so he goes on, "If the team can't understand the spells used, maybe we should…" He trails. He knows his idea is not exactly what she wants to hear, and she'll probably refuse-

"What?"

"We should try tracing it back to the muggle gun it belonged." She makes a face at him. "We can take the bullet and discover which gun fired it, then we can go after this gun in Muggle London, talk to some people, find out if someone bought these guns recently, or even discover if someone made a huge order on the bullets."

He can see her tightening her jaw. She hated the idea.

"So, let me see if I get what you're saying… you want us to investigate in Muggle London the origin of these bullets and their probable guns, so that way we might get a name."

"Yes. That's pretty much it."

She looks down and he can tell how hard she's considering his idea.

"Look," She says, her tone a bit gentler than before, "It's not a bad idea." Excitement rushes through his body, "But to do something like this we need the Minister's permission." She cocks her head. "He won't give it to us."

"Why not?"

"Because there's not a reality in Tom Riddle's world where Muggles can have the answers we can't find with magic."

He snorts. "I think he's not considering his enemy, then."

"What do you mean?"

"There's no way of winning this if not bending a few rules or beliefs, Hermione. If the Minister wants to have a chance at finding the ones responsible for this, he needs to understand that these people think and act like Muggles. We'll never catch them if we don't do the same."

She gives him a pointed look. Her fingers drumming the desk. Until, "Fine. I'll set up a meeting with him to talk about this. You'll come with me." Harry nods, surprisingly glad. "What's the other thing you wanted to talk about?"

He ignores how she wants to end their conversation as soon as possible. "Lucius Malfoy." It's strange to say his name out loud. The man I killed.

"What about him?"

"Draco was talking about not having a ceremony for his father." Harry narrows his eyes.

"Yeah, so? From what I gather they preferred this way so it wouldn't stir the media or the wizard community… considering everything that's been happening."

"Exactly." He raises a hand. "Hear me out." She sighs but he can see some curiosity playing in her eyes. "These attacks happened at big events. The Fair. The Ball. What if… we actually make a big deal out of Malfoy's death? But this time we'll be prepared, if they strike again, in any way, we'll be ready to take them down."

She snorts and he widens his eyes. "You want to use Malfoy's funeral as bait?"

"Hey! It's a good idea." He points out.

"It's a dumb idea."

"No, it isn't."

"Really? How so?"

"If we put the Minister and his family in a certain place that we know will be packed with Pureblood families…" He moves his hands in front of him, "It's pretty much what they want."

She narrows her eyes and massages her temple. "You're not considering the huge risk." He opens his mouth but she raises a hand, "You know what? Talk to Draco. If he agrees, you'll lead the operation."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

He crosses his arms. Leaning closer to her desk.

"Well, that was easier than I thought." He says.

"Yeah, well," She shrugs, "was that all, D'Angelo?"

She's already leaning over her desk, back to her papers, to her research… as if he's not even there anymore. And he totally hates it. And as his head forms the words 'yes, that was all' he stops.

"Hermione." She mumbles in answer. "I'm sorry about doubting you." There. He said it. "I guess the meeting messed with my mind and I wasn't thinking clearly. I always knew you wouldn't turn me in or anything like that."

She looks back at him. The corner of her mouth going slightly up. "It's okay, Harry." She says softly and he feels a ton being lifted from his chest. "We…" She clears her throat, "don't know each other that well, so, in a way it was the right thing, asking me." She shrugs.

"Yeah, yes." He agrees, extremely relieved. "But again, I'm sorry. Even not knowing you for long, I-" He stops his words. "Well, I just hope we can leave that behind us."

"Of course." She opens a small smile. Then, sighing, she goes back to her papers. "Was that all?"

Again this fucking question. He could just leave. But the last time they were like this, he regretted immensely not going to her, not touching her… not leaving things on a higher note. And he decides it won't happen again tonight. He walks around her table and stops beside her chair.

She scowls at him when he partially sits himself on the desk, forcing her to look up. "What?" She asks, clearly annoyed now.

"You need to rest. You've been working nonstop."

"I'm a big girl, D'Angelo. I can take care of myself." She says through gritted teeth. "You can leave now."

Risking being slapped by her, he takes her hand in his, forcing her to release the quill. He sees the anger flashing through her eyes. "I know you're a big girl." His voice is low, and he leans closer to her, her perfume invading his senses. "Let someone take care of you for a change." He can feel her hand loosening on his grip, her eyes roaming over his face.

"And are you going to take care of me?"

"If you let me."

They're very close now.

He could kiss her. He doesn't.

Still looking into her eyes, he stands and pulls her to her feet by the hand. She shows no resistance and something flutters inside his stomach. When she's up in front of him, he holds her by the waist, their faces an inch from each other's. She's wearing heels, so his lips are leveled with her forehead. He can't resist planting a small kiss there. He tightens his grip on her waist and swiftly pulls her up, sitting her on the desk and positioning himself between her legs. Her black dress is silky and soft, in a way that enables him to handle it however he wants.

Studying her reaction, he begins to ride her dress up, his hands on her bare thighs. He squeezes them gently, marveling at how athletic she is, how smooth.

"Will you?" He asks, his voice hoarse.

"What?" Hers is barely there now, all the rudeness and coldness gone.

"Let me?"

He sees her chest moving up and down. "Yes." It's a simple word. Short. Powerful. And it's everything he wanted to hear.

Hermione presses a button under her desk that he has no idea what it's for, but he doesn't ask. It's the last thing on his mind now.

His hands move up, slowly, teasing. He can already see she's impatient. He opens a side smile and when he can't keep riding her dress up, because she's sitting on it, he raises an eyebrow. His hands slide beneath it, though, finding her lace panties. He bites his lower lip, his fingers reaching her sex above it. Hermione closes her eyes. Her head slightly hanging back. She hasn't touched him yet. He rubs her clit with one hand, his other arm going around her waist, bringing her closer to him.

She finally puts her arms around his neck, burying her face into him while he keeps rubbing her clit, a bit more roughly now. He wants to feel her wetness, her warmth. With the arm around her he hoists her up and she moans softly when he pulls her panties down her legs, settling her back on the desk. He takes a step back to pull her underwear all the way down her heels and off. Hermione is watching him closely, opening her legs to him and eagerly welcoming him back to her personal space.

He wants to kiss her. Ravish her on this very desk-

"Shit, the papers!" She says, widening her eyes and he… laughs out loud.

"Fuck, Hermione." He says breathlessly.

She laughs with him, the sound giving him a new wave of desire. She stands from the desk and he watches in awe while she organizes the papers into another pile and sets it aside, giving them some space. She turns back to him, smiling. "Sorry, those are very important."

He can't help crossing his arms, faking irritation. She laughs louder and sits back on the desk, this time lifting her dress all the way up to her belly button, totally opening herself to him. Harry bites hard on his lower lip, his erection straining against his boxers.

She's glorious.

And he stops a moment to simply… take her in. Hermione doesn't show the slightest hint of shyness with his heavy eyes on her, on the contrary, she moves one hand to pinch one of her nipples through the fabric of her dress and Harry feels his cock twitching. She opens a devious smile. One he already saw once. One he hopes to see many times.

Instead of going back to position himself between her legs, Harry wheels her chair to him, sitting down. She raises an eyebrow. He smiles and moves forward. The height is perfect for what he wants. Hermione narrows her eyes, understanding. He puts his hands on the desk, on both her sides and pulls himself forward…

He kisses her inner thighs as slowly as he can. Hot, messy and wet kisses, his teeth scrapping her skin while he breathes her in. Hermione moves, her legs resting on his shoulders, caging him. He doesn't mind, he feels drugged, already high from sheer anticipation. His fingers hold her ass tightly, maybe almost painfully. He wants this so damn much.

In a fatal error, he looks up at her face. The look in her eyes is lustful, certain and powerful while she watches him. Shit. He averts his eyes fast, his focus back on what he's doing.

Under his touch, he feels her shivering when he licks her hot entrance. Hermione leans back, breathing heavily and he licks her again, lost in her taste. She moans softly when he kisses her clit, his tongue swirling. Instinctively one of his hands goes underneath her dress, seeking her breast. It's the first time he touches her like this and it's unbelievably hot. Her breast fits perfectly in his palm and he gives it a squeeze while he sucks hard on her clit. She moans a bit louder this time, her own hand coming down to his hair, her fingers going into his locks.

Harry keeps sucking, licking, devouring her. It's hard for him to grasp how perfect she feels, is. He finds a pattern that makes her squirm and moan softly, and he keeps repeating it-

Suddenly he wonders if he's pleasing her, if…

"Good?" He never asks. He's cocky enough to know that he's pretty good at this, but-

"Yes! Don't stop!" She's breathless and she lets out a moan when he moves his other hand and his finger finds a sweet spot inside her. Hermione arches her back, and he does it again. And again. "Fuck!" She's shaking, her whole body jerking.

Her legs are squeezing him extremely hard, but he doesn't mind, if anything it makes him want her more. He can tell she's close. The way she breathes, how tight her muscles are. But again he doesn't dare looking at her face, he can't see her reaching her orgasm. Harry inserts another finger and she pulls his hair, hurting him a bit. But he doesn't stop. And when he knows it's the right moment, he pinches her nipple, hard.

Hermione comes with a scream leaving her mouth, she shakes and trembles under him, her legs finally loosening on his shoulders while he licks her orgasm, his cock rock hard and begging for some attention. She's panting on the desk and he goes back to kissing her inner thigh, his hand going to his cock, stroking it while he keeps massaging her nipple.

Hermione laughs. A laugh of pure satisfaction. He still doesn't look up at her.

"That was…" She raises herself on both elbows to look at him. And he finally glances at her because she stopped talking. She looks… naughty. "Oh, my." She says, sitting, one of her hands going to his nape, pulling him to her. "We have to take care of this." He grunts when her mouth finds the pulse on his neck and her hand slides down to his cock. She bites him softly while they fumble with his belt-

An alert goes off inside the office. Harry stands, on high alert. "What the fuck?" He asks.

Hermione groans loudly. "I can't believe this." She comes down from the table, her hair a mess, her dress all crumpled up. "You need to hide."

"What?" He's not thinking clearly. His cock is throbbing inside his pants and he wants to end this, he wants to bury himself inside her-

"Someone is coming!" She says fast, shoving at his chest. "I set up an alarm to warn us. It's too late for you to leave through the door." She's talking and performing a few spells to put herself - and the office - back together while she pushes Harry inside what he can only call a hidden passage. "Stay inside. Whoever it is won't be able to see you, but don't move, don't make a sound!"

"Can't we just say I was talking tactics with you?" He says harshly.

"Fuck, Harry, it's probably Asmo. He'll make a big deal out of this. It's better if you just hide."

The truth of her words cuts the air. They share an angry look. And the realization that he's just a hook up hits him hard. Of course I am. She's marrying Pettigrew. Clicking his tongue, he nods and enters the passage. Hermione half closes the door. It's like a tiny cabinet and he feels a bit trapped inside. But he can still see her desk and the middle of the room through a slit.

The door opens ten seconds after he settles inside and she returns to her chair.

"Hermione." It's indeed Pettigrew. Harry hates him. "Love, I can't believe you're still here."

Her calmness and coldness surprise Harry. It's impossible to tell that she was having an orgasm a few minutes ago. The thought reminds him that he still needs some kind of release. Or else is just the worst case of blue balls ever. He grits his teeth. Pettigrew is coming to her desk, walking like Harry did, circling her table and stopping by her side, half sitting on the desk.

"You need to rest." His words are exactly the same Harry said. And he has no idea how to feel about this. Was he acting like a boyfriend with her? He chews the insides of his cheeks. No, of course not. "I miss you at home. The bed is too big without you." Pettigrew smiles and cups her cheek. Hermione returns the smile, one of her hands resting on his thigh.

"I lost track of time." She sighs.

"I know." He's caressing her cheek and Harry wants to vomit. "Things have been crazy. But I think I have a lead." Hermione perks up at that.

"Yeah?"

Pettigrew sighs. "I know we've been arguing a lot recently, but you know I love you, don't you?"

Harry gulps, bile rising in his throat.

"I know." She caresses his thigh, a sincere smile on her face.

"And I don't wanna argue about what I'm gonna say, I just want you to hear me and then come home with me so we can fall asleep holding each other."

Something burns inside Harry's stomach and he sets his jaw.

"What is it, love?" This word from her directed to Pettigrew is wrong. Wrong.

"I had a long conversation with my father." Hermione rolls her eyes and leans back on the chair. "I know you don't trust him or even take his remarks into consideration, but he saw something that day, Hermione." He says a bit more harshly. "He saw D'Angelo killing Lucius."

Harry freezes completely. Cold inside, cold outside. Hermione opens and closes her mouth, a wrinkle between her brows. Pettigrew is waiting for her to say something. Harry too. He barely breathes while he does.

"Love, there's no way he saw that. It was pitch black inside the room."

"Hermione-"

"You weren't there, Asmo. I'm telling you. I could barely see who I was dueling with or what spells were being casted."

Pettigrew moves away from the desk, angry, and gives his back to Hermione. She uses the moment to discreetly look at the passage where Harry is hiding. He lets out a low and deep breath. It's hard to tell if she believes what Pettigrew said or not. Hermione is mysterious and smart. She knows Harry is there, she won't show right away if she thinks he's a murderer.

"It shouldn't surprise me." Pettigrew says in a low voice.

"What?"

"That you keep choosing that stupid Italian over me."

"I'm not choosing him." She stands from the chair and walks to Pettigrew, her arms closing around his middle, her head on his back. The scene makes Harry a thousand times more uncomfortable. It's a demonstration of affection, of intimacy- "I'm just telling you that it was impossible to see a thing, love. Maybe your father is trying to find a culprit because he doesn't know how to deal with his pain. We all know how close he was to Lucius."

Pettigrew lowers his head and puts his hands over hers. Then he turns and holds her close. "Okay, fine. You're right. But I still think we could, better yet, should keep an eye on D'Angelo."

"I agree. We will."

Harry feels the floor disappearing from beneath his feet. Stupid. You're an idiot, Harry. He just apologized for doubting her and then this? He bites his tongue so hard it draws some blood.

"Can you really, Hermione? I'm not a fool. I wonder if something changed after… the Traditional."

Harry perks up at that. He still wants answers about what they shared in that dance.

"What are you saying?"

"You know." Pettigrew crosses his arms, angry and… sad. "Everyone clapped. I saw with my own eyes your serpent seducing his lion. Saw the way your Patronus practically merged together. And we all know what that means-"

"It means nothing, Asmo." She says harshly. "We've already discussed this. The Traditional is old and ridiculous. And I would love if we never talked about this again. Can we?" He looks down and she cups his cheek. "It meant nothing. I swear. We just danced together because my father made us."

Harry averts his eyes when Hermione kisses Pettigrew. He wished he could apparate from this fucking office that he shouldn't have entered in the first place. I could be sleeping right now.

Their kiss goes on for some time and Harry feels like punching a wall. But it's Hermione who pulls back when Pettigrew tries lifting her dress. "I'm so tired, love." She says softly. "Let's go home."

Pettigrew nods and pockets his hands, waiting for her to fetch her things. Hermione glances one last time at Harry's direction before taking Pettigrew's hand and leaving the office.

Harry is left alone in the dark.

Furious.

He exits the passage and indeed punches a wall. "Cazzo."

Taking deep and long breaths, he tries to come to terms with what just happened. Feelings he much rather wants to ignore are bubbling up to the surface, suffocating him. But Harry closes his eyes and thinks of his training, of all the times his grandfather pushed him to his limits and proceeded to force him to show no emotion whatsoever.

With a hand on the wall, he calms himself, his heart slowing down, his whole body cooling down, the only reminder of what happened a discomfort between his legs that he chooses to ignore.

After minutes, when he opens his eyes, he has only one thing in mind.

He's all alone inside the Head Auror's office.

He knows it's a golden opportunity, one he can't let go. Murmuring a Lumos he begins to search her desk. Papers, files, notes. He wants something about the Potters' Persecution. Anything.

But mainly what he finds are observations regarding the last events, her remarks on possible plans of action and missions she imagines might give them answers. Right now Harry doesn't give a damn about all of this. His focus is solemnly on his parents, on his revenge, on how he's going to make them pay. He bangs a hand against the desk. Frustrated.

Then he starts to open the drawers. Most of what he finds are more notes, books, blank parchments, ink, quills… until. His hand stops mid motion. Harry frowns, not fully understanding what he's seeing. With trembling hands he takes the box out of the drawer. There's a bullet inside. One bullet exactly like the ones shot at the Fair. Dry blood coats it. And, a tag.

#150 - Harry D'Angelo.

He opens his mouth.

It's the bullet he took for her.

Tightening his jaw he puts it back in the box and inside the drawer. He has no idea why she kept this and he doesn't care. Slamming the drawer shut, he walks to the huge shelf.

Books and more books. About anything and nothing at all. Running both hands through his hair he decides a summoning spell might be his best chance. With the word 'Potter' in mind, he tries an accio.

He feels a rush through his body when a book comes flying to his hand. It's Hogwarts, a History. He purses his lips and walks slowly to the couch, settling himself, his wand on the desk illuminating the space around him.

With the book closed between his hands he squashes down his hopes. Maybe there's nothing inside. Maybe his spell messed up. With trembling fingers he opens it. The front page is the repetition of the title, a dedicatory beneath it:

May all the answers we seek find us.

Good luck.

With love.

It isn't signed. There's no date. Nothing else. What answers are you looking for, Miss Riddle?

Harry turns the page. His eyes fall on the written words. It's indeed the history of Hogwarts. His finger goes through the lines, fast. Nothing. He turns another page, and another, another.

He holds the book by its cover and back, flipping its pages in the air, waiting for a note to drop from between them or anything.

And it does.

A paper comes soaring slowly, moving from one side to the other in the air, provoking Harry. He lets it fall to his feet. Closing the book, he leans down, his hand grabbing the paper, a sensation so strong taking over him that he feels dizzy.

But when the paper is right in front of his eyes, he reads it eagerly:

EvansPotter. When they met? Where?

Weasley, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, Malfoy. Dumbledore.

Persecution?

Goyle, Karkaroff, Dolohov, Crouch, Greyback, Lestrange.

Location?

Snape.

Harry lets out a long breath. He might faint. He falls back on the couch, the paper slipping from his grasp. All those names. He's sure these are the Aurors he was looking for, the ones who murdered his parents. He finally found it, he finally knows. "I found them, nonnino."

He chokes a bit, a few tears falling from his eyes. It's too much. This has been classified information since the day the Persecution started and as if guessing a possible backlash on this, Riddle kept their identities hidden and protected. But now I know. Harry sits on this information for a long time. The names repeating themselves inside his head. He has new informations to add to his wall.

He laughs.

Maybe fucking Hermione was my best decision.

He shakes his head and takes the paper again. This time he focus on everything else and chews the insides of his cheeks. The names 'Snape' and 'Dumbledore' are written in a way as if she pressed her quill against them many times, repeating the letters. Highlighting. Harry met Dumbledore at the Ball… he has no idea who Snape is, though.

He looks at the book. Who gave it to her? 'With love.' Someone close to her heart, probably. He makes a face. A whole new layer of Hermione is shedding before his eyes. Like a serpent. Like the Riddle she is. But he won't think about this now.

With a spell he replicates the paper. A clear copy of her words and handwriting that he tucks inside his inner pocket. Then he just needs to put the paper back-

"Shit." He says.

He has no idea where the paper was inside the book. Harry grits his teeth. Hermione is way too attentive and organized to not notice this. She won't know for sure it was Harry who read the paper, but she'll know someone did. Having no other choice than just going with it, he randomly puts the paper back inside the book and returns it to the shelf.

He averts his eyes from her desk before leaving the office, trying his best to ignore how he wished he could be the one taking her home.

But as he crosses the Atrium, other things take over his mind. Like his plan to use Malfoy's funeral as bait and how he'll discover everything concerning the Aurors he's sure murdered his parents.

Chapter Text

November 24th, 2005

Draco and Ginny's house

"Tell me again why I let you convince me of this?" Draco Malfoy turns to face Harry.

"Because it's a good plan. And it was Ginny who convinced you, not me."

They're watching from the guest bedroom upstairs while Pureblood families arrive to say their farewells to Lucius Malfoy. It's not a literal funeral, but a way of parting with the deceased through a gathering and reminiscence. When Harry talked with Draco, the man widened his eyes and shook his head. His mother would never allow something like this. But Ginny was the one who convinced them by saying it was an opportunity they couldn't ignore. It surprised Harry how they all trusted his idea and leadership when considering the event. Pettigrew was the only one who refused to help. Apparently he thinks it's a major disrespect to Lucius.

Harry won't attend as a guest. He'll stay inside this very same bedroom, watching them from above and at an advantage point in case he needs to take action. Everyone is going to be there, including the Riddles. When he thinks about it he feels uncomfortable. He's avoiding Hermione, still angry and feeling betrayed by her in a way. It's not rational, but he feels like she should have stayed that night, not left with Pettigrew. Not to mention Pettigrew's suspicions of him and how she said she would keep an eye on Harry.

He wonders if she checked the book and the note these past two days.

Draco sighs. "You know. I never had a nice relationship with my father." Harry raises both eyebrows, totally caught off guard by this sudden revelation. He's not close to Malfoy. Yeah, they act friendly at the Ministry, and sometimes they even share stories and laughs, but that's it. "It was difficult growing up with him. He wanted perfection and I'm afraid I never lived up to his expectations. And… he had interesting ways of showing his affection, if I can even call whatever that was, affection." He scoffs. "He never even treated my wife properly, so, in a way, I can't say I'm that sad he's dead. And I mean… are we obliged to love our family? Even when they're terrible?"

It takes a moment for Harry to see that Draco is waiting for an answer. He clears his throat. "I suppose not. I mean, I'm not that close to my father, but I think his death would bring me sadness." He shrugs, thinking about it, not entirely sure. "He isn't terrible, though."

"That's a pretty good start, then."

They chuckle together. Another silence falls while they watch the arriving families. They did an extensive search on the grounds and double checked the wards. But there's a way of breaching them and it was Harry's idea to leave one easy entrance. He'll be watching that specifically.

"I guess it's a good idea, indeed." Draco says and smiles to Harry, patting his shoulder.

And a heaviness crushes him.

The guilt.

He knows it was a matter of surviving, Lucius was killing him and he knew his true identity, he had no other choice, and if the roles were reversed, the man wouldn't be feeling the tiniest bit of guilt, Harry is sure. But even if Draco says he's okay with his father's death… Harry knows it's not entirely true. And he's responsible for that. Responsible for taking a life, for killing a father and a husband.

Draco keeps talking about how one time Lucius yelled at him for simply saying 'please' to their house elf instead of demanding stuff and Harry decides right then that if comes a time that he finds himself in a position to help Draco, he will. He owes him that.

He keeps nodding, agreeing, but his mind is creating its own narrative while he asks himself how in the world would he feel if he killed, for example, Bellatrix. Or… If he can't be at peace with killing a man that was terrible and was murdering him…

How is he going to kill her? Because that's the plan. That has always been the plan since he was ten. Kill the Riddles.

Pursing his lips, he sends these thoughts away. It's not the time to think about this yet. He still has a great deal of things to do before he even needs to entertain this idea. For instance, he needs to discover where in the world those Aurors got themselves into. When he left Hermione's office, he made an extensive research on those names, and it's as if they never existed. He found a few old articles, nothing that will help him find them now.

It's clear that Riddle got rid of anyone or anything close to the Potters' Persecution-

"Can I have a word with D'Angelo?"

He turns slightly to see Hermione at the door leaning against the threshold with her arms crossed. She's wearing a nice short white dress - which Harry thought odd being a funeral - and her hair is tied up in a nice braid - beautiful. Draco welcomes her with a playful tone and leaves after saying that 'if we die today it's D'Angelo's fault'. She snorts at that and nods.

Then Harry turns his attention back to the arriving people and doesn't move when she stops by his side. There's a heavy silence between them. Hermione is the one who breaks it.

"Did you?"

He was expecting this. In a way he's glad she's asking. She's giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"No." The lie comes easily, which he's thankful for. Even if he trusts Hermione a bit more than before, it would be idiotic to reveal something like this to the fucking Head Auror.

"Look at me."

He rolls his eyes when he turns to face her. She's serious.

"What do you want me to say, Hermione?"

"You said someone tried choking you." She states. "Maybe you thought it was someone else, not Lucius, and I have no idea why he would do that to you, but if you killed him in an attempt to-"

"I didn't. And I would very much appreciate if you stopped accusing me like this." He says harshly. Angry. "I understand that you want to consider your boyfriend's side," He snorts, "and please, feel free to keep your eye on me, but I won't just stand here in silence hearing this."

She purses her lips. She doesn't apologize and he feels suffocated by her stare. As if she knows he's lying. He holds her gaze, stubbornly.

"I don't get what the big deal is, D'Angelo. Since the first time you stepped inside my office I said I would keep my eye on you. Nothing changed after that." He scoffs. "In fact, maybe I have even more reasons to really keep my eye on you."

"You can't be serious."

"I am. Very much." She takes a tiny step to him, moving closer, her chin up.

"I can't believe you." He says, feeling like there's a claw ripping his chest open. Then he snorts. "I guess I have only myself to blame for thinking that you would be different. Do you also think I set someone up to shoot you? So I could be the hero?"

She clicks her tongue. "Things aren't that black and white, Harry."

He shakes his head. Angry and… hurt. Harry decides he has nothing else to say to her and stands there in silence.

"Is everything ready?" She asks after a long while.

"Yes." He holds his tongue.

"Good. I hope it works. Remember this is in your hands, D'Angelo."

And only when she's gone he understands that she gave him this mission for a reason.

She wants to see if he'll fail. If there'll be an attack. And how it's going to unfold.

He can't lie, it makes him nervous. But now there's nothing else he can do.

He can only wait.

The 'funeral' started an hour ago and so far it's all going pretty well. Harry is taking the moment to observe everyone at the yard. A spell is concealing him behind the window, and few people know this is mostly staged. As he leans on the glass, he chews the insides of his cheeks. It's the first time he's having a chance of watching them without restraints.

The place is filled with Pureblood families and Harry's almost sure all of them already talked with the Minister and his family.

Riddle is always welcoming, but he never smiles and rarely talks, the most he does is nod. Bellatrix on the other hand seems to be the exact opposite, the one who talks warmly and listens with attention to what is being said. Hermione is a mixture of both, something Harry had already noticed. She's cold when she needs to and warm when she feels comfortable. And so far the only warmness he saw from her was directed to the Weasleys, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Which intrigued him immensely. Even after their little conversation - that he's sure was a way of her saying that she knows he's the one who killed Lucius - she treated Peter Pettigrew awfully.

It's a fact that she's been holding hands with Asmodeus the whole time and unfortunately Harry even saw they exchange a few soft kisses. But it's clear that Hermione hates Papa Pettigrew. She stood stiffly when he approached them to talk. Father and son did most of the talking while she quietly sipped on her drink. And that was enough for them to argue. When Peter left, Asmodeus turned to her and said something, leaning, probably whispering. Hermione made a face and shook her head, walking away from him and joining her mother while the man walked over to where Draco and Narcissa were talking with some people.

Since that Hermione has been walking and talking with everyone alone. It's been some good twenty minutes.

It's ridiculous that he can't take his eyes off her. Her words keep echoing in his mind. The way she said she had many reasons to keep an eye on him makes his stomach churn. And inevitably he thinks about the note he found in her office. What are her reasons to investigate the Potters' Persecution? Which answers is she looking for? It all makes him restless.

He crosses his arms and lets his eyes follow her, again noticing how beautiful she looks. He realizes there's not a scenario where he might find her unattractive and it sucks a bit. How much he wants her.

As if guessing or sensing his thoughts, Hermione raises her head from down bellow and looks directly at the point where she thinks he's standing. It takes her a few moments to look away and he lets out his breath slowly.

Then he freezes.

Harry can feel someone inside the room with him. Whoever it is, is tauting him. Waiting for him to be surprised when he turns. Moving a bit, but still looking down, he discreetly reaches for his wand tucked inside his jeans at the front.

Then it happens pretty fast. When he's turning, he hears the Stupefy and immediately uses a Protego, and not even knowing where his opponent is, he yells an Expelliarmus while jumping to hide behind a big armchair at the corner. It surprises him that a wand comes flying to his hand. But he has little time to analyze it since whoever is there kicks the armchair back, squeezing him to the wall. Harry grunts and uses a spell to send it away, standing promptly.

A fist meets his jaw and he stumbles back, grunting. Then he finally raises his eyes and sees a masked man, dressed exactly like the ones who invaded Riddle Manor at the Ball. He's ready to use a binding spell when the man swiftly kicks his hand and both wands fly under the bed. And another punch finds his stomach. Harry grits his teeth, annoyed.

Understanding this will not be a duel, he blocks the next punch and moves to deliver his own. One at the face, another at the side, then the stomach. It amazes him how the mask stays glued to the face. Now, blocking two punches, one from each side and holding the man's arms, he cracks his skull against the man's and hears a yell when he falls back, hitting the floor. Harry blinks.

But he doesn't let the man stand back up and sits on his chest, punching his face. "Who are you?" He asks. One more punch. "What do you want?" Another punch. The man is groaning something. "What? Say it louder!"

"We want justice!" He yells, spitting blood.

Harry punches him again. "Justice for whom?"

"For Muggleborns! For Lily and James!"

Harry stops at the words, he imagined this, but it's chilling to hear it from the man. And with his guard down, he sees stars from the punch the man delivers. Harry falls back, disorientated. It takes him a moment to understand that now he's the one being punched.

"You're in our way! Stay out of this!" The man says. Harry is bleeding on the floor, his nose broken, his head hurting. The man retrieves his wand and before Harry can even try a reaction, he utters a Sectumsempra. "You should have stayed in Italy!" The man shakes his head. "How long do you think until someone comes to check on you?" He laughs wickedly. "You really thought we wouldn't see through this little trap? Serves you well."

Then he leaves.

Harry looks around. He's bleeding to death. He tries finding his wand, but his vision is already blurry and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. So much blood. He's laying on his own blood, tainting the floor and leaving this world.

"Please, please." A sob, then a low whine. Someone is crying. "Come back. Please." The voice is soft and warm, pleading. "Please, Harry. Don't do this. Stay. Please."

It's like coming out of a sea of mud. Difficult, wet, slimy, dirty. Things come back slowly to him, her voice, then her touch, her smell. He takes a big gulp, as if resurfacing from the deepest ocean, desperately needing air. And when the air reaches his lungs, he coughs. And it hurts. Every inch of his body hurts. He opens his eyes and flinches, it's like seeing for the first time.

Hermione cries more, but this time it's different. She's relieved. He hears a chuckle from her and turns to his left where she's kneeling on the floor. He sits up, a bit dizzy.

"Hermione." He manages to say.

Their eyes meet and she takes his face in her hands, shaking her head. Then she moves closer, his arms move on their own when they bring her to him. She's practically sitting on his lap now. He's drugged by her proximity and still feeling a bit disorientated. She embraces him tightly, as if their lives depended on it. Harry breathes her in and she does the same, both having a natural need to reassure the other that they're still there, alive.

He pulls back. Hermione blinks a few times and looks down, clearing her throat. Almost as if she regrets her impulsiveness. But she doesn't move away from his arms. And he finally sees that her white dress is practically red from his blood. He makes a face.

"Does it still hurt?" She asks, her hands moving to his neck, then his chest. "I- I did my best to heal you, I think the counter spell worked, but-"

"I'm fine." He says even feeling all the cuts on his body like fire. "You saved me."

She doesn't answer, her hand resting above his heart. "What happened?"

"I guess it was a poor plan, after all. One of them attacked me, said I should stay out of the way." He shrugs and, inevitably, his hands and arms squeeze her gently, bringing her a tad closer. She lets him, and to his surprise she moves to rest her forehead against his.

"I felt it. I can't explain what or how, but it was a sudden urge to come to you." She closes her eyes, some tears falling. "I came immediately."

Harry has no idea what to say to this. He's still there because of her. He feels something stabbing at his chest. He brushes some of her tears, his fingers gentle on her cheek.

"I'm sorry about the way I talked to you earlier." He says. "I was a bit-"

"Doesn't matter." She leans to him, kissing his cheek. "I'm just fucking glad you're alive."

Harry purses his lips and cups her cheek, bringing her to him again. They share another brief but meaningful hug. She sighs when they separate.

"Did it take me too long to come back?"

"No, I think I was here moments after the attacker was gone. At most five minutes since it happened." She moves a thumb to caress his cheek. "I warned you about the risk."

"I know. I should have listened."

She smiles. "I hope you don't forget these words next time. You need to go to St. Mungo's." Harry is already shaking his head, but she presses a finger to his lips to stop his words. "This is an order." He snorts a laugh and kisses her finger.

But before he can do or say anything else, Hermione rises fast from his lap and puts a fair distance between them. And after brushing away her tears and taking a deep breath, she sends out a Patronus.

In a blink, Ron, Draco and Gin are there, Asmodeus is the last one to arrive.

"Bloody Hell! What happened?" Ron's eyes are wide. "Are you okay, mate?" Harry nods.

"He was attacked." Hermione begins. Asmodeus narrows his eyes. "D'Angelo got lucky I was heading to the bathroom and saw him bleeding on the floor. Now, call in for a team to take him to St. Mungo's. I want you all to search the house. D'Angelo said it was only one man, but we can't take any risks. Understood?"

Harry observes while they move fast out of the room to obey her orders. Only Pettigrew stays. He gives Harry an odd look and walks to Hermione. As Harry stands on his own, one hand on his stomach, a huge and blinding pain taking over him, he listens to their exchange:

"You're all covered in blood." Pettigrew says.

"Yeah, well, that usually happens when people bleed."

"Come, let me take care of you-"

"I'll stay until the healers arrive, I don't think D'Angelo is capable of-"

"You already saved him, you don't need to babysit him as well."

Harry actually snorts at that while he makes a huge effort to sit on the bed. His clothes are soaked in blood, the floor is nasty with it and he knows he's tainting everything he touches.

They don't pay him much attention, but Harry stares at them shamelessly. She looks bored. Pettigrew on the other hand is clenching his jaw.

"I'll stay. You go downstairs and tell my father what happened. Make people leave."

"Draco can do that." He shakes his head and moves to Hermione, taking her hand. "I'll wait with you, then."

She opens and closes her mouth but nods with a tight smile. Harry watches with disbelieving eyes while Pettigrew puts an arm around her shoulders and kisses her head. It makes him blatantly uncomfortable. And maybe Pettigrew is doing it on purpose. Stop it. He's her boyfriend.

"I guess you two are even now, right, D'Angelo?" Pettigrew asks and Harry looks at him, annoyed, the pain blinding him a bit. "You saved her once and she saved you now, so you can stop acting like she owes you something."

Hermione closes her eyes. Harry snorts. "Fuck off, Pettigrew." He's so fucking pissed.

Pettigrew is about to say something else but two healers arrive just in time. As they begin to ask Harry some questions, his eyes travel to Hermione. She's being dragged out of the room by Pettigrew and they share one last look before he's taken to St. Mungo's.

November 25th, 2005

Harry's flat

- Greyback

- Lestrange

- Dolohov

- Crouch

- Goyle

- Karkaroff

His eyes are fixed on the wall. He wonders how it's possible that he hasn't bumped into any of them until now. And this is eating him from the inside out. Even if Riddle wanted to keep their identities a secret, it's not reasonable or believable that they're not part of the Minister's inner circle. They all represent Pureblood families, but it's almost like they vanished.

Harry scrunches his nose, a hand on his stomach. He still is in a lot of pain. He had deep cuts all over his torso and the healers wanted him to spend the night at the Hospital, but Harry refused vehemently and they let him go with a thousand recommendations. Apparently the counter spell Hermione used for the Sectumsempra wasn't the best one and Harry began to bleed again after a while. It took the healers a lot to stop the bleeding, which gave him new big and shiny scars that are too sensitive for his liking. He can feel them burning. It's annoyingly painful. The only positive side of this is that he has a few days off work again.

He grits his teeth, making a face.

How am I going to find them? He could ask Ron or Ginny. He knows any of them might be open to talk about these Aurors, but deep down he fears his questions might stir suspicions about him.

He sighs.

Hermione said she still has her eyes on him. Just because they're fucking it doesn't change who he is and her duty as Head Auror. And even if it pissed him off, she's right. It's annoying how she's right almost 100% of the times.

With a hand covering his eyes, he lets his mind wander to what happened yesterday. The man and his words about doing that for James and Lily still sound strange in Harry's mind. The way he said it, how he used their names… Harry presses a finger against his temple. There's something there he's not seeing, something he's missing-

He opens both eyes.

"It felt personal." He says to himself.

It was like the man knew James and Lily, like it was… a personal vendetta. Harry sits straight up. Could it be that these attacks, these rebels, aren't just using the Potters' Persecution as a flag for their cause, but are indeed being orchestrated by people who actually knew them? Who miss them? Who want to end Tom Riddle for this single purpose?

He runs both hands through his hair.

But who could they be?

He knows little about the life his parents led before they exiled themselves in a Muggle village. The memories he's seen, the ones where he's a little baby which his grandfather retrieved when he found Harry crying, don't show much. Harry narrows his eyes. He avoids these memories a bit, so much he brought none from Italy with him because of both emotional and safety reasons. they're safely tucked away in Rome, at the Villa.

But now he questions himself.

Should he search these memories for clues or something that might give him a better idea of who his parents really were before he was born? He never studied the memories. Not truly. Even his grandfather never encouraged this. The memories always symbolized a purpose. His revenge. His ultimate goal. The destruction of the Riddles. The downfall of Blood Supremacy. But mostly a way for Harry to know and remember his parents. Nothing more.

He chews the insides of his cheeks. His eyes falling on two other names:

- Dumbledore

- Snape

Dumbledore knows who I am. The old man came to him at the Ball and explicitly said it. Could the answers he's looking for be with these two? Snape, just like the others, is someone that disappeared from the map. And differently from the others, he wasn't in the same high circle of Riddle and his counselors. Harry is intrigued by this.

Letting out a long sigh, he tumbles his head back on the couch, looking at the ceiling and concealing the wall. He feels trapped. He came to London to find answers, to take action and seize his birth name back after finally avenging his parents. But now he has more questions than before and it seems impossible to take action since he's behaving like an idiot focusing on things he shouldn't be… like Hermione.

He groans.

Harry hates how much she takes over his time. It's like she lives rent free in his mind. Which is a big inconvenience in his case. And he wished he could say things got better after they fucked, but of course they didn't. Now he knows how it feels to have her in his arms, to be able to touch her like that and kiss her. And he hates himself for this. Hates himself for letting her in and having to keep forcing her out. It's a constant struggle that fogs his mind and confuses him.

He was incredibly angry after witnessing her conversation with Pettigrew at her office, but then she just saved his life yesterday and they shared those hugs that he wants to convince himself meant nothing. But deep down he knows they felt different…

Raising a hand, he performs an accio. Harry looks at the book he ordered two days ago. The Wizarding Elite: Traditions. It's a shitty name. For a book. But it holds one answer he's not sure he wants to read. However, he can't keep ignoring this. Since the Ball, since he danced with Hermione, since he saw the look in her eyes while people clapped… then Pettigrew brought it up, said it meant something. Not to mention that Sally has been avoiding Harry since the Ball. She only talked to him while she was high, completely drugged, and then went radio silent.

Moving the book from one hand to another, he ponders. "Fuck it." He mumbles while he opens the book and searches for what he's looking for at the index, his finger going over the chapters. It stops just above, The Traditional Dance — p.76. He taps his finger, pursing his lips. Then he turns to page 76:

"Its origin is a mystery until the modern days, but many say the Traditional Dance exists since magic first manifested itself. Having its roots in secluded villages and communities, the Dance's importance grew alongside the society. Its particular trait of mixing body and soul is what makes the Traditional Dance special. Many claim that the Patronus Incantation actually comes from the Dance, its purpose was only attached to the existence of Dementors later on.

The Patronus is the purest manifestation of the soul and while performed at the Dance, it holds a whole new meaning. Mixing wizards and the manifestations of their souls was the perfect way of finding the most harmonious partners and making perfect matches. It's known that while the couple dances, their minds and desires are set free and out of their control, manifesting themselves into their Patronus. The Harmony, as it's called the perfect Dance between the partners and the animals, is not that common. It receives this name because of the natural meeting of actions, interests, feelings and ideas between the dancing couple. Like two halves becoming a whole.

Harry stops. His mouth is dry. What is this book saying? That he's like… the perfect match for Hermione? Saying that they would be incredibly happy together? He grits his teeth and taking a deep breath, returns to the book:

- kindred souls that wandered far from each other but were able to find their way back. This meeting of souls is also the encounter of magic in its wholesome form. This clash is so powerful that those watching are bewitched by the couple and their Patronus, the claps which follow the rhythm of the Dance are involuntary and compulsory. The few and fortunate couples that show perfect Harmony are advised to unite and perpetuate their bloodline-"

Harry shuts the book. His heart is beating fast and he feels dizzy, his cuts hurting. He throws the book under the couch, as if hiding it may help him forget what he just read.

His mind is rushing, he can't stop thinking about the dance, about everyone clapping, their Patronus on the floor.

And the way she looked at him.

She knew.

She knew what it meant for them. And she said nothing.

But Harry remembers the glint in her eyes, the way she flinched when he said it was just a dance. And then she was all over him, saying she was going to probably marry Asmo and that they should live their lust, get it out of their systems. Knowing what he knows now, he would have stopped her. If he knew what that dance meant, he's sure he wouldn't have taken that step with her…

Because it complicates things even more.

Everyone was there. They all saw it. Tom and Bellatrix. Pettigrew. The Blacks. It's no wonder Sally is avoiding him. And how is he supposed to deal with this now?

"I just need to stay away from her." He whispers, something tugging at his chest.

A knock on his door takes him out of his thoughts. He's not expecting a visit. He looks at the clock, most people he knows are supposed to be at the Ministry now.

Grunting in pain he walks to the door, double checking if his wall is concealed.

And for the second time since he moved to London, Hermione is standing on the other side.

Harry swallows a lump in his throat. She doesn't move and they study each other. His mind bringing back all the information he just read. He can't help wondering how it's been for her since she knew what the dance meant. She had to convince Pettigrew it was nothing. Probably convince her parents also. And her friends.

"Hey." She says faintly.

Hermione has her hair in a nice braid again and she's wearing casual clothes. A pair of jeans and a white tank top with nice boots and a light jacket.

"Hey." He blinks, still holding the door open for her. "I-" He clears his throat and her eyes roam over his frame. "What are you doing here?"

She sighs. "Wanted to talk to you."

"You could have sent me a Patronus. Or a letter." He squints.

"Can I come in?"

He tightens his grip on the knob. "I don't think it's the best idea."

She presses her lips together. "Why?"

"I think you know why."

"To be honest, I don't." She shrugs.

Harry sets his jaw. Then he sighs and moves to let her in.

Hermione walks slowly past him, her eyes fixed on his. He closes the door and takes a deep breath. I can do this. When he turns around, she's sitting on the couch, cross legged and with a serious expression on her face. Harry moves and sits in front of her on a chair.

The silence stretches.

"So?" He asks sharply and she raises an eyebrow.

"Are you still angry with me?"

He shakes his head. "I honestly don't know. I could be insanely angry with you, or not. It's unclear."

"Why?"

"Because… everything concerning you is unclear to me, Hermione."

She barely reacts and he's surprised by his own sincerity. "I could say the same to you, Harry."

He looks down, making a face at the pain. "What do you want to talk about?" He wants her gone from his flat as soon as possible. He's already intoxicated by her natural scent and it's annoying. Being this… vulnerable around her.

"How are you feeling?" She finally looks at him. Worried.

"I'm- it hurts." He makes a face again. "A lot. I mean, it's like each cut is on fire. Not nice."

"What the healers said?"

"I'll be fine in a day or two, just need to take the potion correctly-" He widens his eyes. "Oh, shit!" He moves to stand, but she's faster, her hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stay on the chair.

"Where is it?" She asks, already knowing he forgot to take the potion.

He shakes his head. "At the nightstand, top drawer."

She moves to his room and Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. Hermione comes back in seconds with the vial and he thanks her. It tastes awfully, but he immediately feels better, the pain subsiding considerably.

"I've been thinking about what happened." Hermione says after a while and he gives her all his attention. "You're highly trained, Harry. Powerful." He tilts his head. "I just don't understand how one man did this to you. You almost died." Her words come out shaky and she presses her hands together on her lap.

He understands what she means. He had the guy until he heard his parents' names. But he obviously can't tell her that. "It was a second of distraction. He came at me pretty fast. I'd already lost my wand and…" He shrugs, trailing.

She nods. "Well, apparently he was the only one there. Nothing else happened." There's a wrinkle between her brows.

"What is it?"

"How did they know it was a trap? Very few people knew about this."

Harry runs a hand through his hair. "I think it's obvious there's a traitor among us."

She squints. "That's what bothers me."

"What? The fact that there's a traitor?"

"No." She shakes her head. "The fact that it's too obvious that there's a traitor." She moves a bit forward on the couch. "Traitors are smart, Harry. They have to be. It's not easy being a double agent. And this doesn't make any sense, why act like they want to be caught?"

He moves back at that. "You're right. They're not trying to hide their steps."

"This person wants these investigations and interrogations to happen."

"As a distraction?"

"Maybe."

"But from what?"

She scrunches her nose at that. "That's what I want to find out… not to mention that someone clearly wants me dead or out of the picture in a way."

He crosses his arms at that. "It seems so." He searches her eyes. "You could have waited to talk with me at the Ministry. What are you really doing here?" He asks in a low voice.

She looks down. Then back at him, vulnerable. "I- I wanted to see you."

His breathe hitches. He wanted to see her too. "I'm okay." He reassures her. "Thank you. For saving me."

"You would have done the same."

"I would." He whispers the incriminating words. Simple words that fuck up his entire revenge. Hermione wets her lips, her eyes falling to his mouth. "You should have told me." He says suddenly. She narrows her eyes. "What the Dance really meant. The clapping. The fact that-"

"Stop." She says in a low but menacing tone. "It doesn't change a thing between us, D'Angelo. And to be honest I think it's all a bunch of rubbish." She snorts and stands from the couch. "We barely know each other and you think a dance can decide for us that we're what? Soulmates? Please, I already have enough people in my life trying to dictate how I should live it."

He stands fast and stops in front of her before she can reach the door. She's angry. "If I knew what it meant I wouldn't have crossed the line between us!" He says through gritted teeth.

"Oh, is that what you're worried about? Don't be a hypocrite, D'Angelo. You wanted to fuck me. Badly. Since the day we met."

He bites his lower lip and brings her to him by the waist. "And you didn't?" He bumps his nose on hers, feeling all her stiffness leaving her body. "Tell me you didn't." He kisses her cheek, then her jaw, biting her neck. "Tell me." One of his hands squeezes her waist, the other on her neck.

Both her hands move to his hair and their lips find each other's.

Harry moans.

Her lips are so soft, her tongue sinful. Harry lets himself enjoy the moment. And it's overwhelming how well they fit, how the kiss feels organic, almost like second nature, like something they've been doing for years. His heart is beating like crazy inside his chest and nothing else exists around them. He sucks on her bottom lip hard and immediately seeks her mouth again, drowning in her.

Hermione makes soft noises that drive him crazy. Her hands are fisting his hair, sometimes more fiercely and others more gently depending on how they're kissing.

It takes them endless minutes to separate.

Harry can't help considering it their first real kiss. It's totally different from what they shared when they fucked at the Ball. This carries… feelings, emotions.

Questions.

They share a look. Her lips are red, just like his, he's sure, and there's a small smile on the corner of her mouth. He slides a thumb across it, fascinated.

"I did." She says, answering his question.

He kisses her again, feeling insane, as if he was born to do this: kiss her. She bites his lower lip and he groans, earning a chuckle from her. Harry starts walking back to the couch and Hermione goes with him. They share a single laugh when their legs tangle together.

Harry pulls back, smiling. His cuts are hurting like crazy again since Hermione is touching him everywhere, but he doesn't care. However, when she moves both hands to pull his t-shirt up and off, discarding it at the floor, he flinches and she stops.

"Oh, shit, Harry, I'm sorry!"

He tries moving his head to dismiss her words but he makes a face of pain and sits down on the couch, panting. "Fuck, it hurts." He closes his eyes, but his hand seeks hers and Harry brings her down to sit by his side. Hermione does and he feels her lips on his neck, gentle. She's apologizing again. "It's okay." She pulls back and he opens his eyes to see her taking off her jacket and throwing it at the floor.

Then her eyes fall to his bare chest. He still hasn't concealed his new scars because they're too red and sensitive. Hermione is observing them and Harry is observing her. "You're beautiful." He says, not resisting the words bursting out from his mouth.

She opens a bright smile and moves even closer to him on the couch, her hands touching his face. "And you're fucking hot." She says seductively and Harry laughs.

"Yeah?" He asks cockily.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah." And to prove her point, she moves her hands down to his chest, trying her best to be gentle with his new scars.

"Even with all these scars?"

"If anything they make you look even hotter."

And she lowers her head, kissing one of his new scars. Harry closes his eyes. This is so unexpected and gentle, loving. He gulps. Hermione kisses other scars, her hands moving down his body. Harry doesn't stop her, it hurts a bit, but the gesture is so full of good intentions that he doesn't care about the pain. His hands rest on his sides, and hers reach the waistband of his sweatpants. Harry looks down at her and she looks up at him. He bites his lips.

"Let me take care of you this time."

And still looking at him she kisses his stomach, his abs, her tongue sticking out, her hands slowly pulling on his sweatpants. Before she even asks him to, Harry raises his hips and helps her get rid of the sweatpants. He's not wearing any underwear.

Just like he did at her office, Hermione stops a moment to observe him. Harry realizes it's the first time he's totally naked in front of her. He tilts his head. She's taking her time and he moves a hand to stroke his hardening cock. She opens that devious smile. And they lock their eyes while he moves his hand up and down his length. Hermione moves back to him, slowly, and kneels on the floor, opening his legs, positioning herself between them.

Harry is already having a hard time breathing, his heart trashing inside him. Her hands squeeze his thighs, her lips finding his hand and stopping his movements. Hermione takes his hand and sucks on his middle finger, provocatively. Harry opens his mouth. He wants her so damn much.

Instinctively, his hand goes to her neck, then her braid. And even knowing what's about to happen, it feels surreal. Before her mouth even touches his cock, he wonders if it won't be too much, if he'll be able to recover from this. And when her tongue licks his length, he's sure he won't. Recover. Ever.

Harry closes his eyes. Again, he won't look at her. She's so much she should be forbidden. He groans at the back of his throat. Guttural sounds. Sheer pleasure.

One of her hands is holding him at the base of his cock while the other moves to his abs, then his thigh, squeezing again. All his pain vanishing in a second.

She moves up and down slowly, sucking just right, giving him exactly what he wants, what he needs. She swirls her tongue at the head, and Harry groans a bit more evidently. She does it again, licking. He moves her head the way he wants while also moving his hips a bit and she obliges. He bites hard his lower lip. He's fucking her mouth and it's so damn good.

It becomes frenetic, he's almost reaching his sweet release, but she moves away, stopping. He hisses and shudders, his cock pulsating.

"Look at me." She says, bossily. "I want to see your eyes. I want to see how much you want this. How good I'm making you feel."

He might come just with these words.

Harry opens his eyes and meets hers. Her face flushed, her lips swollen, red. The same desire he feels stamped on her face. Fuck. Never breaking eye contact she moves to take his cock in her mouth again. She takes him all, one, two, three times.

Fast. Then slow and maddening.

And inevitably he comes, his muscles tightening, his whole body existing just for this moment, just for her. Harry purses his lips together to stop his loud moan. They keep looking at each other while she swallows his every drop.

They're both breathing hard.

And as she stands from the floor, he pulls her to him, his hand on her nape, his lips seeking hers. A bit reluctantly, because of his cuts, she straddles him and he holds her tightly. Their kiss is hot, seductive, lazy. Harry is numb from the earth shattering orgasm he just had, but after a few minutes, the pain comes back. He doesn't want to let her go, though, and they keep kissing, but inevitably he stops, closing his eyes and scrunching his whole face.

"I'm hurting you." She says and moves. But he holds her there.

"No." He finds her lips again, acting like an addicted.

"Harry." She puts a hand on his chest and he grunts from the pain. Hermione moves from his lap and sits by his side. Harry sighs and not thinking about it, he holds her hand in his. Hermione intertwines their fingers. And they stay that way, slouched, both their thumbs caressing the other's hand. After a while, the only movement he makes is to put back his sweatpants, and then their hands clasp together again. "Honestly," She finally says, "How much do you workout?"

He laughs. "Am I this hot?" He winks.

"You are." She says with a smile. "I mean… these abs, your thighs, your arms. These hands." She brings his hand to her lips, kissing it gently.

"Everyday." He says, "I run whenever I feel like it and I train combat almost every night."

She tilts her head. "Do you wanna… I don't know, run or train together?"

He raises an eyebrow. "I… would love to." He says in a low voice and she raises her eyes to him. He leans to her, for a kiss, but she moves away a bit, clearing her throat. He stops, frowning.

"Okay. Good." He feels her pulling her hand and he lets her go. Hermione raises from the couch and fetches her jacket. "I should head back to the Ministry." He nods. "Look, Harry," She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry about not telling you what happened between us at the Traditional." He narrows his eyes. "But I really don't think twice about these things, this whole world of conjectures, destiny, fate and such is just plain boring to me. But I know most people care about it and I think you should seek Sally out, explain to her it meant nothing or else she won't come after you."

He opens and closes his mouth. Sally is the last thing on his mind.

"I-" He begins.

"I mean," She moves in front of him, "I don't want our dance to be the reason why you two can't be together. Asmo understood the situation-"

"I'll talk to her." He says fast to stop her words, which he can barely believe.

"You must." She says, her eyes set on him. "Because, this," She moves her hand between them, "is just sex, it means nothing, right?"

He sets his jaw and stands from the couch. "Just sex, Hermione. Nothing more." He says firmly, his heart squeezing inside his chest.

She nods, her eyes and expression cold, firm. "I'll set up a meeting with my father to talk about investigating in Muggle London."

He agrees curtly, amazed by how easily she changed subjects. Hermione doesn't walk to the door. She apparates in a swift motion and Harry stays there, frozen in the middle of his living room thinking about what just happened. He clicks his tongue.

A Patronus invades his flat.

"And take your potion correctly, D'Angelo. See you at the Ministry." It's Hermione.

He frowns and then chuckles.

Shaking his head and sitting back on the couch, he dismisses the sensation that lingers… that he wanted to hold her hand a little while longer.

Chapter Text

November 29th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

He's trying his best to be as quiet as possible, but when she clenches her walls around his cock, rocking her hips in a particular way, he trembles and lets out a single moan, his hips bucking. Hermione puts a hand over his mouth. "Shhh." He makes a face at her and keeps thrusting, his arms holding her by the thigh and waist while her legs circle his middle, locking at his back. They're standing inside a tiny broom cabinet - which he never imagined existed inside the Ministry - Hermione dragged him into.

It's his first day back at the Ministry after the attack and the first time he sees her after that blowjob he can't stop thinking about. When he stepped at the floor, his eyes sought her out immediately and she was right there, close to his desk talking to Ron and Ginny. Hermione turned to look at him and a smile played on her lips while they held their gazes. Harry only realized he was smiling like an idiot when he was close enough for Ginny to taunt him.

Then Hermione cleared her throat, welcomed him back and said they had a meeting with the Minister in a few hours.

And here they are now.

Twenty minutes before they have to meet Tom Riddle.

Fucking inside a cabinet like two teenagers.

But it was like instinct, Hermione said they could go over what to say at the meeting and Harry agreed. They started walking up the stairs to the Minister's floor, but of course they stopped just at the floor below to wait for the right hour. It's not their fault that the hall was freaking empty. And Harry is not even sure who initiated it. But they shared a look. One look that meant exactly the same for both. His eyes fell to her lips and she immediately took his hand.

In a beat they were kissing inside the cabinet. And in another beat his pants were at his feet and hers gone too along with her boots and knickers. Biting her neck he seized her up and the rest is just a blur of pleasure.

"Harder." She says into his ear while tugging his hair. Harry grunts. He's sweating.

They're not in the best position, but their desire was so overwhelming they didn't even care. Harry is just doing his best to support her and make it work.

He seeks her mouth, his hips meeting hers fiercely while he moves his arms to bring her to him at the exact moment he thrusts inside her. Hermione is taunting him closing her walls around his cock in a maddening way. And she's so devilish she's chuckling while trying to moan silently.

He slams himself inside her again, lost in the feel of her skin, in the taste of her mouth and in how pleasurable their encounter can be.

"You're so delicious, D'Angelo." She says in a serious tone, but he can't see her face because she's kissing his neck, going up and down while his hips keep meeting hers. Her nails find his nape and shoulder under his shirt and vest and she digs them into his flesh.

Harry closes his eyes. "I get hard just by looking at you." He says without thinking. But he's reaching his orgasm and he's not thinking at all.

Her mouth finds his again, their tongues meeting, their lips moving eagerly. "I'm close." She says in a hushed tone between kisses. He nods.

"Me too."

And just when it's becoming impossible to stop his frenetic thrusts, they hear voices outside at the hall.

Both freeze.

Harry grunts and Hermione puts a hand over his mouth again. They can't muffle the sound inside the cabinet since it's protected by the Ministry's rules. Harry discerns two voices. Hermione is breathing hard in his arms, the air inside the cabinet heavy, filled with their hotness. She bites her lower lip, and he knows she's begging for no one to try the doorknob.

He's worried about being caught, but he's also insanely horny and needing a release, so, he moves again, as slowly and silently as possible and she follows his lead. They don't break eye contact while doing it.

It's pretty intense.

And slow.

And heart stopping.

Breathtaking.

She touches their noses, their lips close. His hips going up and forward, hers down on his length.

They keep going even when the voices get louder, probably just outside. But they don't mind. And she kisses him softly, rearranging herself in his arms. Moving as silently as possible, Harry bites her lower lip, his tongue seeking her mouth, their hips meeting, their bodies hot-

Hermione shudders in his arms, shaking, trembling, coming and moaning with her mouth closed. They keep kissing and he comes too. He moans into her mouth, thrusting once, twice, thrice.

And they finally stop, still holding on to each other, breathing hard. He kisses her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Her hands go over his shoulders and hair in a caress. Finally he moves back and puts Hermione on the floor. She makes a strange face and he tilts his head in question. She dismisses it with her hand, seeking her boots, trousers and knickers on the floor.

Whoever is out there hasn't moved yet. So, they're trapped until they do. Harry runs both hands through his hair after dressing himself and uses his wand to put them back to a proper condition so it doesn't look like they just fucked before talking to the Minister.

Fully dressed she turns to him and crosses her arms. Harry mimics her and they stare at each other. Hermione moves her head to the door, pressing her ear on it. He does the same, trying to hear the conversation outside.

The first voice Harry recognizes is Ginny's. Hermione widens her eyes. Then Ron answers something. They share a worried look. They can't be caught by them, but he finds himself extremely curious to know what they might be talking about.

"…I know it must be hard for her after the Ball, but she can't say such things without proof, Gin."

"I told her that, but we can't really blame her, with everything… I mean, their dance was… if Harry wasn't a foreigner I'm sure Hermione's father would be marrying both right now."

Harry looks at Hermione. She doesn't look at him, though, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Do you think Hermione will end things with Asmo?" Ron says.

"No! Of course not!" Ginny snorts a laugh. "They love each other and Hermione doesn't believe in these things. And from what Draco told me, Asmo bought the ring."

Hermione opens her mouth at that and Harry feels cold. Suddenly his mouth is dry and there's a burning sensation going up his stomach. But he doesn't move, she doesn't either.

"He'll propose soon then."

"I think so. Regardless, I'll tell Harry to talk to Sally, she's not dealing well with everything and…"

Their voices fade away as they exit the hall. Harry gulps and before he can say anything, Hermione looks at her watch and opens the door. "We have to go or we'll be late."

Without looking at him, she exits the cabinet and Harry waits a few minutes to do the same. He leans on the door, closing his eyes. He doesn't understand his own actions anymore. Why does he feel so bad that Pettigrew got Hermione a ring? He has nothing to do with their relationship. And what he shares with her is just sex…

Shaking his head he heads out to the elevator. Hermione already went up and Harry waits to be cleared to enter the Minister's floor.

She's standing just outside the door, her head down, hugging herself. Harry stops by her side and she looks at him with the whole Head Riddle - badass - posture.

"Let me do the talking."

He only nods and she knocks on the door.

Riddle allows both inside.

Harry walks firmly, his head high. Surprisingly, he's calm. The Minister is sitting on an armchair, drinking. He motions for Harry and Hermione to take the seats in front of him while he greets his daughter by name and Harry with a nod. She calls him 'father' and they settle themselves.

"I'm all ears." Riddle says to Hermione.

She's as direct as possible. "D'Angelo is here with me because the idea was his." Riddle nods. "We have to admit that our investigation regarding what happened at the Fair is going nowhere, father." The Minister makes a sour face and motions for her to go on. "As D'Angelo pointed out, if we want to beat our enemy, we need to think like them." She pauses for a second.

Tom Riddle turns to Harry, his eyes sharp. "Wise words, D'Angelo. Has your grandfather taught you that?"

Harry nods. "Yes, sir."

"And what do you suggest?" Riddle is asking him directly and Hermione doesn't try answering.

"I think we should investigate in Muggle London."

Riddle opens a sarcastic smile and leans back on his seat, his eyes still on Harry. But he says nothing.

"As Head Auror I think it's something we should consider."

The Minister takes a sip and narrows his eyes at Hermione. "I thought I'd taught you better than this, Hermione. Do you even hear yourself? How ridiculous you sound?" Harry fists his hand, hating the way Riddle is talking to her, the tone he's using, the way his eyes are menacing. Hermione is stiff by his side, not making a sound or moving an inch.

But she clears her throat and, "If it's worth finding a lead, I don't mind sounding ridiculous."

Riddle sets his glass on the table with a clink. "Head Riddle is right, sir." Harry says.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, D'Angelo. I hope you learn to talk when requested. Of course I've been more patient with you because of your upbring and the fact that you just got transferred, but I won't accept this kind of insolence, do you understand? I'm the one who says who's right and who's wrong."

Harry opens his mouth slightly, but not from surprise or fear, from sheer anger. Hermione moves by his side.

"Shouldn't we at least consider this?" She says. "What if we never find any answers? What if these rebels know you wouldn't investigate Muggle London and everything we're looking for is right there? You taught me how to think, father, and I can't believe the idea sounds so-"

"Enough." He says firmly and Harry recognizes the authority in his voice. Riddle is speaking as Minister and father, and Harry is sure Hermione already heard this same 'enough' countless times throughout her life. "You've been testing my patience, Hermione, and I've had enough. This is out of question. I won't have my Aurors seeking for clues in Muggle London, talking to Muggles, treating them as if they can know more than us. I won't." He hisses. Harry sets his jaw. He makes a huge effort not to open his mouth and give Riddle a piece of his mind. "And I do hope you stop listening to your subordinates this much." He turns to Harry. "Do you see yourself at the same level as my daughter, D'Angelo? Just because of what happened at the Ball? Because of the Traditional?"

Harry's heart beats faster at that.

"Father-"

"Because I want you to know, D'Angelo," He points a finger at Harry, "if you even try using that in your favor I'll have you sacked back to Rome in a blink."

"I would never, sir." He says sharply, hiding his anger the best he can.

"I sure hope so! You don't actually think I could accept you with my daughter, do you?"

It hurts.

"I don't have any interest towards Head Riddle in that way, sir."

"I would like you two to stop talking about me as if I'm not here." Hermione says angrily, standing up.

"Sit down!" Tom Riddle's voice echoes in the room. "Now."

Hermione doesn't obey and they continue to stare at each other with steely gazes.

"I'm not a child anymore, father."

Harry never heard her voice this… broken. And he feels a sudden urge to hug her, make her feel better, tell her it doesn't matter what Tom Riddle thinks or how he treats her-

Riddle sighs and snorts a laugh. "Very well, I know. Sit down, please, Hermione." She hesitates for a second and then sits back down, crossing her legs, her expression sour. "D'Angelo, I apologize for the way I expressed myself." He raises a hand and fetches his glass back, taking a sip. "I'll be clear. Investigating in Muggle London is out of question. Do you understand?"

Harry wets his lips. "Yes, sir."

Hermione mumbles an answer similar to his.

"Good. Now, I'm glad we're here, it's a great opportunity to talk about what happened at the Ball-"

"Nothing happened at the Ball." Hermione cuts him. "There's nothing we need to discuss."

Riddle makes a face of impatience at her. "D'Angelo, you do know what that dance meant for you two, don't you?"

Harry nods curtly. "Yes, sir."

"And I do hope you have no intention in acting on it, I mean, you simply kissed her forehead and I took that as a sign of… respect."

Hermione clicks her tongue and Harry clears his throat. He had no idea what he was doing at the time. But he nods again.

"Good. Now, Pettigrew and his family are all over me questioning what happened. You can imagine how that is annoying me. The same way, the Blacks thought you and Sally had a nice thing going on, D'Angelo, but after the dance is like everyone lost it." He shakes his head, taking another sip. Harry dares looking at Hermione. She's looking back at him. It's awkward. "Now, D'Angelo, I want to know, will you still pursue Miss Black?"

He feels his mouth dry. It's hard to answer… "Yes, sir. I like her very much."

"Very well. Hermione, what about you and Asmodeus?"

"You should ask him." She's furious.

"I'm asking you."

"Things are great between us, father. Asmo is taking really good care of your daughter." She sneers at him and Harry presses his lips together, feeling all kinds of things. This conversation surely took a wrong turn. A terrible turn. At the moment he wished he could be anywhere else than hearing Hermione insinuating her sex life with Pettigrew is great.

"Well, good." He says again. "So, for the sake of us all, I'm inviting the Blacks and the Pettigrews for a dinner at the Manor. Of course D'Angelo is invited and this way we can put any doubt to rest."

"Perfect." Hermione stands.

"You can leave." Riddle says and Harry stands too.

He and Hermione exit the room as fast as possible and his chest hurts a little when she walks away, taking a different path than him.

Ginny is scribbling away in front of him.

She took Ron's desk for reasons Harry doesn't know or mind. But he's been useless since the meeting with Riddle. Unable to focus or even pretend, he's been drumming his fingers on the desk, standing and walking around in a nervous pace and drinking water like crazy. Hermione has left the Ministry and Harry has no idea where she went, which makes him… anxious.

"Could you stop? You're driving me crazy." Ginny mumbles, not raising her eyes from what she's doing. "Or at least choose just one thing to do obsessively?"

He stops his fingers on the desk and sighs heavily. "Sorry. I just- Our meeting with the Minister didn't go well."

She finally turns her attention to him, her eyes narrowing. "So, Hermione really went through with it. With your idea."

He's not sure how he feels that Hermione and Ginny surely talked about this at some point. "Yeah."

"She really does take your ideas into consideration…"

"Hermione is fair, Ginny. She takes all our ideas into consideration."

Snorting a laugh, Ginny leans back on her chair. "You're so clueless, D'Angelo." He doesn't like the way she looks at him, as if she knows something he doesn't. Which is probably true. "Let's just say she likes your ideas more."

He shakes his head and says nothing. The path this conversation is taking dangerously feels like a trap. Ginny sighs, going back to her things.

But after a while, she says, "It was a great idea, though. The whole going into Muggle London and stuff." She shrugs. "Honestly, if I were Hermione I would have done it without asking for permission."

Harry looks up at her. Ginny is staring back at him.

He clears his throat. "Do you… know of other people who might do the same as you?"

She presses her lips together. "My husband supports me in everything I do. My brother not so much, but I know that in this particular case, he would."

Harry raises both eyebrows. "Interesting."

"Indeed."

They keep looking at each other. Both thinking the same thing. Harry chooses to change the subject for now. "Ginny, I know you're pretty close to Sally-"

"Ah! Be honest with me, Harry, after the Ball-"

"Look," He raises a hand, "I… when I danced with Hermione, I had no idea what was happening." She makes a face at him. "I'm serious. You do remember that I didn't even know how to dance the Traditional!"

She tilts her head. "Go on."

"I don't want to hurt Sal. I like her, Ginny." He gives her a pointed look. "I want to make things right, the dance meant nothing and I want your help to make her talk to me again. I mean, I tried reaching out, but she's been avoiding me."

Ginny nods, but her eyes are on something behind Harry, and he turns to see Hermione standing there. Her expression is neutral. Empty. "D'Angelo, can you send this out for me?" She hands him a letter and Harry frowns, but agrees. There's a beat where he considers asking for a minute with her at her office, but he stops himself.

Hermione nods to Ginny and someone calls to her at a nearby desk. She goes and Ginny says, "Look, Harry, come by my house tomorrow night, we can have a nice dinner, I'll call Sal and you get your chance to make out with her and set things right. Deal?"

He opens a side smile. "Deal. Thanks."

She just waves a hand, and Harry lowers his eyes to the letter. It's not addressed. He looks around for Hermione but she already vanished and he makes a face, not understanding. Then, a phrase appears on the blank envelope.

Act normally.

He clears his throat, and says, "I'll just send this out." He shows the letter but Ginny barely pays him any attention. He's already up, walking to the stairs. Of course they have the elevator, but he finds the stairs more soothing. It's rare for people to take them, so, all alone, he stops a few steps up from the Auror's floor and examines the envelope.

I thought this would be a nice way for us to talk. Look inside.

There's a coin. One Harry has never seen. But it's pure gold with intrinsic patterns on one side and the Uroboros at the other. He moves it between his fingers.

It's untraceable. I have one too. We can use it to meet at any hour.

And as a demonstration, the coin gets as cold as a cube of ice in his hand and a phrase appears inside the Uroboros' circle. It reads 'Head Auror Office - now'

If you rub your thumb over it, you'll be transported to the place-

He doesn't even finish reading and is already rubbing his thumb over the location. It's much like the sensation of a Portkey. He blinks and he's already inside her office. Hermione is watching him. She's standing by her shelf and he gulps.

Raising the coin he says, "Nice." She tilts her head. "But why?"

"I thought it might be useful." She walks closer to him with her arms crossed. "Since the Ball my father has been watching us more closely… Asmo too. With the coin we can meet and talk more freely."

He narrows his eyes at her. "Talk? You mean fuck?"

She clicks her tongue. "That too."

Harry snorts a laugh, looking down. Then he gulps, "Yeah, I don't know about that." She cocks her head. "I mean, after the meeting with your father I…"

She purses her lips and moves her hand. Harry hears the door locking. And she comes to him, stopping an inch away. "Look," Her voice is low. "Forget about that whole meeting. Seriously."

"Hermione-"

"Harry." She says firmly. "What my father said changes nothing between us. We're having fun, aren't we?"

He purses his lips. "If this blows up, I'm the one losing my position here." As he says the words he realizes they're very true. And it's an absurd that it took him weeks to think about this. He can't keep meeting her, fucking her. If Riddle finds out, Harry's plans are over… his revenge a complete failure because of Hermione. He takes a step back and she frowns.

"No one will find out."

"I can't take the risk." He says in a low voice. "You shouldn't either."

She looks shocked. Clearly it's a surprise for her. And if it was up to Harry's wishes, he would never stop this between them, but he needs to think about the real reason why he's there. Hermione looks down, resigned. She nods.

"Okay. I understand. You're right."

He presses his lips to stop him from taking it all back. Harry extends the coin to her. But she shakes her head and moves to close his hand around the coin with hers. They both hold their breathes.

"Keep it." She says. "It'll be useful, I'm sure. There are some things I want to investigate on my own and I hope I can count on you to help me." He raises an eyebrow but nods. "Here," She opens his hand and moves closer, "Let me show you how to use it." He tries not reacting at her proximity. "You have to use a simple spell binding the location to the coin if you want to, but not necessarily, we can always apparate to the place. To engrave into the coin you need to use Insculpo." Harry nods, understanding. "We can also talk through it if we want to."

"Okay." He clears his throat and moves away, running a hand through his hair. He makes a face at her and pockets his hands, ready to leave.

"Harry," She calls, "Don't let things get awkward between us, please." He widens his eyes at the request. Hermione shrugs, "I mean, I like your company." She grits her teeth, as if it takes a lot to say the words. "And we work pretty well together, it would be a shame to waste that just because we… had casual sex."

He nods, agreeing. "You're right. It won't be awkward. I promise."

She opens a tight smile. "Good. I'll see when my father wants to have dinner."

Just with a curt nod, he leaves the room and glances at his watch. It's time to head home and he's glad. Suddenly being there is too oppressing.

November 30th, 2005

Draco and Ginny's

"Are you sure?" Sally asks for the second time. "Because I totally understand if things changed for you, Harry. I'm not mad or anything, but what happened was a big deal-"

He raises a hand. "No, listen," He takes her hand in his, inconveniently thinking it's not as soft as Hermione's. "It was not a big deal. In Italy we don't care about these traditions so I wasn't raised with that in mind, and believe me, it makes a huge difference, because it was just a dance. Hermione will certainly marry Asmodeus and she doesn't care about this kind of beliefs." He tries reasoning with her.

Sally tilts her head. "It's kinda of uncommon to have the perfect harmony, Harry." He sets his jaw. He hates how people keep saying this. "My parents had it, you know?" He denies, interested. He remembers the way Eleonora talked about the dance like it was no big deal. "And what they share is… special. I don't wanna take that away from you. We both know our Patronus didn't even like each other that much." He snorts a laugh and she does too, moving a bit closer to him. "And I saw what happened with your lion and her serpent." His heart beats faster. "You were too focused on each other to see it, but…" She clicks her tongue, "It's kinda of amazing how everyone began to clap without even noticing, because it was like you two bewitched the whole ballroom with your… connection."

Harry decides he won't win this argument with words.

Taking a step to her, he cups her face and kisses her. It's a nice kiss, good. Sally doesn't resist his tongue invading her mouth and by the way she fists his t-shirt, he knows things will be fine between them. Which is perfect to get his plans back on track. They separate and he smiles to her.

"I want to leave this whole dance thing behind us. Is that possible? Can we move on?"

She nods, biting her lower lip and smiling. Sally kisses him again, this time more fiercely and possessively. Harry holds back a moan when her hand moves up his back under his t-shirt. He fists her hair and moves to kiss her neck, making a huge effort not to think of Hermione. It's maddening how easily she invades his thoughts.

He stops.

It feels wrong to be kissing Sally. But she doesn't seem to notice his internal debate.

Smiling she takes his hand and they head back to the dinning room.

Draco, Ginny, Ron and Luna are talking excitedly. So far Harry can't deny he's having an amazing night. They're fun. It was a bit awkward when he arrived because Sally kept avoiding him, but after a while she got tired of ignoring him and they began to talk. Ron and Luna got there a bit late, but when they all began to drink a bit more, laughter and stories about their youth filled the dinning room.

The occasion left Harry a bit homesick. It's true he didn't have a lot of friends in Rome because his life revolved around one thing only: the revenge; But even so, he made some good and important friends who he misses dearly. They didn't understand his decision to move to London, but they supported him nonetheless, except… someone he would rather forget.

At one moment Sally got up to fetch another bottle of wine and Harry knew it was the perfect opportunity to talk with her.

And now, as they sit back down, he knows Ginny will bring up the reason which got them into this dinner in the first place.

Taking a sip on her wine, Ginny says, "There's something we need to discuss."

Draco turns to her, alarmed. "Is everything okay?" He puts a hand on her shoulder and Ginny smiles at him.

"It is. But," She raises a finger, her eyes on Harry now. He nods to her. "I was talking to Harry yesterday and we kinda of had an idea."

"Oh, I don't like the sound of this." Ron mumbles.

"Look," Harry begins, "I told Hermione I thought we should investigate in Muggle London."

"You did?" Draco says and when Harry confirms, he whistles, widening his eyes at Ginny who makes a face at him.

"And what did she say?" Ron asks.

"She said it was a good idea, but that the Minister would never accept it. And we had a meeting with him yesterday. Indeed, he didn't like it very much, to put it mildly."

Draco snorts. "Of course. I mean, just a foreigner to think that Tom Riddle would even-" He stops and shakes his head. "It amazes me that Hermione actually went through with it."

"She just thought it was a good idea." Harry reinforces.

"Yeah, but mate," Ron begins, "it's not an idea which you actually take to the Minister. It takes balls to do that."

Harry snorts.

"Always a Gryffindor, right?" Ginny asks Ron directly and they nod their heads, smiling.

Clicking his tongue, Harry continues, "Regardless, if we can't do it formally…"

Ginny completes for him, "Let's go rogue, people."

Ron shakes his head, Draco chuckles. Luna smiles and Sally is uncharacteristically quiet by Harry's side. Ginny just opens a wide smile.

"I'm in." Harry says, drinking some wine.

"Well," Draco says, "Being the perpetrator's husband, I don't think I have a choice, do I?" He raises an eyebrow to Ginny and she shakes her head.

Ron sighs. "I think it's a terrible idea. Horrible." He's serious and Harry narrows his eyes when he turns to Luna. But Ron's wife smiles to him, nodding and shrugging. They communicate something with their eyes.

"What's going on?" Ginny asks, her eyes on her brother. Sally moves forward on her chair, her eyes on Luna. Harry feels something important is happening, but he has no clue what it is.

"We were going to wait," Luna says, still smiling, "but since we're here…" She takes a deep breath, Ron is holding her hand, "I'm pregnant!"

Harry opens his mouth. He's the only one who doesn't burst out in exclamations.

All the others are circling Luna to give her a hug, but he stays put. He feels warm inside, happy for them. But at the same time, it's like he's watching from behind a glass. He doesn't actually belong here. He's not a close friend. Surely not one who deserves hearing about her pregnancy before their parents.

But as he observes their happiness, he finds himself standing from the chair and going to them. He hugs Luna tightly. He feels sincerity in her embrace and in the way she considers him part of the group. Then when he embraces Ron with their manly pats on the shoulders, he smiles with his heart and eyes.

Regardless the situation, a child is… love. Pureness. Good.

When they all settle back, Ron says, "I'm not sure about this because now that Luna is pregnant, I mean, I have to think twice before getting myself into any danger." Ginny makes a face but nods, understanding, "If we get caught, we're fucked."

"But what's the worst that could happen to us?" Harry asks. There's a heavy silence. "Come on, we're Aurors, Ministry's employees. And we're investigating-"

"Doesn't matter." Draco cuts him. "We would be sent to Azkaban."

"Are you bloody serious?" Harry asks.

"It's the punishment for disobeying a direct order, Harry." Ron answers.

Harry snorts, shaking his head, not believing what he's hearing. "This is crazy." He says in a low voice.

"Yeah, well. That's why we're discussing it." Ginny says. "I don't know about you, but I wanna know who's doing this. I wanna know who's behind these attacks. And I'm willing to dig. We can go disguised to Muggle London, take turns, no one will know. I'm sure we can pull it off mostly because it's such a terrible idea that only crazy people would go through with it." She shrugs.

Harry chuckles. "I'm still in."

"I'm in too." Draco says and Ginny gives him a peck.

Ron sighs again. He's looking at Luna and she's just waiting for him to decide. "Bloody hell. I'm in."

And they toast to their decision. But there's a voice in Harry's mind that… "Don't you consider telling Hermione? Asking for her help?"

They all look at him like he's the craziest person on the planet. Then, it's Sally who laughs loudly. The others chuckle.

"Harry, mate, Hermione is Tom Riddle's daughter. And don't get me wrong, I'm her best friend and I love her, but… she lives by his image." Ron says.

Harry nods but grits his teeth. It's not the Hermione he knows. The Hermione he knows helped him rescue mother and daughter…

But he lets it go.

After they agree that Ginny and Draco will take the first shift and head to Muggle London just after their hours at the Ministry, the subject changes. And even when Harry laughs and shares a few stories from Rome, his mind still brings Hermione to the surface at all times.

December 5th, 2005

Muggle London

It's a busy street and he's waiting for Ron. Harry sighs, leaning against a brick wall. He can see the store they're supposed to go in interested in buying guns. In London, you can have a gun with a proper license. For the past few days, Ginny and Draco have been visiting these stores and from what they gathered, this one is a strong candidate. They saw the same bullets exposed inside, which they had a difficult time seeing in other stores.

Now, with his hair magically dyed blond, a matching beard and black eyes, Harry goes over what he plans to do. They want to be sure the store sells the guns and its matching bullets and maybe steer the conversation to a place where they can discover something unusual.

A man stops by his side. Black long hair and big glasses. He's sure it's Ron from the way he stands, but nonetheless they say a few words to check.

"Bloody hell, mate." Ron says, "let's get over with this."

Crossing the street, they enter the place. It smells awfully and Harry makes a face. There's only one person inside talking to a salesman who is the personification of a stereotype. Greasy hair, unkempt beard, a protuberant belly and glasses at the tip of his nose.

He looks up to see the new costumers. The store is filled with guns hanging on the walls and bullets exposed under a glass counter. "Hello there, just give me a minute." The man says not so gently and goes back to talking to the woman in front of him.

Harry and Ron wander inside.

Harry finally spots a case with the same bullets that were shot at the Fair. He points them out to Ron and they share a look. "Hey, mate," Harry says to the man, probably the owner, "We just want some information on these bullets."

But before they can do anything else, the air inside the store changes and something strange happens… a sudden silence. They look up at the man. He's frozen. His mouth open mid sentence.

Harry and Ron move, fast, but the woman is faster. She raises a hand. "Stop. It's me." Even with the blue hair and emerald eyes - just like mine - Harry recognizes her immediately.

"Hermione, what the hell?" He asks.

"I should be asking the same thing!" There's fire in her eyes. She's furious. "We'll have a lot of time to talk about how you acted behind my back, but right now, we need to leave. I already got what we wanted from him. In a few minutes he'll unfroze." She moves to the door and exits with firm steps.

"Shit." Ron says, but follows her outside.

Sighing, Harry goes after them, moving to an alley. They stop there. He can feel how truly angry Hermione is and he purses his lips. They promised it wouldn't be awkward between them, but they barely shared a glance since that day. Now he feels suffocated being this close to her.

"Where to?" She asks Ron with an eyebrow raised.

"Draco and Ginny's."

Clicking her tongue, she nods and they all apparate.

It's chaos.

Draco and Ginny weren't expecting Hermione and when she revealed herself just after apparating inside, she lost it. They all tried defending themselves, but she screamed and told them they were being inconsequential. She yelled at the top of her lungs how in the world four of her best Aurors could go behind her back while she proceeded to ask if she was a terrible Head Auror.

They tried reasoning with her, but Hermione had none of it. She told them it was ridiculous to take such a risk and they said she was doing the same, but she argued that it was different for her if she got caught.

And when she finally took a breath and Harry thought her outburst was over, she turned to him instead and gave a piece of her mind.

"You were there with me at the meeting, D'Angelo! You saw how my father reacted and you went through with this? What the fuck were you thinking? All of you?" She turns to the others briefly. But her anger is directed at him now and she steps closer, her eyes wide. "Do you have any idea what your punishment might be? Fuck, Harry!" She explodes. "You gave the idea! He said to you it was out of question! Not to mention that you're a foreigner and after what happened at the Ball my father wouldn't think twice in locking you away!" She grunts. "It's like you lost your capability to think!"

"It's not like that, Hermione! We all agreed we couldn't let that pass-"

"I don't fucking care!" She yells to his face. "It's your life on the line! What's so difficult to understand?"

"But who exactly would punish me? You're the Head Auror! Are you handing our heads on a platter or something?" His voice is higher than he expected.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she chuckles humorlessly. "Sometimes I forget how innocent you can be, D'Angelo. I'm Head Auror, but my father is the law. You think he doesn't track the Aurors in a way? You think it's truly all only in my hands?" She sets her jaw, her chin trembling.

"I-" He sighs heavily. "It shouldn't be like this. The Minister can't put himself above-"

"Stop!" Hermione yells. "I'm serious. Just stop." She hisses. Draco, Ginny and Ron are quiet, watching them with wide eyes.

A silence follows. Harry wants to say all sort of things, but he bites down his tongue. Hermione is pacing with her hands on her waist, looking down at the floor.

Ron clears his throat.

"Hermione," He begins, "it wasn't our intention going behind your back, you know how much we respect you as Head Auror," She snorts, "and as our friend, but we thought you might tell us not to-"

"Obviously!" She hisses and then, a bit calmer, she continues, "I took D'Angelo's idea to my father because I knew it was a good idea. And I knew he would reject it." She scoffs. "But it was my intention in pursuing this since the beginning. And fuck, guys, you know the risk, you know you can't! If my neck is on the line I have ways of escaping, because, after all, I am my father's daughter." She looks at them pointedly. "But I wouldn't stand something happening to you. So," She exhales, "please, next time, talk to me first, okay?"

Harry chews the insides of his cheeks, glued on the spot while the others hug Hermione, apologizing and agreeing with her, but also pointing out that they thought she would side with her father. Harry on the other hand, never thought that. He knew Hermione supported the idea. He saw how she talked with Riddle.

She turns to him, but he doesn't move. He's angry and glad to see her there, happy to know that she went after this even after the meeting. As usual, it's hard to tell exactly how he feels.

"You," She says to him, "you're the one who needs to be extra careful, D'Angelo. Don't be an idiot."

"Sometimes I wonder what I'm even doing here, then." He says sharply.

"I wonder that myself." She says back to him.

They hold their gazes.

He never wanted her more than now.

Setting his jaw he purses his lips. Hermione crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow.

"My father wants us to have dinner at the Manor in about a week. Be there." Hermione says.

"What if I don't want to?"

She narrows her eyes. "Then prepare to leave London." She shrugs.

"Errr," Draco interrupts them. "Yeah, as fascinating as it is to watch you two, Hermione, did you discover something at the store?"

She blinks and her eyes finally leave Harry's when she turns to Draco.

"Actually, I did."

"Well?" Ginny prods.

Hermione smiles. Not a nice smile. "You don't really think I'm sharing after this shit you pulled with me, do you?"

"Ah, come on!" Ginny says being followed by the others.

Hermione just shakes her head. Now Harry can see a true smile playing on her lips. "I'll tell you when the time comes." She winks at them.

And then, glaring at Harry, she apparates.

Harry's flat

His eyes scan the wall. The coin Hermione gave him on his fingers, being manipulated from his index to his pinkie with his thumb.

It's pretty late, but he's still angry. It's an odd feeling because…

Harry's not angry with what Hermione said to him. He's angry because she went through with his plan all by herself. He feels… left out. It was my idea.

He bites his lower lip and raises the coin to his eyes. Using the spell she instructed him with, he writes down in the middle of the Uroboros the following:

Are you home? Alone?

Ignoring how fast his heart is beating while he waits for an answer that might never come, he thinks about the Aurors who killed his parents. When it comes to this, he's failing miserably. It sucks because the few people who might know something are the ones he can't ask or else they'll suspect his questions-

Yes

Pocketing the coin and taking a deep breath, he apparates to her front door.

Harry knocks.

She opens the door shaking her head in disbelief.

"I wanna talk." He says.

"Good. I do too."

And she moves to the side to let him in. Harry walks slowly, his senses gradually being assaulted by her presence. Hermione motions to her living room and Crookshanks comes swaying to Harry. He can't help opening a tiny smile at her face of utter indignation with her cat. As his fingers gently caress the cat, Hermione sits on the couch.

"Where's Pettigrew?" Harry asks, not looking at her. He noticed that Pettigrew vanished from the Ministry…

"On a mission." It's all she says.

Harry grits his teeth and fetching the cat just to annoy her, he sits on a chair in front of Hermione.

He's direct. "It was my idea, you really thought I wouldn't pursue it, Hermione?"

She leans back with her arms crossed. "I just imagined you would be smarter."

He makes a face. "You know, if you knew I was going to do something, why didn't you ask me to go with you?"

She frowns, a bit taken by surprise. "You… wanted to investigate with me?"

He tilts his head, releasing Crookshanks. "Hermione, of course I did. When I gave you the idea I imagined from the start that we would do this together."

Hermione looks down, her eyes following the orange cat while he claws at the rug. "We can't be seen together outside the Ministry, Harry. I told you, my father has his eyes on us."

"But you went to my flat-"

"Yeah, and I had to pull all kinds of shit to dismiss some wizards that were following me."

He opens his mouth. He had no idea. "But… I'm here now." He states.

"Yes, well. The protection around my house is impenetrable. It's like my father's floor at the Ministry. It requires some clearance."

He smiles. His eyes roaming over her. She looks hot in her sweatpants and t-shirt. Hermione narrows her eyes, noticing his intense gaze. Harry clears his throat. "Are you sharing with me what you found at the gun store?"

She moves forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She's looking at him strangely. And just when he tilts his head in question, she takes out her wand and binds him to the chair. Harry tries freeing himself but the ropes around his hands and legs are incredibly tight. Hermione takes his wand from his waist.

He stops fighting. His eyes on her. Hermione sighs.

"Now, D'Angelo." Her voice is low, dangerous. "We're going to have a nice talk. And you're going to explain to me why you went through my stuff inside my office… and especially why you're interested in the Potters' Persecution." She opens an ironic smile. "Is that clear?"

His only reaction is a nod.

Fuck.

END OF PART ONE

Chapter Text

PART TWO

"Why are you here, D'Angelo? In London?"

He wets his lips. "Do I really need to be tied up for this?"

She clicks her tongue. Hermione is standing in front of him, her expression cold. It reminds him the way she questioned Lucinda Summers at her house. He gulps. Harry needs to find a way out of this, she can't know the truth.

"Yeah, you have to be tied up for this." He makes a face. "Why are you here? Answer me."

"Hermione, is not what you're thinking."

"You have no idea what I'm thinking."

A silence follows. She keeps looking at him, emotionless.

"Look-"

"Don't even try, D'Angelo. I could be here all night. I could be here for days. The only way you're leaving is giving me answers."

Harry sighs, annoyed. "You want answers? Well, I already told you why I'm here!" He says through gritted teeth. "I was engaged, okay? I didn't say it before because it hurts too much. She cheated on me. I wanted to leave and got the offer here, so I came. Fuck, is that so hard to understand?"

Hermione snorts. "Poor little Harry had his heart broken and decided leaving his country to move to London where he would work as a subordinated Auror. Not to mention our laws. You think I forgot how we met, D'Angelo?" He looks away from her, pouting angrily. "I was expecting you, of course. I'm Head Auror, you really thought I wouldn't know about a transference? I saw you the moment you stepped inside the Atrium. And I have to say you intrigued me right from the start." He closes his eyes. "The way you stopped in front of that statue…" She clicks her tongue. "Your grandfather, who we all know you have the closest relationship with, hates Blood Supremacy. He stands against everything our Ministry represents and it's impossible for me to believe that you don't think alike." She takes a step closer to his chair. "Look at me." He sets his jaw, turning his head to her. "I know you specifically went after informations about the Potters in my office. I wanna know why. I wanna know if you have anything to do with these attacks. I wanna know if you're a threat to my father, D'Angelo."

Harry scoffs. "You're waiting for a confession of a heinous crime, but I'm sorry to disappoint you, I have nothing to say." She crosses her arms and he sees fury in her eyes.

"You searched my office, D'Angelo. I know you did." Harry says nothing. "Do you want me to formally arrest you? Put you under interrogation? Maybe I'll ask Asmo to do it-"

"Yeah, sure, ask your amazing boyfriend." He's so bitter… so jealous.

"And I know the first thing he's going to ask. 'Did you kill Lucius Malfoy, D'Angelo?' Yes, that's exactly what he's going to ask."

"I have nothing to hide."

"Really? Even under Veritaserum?"

He bites his bottom lip in anger. "You can't use-"

"Oh, D'Angelo, we're not in Rome." She narrows her eyes. "Here things work differently. Now, what do you prefer? Giving me answers in this particular conversation or being submitted to Asmo's interrogation? Maybe I can even call my father to witness."

For the first time, since he met Hermione, he can see the Riddle in her. He snorts.

"You really are a Riddle, aren't you?"

"Am I supposed to feel offended? Because I know how much your grandfather hates our family." She shrugs. "I have to say you surprised me a lot. And that's exactly why I was an idiot to trust you."

"My grandfather has nothing to do with me."

"And my father has nothing to do with me. But you don't seem to believe that, so, I'm not buying your words either. Tell me what I wanna know."

Harry sighs. He doesn't doubt she'll interrogate him under the Veritaserum. "Okay, fine. I… I admit that I searched your office that day when you left with Pettigrew." She looks furious now.

"Why?"

"I wanted information on the Potters' Persecution."

"Why?"

"Because it's a huge deal, Hermione." He relaxes on the chair, not seeing the point in fighting over this, a bit exhausted to be honest. She seems to notice his posture because she blinks and takes a step back, frowning. He doesn't even have to lie. Mostly. "Everyone talks about what happened, but no one really knows what happened."

"Of course we do-"

"Yeah? Then why are you investigating it also?"

She widens her eyes slightly. "I'm not under interrogation here, you are."

He chuckles humorlessly. "Oh, no, Miss Riddle. That's unfair." He says mockingly.

She ignores him. "Does your grandfather want this information?"

"My grandfather has nothing to do with this."

"Which I find very hard to believe. Especially now that he's running for Minister-"

"What?" Harry perks up, startled.

She tilts her head. "You don't know?"

"I-" Harry grunts. Of course his grandfather would do something like this. Of course. Making a face of distaste, he leans back on the chair, totally defeated. Hermione has countless reasons to be putting him in this situation. He would be doing the same if their roles were reversed. He shakes his head, a bit emotional, not knowing how to react. "I had no idea." He whispers.

He looks down to his lap, some tears are threatening to fall from his eyes. But he holds them back, his chin trembling a little.

"Harry." She's crouched in front of him. "I might regret this, but..." Hermione sighs and with a movement of her wrist she releases his arms and legs. He thanks her silently. "What's going on?" Her voice is soft now. "Talk to me."

He leans forward with his elbows on both legs. He takes both her hands and she lets him.

"When… when I left Rome, I- my relationship with my grandfather was… shaken." He shrugs. "Still is."

Hermione nods. "Well, he's running for Minister and… I'm almost sure he'll win. And I'm afraid he might declare war to us."

Harry closes his eyes.

He has no idea how to explain his relationship with his grandfather to Hermione. It surprises him that he wants to, though. He wants to open up to her because that's something that he's been ignoring since he left the Villa. Since he hugged his mother goodbye.

Since Matteo D'Angelo refused to hug him.

He takes a deep breath and against his better judgment squeezes her hands. "I was engaged." He says, looking at her pointedly. It's true. He didn't lie about this. "I loved her. Was totally in love." He gulps. Hermione is petrified, barely moving a muscle while she listens. "But I caught her cheating. It broke me completely. Profoundly. She was not the person I thought she was."

Hermione wets her lips, tilting her head and standing up. Taking his hands, she guides him to the couch and they sit facing each other, one leg tucked under their bodies. Their hands still together.

Harry continues, "But we grew up together. Her family was close to mine. She was kind of a big deal and our union was certain. My grandfather didn't believe me when I told him the truth. He never accepted that I called the wedding off." He makes a face. That and many other things regarding his revenge and how to proceed when he finally infiltrated the Ministry. It's true he wants to end Riddle's rule. But his grandfather wants to destroy the British Community completely. Hermione is not wrong. Matteo wants to seize London to himself. And Harry never agreed to this. When he realized he was just a pawn they had a huge fight which ended with both not exchanging a word for months until Harry left. "We had a huge fight. And it's been months since we last talked… Us living in the same town became unbearable. Imagine under the same roof. I had to leave." When Harry turned twenty-two Matteo said he had to go to London, begin his revenge. But he stalled. It felt too much too early. However, when he realized the situation with his grandfather was broken, he made it happen. "When they offered me the position here, I took it immediately." He snorts. "Chiara tried to stop me. My ex." Hermione purses her lips. "And here I am, Hermione."

She exhales. "Harry," She locks her eyes on his. "Against my better judgment I believe you. Even with all the red flags right in front of me, I have no idea why, but I trust you. And I want you to be honest with me because I'm being honest with you. What's the deal with the Potters' Persecution?"

He clicks his tongue. "I- I confess it stirs something in me. It's odd. And since the Fair I think we should be investigating this. I went to the Archives-"

"I know."

He opens and closes his mouth. He's a bit surprised she still doesn't know he's, in fact, Harry Potter. "They're using James and Lily Potter as symbols. Don't you think it's pretty important to investigate what happened to them? I tried, but any information regarding the case is classified."

She finally pulls her hands back, pressing them on her face, grunting and shaking her head. Harry observes her.

He can't believe what's happening.

"You could have asked me, Harry. I have no problem in sharing the information with you."

He blinks. Many times. Lost. It's like she took away his north. "You don't?" His voice is barely there.

"Why not? I…" She looks up, pondering, "It's true. I'm investigating what happened to the Potters."

His heart beats so fast his vision gets a bit blurry. "Why?"

"Because," She stops. He can see she's having a hard time saying this. Snorting, she says, "I must be crazy. Harry, no one knows about this. No one." He nods. "I love my family. With all my heart. And don't get me wrong, I would do anything to protect them." He tries not reacting, but he presses his lips together, "But my father… he's a flawed man, Harry. I'm not blind. And it never settled right with me what happened with the Potters. How the Persecution started and the fact that everything around this is a secret." She shakes her head. "It drives me crazy with curiosity."

He cocks his head. "What if you find something you don't like?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"I- do you want to…" He looks away from her, to his hands, fidgeting on his lap. "Investigate this together? Just us?"

"Harry, did you kill Lucius?"

He widens his eyes at the question, surprised at the way she changed subjects. "No." He lies. Again. She narrows her eyes.

"Do you have any intention in taking my father down? Or are you just investigating the Potters out of curiosity, like me?"

"Hermione, I have nothing to do with my grandfather's plans. I'm here because I want to, because I couldn't stand seeing Chiara everyday. And yes, I'm curious. And I think we can find answers to our investigation while researching the Persecution." It doesn't go unnoticed to him that she believes the truth of what happened with his parents might destroy her father's rule.

"And you promise me you have nothing to do with these attacks?"

"I promise." He's relieved he doesn't have to lie about this.

She nods, clearly believing him. "Okay. Then let's do it, Harry. Let's investigate the Potters."

He opens a side smile, his heart swelling inside his chest. "You know, it wasn't quite nice the way you tied me up." He makes a face.

She laughs. "You'll get over it, D'Angelo." Hermione rises from the couch. "Do you want to eat something?" She asks, stretching. Her movement rides up her t-shirt and his eyes are draw to her exposed belly. He tries averting his eyes fast, but she's already making a face at him. Provoking. "We could eat something while we go over what I already found out." Her voice is softer now and he gulps. She knows exactly what she does to his body. Hermione wets her lips. "What do you think? Unless you need to go."

He clears his throat and rises from the couch. "No, I have nowhere I need to be. I'm all yours." His voice is low. He can play this game too.

She exhales at his words. And he takes a step to her. Her chest moving up and down fast. Harry sees her eyes falling to his lips, her mouth opening slightly. But then she blinks and shakes her head, saying, "Okay" And heading to the kitchen.

He runs a hand through his hair and chuckles. Fetching Crookshanks again, he tries containing his excitement, but he discovers it's impossible.

After eating some fish and chips and sharing a chocolate frog - which gave them the card of Minister Tom Riddle - they finally settle on her couch to talk about the Potters. Harry makes himself comfortable leaning his back on one end of the couch, his legs propped up, his shoes laying on the rug. Hermione mimics his position and he's glad they're keeping some distance. Except for their feet. Which are almost touching at the middle of the couch.

Crookshanks is sleeping between them.

"So," She begins. Hermione is holding a file. A file that Harry sees as pure gold. But she puts it down on the nearest table, apparently she knows everything by heart. "My curiosity about the Potters started when I was twelve and first heard of them. I know it was pretty late, but as I said, there's a huge secrecy around what happened and my parents never even mentioned their names inside our house. Dumbledore was the one who told me about them." Harry raises an eyebrow. "It was after a class and I was kinda of upset because of a low grade, so I went to the Headmaster's office to talk a little-"

"You went to the Headmaster because of a grade?" He opens a side smile, teasing her. Hermione throws a pillow at his face.

"Don't mock me." She points a finger at him. "I took education very seriously." He snorts, a bit fascinated. He took his education seriously too, but a low grade never upset him. "Regardless, I was there with Dumbledore and out of nowhere he began to talk about one of his best students, James Potter." Harry looks down. "I listened carefully and I have to say, Harry, I was immediately bewitched by his doings. Dumbledore said he was the bravest of the Gryffindors." She puts a finger on her lips. "I was a Gryffindor." He nods. "The more Dumbledore talked, the more I wanted to meet this amazing student, maybe even learn from him. But when I asked where he was, why such an amazing wizard wasn't teaching at Hogwarts, Albus told me everything." She makes a face. "Maybe he was a bit… tactless, I mean, I was twelve and he began to talk about Blood Supremacy and Lily Evans and how they were hunted down and such… it was a bit of a shock and I didn't question him further at the time. But that night I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about James Potter, about his wife, about what happened to them."

"Understandable." He says softly. His mind imagining a twelve-year-old Hermione on her bed with her eyes wide open thinking about his parents.

"I had a terrible nightmare that night." She says in a low voice. "It was awful." She closes her eyes, hugging herself with one arm. "But then I was obsessed. I wanted to know everything about them. My first question was: how they even met? Because Lily Evans was a Muggleborn. And Muggleborns didn't go to Hogwarts. So, at school was not a possibility."

Harry clears his throat. He's ashamed to admit that he has no idea how his parents met. His grandfather didn't know and the memories never hinted anything on that matter. "And did you? Find out? At the paper I found in your office-"

"That note is old, Harry. Very old. From my Hogwarts' years. To be honest I'd forgotten it was there inside the book. And I wasn't stupid enough to write down everything I discovered."

"But then how-"

"Every thirty days I perform a spell I created to identify possible breaches inside my office. I did one today." She purses her lips. "I could see the traces of every place you touched and when I took the book from the shelf I knew why you were interested in it."

Harry shakes his head, feeling like an idiot, an amateur. She's too smart. A sudden coldness takes over him and a certainty hits him hard: She'll discover who he really is. Sooner or later. And then what?

"And just for the record," She says, "I'm still angry at you for going through my stuff, I mean, it pissed me off more than anything else. I could punch you for it."

He widens his eyes and not even knowing why, he says, "So do it. Let's leave this behind us." Harry stands from the couch and extends a hand to her. She hesitates. "Come on."

Smiling, she stands too, and even before he registers it, she punches his stomach. She's way stronger than he estimated and Harry tumbles forward, a hand on his middle. She laughs. And just right after her hands are on his face.

"Sorry, sorry." She kisses his cheek and he grunts, the pain fading away. "There, there." She's mocking him while she rubs one hand over his stomach and he chuckles, their faces close.

"Feeling better?" He asks.

"Actually, loads better, thanks."

He shakes his head and one of her hands go to his hair. Suddenly their chuckles die down, the air heavy around them. She caresses his nape and he brings her closer by the waist. He can feel her breath on his face and Harry closes his eyes.

He was the one who said they should stop.

Her fingers move into his locks and he leans a bit forward, finding her lips. The contact is soft, gentle.

And brief.

Hermione moves away from him, looking down and making a face. She settles back on the couch and they go back to their previous positions.

As if nothing had happened, she continues, "It happens that, when I was fourteen I already had a whole plan to find out everything about the Potters, but I kept it to myself because… I made the mistake of asking my parents about them in a letter when I was twelve." She scrunches her face. "It was madness. My father was furious. He went to Hogwarts and questioned my professors, Dumbledore, he wanted to know what we were being taught and why I was talking about a traitor as if he had been an amazing wizard. Well, Dumbledore apologized and the discussion ended there. After that I never spoke of the Potters again, but they were on my mind all the time." Harry's mouth is hanging open. "At fifteen, Ron and I dated." She laughs wholeheartedly.

Harry smiles. "Why is that funny?"

"You can't think of a worst couple, honestly." She's still laughing. "We would fight all the time over the silliest things. We were insanely jealous and thankfully at one point we realized we were miserable together. The day we broke up we drank a whole bottle of firewhiskey to celebrate our rupture." Harry laughs with her. "But…" She looks down and Harry sees that blush coming up her neck. It's been a while since he last saw it and it makes his insides flutter. He adores that blush. "We were each other's firsts and that brought us extremely closer. I felt comfortable enough to ask him about the Potters, because at that point I've had zero success in my own researches. And to my surprise, Ron knew a lot."

Harry raises his eyebrows. "He did?"

"Yeah, at the note you found there are names under the first line and my first question, right? I discovered these were the closest families to James Potter. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew were his best friends." Harry presses his lips together, nodding. "Lucius Malfoy was close to him until they reached seventeen or so and Molly and Arthur were also dear friends. That's why Ron knew a bunch of things. It took him a while to tell me everything because his parents warned him to never speak of the Potters, and indeed, after he told me what he knew, we never spoke of them again."

"Don't you think it's a bit too much? It's like a taboo."

"I think it's bizarre, Harry." She sighs. "But Ron told me how they met." His heart beats faster at that. "Remus Lupin had an uncle totally against Blood Supremacy and when this idea started really taking over Wizarding England, he left, moved to France." She waves a hand. "But then, when they were fifteen, this uncle invited Remus and his friends to spend summer with him. Remus, Sirius, James, Peter, Lucius and Arthur. Keep in mind that at the time they were young and Blood Supremacy was still on the rise, the most important restriction was at Hogwarts, where only Purebloods were allowed, so it wasn't a big deal spending some time in a Muggle resort. There, James met Lily. She was Remus' friend from his trips with his uncle." Harry inevitably chews the insides of his cheeks remembering the way Remus looked at him at the Ball. "From what Ron told me, they had a special connection from the first time they met. It's a bit unclear what happened after, but from what Arthur said, they discovered she had magic. Lucius and Peter immediately refused to be in her presence. But Sirius, James and Arthur liked her, so they became friends. James and Lily started exchanging letters after that summer. And as they say, the rest is history. They became an official couple when he finished Hogwarts. But only his best friends knew. It was a huge secret." Harry is drinking her words, amazed. "At this time, the laws were changing and my father was a strong voice inside the Ministry, he was the only counselor of the decrepit Minister Smith. James knew his relationship with Lily would never be accepted. They tried hiding, but things blew up when someone betrayed them."

"Who?" He asks more eagerly than he intends to.

"I'm not sure, but word is that… Peter Pettigrew did." She gives him a pointed look. He wonders if Hermione clearly dislikes Peter because of this.

"Asmodeus said it was him." Harry remembers the way he talked at that meeting room the first time they met. "He called his father a hero."

"I know. But Asmo likes to show off," She raises a finger, "yet, I think it might be true. Peter never denied."

"You never asked Asmodeus directly?"

She shakes her head. "His family is extremely traditional. They hate the Potters. Asmodeus likes to talk about this, but only to cement his opinion on how they deserved what happened to them."

Harry wets his lips. "And what do you think, Hermione? Do you think they deserved it?"

They share an intense gaze. "I…" She sighs. "No. I don't think they did." He lets out a breath, his chest swelling with warm feelings for her. He moves his foot to touch hers and she doesn't move back. "Regardless, James' friends started to go against the relationship, they thought it was stupid of him to sacrifice himself for her. Their friendship ended and James left with Lily. That's when the Persecution started."

"But why? I mean, he left with her, why follow them and-"

"I wish I had an answer, Harry. It bothers me because it doesn't make much sense. But my guess…" She trails, a bit uncomfortable, "Well, at this point, my father was already Minister and my guess is that he wanted to make an example out of them. Seek them out and show people the tone of his rule." She sighs. "It doesn't give me pleasure to say this, but it's what I think."

He nods, thinking. "And those names you wrote, are those the Aurors?"

"Yes. It was hard to find out their names. But well, living under the same roof as the Minister has its advantages." She winks at him and he stops himself from kissing her right there. "I did with his study the same you did with my office." She makes a face at him. "And I found a file with the Auror's names. But as I imagine you already know, they vanished. I tried digging into this but, well, I'm extremely careful when it comes to the Potters, no one can know."

"Of course, I understand." He runs a hand through his hair. "And the location? Who's Snape?"

She presses her lips together. "I wanted to know exactly where they found Lily and James, and Snape told me. But I'm still looking for a chance to investigate the house, even after all these years… magic leaves a trail, it's undeniable." Harry nods. "Snape is… a contact. I never met him, not personally, but he knew the Potters. I don't understand his connection with it all, but Dumbledore gave me his name and I just reached out and respected his wish of staying anonymous."

"And you did all of this when you were still at Hogwarts?" He tries hiding his fascination, but by the way she smiles he knows he fails. Harry smiles with her.

"Yeah, well, I think I wrote Snape's name at the paper on my seventh year and tucked it inside the book and kinda of forgot about it. I mean, I was obsessed, but a lot of things were happening in my life also. I had to train to become an Auror and then the whole process of becoming Head… I revisited this investigation recently, to be honest. And after the Fair… I felt I needed to go back to this. They always used Lily Evans and the Potters as symbols, but never like this, never this… violently. There's something there."

"I agree. It feels like we're missing what's right in front of us."

She nods. "Exactly."

Hermione yawns then and Harry follows her motion. Crookshanks is still in the middle on the couch, and their feet are still touching. He moves his foot to caress hers. She opens a smile, shaking her head.

"You said we shouldn't, Harry."

"I did, didn't I?" He sighs, his foot still on hers. "I'm such an idiot sometimes."

And without warning he moves, going forward and pressing his body on top of hers. Crookshanks jumps from the couch with an angry hiss and they laugh at the cat.

But then she's pulling him to her, their lips touching.

Harry marvels at their kiss. It's slow. There's no rush, no desperation, nowhere to be or nothing else to do. There's only them. His heart trashes inside his chest. All his senses on high alert while he embraces her tightly. Hermione dominates the kiss, doing whatever she wants with him and he's more than glad to oblige, more than happy to stay there on her couch making out with her like teenagers - again.

For a moment he wonders how he kept his distance for a week. Because even now, with her in his arms, with their lips clashing together and their tongues provoking each other's, he misses her. He misses her taste, her smell, her softness.

He moans when she rearranges herself under him, opening her legs and giving him the proper space to position himself between them. And then he's kissing her cheek, her jaw, her throat. His hips bucking, meeting hers. She pulls his hair and mumbles something he doesn't quite catch, but it's close to 'kiss you'.

And their mouths meet again, this time more eagerly. A bit desperate.

"I want you." He says when they separate for a brief moment.

"I'm right here." She answers and he groans.

Harry feels like a lunatic while he kisses her neck. His hands find the end of her t-shirt and he pulls it up and off, Hermione helping him. He squeezes her waist, his mouth finding hers again, their kisses inebriating. Her legs ride up both his sides, bringing him even closer, enhancing the contact of their bodies.

He moves back a bit and they open their eyes.

A small smile is playing on her lips. He smiles too, one of his thumbs caressing her cheek. She has her hands on his hair and neck and for minutes they just… look at each other.

And something grows inside Harry. A warmth. A feeling of happiness, of wanting and belonging. The more he looks at her, the more grounded he feels. Hermione touches their noses and Harry sighs, rubbing his cheek against hers in a caress.

Then he kisses her one, two, three times.

Gentle pecks.

Her smile widens.

He doesn't want to think about what it all means.

So, he goes back to kissing her collarbone, finally reaching her bra. He wets his lips at the sight of the black lacy. She raises an eyebrow at his mischievous smile.

"Want to see a magic trick?" He asks playfully. She laughs out loud, nodding. And he closes his eyes. "Wait, I need to concentrate."

"Oh, come on." She mocks him, slapping his shoulder.

And before Harry can perform the little magic he was thinking about, Hermione beats him to it and all their clothes are gone in a blink.

He opens his mouth, outraged. "Hey! It was my-"

She cuts him with a kiss. "Shut up." She says.

"So impatient." He says, a bit out of breath now that they're touching everywhere.

It's the first time they're totally naked.

And he can't deny it gives the moment a whole new meaning. By the way she looks at him, Hermione is thinking the same thing.

She kisses his neck, her hips bucking up, her hot entrance meeting his cock. They both groan together at the contact. Harry closes his eyes while she kisses and bites him gently, her nails digging into his back, marking him. Hermione then moves her lips back to his mouth, kissing him with all the calmness in the world.

And it feels so good and right it hurts. It physically hurts him.

He pulls back. Gulping and making a face.

"What's wrong?" She asks. Her hands going up and down his back.

Everything is wrong.

He bites his lower lip, moving a bit away from her. "Harry." She holds him in place.

He knows he initiated it. He knows they want to.

But… it feels different now.

And they can't.

Harry can feel they're about to cross another line. One line that brings feelings with it. And how is he supposed to deal with this? How is he going to endure watching her with Pettigrew all the time? How is he going to keep lying to Sally? And how the hell is he going to go through with his revenge if…

"Hey," She moves his face, forcing him to look at her, "we're having fun, Harry. There's nothing wrong with it."

He snorts. "You're about to be engaged."

"That's my problem." She says harshly. "My relationship."

"Exactly." He says through gritted teeth. "You're in a relationship and-"

"Unless you want to be in a relationship with me, this conversation doesn't make sense."

He watches her face for hints of what she might be feeling. There are none. He sighs. "I feel bad because of Sally." It's the only excuse he can think of.

Now Hermione's expression changes. To a dangerous one. She releases him. "If you want to go, go. But I'm warning you, this won't happen anymore, then. It's over. But if you stay, I refuse to have this conversation again."

He immediately misses her embrace. He opens and closes his mouth, completely torn. Apparently, for Hermione it doesn't mean as much as it might mean to him. The choice is his and if he leaves now, he knows she'll keep her word. It won't happen again. However, if he stays… he'll be the one paying the price. He'll suffer for something that-

She's watching him.

Waiting.

He can feel her warmth and when he looks into her eyes, it becomes clear: he prefers suffering and having her this way than not having her at all.

Harry grunts and kisses her, desperate. She corresponds the kiss just as eagerly and his hands travel her body. He squeezes her breast, his mouth leaving hers and going down from her neck until he reaches her hard nipples, kissing and sucking. She moans. Finally, his fingers reach her entrance and he groans because of her wetness.

It's overwhelming how much they want this.

Massaging her clit and moving two fingers in and out of her, he keeps kissing her breasts, biting gently, then going back to her mouth, their tongues meeting. Her hands roam all over his body. His abs, his ass, his back, her legs going up and down on his sides.

But then she groans, biting his neck, moving her mouth to his ear. "Fuck me." She says hoarsely to him and he seeks her mouth with his.

Not breaking their kiss, he moves, positioning himself properly, bringing her hips a bit up with both hands under her lower back.

And then he's inside her.

They stop breathing for a beat.

This time he looks at her. Their eyes locked.

He kisses her gently. She closes her walls around his length and he moves. Slowly. He wants it to last. As if they can be here inside this moment forever. She rocks her hips, driving him insane and he intensifies his rhythm, hitting a sweet spot and making her moan loudly.

They keep kissing, lost in the feel of them. Every thrust is a new kind of pleasure.

Perfect.

"You're perfect." He says, not thinking.

She kisses him aggressively, biting on his lower lip. And his hips slam into hers harder. Harry is seeing stars from sheer pleasure.

It's everything. Her smell, her lips, her body, their perfect fit.

Then he slows down. Both breathing hard. She brings him closer to her by the neck. His hand seeks her clit, and Harry mercilessly stimulates her, thrusting slowly.

Hermione opens her mouth in a silent scream and this time he drinks in every detail of her orgasm. The way her eyes widen slightly then close, her mouth opening, her breathing coming in waves, all her muscles tensing and then relaxing.

Her features. Her perfect features.

He knows he won't forget.

A bit numb in his arms, she kisses him gently. He's still moving slowly, wanting to be with her for as long as possible. He holds her tightly with both arms around her waist, burying his face into the crook of her neck, wanting to be consumed by her. She runs her hands through his hair, now kissing his ear, pressing her chest to his.

"Harry." It's a plea.

He moves and kisses her again, this time thrusting harder, almost madly. They both moan, biting each other's lips. Both in a frenzy while he slams himself to the hilt inside her.

Over and over again.

"Fuck." He says, overwhelmed.

And when he comes, he says her name.

And she follows him, coming again with his name on her lips.

Harry exhales heavily, a bit dizzy.

Then he laughs. He lost his virginity when he was fourteen. And it's been eleven years of sex, but nothing ever came close to this. To this feeling of plenitude. As if if everything else dissolved into dust, he wouldn't give a damn.

Only her arms matter. Only her mouth. Only her touch.

Only her.

Sighing, he changes positions on the couch, laying on his back and bringing her to his chest. Hermione goes gladly, kissing his chest where she lays her head. Her arms circle his middle and he embraces her.

"Well," Hermione breaks the silence when they're finally back from the high of their encounter. She moves her hand in the air, "I lack a word."

He laughs.

"Yeah, I know."

He kisses the top of her head and she stiffens a bit. He immediately understands this might be a little off limits. Harry clears his throat, looking at the clock on the wall.

It's already 2am.

She's extricating herself from him. And he sets his jaw.

"I-" He begins, trying to hide how her standing up and fetching her clothes makes him uncomfortable. "I guess I should go."

She looks at him. "Yeah, I mean-"

"Unless you want me to stay." She opens and closes her mouth. "Since Pettigrew is away I thought you might want someone with you, because of the nightmares." He shrugs, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Truth is… he desperately wants to stay.

She tilts her head, biting her lower lip. "I have a potion." It's her answer.

Harry clicks his tongue and nods. "Sure, yeah. I'll just-" He stops talking, feeling all kinds of awkward while he fetches his clothes on the floor.

But then she extends his t-shirt to him, Harry takes it and she says, "You know what? These potions always knock me out. If… if it isn't a problem for you to stay, I- I would like that very much."

He inhales sharply. Then he smiles. "Yes, of course. I'll stay."

She opens a bright smile, then she clears her throat. "Come."

And Harry follows her to the bedroom.

It's simple but cozy.

Her bed is huge, there's an armchair that surely is for reading at the corner, just besides a shelf filled with books from ceiling to floor. Harry notices some pictures on the wall, of her with her parents and one with Pettigrew. He averts his eyes fast. Hermione looks away when he looks at her and she motions to a door. The bathroom. Harry sits on the edge of the bed while she vanishes inside, closing the door. There's another door and he realizes it's a walk in closet.

He sighs, closing his eyes and wondering what the fuck he's doing inside her room, only in his boxers, ready to sleep with her. Harry snorts to himself. It's impossible for this to work out between them. He knows that he'll come out of this hurt. If not for the fact that he wants to end her family, but for the fact that she's marrying another man-

"Hey." He opens his eyes to meet hers. She's standing right in front of him in a nightgown. "If you wanna use the bathroom it's all yours." She winks and he nods.

Harry closes the door behind him and leans against it.

What the hell am I going to do? He has no idea. Splashing some water on his face, he takes a deep breath and decides one thing… he stayed when she gave him an ultimatum, so, he won't suffer because of this decision.

Reluctantly he admits to himself that he wants to be with her and that's it. They just agreed on investigating the Persecution together, so, for the foreseeable future, Harry's going nowhere. He'll stay with her for as long as he can, and then… well, then he'll see.

A bit more relaxed after deciding this, he exits the bathroom to find her under the covers, the room immersed in darkness, the only light coming from the big window. He walks slowly, but she's wide awake, waiting for him.

He can feel the butterflies in his stomach when he lies down next to her.

And they share a look.

Both move together, gravitating towards each other. Hermione turns, giving her back to him and Harry embraces her from behind, his arms and legs caging her into his frame, molding them together. Hermione sighs, relaxed, a hand on his hair. He kisses her cheek and neck and she rubs her legs on his.

Then he puts his left hand on her stomach and Hermione puts hers atop of his.

The tingle.

He feels her stiffing in his arms.

"Do you feel it?" She whispers.

"I do." He answers sincerely, his mouth close to her ear, his teeth seeking her lobe, provoking her.

"What is it?" She asks in a low voice, their hands still clasped together.

"I have no idea." He says, kissing her pulse point right after.

Hermione says nothing more, but he knows she's thinking hard about this.

He changes the subject. "This night surely ended very differently from what I imagined when you tied me up to that chair."

She snorts and he chuckles with her. "I have to agree with you."

Hermione turns her head slightly and they share another slow, hot and breathtaking kiss.

Then she smiles at him and sighs. He holds her even closer as if wanting to transform them into one. He returns his attention to her neck, kissing her, feeling the goosebumps all over her skin from his touch.

"Stop, Harry, we need to sleep. We have to work tomorrow."

He grunts, but stops, resigning himself to just hold her. "Speaking of work. What did you discover at the gun store?"

"Tomorrow, okay?" She yawns.

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"'Night, Hermione."

Chapter Text

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December 22th, 2005

D'Angelo Villa

He arrived yesterday night. But Harry couldn't bring himself to head directly to the Villa, so, he went to one of his friends' house to spend the night. And while they talked about his new life and what's been happening in Rome, at the Ministero and with the Aurors, he tried to prepare himself to deal with what he might find at the Villa.

But even so, he knows it wasn't enough. Nothing can prepare him for this.

Taking a deep breath, Harry enters the grounds. The wards recognize him immediately and he calculates that he has about two minutes before someone comes to him. He bets it will be his mother.

As he walks inside, it's impossible not to be taken by memories. It's been almost two months since he left for England and even if it doesn't seem much, Harry feels like he's been away for more than that, like it's been at least six months. Mostly because since he arrived in London things have been undoubtedly crazy and intense.

He watches the birds flying around the trees, the enormous yard extending itself in front and around him. Maybe the Villa is smaller than Riddle Manor, but it still is incredibly big.

He remembers running on these grounds for a good part of his childhood. Remembers climbing these trees and jumping off of them directly to land on a broom in a reckless move. His mother used to yell at him for this but he never stopped, he only got wilder. Harry also remembers the many campfires he used to enjoy with his friends while having a good time and training magic… mostly being teenagers.

He stops for a second.

At the far end of the yard he can see the magical floating love seat. The place where he first kissed Chiara. When they were both thirteen and extremely inexperienced. Only two friends trying to understand what the fuss was all about. It was a nice kiss. Chaste. Exploratory. Unforgettable.

"Anch'io ricordo il nostro bacio ogni volta che guardo quell divanetto." ["I also remember our kiss every time I look at that love seat."]

A voice says from behind him. Chiara.

He shakes his head and snorts a laugh. Unbelievable.

"I thought I would at least get a few days without seeing you, but," He looks at his watch, "It lasted not a whole of two minutes."

Harry turns to her. Chiara's beauty is something to behold. It's obvious and intimidating. Her blond hair is shiny and beautiful, her mouth is small, delicate, but it suits her perfect nose, angled face and striking black as the deepest darkness eyes.

She walks slowly to him. She doesn't look different from the last time they saw each other. And he'd forgotten how she's able to shake his very own foundations.

And since his mind is a traitor, he's already comparing her to Hermione. And it's a bit unfair because… Hermione wins in every aspect.

"So, no Italian?" She asks in a perfect English. "Are you a snotty British now? Already?"

"Maybe." He narrows his eyes at her. She stops very close to him. Chiara is a bit taller than Hermione, almost Harry's own height. "What are you doing here?" He asks, impatient.

"Want me gone? I was just visiting Matteo." She opens a tight smile. "I'm helping him with the whole campaign for Ministro." She takes another step to him. "Something you should be doing for your grandfather."

He sets his jaw. "He can handle things himself." It's all he says.

"What are you doing here, then, amore?"

Harry snorts at the loving word. They used to call each other like that when they were together. "None of your business." He says sharply. "By the way, shouldn't you be with Carlo?" He spits the name. The man he caught her cheating him with.

"You know I have nothing with Carlo, Harry."

"Really? You almost fooled me when I caught you riding his-"

"No need for this." She cuts him. "It happened and I hope we can leave that behind us."

And she moves to him.

So fast that when he realizes, her arms are already around his neck, her mouth close to his. He doesn't hug her back, though. Harry pockets his hands instead, rolling his eyes.

"What do you want, Chiara?"

He can feel her breath on his face. So familiar. "Don't you know? I want you, Harry. I never stopped wanting you. We're soulmates."

And she kisses him. His mind stops for a second. Kissing Chiara is almost like breathing to him. Automatic. Something he used to do so much that it became natural.

Part of him missed her. Part of him hates her. And another part might still be in love with her.

He steps back, scowling and taking her arms off of him.

She pouts.

"Come on, Harry. I know you miss me. Or are you telling me you already found someone else?" She scoffs.

He narrows his eyes and walks past her. "Have a nice day!" He waves to her, then he flips her off.

Chiara laughs loudly. "I love you, Harry D'Angelo! Even if you don't believe me!" She screams at the top of her lungs and even if he wants her gone, Harry smiles while he shakes his head.

Chiara is crazy.

And this was just a sample of what to expect for the next ten days.

He exhales heavily, stepping inside the mansion. It looks the same, but it feels different somehow, like he doesn't quite belong there anymore. He strides through the countless living areas. All french windows wide open to welcome the day and its sunlight. There's a gentle, yet freezing, breeze in the air and Harry can smell oranges. He smiles. His mother has a plantation of oranges that she loves more than herself. And Harry used to love hugging her and smelling those oranges in her hands and very being. Till this day when he smells an orange he feels protected.

"Look who's home!"

He turns to look at the entrance of a simple study. His mother's.

And she's there, beaming at him.

Harry feels his heart swelling and he runs to her. She squeals in delight when they embrace tightly. It's a safe landing. Her hug is the place he used to go after exhausting himself at the training sessions his grandfather used to put him through. His mother is the safe landing that gave him courage to be who he is. And even if she's not his birth mother, deep down he knows Lily Evans is glad he had such luck.

Bianca pulls away and looks at him with a scrutiny only a mother is capable of. "You look so thin! And so pale!" She clicks her tongue. "Aren't there any food or sun in London?" She chuckles, mocking him. Then she hugs him again, kissing his cheek. "My Harry, I missed you, son. Come, lets brew some coffee and talk."

He hugs her, one of his arms around her shoulders while they walk to the kitchen. "I missed you, mom." He kisses her cheek. "You look good!" She smiles at the compliment. "How's dad?"

"Ah, you know your father." She waves a hand. "He's always here and there and nowhere. But at least he… stopped with the gambling." She gives him a pointed look. "Your grandfather practically made him, though."

Harry raises an eyebrow. "And how is nonnino?" He swallows hard. "Running for Ministro, huh?"

Bianca scoffs. "I hope you know I don't agree with any of it."

"I know." He says softly.

"Especially now that you're there, Harry, your grandfather is playing with fire."

They finally reach the kitchen and he sits on his usual stool while Bianca proceeds to brew the coffee. He thanks the heavens while he watches her taking those fresh grains and griding them at the machine for a fresh and strong espresso.

"Tom Riddle already questioned me about nonnino's plans." He says nonchalantly.

His mother grunts. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Idiotic ideas. And for what? Honestly." She pours the coffee in silence and Harry watches the grounds outside. The Quidditch field is there. And the pool. And everything else. The same. But not quite.

"Do you think he's gonna win?"

"Of course he will, Harry. Do you think your grandfather would even run for this if he doubted his victory?" She puts the cup of coffee in front of him and sits by his side with hers. "Do you want to eat something? There's-"

"No, no. The coffee is fine."

"You need to eat."

"I'm fine, mom." He smiles and sips on the coffee - bliss - and she sighs.

"Did you bump into Chiara on her way out?"

Harry snorts. "Of course I did. I bet she was waiting for me."

Bianca makes a face. "She's here every day, so, maybe it's for the best that you already encountered each other. How was it? From what I heard she wants you back."

He shrugs. "Okay. No big deal. I have many things to think about and Chiara is not one of them."

"Harry, Harry," Her tone is playful, "Don't tell me you found someone else." She opens her mouth and moves on the stool to look at his face. "Oh, you did!" She almost yells. "Who is she? And why am I only hearing about this now?"

He sips on his coffee. His mind on Hermione.

"There's no one." He says, schooling his face to a neutral expression. Bianca doesn't buy it, though.

"Okay, fine, you don't want to talk about her. Fine." But she's smiling as she says this. "I just want you to be happy, son."

"I know, mom." They smile fondly to each other.

"So," A third voice comes from Harry's back and he turns on his stool. "You are here." It's Matteo.

Harry gulps. As he knew, no preparation in the world would suffice. He feels like a child in Matteo's presence, his whole posture changing to one of submission, and as much as he tried fighting this, it is his natural response to the man who raised him and taught everything he knows. Who pushed him to his limits and turned him into a lethal man.

"Nonnino." He says faintly.

Matteo looks the same. Harry doesn't know what he was expecting, though, not even two months went by.

"In my study, Harry." It's the only thing Matteo says before exiting the kitchen, his golden cane hitting the floor strongly and in rhythm with his steps.

Harry scrunches his whole face. Bianca sighs. "You two." She says. "I'm kinda of sick of all of this, Harry. You should leave this revenge behind, come back home, go back to being Head Auror and working with your grandfather!"

Harry understands her concern, but he shakes his head and finishes his coffee swiftly, then he kisses Bianca's forehead. "I love you, mamma." He smiles and darts out of the kitchen.

He tries being as confident as Hermione each time he saw her steeling herself before talking with Riddle and as he strides to Matteo's huge study at the second floor, he realizes he wished Hermione could be there. But he scoffs at himself.

An impossible wish.

Silence.

Deadly silence.

Harry crosses one leg over the other, clearing his throat and waiting. He won't speak first. No. If his grandfather wants to play this game, he will play it. Harry knows it's a test. One of many Matteo used to do. He wants to see if Harry is patient enough not to break the silence, if he's able of holding his ground and waiting for as long as it takes.

Matteo is not even looking at him from across his desk. The older man is reading something while making a few notes on whatever it is more important than his own grandson.

Harry glances at his watch. It's been an entire hour.

And finally, Matteo raises his eyes from his notes and leans back on the chair, his eyes on Harry now. "Why are you here?" It's what he asks. Such warm words.

"I heard you're running for Ministro."

"You heard right. Who told you? Hermione Riddle?" Harry opens and closes his mouth. The clear insinuation on Matteo's tone- "You think I don't have eyes and ears in London, Harry? I got word that you're pretty close to your enemy's daughter." Harry purses his lips.

"Naturally, she's my boss. But this is not about her." He feels a lion roaring inside his chest. Matteo has no right to talk about Hermione. He doesn't know her. And Harry won't have it. "This is about you wanting to be Ministro. Why now, grandfather?"

"I don't appreciate your tone, Harry. And I don't need to explain myself to you. I'm running because I want to."

Harry purses his lips. "You know what I hear wherever I go in London? I hear about my grandfather's opinion on Blood Supremacy or how he hates everything the British Ministry represents. Not to mention his not so hidden hatred towards Tom Riddle and his family-"

"How dare you criticize me? After everything? Why do you think I hate the Riddles, Harry? You, more than anyone else should also be hating them with the most ardent ire! But, apparently, from what I'm hearing you're throwing your revenge in the trash because of some pair of good legs!"

"Don't talk about her!" He rises from his chair, pointing a finger at his grandfather. He's breathing hard. All his anger directed to the man in front of him. "Leave Hermione out of this." He says in a low voice.

Matteo laughs, mockingly. "I never mentioned Miss Riddle." Harry opens and closes his mouth. Shit. "Don't tell me you're in love with her. Please, I raised you to be better than this."

He purses his lips. And sits back down. He takes a few deep breaths. "I don't wanna fight." Harry raises both hands. "I came to spend the Holidays and to be here when the results come in."

"What Tom Riddle will think about you being by my side when they announce my victory?"

"He won't like it."

"Good. Then I'm glad you're here, Harry." Then, for the first time, Matteo's expression changes to a softer one, one that reminds Harry the loving grandfather he used to be. "Seriously, Harry. Be careful with Hermione Riddle. She's dangerous. She's a Riddle."

Harry swallows hard. "I know. I'm not an idiot and I'm not in love with her."

Matteo nods, his eyes narrow. "Since you're staying, I do hope we talk properly. I-" He clears his throat, coughing a bit, "I want to leave our misunderstandings behind us. I talked to Chiara. She told me what she did."

Harry sighs. Then he stands from his chair. "We'll talk. But not now." Without another word, he moves out of the study.

He needs to vent. And he knows exactly what he wants to do. Flying never sounded better.

December 26th, 2005

D'Angelo Villa

The sun warms his skin. It's winter, he knows. But being a wizard has its many perks. He casted a heating spell at the pool and on himself. And then Harry stripped down to his trunks and lied on one of the may chaises by the pool. Even with the chilly weather, the sun is out and he can't deny he missed it immensely. It's pretty hard to see the sun in London, and sporadically when it does come out, Harry is locked inside the Ministry.

So, it's been some amazing three days of bathing in the sun, swimming, eating like crazy and enjoying his mother's company.

He saw his father only once - at Christmas dinner - and they had a nice conversation about amenities. But the man looked well and his parents' relationship seemed calmer. Harry even caught them kissing when they thought no one was looking at them. And that brought a sincere smile to his face.

He barely sees his grandfather, though. The man keeps himself locked up inside his study, worried about the election that will happen later today. Harry is sure that after this, Matteo will finally focus on him and what he's been doing in London. Not that Harry owes him any satisfaction, but he intends on sharing a few things. After all… it's his nonnino.

But what's giving Harry life are his many tricks and small revenges on Chiara. He never enjoyed being a prick so much. As his mother said, Chiara is there every day and Harry avoids her like the plague. That doesn't stop her from going after him, and every time he jinxes her with creative spells that has her fuming out of the Villa.

But even so she still yells an 'I love you' to him. Most times in Italian. 'Ti amo, Harry D'Angelo.'

He's not sure how he feels about this, though. He feels something, of course. Chiara is a big part of his life and of who he is, but it's like there's a glass wall between them now, one that allows them to see the other but never really touch, never really get close again.

And he knows it's the broken trust.

If there's something precious to Harry is the way he trusts people. It takes a lot for him to open up and give himself to the other - he imagines this happens because of the way Matteo turned him into a paranoid - and Chiara broke this trust so shatteringly it's almost impossible to put it back together.

That doesn't mean he doesn't miss her, after all, before they got together they were friends. And there are few people in this world that Harry can call his true friends.

He sighs. Even with his sunglasses on he has his eyes closed. He tries relaxing. The silence around the Villa is something to cherish.

But it's hard.

He's been avoiding thinking of Hermione. Of London. Of his revenge.

But when he notices he's already there. The first thing on his mind is her. Of course. Then the mess the Ministry was when Harry left. Then the others and what they might be doing.

And there's one question that he's struggling to keep out of his mind. However, the little demon always finds its way back: Am I in love with her?

The list of people that are making this same question to him keeps growing and finally he's opening up a bit to the reality of it. Mostly because he misses her every hour of every day. But his coin is upstairs, at his bedroom. After the third day he realized she wouldn't get in touch and he gave up on taking the coin everywhere.

Not just that but… it gives him a headache to imagine what happened yesterday at Christmas at Riddle Manor. They surely announced their engagement. Harry swallows the lump in his throat. Is that what she really wants? Will she be happy with Pettigrew?

Maybe.

Harry sits on the chaise, taking off his sunglasses and rubbing both hands on his face and hair. He can't be in love with her. He can't. What would that even mean to him? To everything that he worked so hard for?

He shakes his head to himself, making a face. He's been in love before. Twice. Chiara was not his first love. When they were young, their friendship was more important to both and at fourteen Harry fell in love with a classmate. He dated her for a long while, until the end of school. And then when he entered the Auror training, Chiara by his side, both single at the time… it was practically impossible to resist the exploding love and desire between them.

And Hermione.

He would know if he loved her, wouldn't he? Of course I would. It's not love. It can't be love-

He sniffs the air. And frowns. Harry looks around. There's no one there except him. But… Am I crazy? Is Hermione driving him crazy? Because he would bet a kidney that he just smelled her perfume in the air. So strong as if she were right there by his side.

Which would be impossible.

He tilts his head and turns around on the chaise, his eyes searching the grounds.

The smell is gone, but-

"Looking for something?"

He smiles despite himself and turns back around on the chaise. Chiara is there. In a bikini. He narrows his eyes.

Playing dirty.

For a moment he allows himself to observe her tattoos. One of them is a Golden Snitch on her right side, its wings spread open vertically going all the way down her thigh and up her ribs. He lost count of how many times he kissed that Snitch. The other tattoo he can see with her standing in front of him begins on her left shoulder and goes all the way down her arm: it's her Patronus, a bear, standing on its hind legs and bellowing to his enemies.

But there's one more he can't see. One that covers most part of her back. A lion.

"Not for you, I assure."

She laughs. "Amore. You don't have to look for me since you already know where to find me." She winks at him. "Matteo wanted me to give you this." She purrs and gets closer, a piece of paper in her hands that Harry only notices now. He recognizes it immediately.

The Prophet.

His heart beats faster. There are a billion things that would shock him or make him Portkey back to London in a blink, but what he sees at the front page makes him sick to his stomach.

It's a huge picture of Hermione and Pettigrew. They're hugging. Wide smiles on their faces. Then they kiss. A solitary ring shining on her finger. The headline reads: Riddle Heiress to finally tie the knot!

His eyes briefly scan the article below it, but he stops. He doesn't need to read this. And he shouldn't even care.

Harry clears his throat and ignores that knife plunging into his chest.

He looks at Chiara, she's standing bare feet in front of him. He makes a face of confusion. "So?" He says, "Why he wanted me to see this?"

Chiara narrows her eyes. Without saying a word she takes the paper and turns it into ashes with a spell. "There. Who cares about this bitch, right?" She moves closer. "For all I care, London could burst itself into flames with all those Supremacists inside." Her eyes glint. Harry opens a side smile. It's hard to be angry with her. "But what angers me the most is the way that city stole you from me."

He snorts. "You cheated on me, Chiara. No one stole me from you."

She closes her eyes. "Harry. We never got the chance to really talk about what happened that night."

He raises a hand. "I really don't wanna do this."

"Please. You don't have to talk. Just listen to me, please, amore."

Harry gulps. Problem is… he wants to know what she has to say. "Okay, fine." He exhales heavily.

She takes a deep breath. "I was afraid." Chiara wets her lips. "We were about to get married and I panicked. I-" She swallows hard. "You were on that mission, remember?" He nods. "And I missed you so much," She snorts, "So much it was ridiculous. And it hit me how much I leaned on you emotionally. It was hard for me to grasp this. Aside from being the best female Auror this country ever saw, I lead a society for women's rights where I daily tell those broken women how they don't need a man, how they can be their own hero and stuff." She scrunches her face. "I realized I was a lie. Because I didn't want a life without you, I wanted you to be my hero. And the funniest thing, the craziest thing was that… you were. And you loved me so damn much. We loved each other so much that I- I lost it."

He moves, uncomfortable. She summons another chaise to sit in front of him, so close their bare legs touch. And she continues:

"And Carlo appeared that night. When I was at my worst, questioning everything. And you know how he always wanted me-"

"And you simply decided to give him what he wanted." He says bitterly.

"It was not like that." She shakes her head. "We drank a lot and I told him about my insecurities… he took advantage of the moment, said that I deserved way more than just being Harry D'Angelo's wife." Harry looks down at his hands and she takes them in hers. So familiar. "I made a bad decision. I was angry with myself, hating myself." She squeezes his hands. "I had no idea you were going to surprise me." He snorts, shaking his head, but his hands still clasped with hers. "I regretted it immediately, Harry. What happened with us, it wrecked me to the bone."

"Are you saying… you cheated on me because you loved me way too much? Is that it, Chiara? Because, seriously, I shouldn't even be hearing-"

"Noi. Per sempre." ["Us. Forever"]. "That's what we used to say. That our love would be bigger than-"

"But not this. Not this." He tries pulling away and she tugs his hands. She's crying. And Harry notices he is too. "You broke me, Chiara. Completely-"

"Please. Please. Amore. Give me another chance. I can't live without you."

Harry sighs. He doesn't want to give her another chance. He trusted her way too much. And he expected way too much of her. So when she broke this… It was too hard. Too fast… way too much.

He's shaking his head. "No. It's over, Chi."

"No, please. Harry."

And she moves, forcing her way onto his lap, straddling him. It gives him goosebumps. There's too much skin touching. Everywhere. She touches her forehead on his. Harry closes his eyes, silently crying. Her smell invades his senses. She kisses his cheek. Her arms around his neck in a tight embrace, almost hurting.

And he… he hugs her back, his arms around her waist.

He knows Chiara is going to kiss him. And he lets her.

When their lips touch - this time so differently from the day he arrived because he corresponds - he cries harder. He had no idea how much he was holding inside him, all his feelings and anger and hurt. Their tongues meet and she moans softly.

He squeezes her waist, his body reacting naturally to hers.

But when she runs a hand through his hair-

Harry pulls back. "No."

Hermione invades his mind. Her touch, her lips, her laugh, her smell. All of it so different from Chiara's. He grits his teeth. She's getting married, you idiot.

"Who is she?" Chiara asks in a low voice, hurt.

His eyes seek hers. "What?"

"I know you. There's someone else." He shakes his head. "Are you in love with her? Who is she?"

Harry wants to laugh at the fact that Chiara is another person to add to the list of those questioning if he's in love with Hermione.

He tries standing, but Chiara doesn't let him. "Look." She says and he exhales, annoyed, rolling his eyes. "I don't care who she is. You are right. I broke us. I made you go away. But I want to fix this, Harry and I will." The way she looks at him makes him shiver. When Chiara commits herself to something… "Before anything else, I want to properly apologize. I'm sorry about what happened that night. I'm sorry I broke our trust. Sorry I broke us. Can you forgive me?"

"Can you please get off?" He moves his head to the other chaise and she blinks. But goes. Chiara stands and sits back in front of him. He breathes relieved. It's hard thinking with so much skin touching. He waits for her to continue and she brushes her tears away.

"Can you?"

"I don't know. But I do appreciate the fact that you're apologizing."

"I would have done it sooner had you not ignored me for months." He shrugs. She clears her throat. "I won't stop apologizing until the day you find in yourself the will to forgive me. Not just that but I'll do my best to be back in your life, Harry. I don't care what I have to do. I'll write you every day, I'll take a Portkey every day to London, I don't fucking care. Before we were a couple we were friends and, cazzo, I miss my friend." She opens a sincere smile and he smiles with her.

"I miss my friend too." He says in a low voice.

"Good. That's settled, then." She sighs and stands. "Sorry for harassing you." She chuckles. He laughs out loud.

"But what about the fun we're having with all the jinxes and stuff?" He teases.

She opens her mouth, outraged, and smacks his shoulder. "You idiot, I was at the Hospital all day the day before yesterday, the healers couldn't understand why warts kept erupting all over my body." He laughs again.

Chiara shakes her head.

For the first time since he caught her with Carlo he feels a bit lighter. Like a heavy piece of all the anger and sorrow had left him. Harry stands too. And they're pretty close.

He hugs her. She corresponds immediately. "Thank you, for taking care of things here, Chi."

"No problem, amore. Just come back to us as soon as possible, okay?" He closes his eyes. "Non mi piace parlare Inglese." ["I don't like speaking English"]. He chuckles and Chiara steps back. "Ti amo, Harry D'Angelo."

He sets his jaw. He doesn't know how to say these words back to her. But she doesn't look hurt or anything. "Will you be here tomorrow?" He asks.

"Of course."

"We could… play some Quidditch or whatever." He shrugs.

She beams at him. "Are people so bad in London that you wanna lose to me?" She laughs and takes a step away from him. He briefly misses the contact.

She moves to head inside again, but she stops, her eyes on his knee. Harry frowns.

"What?"

Chiara comes to him again, then she circles him and stops behind him, her hands on his left knee then up his ass and then his back. "Why are you concealing it permanently now? Are tattoos a crime in London?" It took her long enough to mention.

He's been hiding it for so long he almost forgot he used to show his enormous tattoo around anywhere he went.

Her hands are still on his back. "I thought it better to cover it up. Tom Riddle is kinda of strict." He mocks the Minister and Chiara snorts.

"It's such a beautiful tattoo. You shouldn't hide it." She gently kisses his shoulder blades and finally moves away. "See you tomorrow?"

He nods. "See you tomorrow."

And he watches while she walks away. The beautiful lion on her back staring at him, roaring. Chiara is such a huge part of his life. He sighs when she's finally out of sight.

Harry lies back on the chaise, fetching his sunglasses and putting them on.

As he looks at the blue sky, his mind doesn't repeat what just happened with Chiara.

No.

He can only think about that picture on the Prophet.

Hermione's smile. Her arms around Pettigrew.

And he hates himself for caring.

December 27th, 2005

D'Angelo Villa

It's raining. Freezing outside. And he hasn't found the will to move from his bed.

Yesterday night they celebrated the election. In a few days they'll know if Matteo is the new Ministro.

And Harry doesn't know what to expect from this. The conversation with his grandfather is overdue and he needs to share a few things and set some boundaries.

But he just lacks the strength to do it.

Harry yawns and stretches on the bed, mumbling to himself. "I'm behaving like Crookshanks." He even misses the damn cat-

"Who's Crookshanks?"

He looks at the bedroom's entrance. Of course Chiara is there, leaning on the wall. Smiling.

"A cat."

"Do you have a cat now? Because you know," She walks further inside, her eyes mischievous. "We always liked dogs better."

"Not my cat."

She sits on the bed, her eyes on his bare torso. "Whose then?"

"Doesn't matter."

She scoffs.

"Fine. Get up!" She claps her hands. "We're meeting everyone!"

He grunts. "I really feel like staying in bed today."

"No fucking way! Get up!" She shamelessly slaps his butt and laughs at his outraged face. "Get ready, I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes." And with a wink she leaves him there.

Harry rolls his eyes, but sits on the bed, rubbing his face. He knows he's like this because of the engagement of hell. He scrunches his whole face. And then decides he needs a distraction. Gathering their friends is the best one he can think of.

So, sighing, he stands to get ready.

Quadrato Magico

He laughs loudly and downs another beer. He missed his friends.

And they're all there. Flavio, - his best friend whose house he crashed on the night he arrived - Mario, Anna, Leonardo, Clara and Chiara.

Harry resisted venturing into the Wizarding community at first because everyone knows who he is, but Chiara insisted and he eventually gave in. And he doesn't regret his decision. Yes, everyone knows him, and yes, he rolls his eyes when he gets those knowing looks, but he can't deny they're having the best time.

He lost count on how many beers he already had and even how long they've been there.

However, not thinking about all his problems and only enjoying some memories, catching up and drinking until he forgets everything is exactly what he needed. And he thanks Chiara for that.

And he missed speaking Italian. He missed it a lot.

He missed the natural freedom wizards have in Italy. Missed the way people are not always looking over their shoulders waiting for a crazy Minister to change his mind whenever he feels like it and maybe condemning your whole family without reason. Not to mention how the fact of having Muggleborns, Half-Bloods and Purebloods living in relative peace makes him dizzy with relief.

They even went into Muggle Rome and enjoyed the city. Harry smoke a few cigarettes and had the best gelato of his life. Even in winter. Who cares?

And as the day went by, he couldn't help noticing how Chiara is getting closer and closer. How her hand is always seeking some part of his body to touch when she laughs, how her eyes seek his constantly, how she wets her lips when doing so.

When he met her at the entrance of the Villa for them to go, she immediately noticed he had lifted the charm on his tattoo. Even wearing his sweater, some ink was visible on both his wrists. And she touched it, mesmerized, with glistening eyes.

He also missed seeing his tattoo. He feels complete with it.

Harry laughs again at the story Mario and Anna - a married couple with two kids - are telling. Apparently having kids is the worst and best decision someone can make and they are just as tired as they're over the moon with their little brats.

Chiara touches him again.

But this time her hand lingers on his forearm. It's been a while since he got rid of his sweater and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, so he can feel the warmth from her palm. Harry gives her a not so friendly side glance. She looks down before retrieving her hand.

He sighs. Chiara looks beautiful. But he can't recall a time when she didn't. The dress she's wearing flatters her very much and he wished he could say his mind didn't wander to the body underneath it. He knows every dimple on her body. Every little imperfection.

He knows all of her. Or maybe he doesn't. He never imagined she would cheat on him.

Harry grits his teeth.

It would be too easy for Chiara to win him back if he opened himself to it, but-

He frowns. And his heart beats faster.

The coin in his pocket. It's as cold as ice. Hermione.

Harry debated whether he should take the coin with him after he got dressed. He stared at it for a whole minute and with a groan he slid it into his pocket…

He stands, using the washroom as excuse. No one bothers questioning him. The only one that narrows her eyes is Chiara.

He finds his way around the wizarding pub and enters the surprisingly empty washroom.

Harry leans on a wall. There's no way of knowing what she's saying, and at the same time that he yearns for it, he dreads it. So, with a shaky breath, he takes the coin:

Can we meet?

Meet? Is she crazy? Has something urgent happened? He answers:

Are you okay?

He frowns. What if she's hurt? What if Pettigrew-

I am

Link your location to the coin

He scoffs at her bossiness. Has she completely lost her mind? She can't be serious… but he realizes he doesn't care. It's a chance of seeing her.

He misses her.

And maybe what she has to say is important. He locks the bathroom and, just as she'd instructed him, he links the location to the coin.

As he waits he questions his decision. He's a little drunk. And all his friends are out there. Chiara is out there-

Hermione pops up in front of him.

Beautiful.

She's wearing black trousers, some boots, a loose cobalt blue blouse and a black overcoat. Her hair down in waves. Her eyes that same chocolate brown he likes so much.

He gulps, straightening his back and pocketing his hands. She looks serious. And her eyes immediately go to his exposed forearms.

She's looking at his tattoo.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" He says, his voice a bit hoarse from all the talking and screaming and laughing he already did today.

Not answering him, she looks around. "A bathroom?" She says. Dio. He missed her voice. "At a pub?" Her head tilts to the side. "Enjoying your time here?"

He frowns. "Well, I am. Why?" He makes a face, he's not understanding. But before she answers, he continues, "What the hell is going on?"

Hermione clicks her tongue. "Didn't know you had a tattoo." It's what she says.

Harry crosses his arms. And then… his eyes fall to her hand. The fucking ring is there. He snorts. "What do you want? I'm here with my friends and I would like to go back to them. So, say whatever you want to so we can be done with it."

If his words hurt her she doesn't show it, instead, Hermione walks slowly to him, their eyes locked.

It only dawns on him what's happening when her mouth is already on his. But immediately, Harry brings her closer by the waist, squeezing, his arms closing around her. And her hands are already there on his hair, on his nape.

Their kiss is absolute bliss.

Hermione pulls back. She has a small smile on her lips. "I just wanted to see you." She says in a whisper, her eyes down. Harry kisses her cheek.

He sighs. "How are things in London?" He asks, still holding her close.

"Good. Calm. Which feels more threatening than anything else." He chuckles and she does too.

"Any success in finding out who killed the Muggle or-"

"No." She shakes her head. "Nothing yet."

She kisses him again, slowly and gently.

When she pulls back, she says, "I should go. Don't wanna keep you from your friends." She tries moving from his embrace but Harry stops her.

"No. Why don't you… stay?" He gulps. He's definitely drunk.

"Harry, I can't, I mean, Hermione Riddle can't be seen here, in Rome. With Harry D'Angelo. Grandson of Matteo D'Angelo and all that stuff." She tries again taking a step back. He holds her closer.

"Disguise yourself. With a charm, whatever." He opens a smile and kisses her, excited. "We could stay here a little longer and then go back to the Villa." She could meet his mother, see the place he grew up in, but then- "But you probably can't, right?" He moves back now, his hand reaching hers, lifting it up between them, showing the ring. "Your fiance is certainly waiting." The words are sour on his mouth and he knows his face shows how utterly disgusted he is by it.

Hermione purses her lips. She opens her mouth, but a voice from outside stops her.

"Amore! Stai bene?" ["Are you okay?"]

Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. Hermione is looking at the closed door, her eyes narrow.

"Tutto bene, Chi! Un minuto!" ["Everything is fine! Just a minute!"]

"Allora, dai! Ti aspettiamo!" ["Come on! We're waiting for you!"]

A few seconds go by and just when he's sure Chiara is gone he turns to Hermione.

And widens his eyes.

She's charming herself, changing her appearance. Blond and short hair, blue eyes, sharper features. If he didn't know she's truly Hermione, he wouldn't recognize her at all, but even so, for him is difficult not to see her underneath all the charm.

She's Hermione, after all.

"So?" She asks after changing her clothes. Harry gulps, his mouth hanging a bit open at the black dress she's now wearing. It's simple, but provocative. Strapless. She laughs and goes to him, her hand on his jaw, closing his mouth. "I'll take that as a compliment." She winks.

He groans unintelligible things and kisses her. His tongue invading her mouth in a desperate way. He pinches her ass and she bites his lip, chuckling.

Hermione moves away and takes his hand in hers, the ring gone. But Harry stops her for a second. "Are you sure?"

She nods and without a second thought, opens the washroom's door and head out into public with their hands clasped together.

Like a real couple.

(...)

Chapter Text

(...)

She nods and without a second thought, opens the washroom's door and head out into public with their hands clasped together.

Like a real couple.

Harry interlaces their fingers, his stomach doing somersaults at the sheer excitement of being with her like this. He can't swipe the smile from his face and Hermione squeezes his hand, opening a just as wide smile to him.

He leads her to their table and the first thing he notices is Chiara's incredulous face. Which she doesn't try to hide. His other friends widen their eyes when they see him.

Harry thinks fast when they stop in front of everyone:

"Guys, this is Angela. We met months ago when I went on that last mission to the States, remember?"

And with a fake accent that Harry wished he could laugh out loud at, Hermione says, "Crazy we bumped into each other here, right? I'm on a mission," She winks at the others, "But I guess I have a few hours to spare and Harry kindly invited me to join you."

Flavio is the first to raise his glass to her and move to find her a seat. Hermione smiles in thanks. Harry is grateful that they all kinda of speak English. Not like him and Chiara, but they understand and speak enough to have a conversation with Hermione.

Harry moves to sit back by Chiara's side, but Hermione discreetly tugs his hand and takes the seat on purpose, putting herself between Harry and his former fiancee. It doesn't go unnoticed, not to him or Hermione, how Chiara sneers and sourly takes her glass from the table to occupy her mouth. Harry is sure she has more than a few words in mind directed to Hermione/Angela.

After Harry made all the introductions they fell into a nice conversation.

Hermione asks them questions and answers whatever they want to know with ease, having no problem at all in pretending to be Angela, the American Auror.

And he's totally fascinated by her. Mesmerized at the way she talks. At the way she laughs. How she drinks her beer. How she teases the others. How that same wrinkle appears between her brows when she's thinking.

He can't be sure, but at one point he got closer to her, his seat almost moving on its own. And she settled her hand on his thigh, so casually that it would seem she'd done it a thousand times before. He didn't react and she left her hand there, squeezing him occasionally. And he moved accordingly, his arm going around her shoulders and pulling her even closer to him.

Now, Hermione turns her head, giving him all her attention, their faces close. Harry kisses her cheek with tenderness, his hand squeezing her shoulder.

She closes her eyes and then she's fully kissing him.

On the lips.

In front of everyone.

Not giving a damn.

It's not a sensual kiss, but not one that can be considered chaste either.

Harry has a hard time dealing with it. His heart healing itself inside his chest, that knife being plucked by Hermione herself - even if only for a night.

She brushes her nose on his and he smiles, grazing his lips on hers.

He wants to get out of there. Be alone with her. And she gives him a look that says exactly the same-

An abrupt movement breaks their eye contact and both look simultaneously at Chiara who's standing from her seat with exaggerated aggressiveness.

In Italian, Chiara says her goodbyes to the others and then she turns to Harry and Hermione, leaning a bit closer to them.

She opens a dangerous smile. "Harry. See you tomorrow?" He nods against his will. She'll be at the Villa regardless his wishes. Then she looks at Hermione with sharp eyes. Hermione doesn't even flinch, not minding Chiara one bit. "He's an excellent kisser, isn't he?" She tilts her head to the side. Hermione sets her jaw. "I sure know about it. But let me tell you something, Angela." She leans even closer, her face inches from Hermione's. The others are so drunk they don't give the exchange much attention. But Harry is squeezing Hermione's shoulder, wanting to keep her away from Chiara. "A kiss is just a kiss, but love," Chiara looks at Harry, "our love is irreplaceable." She opens another smile. "Ti amo, Harry D'Angelo." Harry inhales sharply.

And then she walks away, not looking back.

Hermione clicks her tongue when Chiara is already out the door. "Lovely ex." She says with a tone of mockery, sipping on her beer and hiding her smile.

Harry chuckles. "She'll move on eventually." He shrugs.

"And have you?" Hermione asks. "Moved on?"

He gulps, his eyes darting down and then back up at hers. "In a way." He says.

She bites her lower lip. A question in her eyes. One Harry is not quite sure what it means. But he doesn't want to think about it now, so, standing and taking her hand, he hugs his friends goodbye. Hermione does the same, smiling and saying it was a pleasure meeting them all.

Harry doesn't even mind to put his sweater back on, only holding it in his hand, the other one clasped to Hermione's, he leads her out into the freezing night.

But the cold merely bothers him. No. He feels warm. And alive. And burning for her, because of her.

Turning on his heels in the middle of the street, he pulls her by the nape and kisses her. Hermione corresponds immediately, her arms around him keeping them pretty close.

When he pulls back, he says, "Do you need to leave?" Harry doesn't even try to hide the pleading tone. He wished she could stay. And he prepares himself to hear that she does need to leave, but-

"I'll stay if you want me to."

He kisses her hard.

And then he apparates them. Directly inside the Villa, at the majestic entrance and foyer.

They're still holding onto each other when they hear a voice calling, "Harry! Sei tu?" ["Is that you?"].

It's his mother.

He smiles to Hermione. She tilts her head. "In here!" He calls out.

Bianca comes from a living room, and she halts when she sees Hermione, her eyes narrowing. "Didn't know you were with someone!" She says, smiling and walking to them, her arms already open to greet Hermione. "Hello, dear." Harry can see the way Hermione hesitates at the hug. "I'm Bianca Donatto, Harry's mother."

Hermione opens her mouth but Harry is faster, "Mom, this is Angela Smith, an American Auror."

"Is that so?" She says.

"Yes, it's a pleasure, Mrs Donatto-"

"Please, Bianca. I hate such formalities." She smiles and Hermione smiles back. Harry sees his mother hesitating…

"What?" He asks.

Bianca shakes her head. "It's just… was Chiara with you? Your grandfather wanted to talk to her but couldn't find her."

"She was at the pub." He says simply, "But I think she went home. I'm sure she'll be here tomorrow."

"Of course." Bianca says. And for the first time Harry notices she's finely dressed, with jewels and-

"Were you somewhere?" He asks.

"Actually, I'm heading out now." She winks at him. "With your father, we have an Opera to attend to and then there's a gathering at the Continis'." Harry rolls his eyes.

"But they're so boring. Will you survive the night?" He mocks her.

Bianca laughs out loud. "Be nice, Harry." She turns to Hermione. "Angela, feel at home, okay? And don't indulge too much into his crazy ideas."

Hermione chuckles. "Thank you. I won't."

Sighing, his mother says, "Okay, I'm going." She embraces Hermione again and then kisses Harry's cheeks. "I'm glad you're home." She says to him in a loving tone.

"I'm glad to be here." He smiles.

Then Bianca is already walking out towards the garage. Marcello is probably there waiting for her. Hermione is giving Harry a strange look. He tilts his head.

"A car? When they can just apparate?" She asks honestly.

Harry laughs and puts one arm around her shoulders, she puts her own around his waist. Harry starts guiding her through the place. "It's not just a car, it's a Ferrari." She gives him a look that shows she still thinks it's stupid to take a car, regardless. "Things work like this around here." He shrugs. "Maybe a bit like that book you took... there are some Muggle things and ideas that we incorporate into our lives. Most are very helpful. But in this case they just enjoy driving the car around Rome's chaotic traffic." He chuckles.

She doesn't reply and Hermione stays silent while he shows her around the many living rooms, dinning rooms, the kitchen, his mother's small study and the grounds around the house.

He halts when they reach the ballroom. It's not as big as the one in Riddle Manor, but it's more welcoming. All lights are out but it's not dark, at all, on the contrary, with the massive windows without curtains, the natural moonlight is invading the place, making it more cozy, more intimate. Harry takes her hand, walking to the middle of it.

He stops and she raises an eyebrow. Then Harry lifts the charm she put on herself. He wants to look at her and he's sure no one will see them there. Hermione doesn't mind when he does it. He smiles at the sight of her warm eyes and brown hair.

"Dance with me?" He asks.

She opens a slow smile. "There's no music."

"I don't think we need it."

And with a familiar movement of his hands, his Patronus appears right behind him. Hermione purses her lips, her eyes bright. He can see she'll deny his request, but the lion approaches her and she gives the animal her attention.

The lion sits in front of her on its hind legs. Harry holds his breath. For a whole minute there's only silence inside the room.

Silence and Hermione and his Patronus staring at each other.

She finally lifts her hand towards the lion and just when she's about to touch it, the lion bows its head to her.

Harry gasps. The king of the jungle never bows. To no one.

Hermione's eyes dart to Harry's, wide, surprised. The lion is not his real Patronus, but he has no doubt that if the real one were there, it would do exactly the same.

It would bow to her.

And he knows what it means. He knows. He tried denying it, but certain things are just obvious, yet his brain refused to accept.

"What does this mean?" Hermione asks, her hand resting on the lion's mane.

His heart is pounding. Each Patronus behaves accordingly with its person, so there's no way of her knowing what the lion's attitude means because it could be anything.

Only Harry knows.

Because the Patronus is part of him. It's his soul.

It means that I love you. That I'm in love with you. Completely at your feet. At your mercy.

He grits his teeth, not even startled by the realization.

He saw it coming.

It grew silently inside him. It grew each time they talked. Each time he looked at her and felt that warmth inside him when she laughed. It grew when she defended him, took care of him, protected him, saved him, stood by him. It grew each time they touched, each time they kissed, each time she cried in his arms, each time they fell asleep holding each other, each time they made love, each time he missed her, each time he felt jealous.

And he'd known for a while now. Harry was just fighting with himself.

"I think it likes you." It's what he says as naturally as possible.

"Yeah?" She asks with narrowed eyes. "He seems ready to obey me." She mocks him.

Harry chuckles. "Who knows?"

Taking a deep breath Hermione moves back and in a swift movement her Patronus is also there. Harry observes the snake slithering towards the lion, Hermione seems to be holding her breath, herself not sure what's going to happen.

To Harry's mortification, his lion lies back, its belly exposed - like a dog - waiting for the snake. And the serpent stops before him, hissing, then, what unfolds is pretty unbelievable.

Hermione opens her mouth, her eyes wider than Harry's when the serpent wraps itself around the lion in what is clearly a caress. The lion purrs. Harry clicks his tongue. The snake is just as comfortable as the lion, both understanding each other easily in a tangle of their own.

Harry is mesmerized by it. He never saw something so… strangely intimate. Hermione also can't take her eyes from the Patronus.

Harry blinks. "That's… unexpected." It's not quite the word, but… He turns to her, taking her hand. Hermione finally looks at him. There's something different in her eyes, in her features, in the way she looks at him. Almost like a certainty. Harry tries not frowning. "Dance with me." He says again.

Without a word, without much a second thought, she goes to his arms.

It's not a waltz, not the Traditional. It's their own dance while they sway together gently, his hands on her waist, hers on his nape, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed. He feels her hot breath on his face, her warmth under his touch.

There's nowhere else he'd rather be.

He starts humming a beat, something from his heart, a lullaby Lily used to sing to him. One he saw once in a memory. And she follows the rhythm, their bodies understanding each other naturally. Harry pulls back to look at her, beaming. She caresses his cheek and he twirls her in place twice. Hermione lets out a laugh. His heart swells and he pulls her closer again. This time he embraces her fully, lowering his head and kissing her shoulder while they sway.

The words are there, - I love you - the feeling burning inside him.

He tries not thinking about the fact that she's engaged. Or the fact that she's Hermione Riddle.

No.

He shoves it all inside him.

What he really wants to think about is how close they are, how good they feel with each other, how amazing it is to hold her.

He's just a man in love with a woman.

He gulps and twirls her again. Her eyes are bright, the moonlight invading the ballroom giving them a new kind of shade. Harry decides moving around the ballroom, now waltzing. And just exactly like they did that night when they had no idea what was about to happen, they move fluidly.

Beautifully.

In Harmony.

Hermione has no trouble in following his lead and their eyes never leave each other's. Could it be that she feels the same for him? Could they be in love together? What would happen if he said the words to her? If he opened his heart? If he told her everything?

Would she reject him? Would she arrest him immediately? Would she feel used? Turn her back on him? Forget everything they've been through in a blink? Does she really, truly loves Pettigrew? Wants to be his wife?

Because if that's the case… there's nothing Harry can do, only wish her happiness. All the happiness in the whole world.

Harry comes to a halt, pursing his lips. She makes him look at her. There's pain in her eyes. Sorrow. He sets his jaw. She seems to be answering all his questions.

This is temporary.

They can't be. Never.

Harry brings her hands to his lips and kisses both with such tenderness that's almost heartbreaking. Hermione lets out a little sob.

"You're the best dance partner I ever had." He says in a low voice.

Her chin trembles, but her voice is firm. "You're not bad yourself." She goes for a joke and he opens a tiny smile.

There's some awkwardness in the air. In a way he feels rejected.

But if she can't say certain things, her Patronus does it for her.

Harry goes completely still when the serpent wraps itself on his leg, coming up his body.

Hermione is utterly shocked.

The serpent keeps going until it reaches his torso. Even if it's just a Patronus, he can feel its weight, its cold body. He swallows hard, his eyes darting to Hermione's. She's frozen in place, transfixed by the way the serpent keeps wrapping itself around him. His lion is now besides Hermione, pressing its head against her palm, wanting to be petted.

Harry clicks his tongue when the snake comes extremely close to his head. But differently from that first time, it doesn't act menacing at all. It's… like a caress. And when he understands this, he puts one hand on its body. The snake hisses. Pleased. Then it settles itself on his arm, around it in a gentle squeeze.

He has no words to describe the sensation.

"What does this mean?" He asks Hermione the same way she asked him.

"I think it likes you." She gives him the same answer he gave her.

His lion is still there, Hermione's hand fisted into its mane.

In a mutual, non verbal understanding they extinguish their Patronus together.

And on the same breath they clash.

The kiss is desperate. Much like the one they shared right after the Traditional when they first fucked. Teeth and tongues everywhere and moans that sound almost angry. She tugs at his hair, biting his bottom lip.

"I wanna see your room." She says in a husky voice, between kisses.

Harry apparates them directly into the room. It's enormous. Almost like a house itself since it takes most part of the third floor. But Hermione doesn't even notice it. She's already unbuttoning his shirt. Harry grunts, helping her, his lips on hers.

She reaches the last button and pushes the shirt off of his shoulders eagerly. When the shirt is on the floor, she kisses his neck, her nails scrapping his skin. Biting him, Hermione moans, her tongue going over the mark of her own teeth on him. Harry squeezes her ass to a point that he's sure will bruise.

Suddenly Hermione takes a step back. He blinks, calming down his heart, his tongue going over his lower lip as he watches her.

Her gaze is intense and when she starts unzipping her dress at the side he understands she's stripping down for him. He groans at the back of his throat. And watches. Hermione moves slowly, teasing him and enjoying the way he seems to be at a loss of words or action, transfixed.

With that lovely devious smile she finishes unzipping it, but stops, not taking the dress off immediately. "Your turn." She says, holding the dress on her body.

Harry chuckles. Even at his horniest he can still laugh with her. Naturally. Instinctively.

And he concedes to her wish, his hand on his belt. Following her cue, he unbuckles it slowly, his muscles taut and his hands moving with expertise. He can see the way she's watching him, impressed by how much this is turning her on. But even so, her eyes keep going back to his tattoo. Without the shirt she can see more of it on his arms.

Harry throws his belt at her feet and raises his eyebrows.

She moves out of her dress. Harry exhales heavily, putting a hand over his heart. She's wearing only a black lacy panties that shows almost everything. And her boots. Then she throws the dress at his face, laughing.

Next, he takes off his shoes and socks and waits.

"A bit unfair." She says.

"Life isn't fair." He shrugs.

She moves with grace to take off her own boots and he restrains himself from closing the gap between them and carrying her to the bed. But he stays put, patient. When she's finally bare feet, she points at his trousers, her wish clear.

Again, slowly, he unzips his trousers and takes it off smoothly. Even if the only illumination inside the room is the moonlight, he can see her eyes darkening with desire at the sight of his white boxers, his arousal evident.

Hermione looks around the place for the first time, not really seeing anything, but looking for- She lits up the fireplace with a spell. The warmth and the light are both welcome and now he can see her perfectly. Harry takes a step in her direction-

"I wanna see your tattoo." She says in that bossy tone of hers.

"Do you like tattoos?" He asks with narrowed eyes.

"I do." Hermione gulps and he doesn't understand why she looks so nervous.

Having no reason at all to hide his tattoo from her, he winks. "I need to get rid of this then." And in one move he takes off his underwear and toss it aimlessly behind his back. Hermione presses her thighs together at the sight of him, and he wants to take her immediately, but there's a look on her face that tells him the tattoo is more important at the moment.

So, he extends his hand to her and she takes it, invading his personal space. They share a promising kiss, their bodies touching everywhere, shivering and aware of the other.

And with one intense look, he turns on his heels for her to see the full tattoo.

It's a majestic colorless phoenix.

Its feathery tail begins at the back of his left knee, coming up to the side of his thigh, thickening at a point that when it reaches his butt, there are many more feathers, the tattoo getting bigger and more detailed until it reaches the middle of his back where its head shows itself big and imposing, its beak open in a clear roar of rage and strength. Rebirth. There are hints of ash and fire around it and the movement is so well designed that it looks like the mythical animal is about to fly. Not accidentally, its wings spread across Harry's back, taking over his shoulder blades and going all the way to his wrists. He opens his arms for her to see it better.

It's almost like he's the phoenix himself.

Hermione gasps, her fingertips gently going over the tattoo with what Harry would describe as admiration. From his knee to his thigh, to his butt, then his back, his arms.

"So?" He asks after a long while, impressed by how much she seems enthralled by the tattoo.

"It's amazing. A work of art." She says sincerely, her voice low, her fingers still roaming over the details.

"It's a technique the Italians invented. It uses the Muggle concept and way of marking the skin mixed with a spell that allows the ink to have a glow of its own. I mean, I had this done when I was eighteen. It still looks like freshly made."

"I know."

He frowns. And finally turns back to look at her. There's a look on her face that- "What do you mean, you know?"

Hermione swallows hard and takes his left hand in hers. The tingle comes to life and they hold their breaths. "It's hard to explain."

And with that, she murmurs a revealing spell.

Harry's mouth hangs open, his brain stopping for a second.

Hermione has a tattoo.

Also a phoenix.

Not exactly like his. Smaller, on her right side, all the way from her ribs to her ankle and, different from his, the phoenix on her skin has its wings closed, its eyes menacing and its beak shut.

But it's powerful the same. Stunning.

He blinks. There are no words capable of describing how much this surprises him. "I got it when I was nineteen. No one knows about it. No one." She whispers the last words.

Harry gulps. Then he finally moves, his fingertips now tracing the patterns on her skin all the way down her leg where its tail and feathers end. He knows pretty well why he got his tattoo, what the phoenix means for him, but what about her?

"Do you like phoenixes?" He asks, his voice is barely there, his fingers caressing her skin, reaching her panties now.

"I have… a fascination with them. Call it an affinity."

He bites his lower lip. And starts to push down her underwear. She moves to help him and soon Harry discards it on the floor.

"It's just as beautiful as you." He stops in front of her, their eyes locked. His hands seek her nape and Harry touches their foreheads, closing his eyes. "This isn't just a coincidence, is it?" He whispers.

Hermione kisses him.

"I don't think so." She answers.

"What does it mean, then?"

Hermione shakes her head and closes her eyes and when she opens them it's clear that she doesn't want to talk about this. Not now. Maybe not ever. But there's another feeling written all over her face. Desire. Nothing more.

Harry gets the cue and seizes her in his arms, one under her knees, the other on her back. She's serious, but she leans to kiss his shoulder and neck, holding tight to him. He walks to the bed slowly, nuzzling her.

And with his heart breaking and beating insanely fast at the same time - because he knows how precious this moment is - he lays her down on the bed. He thinks it's impossible for him to tire of looking at her, of admiring her.

And he has no intention in ending this fast.

So, he hovers above her like a predator watching his prey, holding her gaze and seeing her nervous anticipation imagining what he's about to do. When it comes to sex, Hermione is pretty dominant like she is in most aspects of her life, but there are times when she gives herself completely to him. And on these times, her attitude breaks him entirely. For a woman like her to surrender like this in her most intimate moment is something that calls to a primal instinct inside Harry. He feels powerful. He feels whole. Worthy.

They share a kiss, slow and provocative. And when they separate, he rubs his cheek against hers, a caress. A way of telling her things he can't say. Things he won't dare pronounce out loud. She holds him by the nape, corresponding the gesture, gently. Could she be saying the same things he is?

Harry kisses her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her cleavage, her breasts. And already knowing what makes her squirm, he licks her nipple, one of his hands squeezing the other. She inhales sharply, whimpering under him. She's burning hot under his touch, her skin covered in shivers of desire. He gently nibbles her hard nipple, his teeth grazing but not bruising, kissing right after. She lets out a breathy moan.

Leaving a trail of wet kisses across her stomach and still with one hand pinching her other nipple, he moves to kiss her tattoo. Gently at the ribs. Hermione lets out a strangled sound. He goes down, licking the ink, nuzzling her, feeling her flesh writhe under him. For him.

"Harry." She moans his name in a obscene way, her hands finding his hair, disheveling him, begging for more.

He swallows hard, still kissing her tattoo, still nuzzling her. Lost in the moment. "I love your smell." He doesn't stop his kisses, but he feels the hesitation in her. He used a word they never did. "I love your body." He keeps going down, now kissing and licking her hip bone, the feathers of the majestic phoenix. "I love the way you say my name." He can't stop. "I love how I know exactly how to make you scream." He's at her thigh now, biting a bit more roughly. "I love how you boss me around." He kisses her inner thigh and she lets out a faint chuckle. He can't look at her eyes, not now, afraid what he might see in them. "I love how you're always wet for me." He reaches her sex and she opens her legs slightly. Harry kisses her hot entrance, both his hands holding her by the hips, squeezing her. She's indeed very ready for him. Throbbing. "I love going down on you."

And he licks her. His tongue ravishing her, tasting her. Hermione lets out a few moans, her hands squeezing the sheets. And after a while he starts sucking hard on her clit. She actually screams when he does it and pinches her nipple. And he loses himself in her. In this. In how much he wants her.

After a while Harry can tell she's about to come, but mustering all his self control, he stops, moving away.

She whimpers, groaning in frustration, her eyes seeking his. Harry averts his and stops her hand that goes to her clit in an attempt to find some release. He pins both her arms above her head, their faces at the same level now, his body on hers. She presses her lips together, desperate.

And he provokes her.

Harry moves his hips, his cock sliding across her sex in a maddening way. They moan in unison, kissing sloppily. He keeps moving and finally releases her arms. Hermione immediately hugs him, her legs moving too, caging him into her.

"What else?" She asks between kisses, panting. "What else do you love?"

He goes still. She tugs his hair. They share a look. "I love your eyes." He says and Hermione purses her lips. "I love your mouth, these sinful lips capable of driving me crazy." He kisses her. "But not just that, I love the way they smile when you're happy." She closes her eyes and he sees her swallowing hard. He rocks his hips again, slower. "I love when you're thinking about something and a tiny wrinkle appears between your brows." He kisses the exact place he's referring to. She digs her nails into his shoulder blades. "I love your neck and your jaw, even when it's set into an angry face." She chuckles. "I love your hair." He nuzzles it.

Then he touches her forehead with his. There's a silence between them. But one that speaks volumes. Harry knows what he's saying in this silence - I love you. However, he can't be sure of what hers means. There are some tears rolling down her cheek and Harry kisses them, his hips still provoking her.

"I want you, Harry. I need you." She says in a shaky voice, broken. He shivers all over.

"You have me." He says with a certainty that surprises him a bit.

Her eyes widen.

But he doesn't give her much time to think about what he just said, and grunting, he enters her. It takes them seconds to start moving in a hard pace. They're both eager for this. Wanting and yearning. And Harry slams himself in and out of her to the hilt, then with his hands, he rearranges her hips to hit a spot he knows will make her scream.

And she does. She screams his name in a sensual way. Harry rocks his hips, slowing down and then picking up the pace again.

He feels feral.

Harry kisses her, then bites her neck, her shoulder, her lips. She meets his hunger with the same intensity, both frenetic, reaching a point of total abandon.

They're reaching their orgasm pretty fast, Harry can feel it building inside him, his body very aware of hers. Hermione is also breathing extremely hard, her muscles tightening.

Hermione comes first and he follows. They kiss while they ride on their bliss. It's powerful and so good it's heartbreaking.

Harry holds her, his arms embracing her, molding them together.

Hermione keeps him atop of hers, his face on her breasts. She kisses his head, their bodies sweaty, their breathings calming down along with their hearts. He can hear hers. It beats fast. Steady. He spread gentle kisses on her breasts, sighing.

After a while he finally rolls to the side not to crush her. And he immediately misses the contact. She seems to feel the same because her hand searches his. And…

The tingle again. Stronger. Harry feels a current of magic flowing into him. He looks at Hermione. Her mouth is hanging open. She blinks a few times. With one look Harry knows she felt it too.

"We need to find out what this means." She says in a whisper.

Harry exhales heavily. With a wave of his hand he cleans them, freshening up the sheets. Then, he brings her to him and settles comfortably on one of the pillows. They relax in an embrace, a position they're already familiar with. His fingers caressing her arm, her hand on his chest, above his heart, one of her legs above his.

"Do we?" He asks faintly. "Maybe it's nothing. And to be honest I don't even know where to start searching for answers."

"But aren't you curious? This isn't normal, Harry."

"What do we really know about magic? Maybe it is."

She snorts. "You know it isn't."

He makes a face. "Fine. We can try figuring out what it means."

"Don't sound so excited." She mocks him and he chuckles.

"Are you… sleeping here?" He's angry he has to ask. And even angrier that he fears the answer.

"Until you fall asleep." She says in a low voice.

"Then I won't."

Hermione chuckles.

A silence follows.

She sighs. Then says, "I wasn't honest with you earlier." He frowns. She continues, "I sent you the message because I wanted to talk about Lestrange. I know for sure where he is. I went there to spy a bit. He's alive."

Harry freezes at that, not sure of what to say.

Hermione keeps talking, "But when I saw you, I- I just wanted to be with you." She looks up at him. "And I'm glad I did."

He opens a smile. "I loved our night together." He whispers. Now that he opened the dam, the word seems to be at the tip of his tongue.

"Me too."

She moves up, seeking his lips.

"I want to go see Lestrange as soon as possible." He says when they separate. "Maybe he knows where the others are and whoever killed Karkaroff can't get to him before we do." He knows they won't, but Harry needs to pretend in front of her, so…

"Okay. Do you wanna go tomorrow?"

He nods, biting the insides of his cheeks, thinking. "Sounds good."

"I'll send you the location directly through the coin so we can meet there, okay?"

"Okay."

He brings her impossibly closer. Hermione nuzzles his neck, her lips finding his earlobe. "And how are things here? With Chiara and your grandfather?" She asks casually but he feels an edge at her tone.

"Well, better than I expected. I had a… necessary conversation with Chiara and regardless what happened, we're friends so we'll try to stay at peace."

Hermione raises her brows, pursing her lips. "She said she loves you. It didn't seem she meant as friends."

"She wants me back." He clicks his tongue. "But I can't. She broke our trust. She broke everything between us. I can't go back to the way things were before." He looks at Hermione. He wants to say that he loves someone else. Wants to say that he loves her. But- "And with my grandfather things are… as expected. We barely talk and when we do, we try not arguing."

"Is he sure about winning?"

"He is. He will." Harry says. "But I don't think he'll interfere in London." It's his sincere opinion, but there's no way of being sure.

Hermione sighs. "Let's wait and see."

And even if he tries fighting it, after a few more kisses and caresses, sleep starts to take over Harry. It hurts him to know that he'll wake up and she'll be gone, but at least he gets to see her tomorrow.

Her and Lestrange.

(...)

Chapter Text

(...)

December 28th, 2005

Southern France

He expected anything, but not the top of a mountain. And snow. A lot of snow. He utters a heating spell, searching for Hermione.

It takes her a few seconds to appear and when she does, he smiles in greeting. She doesn't, though. Harry frowns, walking to her.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

He missed her this morning.

Harry had a hard time waking up and he still feels a bit sleepy even after hours out of bed. Maybe he drank a bit too much, maybe what he shared with Hermione was so intense it made him want to curl up into a ball and stay in bed.

And differently from what he thought, Chiara didn't go after him. He knew she was there at the Villa, but she stayed out of his way, maybe not wanting to have an unpleasant surprise if Angela was still with him.

Hermione nods at his question. "Yeah, just a bit tired."

But he narrows his eyes. There's something off. He takes a step closer, his hand on her cheek. "What's wrong?"

She opens a tight smile. "Nothing. I just had a hard time explaining myself to Asmo."

His hand drops immediately at the mention of this stronzo. Hermione flinches at the way he takes a step back and crosses his arms. "So, which house?" He asks, looking down from the top of the mountain to a little Wizarding Village where he can see a few houses.

"That one." Hermione points out to the furthest one. It's small and ugly, as if it doesn't want anyone approaching it, which is probably right.

"Let's go, then."

He's already moving when he feels her hand on his arm. He looks back at her. "We're going to interrogate him, not torture him for answers." She states.

Harry purses his lips. "Of course."

If what Sirius and the others said is true, Lestrange probably won't remember much about what happened, but he hopes they're able to get from him where the other Aurors are hiding. Harry wants to confront all of them.

"Charm yourself." She says in a low voice, her eyes avoiding his.

For a brief moment he wonders if she's acting strange because he crossed another line when he told her what he loved about her. At the heat of the moment she got carried away, but maybe now, after seeing her fiance and such, she feels awkward about it. Maybe she even pities me.

He doesn't like the thought. He doesn't want her pity. Not now, not ever.

Gulping, he uses a spell to mask his face and in a second they apparate closer to the house. Harry hears Hermione murmuring a concealing spell around them and slowly they approach the back of the house, their eyes searching the surroundings.

The sun is setting and darkness is taking over. There's no wind and it's pretty quiet around.

"Wards?" Harry asks when Hermione raises one hand to stop him from approaching any further. She nods and before he can even detect the wards she's already tearing at them.

"The moment they're down, we apparate inside." She says.

Harry waits, one heartbeat, two. He can tell when the wards are gone and immediately they apparate.

He barely has time to think.

A spell is coming his way and it's Hermione who deflects it. Harry sets his jaw, acting on instinct and trying to stun the man at the other side of the living room.

It all happens pretty fast and in a strange, yet imposing, silence. Lestrange is a trained Auror and even if they caught him by surprise, the man gives them a hard time in being subdued. Instinctively, Harry and Hermione circle the man, spells flying everywhere-

Until Harry loses any coherent thought when Lestrange directs an Avada Kedrava towards Hermione.

Grunting and with an overwhelming rage, Harry sends spell after spell towards Lestrange, barely letting the man breathe. And that's when he finally finds a way of taking Lestrange's wand, immediately petrifying and strapping him to a chair.

All in one swift move.

Hermione stops by his side. Her eyes wide. Impressed.

But Harry wants to know if she's okay. If she's in one piece- she only nods curtly before he even asks something.

"Who are you? What do you want? You'll pay for this, you'll-"

Hermione gags Lestrange with a flick of her wrist. Then she turns to the man, her eyes finally leaving Harry's. For a while she stays there, looking at Lestrange… making him uncomfortable.

"Tell us about the Potters' Persecution." Her tone is firm, secure, her voice a bit altered in order not to be recognizable.

She lifts the gag and Lestrange curses. Then he calls her a whore and Harry takes two steps and slaps the man's face so hard the sound echoes through the living room. Harry is practically hissing.

"Answer us." He says, close to Lestrange in a menacing posture.

Hermione doesn't move behind him, instead she crosses her arms and watches the scene.

Lestrange finally zooms in on Harry. The man is old and ugly, his face scarred from the years, his beard unkempt and dirty. Not to mention the way he stinks.

Just because he can and because it'll satisfy him, Harry slaps Lestrange again. Hard.

"There's nothing I can tell you!" He spits some blood on the floor. "I had my memory erased and-"

"I don't believe you!" Harry takes another step closer, ready to strike again. "No one has their memory erased and remembers it. So, you must know something."

Lestrange snarls, noticing how he gave himself away. Harry slaps him again. This time Hermione comes to his side, though, her hand on his arm, clearly a warning to stop.

Finally the man laughs hysterically. "I knew this day would come. I knew it. I told Tom. I said someone would discover what we did." He keeps laughing.

Harry grits his teeth. "What do you mean? What you did?"

"It's hazy. The memory of that night. But the whole Persecution was a scam."

Harry takes a step back. Shocked. His heart is beating extremely fast.

"Explain." Hermione demands. Lestrange makes a face at her, clearly not satisfied to be in this situation, at the mercy of a woman.

"Since the start Riddle knew where the Potters were. All the way. But he wanted to make a show out of everything, wanted to create an enemy for the people to support him, to portray the Potters as criminals, for their murders to be accepted. Of course they never posed a threat to society. Why would they?"

Harry is barely breathing. And he can't find his voice.

"How he knew from the start? Their location?" Hermione asks.

Lestrange gives her a nasty look. "What if you sit on my lap and maybe I can give you-"

Harry strikes him so hard his own hand throbs. And this time Lestrange grunts in pain, spitting more blood.

"If you even look at her again I'll kill you." Harry says silently.

And he must sound as mad as he feels because Lestrange gulps, nodding.

"Answer the question." Hermione says in a neutral voice.

Lowering his eyes, Lestrange says, "When James Potter was interrogated, Riddle placed a permanent tracking spell on him. He already imagined Potter would flee. And then he pretended not to know where they were to test his friends' loyalty."

Harry swallows hard. "Which friend betrayed the Potters?"

"In the end it was Pettigrew. He wanted to side with Riddle."

Hermione looks at Harry briefly and he purses his lips. He already knew. Sirius told him. Asmodeus also said the same thing on that first day. Hermione herself thought it had been Peter. But to hear from one of the Aurors-

Suddenly he feels blind. This man. This nasty man in front of him was there that night. If he didn't kill his parents himself, he helped, he watched and did nothing to stop.

With all his self control, Harry asks in a low voice, "What happened that Halloween night?"

"I don't remember." Lestrange shakes his head.

Harry punches him now. "Maybe I can help you remember-"

Hermione pulls him back and with a wave of her hand she puts a silencing spell around both. "You're crossing a line." She says firmly.

He narrows his eyes at her. "You can't be serious."

"I am." She holds his gaze. "I also want answers. But I don't think you hitting him to a pulp will do you any good." She gives him a pointed look. "I'll use Legilimency."

Harry crosses his arms and says nothing. He only watches while Hermione turns back to Lestrange and prepares herself to invade the man's mind. He gets what she means by crossing a line. But he can't let this go. Lestrange is right there in front of him. One of the Aurors who he's been searching practically all his life.

Harry wants to make him suffer. Wants to give him a slow death.

And that's when he already knows he'll come back later without her to end this. He'll be the one writing Iustitia on the wall this time. For his parents.

Hermione is breathing hard in a clear effort while she tries invading Lestrange's mind.

With a low groan she pulls back, shaking her head, two fingers against her temple. Harry holds her by the arm, worried.

He puts the silencing spell around them for her to talk. "Someone erased his memory from that night." She says. "From the Persecution the only thing he knows he already told us. The whole operation was a lie. They never went out on the field to search for the Potters." She presses her lips together. "And he hasn't seen or heard about the other Aurors since the end of the Persecution."

Harry sets his jaw, looking at Lestrange. The man is crying. Hermione probably invaded his mind with brutality and it will take a while for him to recover.

But this can't be. It's not possible. He wants answers. He needs them.

Hermione squeezes his arm and his attention goes to her. "We should go. There's nothing else to learn here." She looks exhausted.

And just because it's her, he nods. But this isn't over. Far from it.

Not minding in untying Lestrange or even looking at him a second time, Harry embraces her and apparates both back to the top of the mountain.

Hermione sighs. Harry still has his arms around her in a protective way. And for a while they say nothing.

He's the one who finally moves and with one hand cups her face. Hermione looks at him and Harry doesn't even think when he kisses her, their lips coming together gently. There's a need for her inside him. A need he's not sure he'll be able to ignore from now on.

Not now that he accepted his feelings. Not now that he knows and understands how much he loves her.

She pulls away slightly, her face still close to his. "I should go." Her voice is strained and that same pain swims in her eyes. Harry gulps.

"I missed you this morning." He says.

She doesn't react. "I have something to tell you."

He sets his jaw. The last time she said these same words she communicated she was engaged. But this time it's another thing entirely.

"I broke into my father's office at the Ministry. I have the file concerning the Persecution."

Harry stops breathing. "And?"

"I know where the other Aurors are." She looks down and takes a step from him. "We'll go to them together." He nods.

"What else did you discover? Something worth mentioning?"

"There isn't a report on what happened that night." She exhales heavily. "It's the biggest mystery and I imagine the only way we'll discover what happened is finding an Auror that didn't have his memory erased."

Harry crosses his arms, sighing. "Do you…" He wets his lips. "Do you have James Potter's interrogation?"

"I do." She looks beyond, into the sky. "I'll give it to you when you get back to London. And then we'll investigate the others."

He nods. He feels his chest heavy. Harry has no idea what to expect from this interrogation, but something happened, because after this James decided to run away with Lily.

"Hermione." He calls her and she turns to look at him. "If there's something you want to tell me, or if there's something you want to ask me…" He trails, not totally sure of what he's saying. "I trust you, you know that, don't you?"

He wants to tell her everything. But not just that, he can feel something is wrong. Very wrong.

She nods and puts a hand over her heart. The left hand. The diamond ring is there. The concrete proof that she wants someone else, someone other than him. Hermione pockets her hand when she notices him staring at the ring.

"I have to go." It's what she says. And that knife, that fucking knife is back, going deeper into his heart. "See you back in London, okay?"

She doesn't even wait for an answer. Hermione is gone before he can even blink.

Harry clicks his tongue, frustrated. Right now he doesn't want to think about her odd behavior. He wants to focus on the fact that Hermione indeed was the one who broke into Riddle's office. She took the file. She knows everything there is to know about the Persecution and he can't wait to put his own hands on those papers, read what was put into permanent records about the investigation and his parents.

He keeps looking at Lestrange's house and, taking a deep breath, Harry apparates back inside.

The man is still there, a few tears rolling from his eyes. Harry lifts whichever spell he casted on his own face.

"Look at me." He says to Lestrange.

Whining, he does. "I told you-" He stops, his mouth hanging open. Lestrange gulps. "Who are you?" He whispers, his eyes widening, his face turning pale. "No. It can't be. It can't be. No. No."

Lestrange keeps repeating the words while Harry moves closer, a vicious smile on his face. "It can. It is." Harry forces the man to look into his eyes. "I'm Harry Potter. And I'm going to kill you."

He punches Lestrange. So hard he hears bones cracking. The man wails, his jaw dislodged.

"I used to dream of the day I would find you. You and all the others who murdered my parents."

Since his jaw is ruined, the man can't talk, but Harry is sure he's begging for mercy.

Harry laughs a nasty laugh. There's a rage and a darkness inside him he can't control. His only desire is to hurt the man in front of him. "I'm sure you were merciful with my parents. With Lily Evans. The Mudblood you considered vile." Lestrange is shaking his head. "Don't worry. I'll be just as merciful as you were."

Lestrange screams. And he keeps screaming.

D'Angelo Villa

He goes directly to his room, his mind reeling. In a beat he takes his clothes off and throws them into the fireplace, then he heads directly to his bathroom, not stopping until he's under the cold running water. Harry blindly scrubs his arms and hands and face and any place that was remotely splattered by Lestrange's blood.

And as he washes himself, he sobs. It's an ugly cry that he has no control of. Harry totally lost it the moment his bloodlust was gone and he had to face what he'd done to Lestrange.

He bites hard his lower lip, holding back the sobs and screams. He feels dirty and corrupted. Killing Lestrange didn't give him the satisfaction he was so eagerly craving for. On the contrary, if anything he feels worse than before.

Numbly casting a silencing spell around his whole room, Harry lets out a scream. It's the definition of despair.

He punches the tiles, cracking his knuckles open, bleeding. He punches again.

Another scream. Another desperate cry of help.

He has no idea how many times he punches the tiles. But when all his strength is gone he crumbles down, sitting under the water and crying, hugging himself like a baby. Rocking his body and trying to calm himself.

It's hard to come to terms with the fact that even if Lestrange deserved to die, his death won't bring his parents back.

And this notion destroys him a little bit.

Harry opens his eyes. After his breakdown he curled into bed and fell asleep.

He looks at the clock. It's 2am.

Rubbing a hand on his face he summons some clothes and heads down to the kitchen for some water.

The mansion is silent. Chilly. Dark. Or it's Harry that feels that way now. He walks slowly, thinking about what he's about to do. He's been ignoring this little detail, but after what happened, after what he did to Lestrange, he needs to see his parents, needs to remind himself why this revenge exists, why he took it upon himself to end those that murdered the innocent couple.

Harry stops in front of the door that leads to a concealed room. One he didn't show Hermione, one he avoided since he stepped inside the Villa.

The door clicks open when he touches it and with a shuddering breath he enters the cold room. As expected, the only light inside comes from the pensive in the middle. Harry presses his lips together and utters a Lumos. The room lits up instantly and his eyes fall at the many drawers on the back wall.

Memories.

Matteo has a fascination with them. His grandfather likes to watch some when in doubt about which decision to make. Matteo's, Bianca's, Marcello's memories have their own drawers, which only them can access.

But there's one that's Harry's. He stops in front of it. Since he was five Matteo tried convincing him of depositing his memories there, things he never wanted to forget or moments he cherish and might want to revisit and keep it safe from others. But Harry never liked the idea. It felt… unnatural.

He opens the drawer with a soft nudge and bites his lower lip when the vials glow before his eyes. They're all there, the ones his grandfather found with that orphan baby.

Harry knows them by heart. But he's ready to see it all again, ready to look for clues he never noticed. He gulps and fetches the vials, at least twenty.

The pensive is quite luxurious and Harry conjures a high stool for him to sit in front of it. He'll be there for a few hours and he wants to be comfortable. As comfortable as he can be.

Lining up the vials in front of him, he exhales and takes the first.

Harry emerges from the last memory with a headache. It's 5:30am. He's been there for more than three hours and he feels overwhelmed. It was far harder watching them now after he went to the house, because now he knows how it truly feels to be there.

Tears are running down his face and he's shaking.

And his first instinct is to reach for the coin inside his pocket. He closes his eyes, exhaling, inhaling. Of course he wants Hermione in a moment like this. Of course he wished she could be there with him. He would give anything to share this with her.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head and dismissing the thought.

Going through all these memories wasn't easy. Or nice. Moments of his first days when his parents would only lie down in bed with Harry between them, watching in awe their little baby. Moments of Lily breastfeeding him with a smile on her face and James by her side performing spells to create toys for Harry. The memory of Lily humming the lullaby he remembered and danced with Hermione. Moments of James talking alone with Harry while Lily slept. Those were some of the worst to watch. James talked with certainty of the life they would have: grow old together, be there to watch Harry turn into an accomplished adult, be there at his wedding, be there to hold their grandchildren.

So much was taken from them.

So much was taken from Harry.

And yet-

He groans. Yet he loves a Riddle. Yet he wants to be with her. Yet he wants to tell her everything.

What… what would his parents think of this? He swallows the lump in his throat. It's the first time he lets himself think about it. Wherever they are, do they feel betrayed by their son? If things weren't so fucked up, would his parents approve Hermione? Would they get along? If they were alive, would they also hate the Riddles with all their hearts?

Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. It's uncomfortable to feel bad for loving her, but not entirely unexpected. It's the first time he blames himself because it strangely feels like he's tarnishing his parents' struggle and sacrifice to be together.

With his eyes fixed on the vials, he considers everything he went through these past months with Hermione. She doesn't have his parents' blood on her hands. If anything, she's helping him uncover all the lies around the Persecution, even against her father's will and by doing so putting her own neck on the line. Is it logical for him to hate himself when he feels so safe with her? When he trusts her so profoundly? So much to a point that he's considering telling her everything? Does her surname define who she is?

Wouldn't he be a hypocrite for thinking so?

Because one thing he knows. He knows he wouldn't like telling her his true name and having her judging him for it.

Harry sighs. "Mum, dad, if you can hear me…" He's whispering, his head down, "I'm sorry. I- I don't know what to think but… I trust her. I really do. I love her and… maybe I wish I didn't." He closes his eyes. "But this changes a few things. For me. For my revenge." He runs another hand through his hair. "Killing her would kill me. Just the mere thought of-" He chokes. "I'm sorry." He repeats.

And he cries again.

He knows Hermione would suffer if Harry spared her but killed her family. It doesn't even cross his mind ending her anymore, but…

It's a never ending cycle. She would want to avenge her parents. He knows.

Harry slams a hand on the marble around the pensive.

He can't think of this now. He can't bear. Not now.

There are four Aurors who Harry still wants to meet before he entertains the idea of going after Riddle. And even so, before Riddle, there's Pettigrew. Harry fists his hand. The mere thought of this rat ignites a murderous rage inside him.

Now he knows that Pettigrew's betrayal wasn't crucial since Riddle knew their location, but even so, the man willingly gave it away… aware of what might happen. Bastard.

So, no. He won't think about Hermione and about her family and how this whole thing became a mess even more complex than he imagined at first.

Taking a few deep breaths, he focus on what made him relive those memories.

Clues.

Anything unusual. Anything he might have missed the first one hundred times he saw them.

Conjuring a notebook and a pen from thin air, Harry writes down:

- photo album?

- letters?

- white book?

- toy?

He makes a face at the paper. It's not much. Practically anything at all, but these were the only things that stood out to him.

It's a blow to realize that he needs to go back to the house. Alone. But in a way it's something he should have done already.

He rereads the four lines.

In a few memories he saw his mother holding a photo album, something he never stopped to look at twice because in each memory it appeared, it was James' and his father never looked at it, he always admired Lily looking at it instead.

Then, in another memory, James was sitting at the table writing down a letter. His focus solemnly on it while Lily laughed at Harry's attempts of getting his father's attention. Surely there must be some hidden inside the house. Old letters. Not just inside the house but… Sirius said they used to exchange letters… is it possible that he still has any? He's not sure old letters might be useful, but, regardless, he would like to read them.

The white book. He saw it in every memory. In all of them the book was sitting close to his parents. In one of them Lily was reading and shut it with a thud when James approached with Harry. He wasn't able to see the title, but it's a huge book and it seemed important. Harry knows he didn't spend that much time inside the house with Hermione, but he would remember seeing such remarkable and imposing book. So, if it's still inside the house it must be hidden. And if it is, it holds some significance. It must.

And the toy. Differently from the other things, he saw the toy only once. In one of the latest memories, a few weeks before that fateful Halloween night. Harry tried his best to see what he was holding in his tiny hand while James and Lily were teasing each other about how stubborn their son would be, but he failed. His baby self was clutching it against his body in a vicious grip, as if the toy was precious and if Harry had to guess… it looked like a bird. A red and yellow bird.

A phoenix.

And just like that his mind is already back to Hermione.

Her tattoo. His tattoo.

Deep down he knows it's not a coincidence. She knows. But he can't imagine what it is, then. What it means. Why.

Harry closes his eyes. Is he missing something vital here? Not seeing it? Seeing it and ignoring? Not recognizing? What is it?

What is it that connects him to Hermione?

Letting out a heavy breath he stands to put the vials back inside the drawer. From the way she dismissed the subject, Hermione is not very interested in finding out what it might mean and maybe Harry should let it go.

Maybe it is just a coincidence.

But when he thinks about what the phoenix means and associates it with what Ron told him about Riddle's experiments on Hermione… she suffered a lot. The same way Harry did. Both did. For different reasons.

Yet.

Here they are.

At the same place.

Same time.

Tangled in a mess.

Or maybe this mess is only his. Maybe she doesn't see things that way. After all, she's marrying Pettigrew. Regardless what they shared or how he might feel… Hermione is not choosing him.

But. At the same time he's not asking her to. He's not telling her how he feels and what he wants.

He stops at that. What does he want with her? What would be possible for them to have? A real relationship? With that much prejudice from her family just because he's a foreigner? Imagine if he stepped up and took his heritage? Hermione would surely have to choose between him or her family.

He makes a face.

There's nothing he can ask of her and nothing she can give him. That's the harsh truth.

With a heavy heart he walks out of the room.

His feet hit the cold floor, his head is spinning, his body feels exhausted. And when he reaches the stairs, he stops, gripping the fancy rail.

For a moment, a brief and fleeting moment, he wonders how it would feel to leave this all behind. To forget this revenge and stay in Rome. Stay and go back to his life. Go back to his people. Back to Chiara. His parents lost their chance at happiness and-

After what he did yesterday to Lestrange and how it wrecked him, he knows this path won't be filled with happiness and good things. It's a dark path. A door that's impossible to close after it creaks open.

Blood. Rage. Death.

That's what awaits him.

And heartbreak. He purses his lips.

The image of his parents flash before his eyes. He can't let this go. He's doing it for them. For their memory. For the injustice of it all.

Harry sighs. It's just a bad day.

And as he takes the first step, he knows he'll go through with this. No matter the cost.

December 30th, 2005

D'Angelo Villa

Harry claps. A smile splattered on his face. One he forced himself to put on since he woke up this morning and that so far is working.

They're all there. The D'Angelos. Distant cousins and uncles and aunts and people he never saw before, along with his grandfather and his mother and father. And of course Chiara and her family, the Ferris. Their influence at the Ministero is huge and this particular detail was the sole reason to ignite the fight he had with Matteo when he called off the wedding. A marriage between the Ferris and the D'Angelos was bound to take Wizarding Italy by storm. The dominance would be indisputable, their heirs practically kings and queens bound to dominate fully.

But well, she had to go and fuck Carlo. Who, by the way, is also there. The sudden urge to punch the man matches his never ending desire to break Pettigrew's nose. But Harry politely greeted him and walked away. This is in the past… even if Harry glances at Chiara non stop, his eyes trying to catch her near Carlo. But they haven't even looked at each other. Harry doesn't know if that's real or another one of her many ways to pretend that what she did never happened.

So, he keeps clapping.

Matteo D'Angelo is the new Ministro.

The international press is there. This is being broadcasted all around and just to imagine that Hermione might be at Riddle Manor watching with her parents makes him anxious.

Chiara stops by his side, still clapping. She looks absolutely gorgeous in a golden strapless dress that shows a hint of the lion on her back and the entirety of the bear on her left shoulder and arm. Harry's not ashamed that his black suit and golden vest were made to match with her outfit. And he's sure that while they stand there side by side they're the perfect picture of a couple.

She says nothing and they stop clapping at once when Matteo raises his hands in the air. A smile on his face. He's already wearing a cape that shows off his new position.

And he's about to make a speech.

"Grazie mille!" Matteo begins his speech in Italian and Harry is sure a spell is being used to translate his words simultaneously. And while his grandfather talks about the support he received these past weeks and how eternally grateful he is, he brings up everything he believes needs to change in their society.

Harry raises an eyebrow and shares a look with Chiara when Matteo starts to talk about the Mafias. It's their most problematic and touchy subject. Many Ministros avoided addressing this issue directly, fearing a violent response, but they can't keep ignoring how many the Mafias kill and how this destroys them from the inside. Chiara is probably having a hard time dealing with everything since she's Head Auror now and for a moment Harry fears how this speech might make things even harder for her. She makes a face at him, probably thinking the same. He can't help smiling a bit.

And then Matteo is talking about Muggleborns. Harry grits his teeth and stiffens on the spot. He can't have a real reaction about this. Of course Riddle is keeping an eye on him. The same as Hermione. His grandfather is saying how he aims to bring justice and proper rights to Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. Even if in Italy things are way better than in England, prejudice still exists and as Matteo keeps talking, his main purpose is to change this, to show the whole Wizarding World how they can only gain when bringing any wizard or witch into their community, regardless their blood and ancestry. Harry pockets his hands. It's a bold and incredible move.

Next Matteo voices his wishes to tighten Italy's international relations. And how he believes the International Wizarding Order will help him do it. Harry and Chiara share another look. By the way she shrugs it's clear she never heard of this before now. The Order rarely interferes in such affairs. Of course it exists with Wizards chosen around the world to represent each country to act if needed, but their role is more bureaucratic than anything else - just a reminder for Ministers that might try seizing power in forbidden ways.

After that Matteo finishes his speech with a blow that Harry is sure will come his way the moment he steps into British soil. Mixing of bloods. Muggles and Wizards. Together. This time Chiara discreetly holds his hand behind their backs. She knows he'll face some retaliation in the hands of Tom Riddle and her eyes are begging him to stay there, where he belongs. Harry just shakes his head, squeezing her hand. Chiara bites her lower lip. Matteo keeps talking about how they could enter a new era.

And then it's over. And they're all clapping again.

Harry sucks in a breath. He's fucked. Riddle will roast him because of this. And Matteo is smiling at him. Brightly.

Fast enough Matteo, Bianca, Marcello and Chiara's family are all there and Harry sees himself seizing her by the waist for them to take a photograph. One that will be plastered everywhere. Probably at the Prophet. He widens his smile, his hand squeezing Chiara by his side. His own family on the other side, Matteo in the middle.

While a few flashes strike, Harry can only think about the conversation he can't delay anymore. And he has no idea what Matteo D'Angelo will do when he discovers that Tom Riddle is investigating the family.

Seeing that everyone was distracted by the party, Harry found the perfect opportunity to sneak into his grandfather's study. He can't tell how many hours he spent there throughout his life. If not just studying, also talking with Matteo about his dreams and how he would fulfill his revenge and bring back the honor to the Potters.

He was once a child and teenager with big aspirations.

Harry brushes his hand against the shelves and couches, his steps echoing inside the silent room. He feels bad for leaving so soon. Feels bad for leaving his mother and not having another chance of seeing his friends. He can even say that he'll kind of miss Chiara.

It's impossible to tell what awaits him in London. What he'll find after this speech and the many photographs that were taken. Not to mention that he even gave an interview where his new position at the British Ministry was questioned. Harry wanted to hex the reporter, but he smiled and answered as vaguely as possible.

The Wizarding World knows that things are a bit tense in London.

And while there none dares speaking of Tom Riddle, here Harry already lost the count on how many people approached him to say something awful about Riddle and his family or even just to make fun of the snotty Purebloods. It felt good hearing certain things. But not everyone at the Ministry deserves this kind of harsh judgment the Italians are so ready to profess. Harry's been there for months… it would be unfair to say that everyone follows Riddle blindly. Not even his own daughter does so.

"I thought I might find you here."

Matteo D'Angelo is at the door and Harry turns to face his grandfather. The man closes the door behind him and walks calmly inside, settling on one of the few armchairs.

Without a word Harry fetches a bottle of Firewhiskey and pours some into two glasses. Neat. Then he walks to his grandfather, extending a glass and sitting by his side.

The two don't talk for a while, their only action the sipping.

Harry decides he should be the one to break the silence. "Congratulations." He says in a low voice.

"Thank you, Harry."

He sighs. "Why, nonnino? Why now?"

"You may think I'm doing this to get in your way or to make things harder for you, but believe me, I'm actually doing this to help you."

Harry keeps watching the sky. From where they're sitting he can see the stars through the big windows, clearly. Matteo is also looking outside, both refusing to fully acknowledge the other.

The words sink in slowly. "Help me?"

"You think Tom Riddle doesn't have his eyes on you?"

"Of course he does."

"Exactly. I'm here, as Ministro today to show him that he's not the only one who can wield some power. To make him think twice before he tries anything against you. He knows that if he does I'll consider it an act of war."

"Do you want war? Is that your final goal? Invade London and seize the British? End their sovereignty?"

"I want a better world, Harry. That's my goal." Matteo finally turns to look at Harry. "If they stand in my way, they'll suffer the consequences."

Harry clicks his tongue. "Riddle won't allow this. Don't forget he has the best Aurors in the world by his side."

"And are you one of them? Against your own grandfather? Was that all it took? Two months for you to fall at their feet? To protect the family who ended yours-"

"I didn't say I would protect them." He says through gritted teeth. "But maybe war isn't the answer."

"Maybe you should come back home, Harry."

Harry frowns. "I still have many things to do in London."

Matteo scoffs. "Surely. And are you ready for it? To do whatever it takes?"

Harry narrows his eyes. This is about Hermione. Somehow. "I am." It's all he says. And a flash of Lestrange's desperate face comes into his mind. Blood. All that blood. Harry sets his jaw.

"If you want to tell me, I want to listen about what you've been doing there. How things are going." There's just a hint of annoyance at the man's voice. Of course he considers an absurd that Harry isn't reporting his every step. In fact, Matteo knows nothing of what's going on in London, at least not from Harry's mouth.

He ponders. There's a lot he can't share with Matteo, but… "I killed Lucius Malfoy." He says slowly, sipping after.

Matteo has no reaction. "I heard he was dead. Good riddance."

"He almost killed me." This time Matteo turns sharply. "He recognized me."

"Is that so?" Matteo squints. "Who else did?"

"Pettigrew." Harry stops at that. He can't talk about Sirius and the rest because he made a Vow he wouldn't. "But I think he's waiting for the best moment to use this information. Even so, he needs proof. I don't think he has any."

"You can't let yourself be caught. One interrogation under Veritaserum-"

"I know." Harry snaps. "I won't be caught." Harry sighs. "I- I saved Hermione Riddle's life."

Matteo clicks his tongue. "I know. Everyone knows. Why?"

Harry inhales deeply. Why indeed. "To gain their trust."

"Smart. Did it work?"

"Obviously. Since I'm here still breathing. Riddle can say whatever he wants, but that is a debt he knows he has no way of paying. He owes me eternally." Harry knows that deep down this is true.

"What else?"

"He's losing it. Purebloods are on his neck because of the attacks. His Manor was invaded. I saved a squib and her mother from a Dementor's kiss right under his nose. A Muggle was butchered inside the Ministry."

Matteo widens his eyes and chuckles venomously. "Apparently you're not the only one who has a score to settle with him."

"It seems so." Then he stops for a moment, "I found the Aurors."

Matteo shows some honest surprise. "And?"

"Two are already dead." He takes a sip. Matteo is watching him with awe. Harry knows that deep down his grandfather thought he wouldn't have the stomach to go through with it. "And I- I went to my parents' house. I never thanked you properly for… taking care of it."

"I would do it all over again, Harry. I would save you again. All the times that were necessary."

Harry presses his lips together and lowers his head. The truth of these words shake him. To think that he's in love with Hermione Riddle is-

"I'm thinking about marrying Sally Black." He's not. At all. Not anymore, but well.

"What about Chiara?"

"Chiara made a choice, nonnino. She chose to cheat on me."

"If it wasn't for that do you think you would be with her now? Married?"

"Yes." He has no doubt. "I loved her very much."

Matteo sips. "She still loves you."

"She makes that pretty clear every time we're in the same room. But she'll get over it."

"Are you in love with Sally Black? Ready to marry into the Blacks? Is that what you want?"

Harry sighs. "No. It's not what I want. But I might be forced to it."

"By Riddle?"

"Yes. He… wants me far away from his daughter."

"Ah. I see. Care to share why?"

"We… danced the Traditional together and apparently there's a thing called Perfect Harmony that seems to be a big deal." Harry watches his grandfather's reaction.

Matteo only raises his eyebrows and leans forward to put the glass on the little table in front of them. "Is that so? We never believed in these kind of superstitions. But I guess it is indeed a huge thing for them. Riddle must hate you fiercely. Because if even after this he wants you far from his daughter…" He clicks his tongue. "From what I know having Perfect Harmony is certainty of marriage."

"She's marrying Asmodeus Pettigrew." Harry says, his voice firm, but his heart trashing inside him, the knife twisting further.

"Yes, I saw the news."

Harry remembers Chiara gave him the Prophet because Matteo asked her to. Crossing his arms and sighing, Harry says:

"I'll find the other four Aurors and end them. And then, I have Pettigrew to deal with."

"And then the Riddles." Matteo completes for him.

Harry takes another sip and turns to his grandfather. "Then the Riddles."

"When the time comes, I'll be there, Harry. By your side. As Ministro. Ready to end his tyrannical rule. Ready to end the threat he poses to us all. Ready to exterminate his bloodline."

Harry discreetly gulps. "I- there's another thing I need to tell you. Riddle is investigating you. The family. Asmodeus was sent here to discover anything he might use against us."

Matteo swears. Harry smiles. It's odd seeing his grandfather losing control, and rare. "That stronzo. This only shows how he might be the one to attack us first. Have you thought about this possibility?" Harry sincerely shakes his head. "But regardless, I don't think Pettigrew discovered much, you know how well guarded we are."

"I know. And he didn't."

"Who gave you this information?"

"Hermione." He says.

"You're close. Real close." Matteo provokes. "I'm not judging. She's not her father. I know that if she were you wouldn't be this… confused." Harry makes a face, glad his grandfather has the decency of not saying that he's in love with her even if he suspects. "I told you once and I'm going to say it again. Be careful with her." Harry nods. "But well, if you trust what she told you, then… I'll trust your judgment."

Thing is… "Yeah, I trust her."

Matteo shakes his head. "Would she stand against her father for you?"

Harry remembers the way she stood in front of him in a clear protective stance inside that cell under the Ministry. He saw the rage swimming in Riddle's eyes. But that was only an isolated situation. He shakes his head. "I don't know."

"I hope you do know before it's too late."

"I do too." His voice is barely there. She was acting so strange when they went to see Lestrange…

"When do you leave?"

"In three days."

Matteo nods and stands from his armchair, the cape with the Ministro's symbol flowing behind him. "I hope we enjoy these next few days. Now that this election is over, I want to spend some time with you, Harry. If that's what you want."

He nods curtly. "Yeah, I would like that."

And Harry stands too. Not thinking much about it, he hugs his grandfather. Matteo corresponds immediately and Harry feels lighter, a bit happier. But they don't say a word. And Matteo steps away first, exiting his own study and inviting Harry back to the party.

Running his hand through his hair, he goes.

END OF PART TWO

Chapter Text

PART THREE

January 3rd, 2006

Grimmauld

As the little gathering goes on inside the house, Harry ponders what he should share with the others. After his conversation with his grandfather before he left, he feels lighter and a bit more aware of his surroundings. Maybe he's trusting all of them too much, or maybe just enough, there's no way of knowing. Certain things he surely doesn't need to share, however, there's one he wants to:

"I paid Lestrange a visit." He says as he puts a silencing spell around them.

They all - Sirius, Remus, Ron, Draco and Ginny - stiffen a bit when he tells that the man is dead. Harry doesn't mind. He won't feel bad about this. Not anymore. Or else he won't be able to go through with the rest.

"Well. He deserved it." Sirius says with narrowed eyes, a dark expression on his face. "Were you able to get any information from him?"

Harry leans back on the couch. "Yes. The whole Persecution was a lie. Riddle knew from the start where James and Lily were, he just wanted to test you." He points at Sirius and Remus. "James' friends."

"A lie?" Remus whispers. Then he scoffs, angry. "Of course. All those articles, all those statistics about how Muggleborns would tarnish the pureness of our blood. The way he twisted the situation to make them look dangerous…"

"It's not that surprising, but… I wonder." Sirius holds his chin with a hand, thinking.

"What?" Harry asks.

"If he knew where they were… why he waited so long to strike?"

"Because he wanted to make a show out of it." Harry says.

Sirius shakes his head. "I'm not sure that was his only reason. It's at least strange… I mean, we were there. You remember how eager he was don't you, Remus? It's astonishing that he waited years."

Harry frowns, thinking. The others are also considering Sirius' words. And just then Sally sits by Harry's side.

"Hermione is coming." She states with an amused expression. Harry widens his eyes.

"Really?" Ron asks.

"You invited her?" Harry asks.

Sirius tilts his head. "Why wouldn't we?"

Harry shakes his head-

"I just saw her outside with Asmo, they're having a little fight." Sally says. Then she narrows her eyes and opens a mischievous smile. "I hadn't thought how fun this is going to be now that we can openly pretend to be a couple, Harry." And she sits on his lap, her arms around his neck. "This is payback. I'm going to make her so jealous." She whispers in his ear.

Harry purses his lips. Sirius is shaking his head, already walking away with Remus. Ron and Draco are laughing together. Ginny on the other hand has a cold expression on her face.

"Don't be mean, Sal." She says.

Sally just shrugs. "Harry here owes me this fun for cheating on me." And she blows a kiss to Ginny.

Harry hasn't seen Hermione since the day they went to Lestrange's. He got back yesterday and Hermione wasn't at the Ministry today. Nor her nor Pettigrew.

Sirius had already invited him to this little gathering at Grimmauld to welcome this new year and Harry accepted promptly. They've been mostly talking about his grandfather's election and speech.

But he can't deny his mind was on her. On what she might be doing and why she changed so much after that night they had. Hermione didn't reach out to him and he didn't either. He has no idea why she wasn't at work today and no one knows. Riddle wasn't there either - Sirius just told him.

It was strange coming back. He felt odd stepping on that Atrium, but the smashed statue brought a smile to his face. And the day was as dull as possible. He was hoping to see her, his heart beating fast. But when Ginny said she wasn't there, a bucket of cold water ran over him.

And now-

Now she's entering the house with Pettigrew. Looking as gorgeous as ever in high heels and a blue dress that comes to her mid thighs. Harry watches from the couch while she takes her overcoat and scarf off and purses her lips, looking at the floor. Something is troubling her and Harry wonders why they were fighting outside. Pettigrew puts one hand on her lower back and they walk inside.

Hermione's face changes completely when she greets Sirius and Eleonora. A smile on her face.

And then Harry's eyes fall on her engagement ring.

The knife twists.

He averts his eyes only to land on her right leg where he knows there's a concealed tattoo. A tattoo that's practically twin to his. While his phoenix is roaring its rage, hers is coldly calculating its next move. Sides of the same coin. Complementary.

He makes a face when Sally takes his hand and puts it on her thigh. She raises an eyebrow to him and cocks her head in defiance. He rolls his eyes. Wanting it or not, he needs to play the part. After all, Asmodeus is there. Hermione is with her fiance. The man she chose. And she acted so oddly the last time they saw each other that-

Sally kisses him, her hands on his hair and neck. Harry corresponds the kiss and squeezes her thigh in front of everyone. He knows he might regret this later, but right now there's not much he can do. Faintly he hears Hermione's voice pretty close, she's talking to Ginny, probably seeing their kiss. Sally bites his lower lip and he groans, a bit annoyed at the show they're putting on.

"Merlin, you two, get a room." It's Ron who says in an outraged tone.

Sally finally pulls back. Harry takes a few seconds to open his eyes. He knows how it looks. He's disheveled and his lips swollen, probably smeared with her lipstick. His hand still on her thigh. It takes him a few seconds because he knows that if he saw Hermione and Pettigrew like this he would lose all rational thought.

When he opens his eyes he indeed meets Hermione's. She's standing there, talking to Ginny. Her posture is relaxed, easygoing. Asmodeus is by her side, his hand still on her lower back.

But her eyes.

Hurt. Jealousy.

Harry tries not flinching when Sally kisses his neck. He closes his eyes again.

"Is she looking at us?" Sally asks in a low voice, her mouth on his ear.

He moves the hand that's on her thigh to her nape, forcing her to look at him, then he hides his face on the crook of her neck, pretending he's kissing her, his voice low.

"Enough, Sal."

She sighs, pretending he just told her the sexiest thing ever. And he feels her hand going down his neck, his chest, lower. Harry closes his eyes and sets his jaw. She can't be serious.

"D'Angelo." They both freeze. "Sally." It's Hermione. "Nice seeing you." Her voice. It's so cold. So different from the tone Harry is now used to, warm on his ear, pleading. "How was Rome, D'Angelo?"

Harry, with some courage, looks at her. Dio. She's so incredibly angry. And to his utter disbelief, she sits on the couch, by their side, her body angled to them, as if she's there to watch the show. Harry opens his mouth a bit. Not even Sally was expecting this since it looks like she has no idea what to do next.

Hermione actually smiles. A creepy smile, though. Harry gulps. He still has no words, so Hermione fills the silence:

"I think I owe you some congratulations regarding your grandfather, right? The new Ministro. He gave quite a speech." She's ignoring Sally completely. Her eyes going from his face to the woman's hand that's resting over his belt. "And the pictures," She clicks her tongue, "the D'Angelos and the Ferris have a tight relationship… I mean, the way you were squeezing Chiara Ferri's waist-" She finally looks at Sally. "I would pay some attention to that if I were you, Sal." And she opens the creepy smile again.

Harry can't believe this. If he was still trying to marry Sally, this kind of provocation Hermione is making and the obvious thing she's implying would certainly earn him a fight with Sally… but Hermione doesn't know that they're only pretending, she has no idea and because of this-

Sally laughs out loud. "Hermione, dear, I trust Harry." And she kisses his cheek, her hand still very low on his body. "He told me everything about Chiara." He didn't. Sally doesn't even know who Chiara is, but she played her cards well.

Hermione flinches. More hurt swimming in her eyes. But before Harry can say a thing, Pettigrew sits by his fiancee side, taking her hand and kissing it gently. Harry and Hermione hold their gazes, though, one trying to say things to the other.

And then Pettigrew is talking to Harry:

"Happy that your grandfather is Minister now?" Pettigrew's voice is filled with disgust. "Mixing of bloods." He scoffs. "I really hope Riddle sacks you tomorrow, D'Angelo." Harry finally looks at Pettigrew. The man is sneering. "He won't accept you inside our Ministry anymore."

It's Sally who snorts. "Honestly, Asmodeus, why are you always such a pain in the ass?"

Harry laughs, his hand squeezing Sally's waist. Pettigrew narrows his eyes. Hermione is frozen, her eyes on the way Harry is holding Sally now.

"Yeah, Pettigrew, why?" Harry says, a hint of amusement on his tone. "And of course I'm happy my grandfather is Minister now, why wouldn't I be?" He shrugs. "But to be honest, I have better things to do than stay here listening to you." Harry moves and Sally stands from his lap. He takes her hand in his. "Nice seeing you, Hermione." He says in a low voice before he stands too and guides Sally inside the house.

He doesn't look back.

He enters the bathroom on the second floor and closes the door with force. Harry utters a spell to lock it shut and he grunts. Since Hermione arrived with Pettigrew things are going terribly. Sally apologized when she saw how angry and hurt he was, but Harry only nodded, unable to say a thing. He doesn't know what to think. Or how to act.

Not just that but he's furious that his grandfather's speech might get him fired. If what Pettigrew said is true, Riddle is just waiting a few more days to do it.

Harry chews the insides of his cheeks, leaning over the sink. How much would this affect his revenge? He already knows who the other Aurors were and Hermione will give him their locations, won't she? Maybe he doesn't need to be an Auror to fulfill his revenge.

But what about Riddle? He wants to take him down. And to do that he needs to be inside the Ministry. Needs to have his position as Auror respected so people might believe him in a way, back him up.

The bathroom is not big, in fact, is very narrow, so, Harry conjures a little stool for him to sit the furthest from the door. He sighs, running both hands through his hair. Could Hermione stop Riddle from sending him away? Does she even want to? He's not sure, especially after what she just saw between him and Sally-

He understands Sally's need to provoke Hermione, but Harry is feeling dirty. Bad. Wrong on all levels.

A knock sounds on the door. "Occupied!" He says.

He takes the coin from his pocket, flipping it. He wants to talk with Hermione. It wasn't just mere jealousy. He could see the actual hurt in her eyes while Sally touched him. "Fuck." He says in a low voice.

Is she feeling the same he is? Could Hermione be in love with him? His heart beats faster.

But she acted so strangely when we met that last time.

It's hard to comprehend her signals.

While he kissed her tattoo and told her every single thing he loved, he was sure she might feel the same. The way their Patronus behaved is also a strong indication, but she was so off the next day-

Someone knocks again.

"Occupied!" He repeats.

Harry keeps flipping the coin. Should he meet with her? Would she find a way of ditching Pettigrew?

The door opens. Harry lifts his eyes, startled.

Hermione closes the door behind her, murmuring another spell to lock it.

Harry exhales heavily and pockets the coin slowly. She sets her jaw, leaning against the door, not saying a word. He stands from the stool.

Both grunt, meeting at the same time, their lips coming together. His tongue invades her mouth, battling hers and losing. Hermione groans and bites his lip. Harry pulls back, his tongue going over the little blood there. She's still very angry. He squeezes her waist, their eyes locked.

Harry touches her forehead with his.

Hermione kisses him again, very gently this time. He melts in her arms. And she makes him sit back on the stool, straddling him. They keep kissing slowly. Harry's hands roam over her body, squeezing her waist, her breasts, her thighs. Her arms lock around his neck and she doesn't let go for nothing.

He moves from the kiss to nibble on her jaw, her neck.

Hermione rocks her hips, luring him. He groans, holding her. "Don't do that." He says in a low voice, close to her ear, biting gently. She does it again. "Hermione." He warns. She tugs at his hair for him to look at her. "If you do this I won't be able to control myself and we can't do this here with everyone downstairs."

"Do you think I care, Harry?" Her voice is hoarse. "Do you think I give a fuck?" She rocks her hips again, her lips finding his neck.

He only grunts, not sure of what to do… but her hands are already going down his chest the same way Sally's did. She stops at his belt, her eyes on his.

"I can't bear the thought of her touching you like this. Just to imagine-" She closes her eyes.

Against all odds, her words make him angry. "Stop. Your fiance might come in looking for you." And his eyes fall to her engagement ring. To her left hand, the hand that is on his belt.

"He won't. I confused him. It will take a while before he notices I'm gone."

He holds her hands, though.

And they share a look.

Harry wets his lips. There's a lot he wants to ask her. A lot he wants to say to her. But he has no idea where to begin with. No idea what she might respond. He fears opening up and taking this knife out of his chest just so he can bleed even more with what she might say.

They still haven't talked about what happened between them in Rome. It was different from anything else they shared.

And even so- Even so the ring is still on her finger. They also haven't talked about her decision to marry Pettigrew.

But as he observes her, it becomes clear that Hermione is not open to any kind of conversation. Not right now. She only wants one thing. And he'll give it to her, gladly.

His lips find hers again. And his hands seek her panties under her dress, going over her thighs, squeezing. Hermione is already unbuckling him, unzipping his trousers, her hand finding his cock, stroking.

She motions to stand for him to push down her panties but he grunts and tugs at the sides, tearing the fabric, ruining it. Hermione chuckles, her mouth on his and Harry finally finds her sex. His thumb massaging her clit. Hermione frees his cock from his underwear and he moves a bit for her to push his trousers enough to not get in the way. He's already very hard.

Never breaking the contact of their lips, she moves and Harry moans when she comes down on his cock, slowly, maddening, in a way that he feels every bit of her stretching for him. He holds her by the hip on both sides and Hermione's tongue invades his mouth. Harry grunts, breathing extremely hard when he's inside her almost to the hilt. Hermione tugs his hair, her teeth raking over his neck, her nails digging into his nape. She's taking a moment to adjust to him and Harry waits, squeezing her thighs.

And when she starts to move… he lets her set the pace and do whatever she pleases with him. He holds her throughout the ride, their lips still pressed together, their tongues sliding into each other's mouths.

Their heavy breathing and the contact of their bodies are the only sounds they can hear. And the only thing Harry can think of.

The rest is irrelevant.

Biting on her lips, he starts to move with her a bit, his hips bucking up slightly, his hands bringing her down faster, increasing the rhythm. The stool squeaks under them.

"Harry." She moans against his lips. "Harry." She says again, her voice strained. It's like she's praying to him, saying his name over and over again. Hermione brushes her cheek on his and he closes his eyes.

I love you.

He gulps. The words are there.

So dangerous.

So inviting.

He wonders what would happen if he said them, if he dared. Would she be surprised? Would she say them back? Would she reject him? Would she end things with Pettigrew? His fingers dig deeper into her flesh.

He's nearing his orgasm and Hermione is already trembling in his arms, her back arching, her hands on his neck and hair.

They kiss and he keeps thrusting until he comes saying her name in a plea. A plea of mercy. Mercy for his heart-

She'll break his heart. He knows.

They're panting. Hermione looks into his eyes. He can tell she wants to say something. He cocks his head in question. She opens her mouth and-

The stool comes crashing down. With a laugh and a groan they hit the floor. Harry taking the fall and cursing under his breath. She's chuckling.

He looks at her, his hand on her face. "I love your laugh."

Hermione inhales sharply and goes stiff.

And just when he thought she would stand and walk away, she kisses him. Deep. Slow.

Hermione pulls back and says, "I don't like Sally touching you." Her eyes are sharp. "Or Chiara. Especially Chiara." Hermione closes her eyes. "You're mine."

He's sure his heart stops. She's casually claiming him…

He exhales. "I am."

She presses her lips together and touches their foreheads. "Fuck." She says under her breath, herself shaken by their words.

Harry seeks her hand and brings up the ring again. "But you're not mine." He whispers, hurt.

Shaking her head she pulls back a bit to look into his eyes. In a low voice, she says, "When we're like this, when it's just the two of us… I am, Harry. I am yours."

What if that's not enough?

Boldly he opens his mouth to say such words but a knock on the door stops him. "Harry, mate? Are you there? You've been here for a while, is everything okay?" It's Ron.

Hermione gulps and kisses him briefly. Then she's just gone.

Harry stands from the floor, using a spell to put him and the stool back together. "Mate, I'm not feeling well. I guess I'll just head home, okay?" He says through the door. "Tell Sally I said goodbye."

He hears Ron outside. "Okay. See you tomorrow at the Ministry?"

"Sure."

And with a heavy heart he apparates to his flat.

January 4th, 2006

Ministry of Magic

He tries not fidgeting, but as the minutes tick by he feels more and more anxious.

Tom Riddle summoned him to his office. To talk.

And now, as Harry sits on an armchair, Riddle in front of him, both men not daring to break eye contact, he feels himself cold inside, nervous. He doesn't know for sure what Riddle wants with him, but if Pettigrew's words yesterday were any indication…

The Minister narrows his eyes, his posture stiff. Harry does his best not to chew the insides of his cheeks. The moment he arrived at the Ministry a memo found him immediately and he had no time to seek Hermione or anyone else before taking the elevator and entering this office.

"Why are you here, D'Angelo?" It's the first thing Riddle asks him.

Harry discreetly grits his teeth. "You summoned me, sir."

Riddle only stares at him. "You try my patience. I've had enough of this, D'Angelo. I should have fired you the day you stood inside that cell and defied my orders." The Minister leans forward and Harry has to admit that the menace in his eyes makes him freeze. "Head Riddle gave you that leave to spend the Holidays in Rome, but if it was up to me I wouldn't permit. Do you have any idea what image it shows to our world? How you stood there with your grandfather? A man that is against everything we stand here… it tarnishes my image, D'Angelo, after all, I welcomed you inside my Ministry."

Riddle stands. Harry clears his throat. "Sir-"

He raises a finger for Harry to stop talking. He obeys.

"If it wasn't for you saving my daughter's life, you wouldn't be here anymore." Riddle hisses, clearly annoyed. "And since you arrived things have been… chaotic." Harry purses his lips. He knew it was too much of a coincidence. Someone clearly wants him to take the blame for everything that's been happening. Riddle walks slowly to his desk, retrieving a glass of water. "But I'm going to give you another chance of proving yourself, of proving that you're here because you want to be here, because you believe in what we believe. I'm going to give you a chance to prove that you aren't Matteo D'Angelo's spy." Riddle settles the glass of clear water in front of Harry with a clink. Their eyes meet. "Drink."

A chill goes down Harry's spine. The worst kind. As certain as he is that the sky is blue, he is that there's a lot of Veritaserum mixed with this water. He gulps.

"I'm not thirsty, sir."

Riddle stands straight. "You will drink. Or else you can take your things and return to Rome. I'll be glad to banish you from England as a traitor."

Harry ponders for a moment. There's no way of running. If he doesn't drink he'll be forbidden of entering England and his revenge is over. Whatever he has with Hermione also. If he drinks… he'll spill all his secrets, expose the revenge, expose Sirius and the others, expose Hermione, expose his identity.

He sets his jaw… he hates both outcomes and even if he can see that one is clearly worse than the other-

He extends his hand and fetches the glass. Riddle opens a vicious smile.

There might be a third option…

Harry stands up, Riddle is patiently waiting.

Matteo D'Angelo said that his new position as Ministro could help Harry, and as he stares at Riddle and then at the glass in his hand, he knows his grandfather was right.

He moves the glass and the clear liquid inside swirls. "What are you waiting, D'Angelo?"

Harry is fed up with Riddle. With the way he acts as if no one can challenge him. Fed up with the way he treats Harry's nationality and looks down at his Italian inheritance. And how he speaks of the D'Angelos. Not to mention the obvious… not to mention what he did to his parents and the way he treats Hermione.

"I'm not drinking this." His voice is low and menacing, and he raises his eyes to meet Riddle's. There's only hatred there. Disgust. But Harry knows it's mutual. "I'm an Auror and I'm under Hermione Riddle's orders, not yours. And giving a respected Auror Veritaserum is not something society will look upon with good eyes, especially one that saved the Head Auror's life. Or one that is related to a foreigner Ministro." He straightens his back, it feels good to see the clear doubt in Riddle as his eyes widen a bit. "I never gave you reason to doubt my loyalty, sir. If you're doing this only because I was with my family on the Holidays-"

The door opens with a thud. Harry turns on his heels to look at- Hermione.

Her eyes go immediately to the glass in his hand and then to his and then to her father. She looks calm, but Harry can see that she's shaking a bit.

"Hermione." Riddle says her name with distaste. "I'm in a meeting with D'Angelo. If you need to talk to me you can come back later."

"What is this meeting about?" She asks, her voice low. She already knows what's happening.

"None of your concern." Her father says.

But she moves into the office. Riddle is fuming. Hermione stops by Harry's side.

"I really hope this glass isn't filled with Veritaserum, father."

Harry's chest swells with her words. Again, she's defying Riddle to take his side, to protect him. Of course she knows that if he drinks he can also spill her secrets, but…

"It's absurd and borders the ridiculous. As his superior I report to you on a regular basis that D'Angelo is as loyal as any Auror." Harry grits his teeth at her words and the information. Of course she makes reports on his behavior. "Matteo D'Angelo is Ministro now and I can't even begin to imagine what he would do if he found out you made his grandson drink this without a plausible reason."

Harry purses his lips.

He wants to ravish her the moment they step outside this office.

She practically repeated his own words. He could see that Riddle was going to give up, and now with Hermione there, saying these things, he's sure.

Riddle narrows his eyes to Hermione but she doesn't even flinch. And then she takes the glass from Harry's hand and sets it back on the table.

"Enough of this, father. I need D'Angelo for our investigation." And with a steady hand she grips Harry's forearm. "Are we clear to go?"

Riddle clicks his tongue. Then to Harry's utter and unimaginable surprise, he nods and waves them away.

But when they're about to cross the threshold, Riddle says, "I have my eye on you, D'Angelo."

Hermione squeezes his arm and they step outside, closing the door behind them. She keeps going, still holding him until they reach the elevators.

When they're finally inside, alone, he turns to her but she puts a hand on his chest and raises one eyebrow, then presses a finger to her lips. He closes his mouth, nodding his understanding.

"Interrogations regarding what happened to Lucinda Summers and her daughter will begin shortly." He makes a face at her. "Since we lost our only lead to what happened at the Fair, things are on hold for now." The elevator is reaching its destination. Hermione takes the coin from one of her inner pockets and Harry observes while she sends him a message. "The counselors are still digging into what happened at the Manor. No clue on who murdered the Muggle or destroyed the statue. And I think that's it for now. We have a long day ahead, D'Angelo." And he feels the coin like ice inside his own pocket.

Harry smiles. She smiles back to him. And in an imprudent move, he halts the elevator with the sheer force of one of his spells. Hermione opens her mouth but he closes the distance between them, kissing her hard. Squeezing her in his arms.

It's brief, but intense. A promise for later.

Then he takes a step back and the elevator goes back to its natural course. They reach the Auror's floor and when Harry steps out, Hermione is still gaping at him, blinking a few times and breathing heavily.

He strides to his desk and ignores the others. Hermione does the same.

Just later he fetches the coin to read:

Tonight

Your place

Harry's flat

He falls back on the couch.

It was a long day indeed. And he's sure some adrenaline from what happened inside Riddle's office is still running through his body. He feels ready for a run and ready to sleep at the same time.

Then the interrogations about Lucinda Summers that took all day and were sincerely ridiculous. Harry rolls his eyes. Pettigrew was the one in charge because he was the Auror who suffered the attack that night when Lucinda and her daughter were rescued. Hermione had already gone through Pettigrew's memory to ensure that he was impartial.

Ron, Draco, Ginny, Hermione and Harry were interrogated by the man. They were the only ones who knew about the transference beforehand. The Aurors on guard at Azkaban were informed ten minutes before, the same as the ones who were with Pettigrew.

Pettigrew was gentle to the others comparing to the hell he put Harry through. Insane questions, over and over again. But Harry had the perfect answers. He had prepared in case things came to this. And even if he can trick an interrogation bubble, it's not an easy task and it demands a lot of concentration, something Pettigrew tried taking from Harry with the repetitive questions.

He sighs. Reality is, he was more nervous during Hermione's interrogation than his own. But she lied with a certainty that surprised him. He would believe her blindly had he not known the truth.

The others also tricked the bubble. After all, they know Harry did it and for the first time it seemed like they remembered a woman was with him. But none questioned it further. If they suspect it was Hermione, they didn't say a word.

Closing his eyes he thinks about what Hermione did today. She probably heard her father had summoned him and went as fast as possible to stop what she was sure was about to happen.

He bites his lower lip. Maybe he should get some Veritaserum of his own. Maybe he should take it and find a way to lie. After all, this might save him. Because everyone knows is the most effective way to make someone spill the truth and it's obvious that Riddle wants to shove it down Harry's throat.

He finds the coin inside his pocket and flips it. Hermione asked if he could change the wards around his flat for her to be able to apparate inside directly. He's still pondering…

Allowing her in without any kind of restriction at all times is a bit risky. For her to be able to appear any time… and what if she goes there without him? Even after everything, even after he accepted that he loves her, he knows that he should be a bit more careful with certain things.

The same number of times - or even more - that someone asked him if he was in love with her, people also warned him to be careful with her.

And he can't deny that the way she so easily lied today struck a chord in him.

How much does she lie to me?

He can't possibly know. Yes, he knows she omits things, but when he asks about them directly, she answers sincerely…

Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. Hermione already altered her wards. He can apparate into her living room whenever he feels like it. Shouldn't he show her the same trust?

Not dwelling on it, he flicks his wand and alters his wards.

Then he stands from the couch, still feeling both exhilarated and exhausted.

Harry walks to his bedroom and bathroom, entering the shower. All the way through it his mind remains on Hermione. On how much they need to talk and everything he wants to say to her.

They need to talk about their tattoos. They need to talk about what happened in Italy. They need to talk about the tingle and the bolt of magic that coursed between them-

He stops inside his room with the towel wrapped around his waist.

Hermione is already there, sitting on his bed. Legs crossed, a seductive smile on her face. She's shamelessly looking at his bare torso. "Well, being allowed inside whenever I want certainly has its advantages." She playfully clicks her tongue and stands, coming to him.

Harry is smiling, shaking his head. They hug, squeezing the other, his hands on her ass. She's still wearing the Auror's uniform.

And in a beat she's kissing his neck and jaw, then his lips, her hands falling to his towel, ready to get rid of it. Which she does with a tug. Harry grunts on her mouth and hoists her up, her legs around him in a lock while he walks to the bed.

Hermione groans, her hot breath against his skin. "We don't have much time." She says, her lips on his cheek, on his temple, her hands on his hair. And in a blink all her clothes are gone.

Harry settles her on the bed and kisses her breast, taking one of her nipples in his mouth, hovering above her. But she takes his face and brings his lips to hers again.

"I'll be fast." He says under his breath and she snorts a laugh.

And he's true to his words. Kissing her all the way down to her navel, he teases her with two fingers, eager. Hermione closes her eyes, breathing hard. "Tell me you're mine." She says.

Harry doesn't hesitate. "I'm yours."

She moans. He kisses her hard, his fingers still teasing. Then he moves to her neck.

"I was so afraid today when I entered that office." She says with a trembling voice.

"I know, I know." He kisses her cheek, their eyes meeting. "I also was. For both of us."

She nods. He squeezes her thigh, making proper room for him to fit comfortably between her legs.

"And the interrogation after-"

She stops talking when he enters her. He doesn't mind cutting the subject because, as she said, they don't have much time.

Harry rocks his hips, grunting, taking her. Taking all of her.

"But it's fine. It's all fine." He says to reassure her.

They share a heated kiss, slow and promising.

And he moves. Thrusting hard, fast. She pants under him, her nails digging into his broad shoulder. Harry keeps kissing her, actually fascinated how they seem to never get enough of each other.

"Dio, I love this." He says between kisses. "I love being inside you."

Her nails dig deeper into his flesh. "I do too." She says in a low voice. "I-" She shuts her mouth, moaning and closing her eyes, her orgasm washing over her in a powerful wave.

Harry nibbles at her neck, still thrusting. She's nuzzling him, saying his name. And he can feel it, the pleasure taking over him and sending him to the edge. He says her name when he comes.

And after a little while he rolls to the side and closes his eyes.

It's not enough.

This.

What they're sharing, the sex and the moments they steal to be together.

Not enough. Not nearly.

Hermione moves and lies on top of him, her body hot against his, her eyes on his. "What are you thinking?" She asks, her hands together over his chest, her chin resting on them.

He sets his jaw when he looks down at her, his eyes landing on the engagement ring. "That I want you." He says. "That even when I have you it doesn't seem enough."

She makes a face, pressing her lips together. "Harry-"

"I know." He closes his eyes and snorts. "You don't want me." He says in a low voice, looking up to the ceiling and avoiding her eyes.

He wants her to tell him he's wrong. Wants her to say that she wants him, that she also feels like it's not enough.

But Hermione says nothing. And her silence says too much.

But she kisses his chest. Small kisses, gentle. He caresses her back, his hand moving up and down.

It can't be.

It can't be that she doesn't feel the same. Maybe he should say the words, maybe he should tell her everything. Pour his heart out. Because with these veiled phrases and words… maybe the depth of what he wants with her is not clear-

"We need to talk." She says and he recognizes the tone. Badass Head Riddle. Harry sighs and nods. And she stands, leaving the bed, gathering her clothes.

He feels cold without her. Void. But Harry says nothing else. He just stands from the bed and opens his drawers to fetch a sweater and some sweatpants. When he looks over at her she's already dressed. Hermione motions to the living room.

Before sitting down with her, he fetches some water for both and she thanks him in a small voice, pulling a chair for him to sit beside her.

And Harry's eyes fall to the file that's on his table. He stops breathing for a second. He knows what this is. He knows what Hermione brought him. And suddenly his chest feels heavy. Because of the already twisting knife in it that she pushed a bit further inside just now… and because of the importance of this file and everything it means.

He takes a shuddering breath and waits for her to talk.

"So," She says, one hand above the file, "I brought you the file on the Potters' Persecution." Her eyes are intense while she watches him, "I'm leaving this here for you to look at it calmly, with time. I can't stay much longer, and I want you to read every detail so we can discuss later." He faintly nods, drinking some water. "I've read it at least ten times already and I think I know everything there is to know by now." Hermione sips on her water. "There are still four Aurors that we need to visit." He purses his lips, wondering if she ever went back to Lestrange's and saw what he did. If so, she shows no indication of it. "Since we need to be sneaky and careful with this, I thought that maybe we could do it one Auror a month. This way we have time to prepare and plan and set up the proper protection around us and the place. What do you think?"

He inhales deeply. Four Aurors. One a month. Another four months on this. He understands Hermione's precautions, but this is not ideal, at all. However, Harry nods - not fully agreeing.

Nothing stops him from going without her. She doesn't need to know about this little detail.

She nods in return and stands. Harry is frozen on the spot.

"I need to go." She says. He doesn't look up at her. Now his hand is resting above the file. Harry's not sure he's even thinking properly. "Harry?" He snaps out of it and looks up, she's standing close. "If you need me, send a message, okay?"

He gulps. "Sure." His voice is thin. He sounds like a child.

Hermione only narrows her eyes. He's sure she's about to apparate, but she leans to him, her lips seeking his.

It's the first time they kiss and he doesn't feel like it. And he's sure it shows. She pulls back, her eyes a bit wide, her face an expression of a question.

He looks down, back to the file. Her hand lingers on his shoulder. "I-" She begins.

"Look- forget what I said, okay? It's fine." He says in a low voice. "I'll just take my time with this file and then we can schedule a moment to talk about it." He shows how much he hates that he can't talk to her whenever he wants to, the way he wants to.

She sighs, still there, gripping his shoulder. But he can't look at her right now. He wants to say how he feels, he wants to open up… but this… the Persecution, his parents. This is more important. This is everything.

Hermione lets out a low strangled sound. "Okay." She says and then she's gone.

Harry releases a deep breath, choking a bit on it.

He's shaking.

And he lets himself cry.

He cries copiously for a while, then he stands from the chair, dizzy, the file in his hand. It's thick. Harry settles on his couch right in front of his wall. Uncovering it, his eyes wander to his many notes that changed throughout these few months he's been in London.

Before he opens the cover to reveal the first page, he strengthens the wards around the flat, especially from Hermione. He wants no one interrupting while he does this.

And finally. Finally, after fifteen years, he'll set eyes on all the answers he needs.

He's still shaking when he opens the file.

Chapter Text

The front page holds the name:

Potters' Persecution

(1977 - 1981)

Four years. Four years of this damned Persecution. Four years of lies and misinformation.

He turns the page:

1977

Minister Edward Smith, advised by his counselor Tom Riddle, took notice of a prohibited relationship between a Pureblood Wizard and a Muggleborn witch. As stated on the newly drafted law, no kind of relationship between Purebloods and other lowly wizards or witches (Half-Bloods and Muggleborns) are to be accepted. The sentence for perpetrating such crime can vary from a warning to years in Azkaban, depending on the kind of relationship and its duration.

Counselor Riddle, alerted by an anonymous source, declared that James Potter, heir of the Potter Bloodline is indulging in a romantic relationship with Lily Evans, a Muggleborn.

Minister Smith, aware of the situation, decided that no measures are to be taken at the moment since no concrete proof has been presented, however he notes that James Potter is to be put under heavy surveillance for the foreseeable future.

Minister Smith also assigned one Auror to handle this information: Antonin Dolohov.

The Auror's mission is to report James Potter's each and every step in search of condemning proofs.

Harry's eyes go over the next few lines. There's no new informations there, just a few reports of Dolohov following James and his encounters with Lily Evans in Muggle London.

Harry turns the page and at the bottom:

A meeting between the Minister, his counselor, the Head of the Law Enforcement and Auror Dolohov was held to assess the situation.

Minister Smith, taking into consideration the young age of James Potter and the apparently harmless encounters he had with the Muggleborn, decided that just a warning must be issued regarding the relationship they maintain.

No drastic measure is to be taken at the moment.

Harry turns the page and sees Dolohov's reports written on his own handwriting. And with each description there's a few photographs of James and Lily. Harry stops at that, his eyes lingering on their young faces and smiles while they walk with their hands clasped together in Muggle London.

Dolohov registered twenty encounters.

If he thinks about it, Minister Smith - whoever he was - was merciful. Harry knows that Tom Riddle would never accept the reports of twenty encounters and consider them harmless. Even with the new law, Minister Smith decided it would stir the community to sentence practically teenagers to Azkaban. Harry knows they never considered Lily part of the Wizarding society, but she would surely be punished just as if.

There's not much else regarding this first year and he knows that this started as just a silly investigation.

He wonders when things changed drastically.

1978

After the warning was issued to James Potter, his encounters with the Muggleborn stopped.

There are no new reports from Auror Dolohov.

Minister Smith chooses to close the file.

Harry frowns. He had no idea this had happened. If the file was closed, then-

New elected Minister Tom Riddle reopened the file.

Auror Dolohov was reinstated in the position along with Auror Bartemius Crouch Junior.

Reports regarding James Potter and Lily Evans are to be delivered weekly.

Harry stops reading for a moment. Riddle. It was Riddle who caused it all. He was the one who started it and then reinstated the buried investigation. He grits his teeth.

This atrocious man.

He deserves to die. He deserves to have everything he holds dear taken from him. He deserves to suffer. Deserves to burn in his own hell.

Taking a deep breath he scans through the next pages. Pages of reports from the Aurors. Dolohov resumed his stalking on James Potter, and Crouch - a newly graduated Auror - was responsible for tracking Lily Evans' steps. For a while there's nothing of much importance. If they were meeting, they kept it well hidden, until-

On this day, Sirius Black's statement was collected in the interrogation room. See on attached page.

Auror Karkaroff: Mr Black, are you aware that we're recording this statement?

Sirius Black: Yes.

AK: And you give us your permission?

SB: Yes.

AK: Very well, then, you're here because you claim to have informations regarding a friend of yours. Please state your friend's name and what you want us to know.

SB: I'm here to tell you about James Potter. He's having a relationship with a Muggleborn.

AK: In what circumstances do you present this information?

SB: I saw with my own eyes. They're engaged in a serious romantic relationship. James wants to marry Lily.

AK: Mr Black, you do realize you're claiming that your friend is committing a serious crime, don't you?

SB: I do. But I'm sure that Minister Riddle can find in him a fair sentence. Love is blind after all, and I don't hold it against my friend. He was bewitched by Lily Evans.

AK: Do you believe the Muggleborn forced James into this relationship?

SB: Yes. She has the knowledge and she could have slipped him a love potion.

AK: Is that so?

SB: James can't be held accountable for a crime that isn't his.

AK: Very well. We'll take your informations into consideration, then.

Harry is holding the air inside his lungs. He thinks that he barely breathed while reading this. Fucking Sirius Black. He's a traitor. Just as Harry imagined at first. Just as he should have not stopped imagining even after that whole show of James and Lily being his friends.

How could he? His statement was a clear green flag for them to hunt down Lily. Harry swears under his breath. His wish is to bolt to Grimmauld right now and demand answers, or just hex the living shit out of Sirius.

But he stops himself and turns the pages, more photographs of James and Lily are there, in most of them they're separated. They obviously avoided being spotted together.

And then he reaches his father's interrogation.

Minister Tom Riddle: I'm here with James Potter, conducting this interrogation regarding his forbidden relationship with Muggleborn Lily Evans. Mr Potter, are you aware that you're being recorded?

James Potter: Yes.

MR: Good. So, we shall begin. I took matters into my hands because we have visual confirmation and a statement from a close friend of yours that you're involved with a Muggleborn. Do you deny it?

JP: What friend?

MR: That's not what's being discussed here, Mr Potter. Do you deny you have a relationship with a Muggleborn?

JP: I deny.

MR: Would you answer the same under Veritaserum?

JP: You can't give me Veritaserum. I know my rights as Wizard. This is against the law, Minister.

MR: Maybe if you were a Wizard who followed the law you would be able to raise such prerogative. As I said we have proof. Do you still deny it?

JP: I do. I have nothing with Lily Evans. We're just acquaintances, nothing more. I'm breaking no laws here, Minister.

MR: Interesting. If we brought Miss Evans here for interrogation-

JP: Why?

MR: Well, to hear what she has to say, of course.

JP: If a Muggleborn is not considered part of our Wizarding Society, she shouldn't be investigated by it either.

MR: Are you defending Miss Evans?

JP: I'm stating the obvious.

MR: You said you two were acquaintances, is that right?

JP: Yes.

MR: So, tell me, Mr Potter, where did you meet?

JP: At Muggle London.

MR: What were you doing in Muggle London, Mr Potter?

JP: Shopping.

MR: Did you know from the first moment that Lily Evans had magic? That she was a Muggleborn?

JP: No.

MR: Would be possible that she slipped you some love potion, Mr Potter?

JP: It wouldn't because we don't have a romantic relationship.

MR: Mr Potter, are you aware of the penalties for a crime like that?

JP: There is no crime.

MR: Are you sure, Mr Potter? By now we know everything there is to know about Lily Evans. About her parents and her sister.

Harry stops.

Sister. Her sister.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of the water.

It's the first time he's hearing about Lily having a sister.

"An aunt." He whispers to himself.

Harry rises from the couch, running a hand through his hair and heading to the kitchen. He drinks some water and tries to put his thoughts back together.

As if knowing that Sirius betrayed them wasn't enough, now he discovers he might have an aunt. And he wonders what might have happened with his grandparents. From the little information he got, they were already dead when Harry was born, but can he trust this?

Can he trust anything? Anyone?

Is this sister still alive? Was she younger or older?

He's boiling with questions and doubts.

Returning to the couch, he resumes the reading:

JP: I don't see what importance a Muggle family might have to you, Minister.

MR: And you're right, Mr Potter, but that's exactly the point. They don't matter. They're just Muggles.

JP: Are you threatening them?

MR: Are you sure you want to keep denying your involvement with this Muggleborn, Mr Potter?

JP: If you have proof against me, then use them, if you don't, I think this interrogation is over, Minister. I have nothing else to say.

MR: Mr Potter, I would never mistreat a Pureblood Wizard. Especially a Potter. We're doing this for your own good. Lily Evans is dangerous. Muggleborns are dangerous. They taint our lineage. But very well, then, if you have nothing else to say, you may go. But do keep that in mind.

Harry lifts his eyes, then he turns the pages. Nothing major happens after the interrogation, only a few reports on their daily routines and many photographs.

Riddle threatened to interrogate Lily but he never did. There's no report regarding her Muggle family.

Gulping he notices that a Prophet's article is the last thing attached to 1978.

JAMES POTTER AND ALLEGEDLY MUGGLEBORN WIFE MISSING

The article goes on for pages.

First a brief explanation of the investigation that started the previous year and how suspicions were brought by a close source just after the new law was enacted. The article was thorough, even with some pictures that Harry saw attached to the file. The tone is also very clear, from the very start the relationship is condemned. From the start, the mere thought of a Pureblood getting involved with a Muggleborn is something that appalls the society, something that shouldn't be considered normal, regardless their feelings.

Then there's a huge research done by Wizards and Witches from the Ministry that states how harmful and dangerous to society and magic the union between Purebloods and Muggleborns or Muggles might be. It's a lot of rubbish. But they claim the informations are trustworthy, from an extensive study. Harry is sure the numbers are fabricated just simply by how absurd they are. It goes on saying how perpetuating this mixture of bloods might be the recipe to end magic, since the further the mixture occurs, the chances of squibs get higher and higher, threatening entire bloodlines.

And just after this, there's an interview with recently elected Minister of Magic, Tom Riddle.

Harry grits his teeth at the photograph of a younger Riddle. His eyes are the same as now, cunning and menacing, and his smile, dangerous.

He talks about how he tried alerting James Potter, how he tried bringing justice to this case without taking drastic measures and how Potter ungratefully fled after an amicable interrogation. Then, he proceeds to explain how such disobedience can't go unpunished. Riddle, in nice and difficult words, shows how worried he is for the Wizarding Society, how his main goal in life is to provide a better world for those who wield magic. And inevitably he proclaims that anyone who might go against him shall be the enemy.

He ends the interview declaring that James Potter is now a traitor. An enemy. The same goes for Lily Evans. And whoever tried to help them would be punished just the same.

Harry clicks his tongue and turns the page. Of course the punishment for a traitor is way worse. And Riddle was well aware of what he was doing, of what kind of nest he was poking.

The next few pages show how this interview was received by Wizards and Witches. Many agreed with Riddle, others not so much. Harry sees two names there that he recognizes: Dumbledore. Longbottom. And as he goes, he sees that they were interrogated. Practically threatened by Riddle. But things were resolved when they showed no indication of helping James or Lily.

And then…

1979

James Potter and his Muggleborn wife continue on the run. There was no report of them being seen throughout Wizarding or Muggle London.

Minister Riddle decided to create a team to focus exclusively on this investigation:

Auror Antonin Dolohov

Auror Bartemius Crouch Junior

Auror Danthon Goyle

Auror Fenrir Greyback

Auror Igor Karkaroff

Auror Rodolphus Lestrange

There are files on each Auror. It doesn't go unnoticed to Harry how young they all were, as if Riddle wanted to keep them on a leash, under strict orders without taking the risk of them rebelling against him. A more experienced Auror might have caused trouble.

Minister Riddle also instated that the investigation shall be confidential from now on. All reports must be direct to him, being the Minister the only one capable of filling out the file for record.

Harry opens his mouth. Bastard.

Of course the next pages are mostly blank with very few informations. There's nothing regarding missions to search for the Potters, nothing about Riddle's suspicions or next steps. Just phrases like:

No new lead.

Still missing.

No accomplices found.

Just this and a few articles that were clearly published to satisfy Riddle's wishes.

Harry turns the pages with rage. Where are his answers? Where is the whole thing?

Then he reaches:

1981

Peter Pettigrew came into the Ministry stating that he knows the exact location of James and Lily Potter. Traitor James Potter was spotted close to the location given. In a few days a mission will be led by Auror Dolohov to imprison both.

Dolohov. He was the leader. The one who might have the answers. Harry sets his jaw. It's protocol for the Aurors to give a full statement of what happened at whichever mission, but there's nothing regarding that terrible Halloween night. No statement, no clues of what happened.

Just:

James and Lily Potter attacked the Aurors and no other outcome was possible. The traitor and his Muggleborn wife are now dead and the threat they posed for Society is gone.

The case is closed. The Persecution over.

Minister of Magic,

Tom Riddle.

Harry shuts the file and throws it at the floor, seeing red. He screams.

He should have known that the file wouldn't hold the answers. He should have known that something controlled by Riddle wouldn't easily show all his violent and cruel actions. Nothing about the uprisings that took over London. Nothing about the dissonant voices. Nothing about how he muffled all of them.

Nothing about the tracking spell he placed on James.

What else is missing?

Harry stops screaming, his throat dry, his cheeks wet from angry tears. He bites hard on his lower lip, his face contorting into an expression of pain.

Most of what he read he already knew, just two new things came out of it: Sirius' betrayal and the fact that he might have a living aunt.

He gasps, reaching for the file. Where are the Aurors' whereabouts? Harry gulps while he flips the pages, his eyes going over everything he read. Then, after Riddle's final entry, on a different kind of paper, he sees:

Aurors who had any involvement with the case are being dismissed with a life salary. They're never to come back or comment on what happened.

And below it, the addresses. Their locations. Just in case. Places they were prohibited to leave.

Harry lets out a strange and wicked laugh. Riddle practically imprisoned all of them, making it easy for him to keep an eye on them, to track every step of these Aurors. Of course he wouldn't kill them. Regardless everything, they were Pureblood Aurors.

He stands from the couch, he wants to invade Dolohov's house right now. But he stops when he takes a few steps.

He needs to think this through. Riddle is already on his tail, watching him. Hermione is capable of making these 'visits' happen without having someone on their necks. Maybe he should wait. Maybe now is not the time to be reactive. He already has the informations, he knows where to find them, knows who the leader was…

Harry takes a deep breath and puts the file on top of the table. Then he turns to his wall and begins writing away what he just discovered. He crosses his arms when he's done.

His eyes stop at the things he wants:

- Punch Pettigrew's face.

- Destroy the lives of everyone remotely involved in what happened to my parents.

- Help the rebels and their uprisings.

- Stop the hate discourse against Muggles and Muggleborns.

- Kill Tom Riddle's family.

He already punched Pettigrew several times, but maybe he'll never get enough of it.

When it comes to destroying lives… a flash of what he did to Lestrange comes to him and he closes his eyes, trying to send it away. But he can't deny that if given the chance he'll do the same with the four remaining Aurors.

To help the rebels and their uprisings he needs to know who's behind all of this, needs to talk with… Sirius.

Sirius. He purses his lips. He betrayed his parents. He went there and gave a statement. Sirius made Riddle look at things again, made him call James in.

Harry sees two options before him. He could pretend he never saw this file, pretend everything is alright and wait for the right moment to strike, the right moment to make Sirius pay. Or he could go to Grimmauld right now and talk about this. Because… what if things aren't what they seem to be? Sirius didn't seem fazed by the fact that Hermione might have stolen the file. He actually was sure of it and knew that she would share it with Harry.

Harry crosses his arms. The minutes tick by, waiting for his decision.

And after pacing the living room, he decides.

In a beat he's inside Grimmauld.

"Harry?" Eleonora asks with wide eyes, surprised by his presence. She's sitting alone at the living room, reading. "Didn't know you were coming. Are you-"

"Where's Sirius?" He sounds… dangerous.

She presses her lips together. He can see the distress in her features, as if she can sense his intentions. She opens and closes her mouth, a bit unsure.

"Where is he?" Harry presses, taking a step to her.

He knows how it looks. He's probably with red eyes from all the crying. His hair a mess from running his hands through it. His clothes crumpled.

"TELL ME!" He finally loses it, screaming at her face.

He rather feels it than hear, but a spell comes his way from behind and Harry is fast enough to raise a shield.

Sirius is at the top of the stairs, his face angry.

Harry grits his teeth. And in a swift motion he binds Eleonora to the couch, making it impossible for her to surprise him while he faces Sirius. The man snarls at the way his wife lets out a grunt of pain. Harry doesn't care.

He sends a hex towards Sirius. One capable of hurting. But it misses the target when Sirius apparates away at the exact moment, the power of the spell hitting the wall, leaving a mark. Harry turns on his heels and sends another hex at the point where Sirius appears. This time is a counter spell which stops him.

Harry is seeing red. Even his Auror training slips from his mind while his only objective is to hit Sirius. Hit him in any way. He sends spell after spell, the rage inside him getting a hold of all his other emotions. Sirius never strikes back. He only defends himself the best he can, deflecting all of Harry's attempts.

He has no idea how many spells he performs, how many hexes, how many charms. But he starts to sweat. He starts to feel a weakness taking over his limbs. His arm feels heavy. His head is throbbing. There are tears running down his face.

But Harry keeps going. He doesn't stop. He can't stop.

And the calmness in Sirius' face, the way he looks at Harry with pity, it angers him even more. Harry grunts, at last shouting a curse.

This time Sirius grits his teeth and Eleonora screams when the Cruciatus misses for a few inches.

But Harry kneels right after.

He crumbles down.

With his head hanging low and his arms resting on his thighs, he lets himself cry some more. He lets himself cry with abandon. He barely notices the strong arms around him or the tight embrace from the man he was just attacking. It's impossible to form a coherent thought, impossible to grasp reality, to know in what he should believe, in who to trust.

But Sirius lifts him from the floor, Eleonora helping him. And they sit Harry on the couch, one at each side, their arms around him in an attempt of comfort, of stopping his pain, his tears.

"Let it out, Harry." Sirius says. "Let it out."

Harry is sure he never cried like this. He's not only crying for his parents. He's crying for the family he never had, the aunt he never met, the grandparents who died before he even knew they existed. He's crying for the sheer cruelty of the Persecution, the clear intent of ruining their lives for no reason at all. He's crying because Tom Riddle still walks freely, crying because he won. Riddle won. And he's crying because he loves Hermione. He loves her to a point of pain. To a point where if she asked him to forget about this revenge, he would. This wrecks him. The guilt of it. The weight of not being allowed to let this go. Because he can't. He can't let this go.

He needs to choose. And he doesn't want to.

Harry only stops when there are no more tears for him to shed. His sobs fill the room. Eleonora and Sirius still there, by his side. He swallows hard, trying to slow down his racing heart. Then he runs his hands through his hair and whispers:

"Sorry. I'm sorry." He shakes his head.

Sirius pats his back. "I know."

Harry finally looks at the man by his side, into his eyes. "Why?" Is the only thing he dares asking.

And he can see that Sirius knows exactly what he's talking about. The man tilts his head, sorrow written all over his face.

"I wanted to tell you sooner, but you weren't ready to talk about your parents or anything related to them, remember?" He does. Sirius tried that day… "I did it because they asked me to, Harry. It was their plan."

He sets his jaw. "Plan? To put a target on my mother's back?"

"What if… I show you?"

Harry stands from the couch. A memory. Sirius wants to show him a memory of him and his parents. He closes his eyes, pondering. He's not prepared. But he needs to know. So, he only nods and follows Sirius to a study.

It's the first time Harry is entering the room, but he doesn't try looking for clues or anything of the sort, he's barely aware of his surroundings. There's no reason to fear Sirius or to believe that this is a trap. But he holds his breath when the pensive appears at the corner of the room. Sirius silently summons a vial to his hand. Harry has no idea where it came from. He doesn't care either.

In small steps, timid steps, he goes to the pensive, his hands inside his pockets.

It's been a crazy day. Since morning when Riddle tried giving him Veritaserum until now.

"Ready?" Sirius asks and he nods. He'll never be truly ready.

But in a blink the memory is sucking him into it.

August, 1978

Sirius knocks on the metal door four times. Swift knocks, one after the other. Two knocks answer. And he knocks again four times. Then the door finally opens outward.

It's a bunker in the middle of nowhere. So, with one final look over his shoulders and at the trees around, he descends the stairs, closing the door behind him. There's music inside and a lit fireplace, the place way bigger than expected because of a spell.

A few bottles are resting atop a table and Remus is there with Lily and James, the three smiling and talking about amenities while Sirius approaches the couch where Lily is sitting on James' lap. They all greet him with enthusiasm.

Taking a bottle of beer, Sirius sits and sighs, exhausted. It's been a long day and he wants to rest, chill a bit.

"What's new with you, mate?" James asks him directly.

Sirius blinks. "I met someone today." He says with some flair, making a scene out of it.

"Who is she?" Lily asks, excited.

"Her name is Eleonora." He shrugs. "But I don't think it will last, she plans on studying abroad for a few years." He takes a sip. "But to be honest, maybe we should talk about what Bellatrix told me earlier."

Lily and James stiffen, their smiles fading. "What?" James asks in a thin voice.

"She said Riddle reopened the file, James. And there are two Aurors on it now. It's been like this for a while, since he was elected in May."

James and Lily share a look. Worry in their eyes, fear. She stands from his lap and starts to pace. Remus is watching with thin eyes, distaste on his face at the news.

"Shit." Is James' only reaction.

"I don't even know how Riddle shared this information with her, she was fretting when she told me about it, though. She doesn't like this obsession either." Sirius clicks his tongue. "Now that he's Minister I don't think he's letting this go."

"What do we do now?" Lily whispers to herself, her eyes fixed at the floor while she bites on one of her nails. "Sirius is right. Riddle started this. Since the first draft of the law. And he was the one who told Minister Smith about us, wasn't he? That's what Bellatrix said."

"Indeed." Remus says in a low voice.

"We need to find a way to protect Lily-"

But Lily cuts James with a snort. "Please, he doesn't care about me. Not really. He doesn't even consider me a part of society and we all know it." She points to James. "It's you who's being targeted here."

"I highly doubt that." James says, crossing his arms. "He wouldn't dare touching me, Lil. My Bloodline is too important."

She scoffs, shaking her head. "Nonsense. You're not looking at the bigger picture. As always."

They share a moment where they stare at each other stubbornly. It's James who looks away first with a grunt. "Fine. If that's what you think…" He raises both arms. "Let's put a target on your back, then." He's being ironic, but Lily actually makes a face, thinking, pondering. "I'm joking." James says, but she's already pressing her lips together, her eyes bright with an idea.

Sirius shakes his head. "No." He says before she even voices her idea. "I don't know what you're thinking but no."

"Come on." She says in a low voice. "Maybe we should put a target on my back… test the waters, see what he would do." James is also shaking his head now, thinking her idea absurd, but she keeps talking, "What do you prefer, James? To sit here and do nothing? To wait for the moment when he's coming after us, after what we-"

She stops. James tenses immediately. Sirius and Remus make strange faces, not following her train of thought, having no clue what's silently passing between the couple.

"It's unintelligent to put ourselves in this situation, Lil. He's already tracking our steps-"

"Then we should do it for them." She says and Sirius lifts his head, understanding she's talking about him and Remus.

"For us?" He asks, not getting her point.

"If this…" She trails and takes a deep breath, "Riddle is Minister now. He can do whatever he wants. He can be the law. The executioner. He needs to show how he's going to rule. I think he'll make an example out of us."

"That's a bit-" James begins but she raises a hand for him to listen. He does.

"This won't stop. He won't stop." She presses her lips together and her chin wobbles. "Or we end things between us right now, James, or we try finding ways of escaping this. But we shouldn't sit idly. We can't keep waiting for his move. We need to take this into our hands and play it the way we want."

Sirius clicks his tongue, sipping. "She's right." He whispers to no one in particular.

A heavy silence takes over the room. James and Lily are staring at each other, unspoken words only a couple can understand passing between them. Remus looks at Sirius and they know the moment is of decision. Something important is about to unfold.

James finally stands from the couch and goes to her, his brow on her own. "The possibility of ending things with you doesn't even exist, love." He says and she sighs, a tear running down her face. "We're in this together." He smiles to her, brushing her tear away. "What do you suggest we do, then?"

"We need to flee, James." Her expression is of pain. "He's never going to let this go until we're rotting in Azkaban or worse."

Sighing, Remus stands from his seat and pockets his hands. "I'll help you however I can."

"Me too." Sirius says, stepping closer to them, patting James' back.

Lily nods, thanking them. "I trust you two the most for this." Her voice is strained, weak. "One of you should go to the Ministry. Give a deposition. Blame me for this relationship. Tell him I'm giving James some love potion or whatever. Maybe take the focus from James for him to be able to prepare our escape."

"What?" James widens his eyes, shaking his head.

"This is too dangerous, Lily." Sirius says.

"I know. But this is…" She turns to Remus and Sirius, "This is our thing, our problem." She motions between her and James. "You shouldn't pay for it. Go and show that you're on Riddle's side. It will make things easier for you, easier for you to help us when we do flee."

Remus grunts. "I hate how right you are."

"You can't agree to this." James says fast. "What if he takes you into custody, Lil? What am I supposed to do, then?" He sounds a bit angry.

"I have a feeling that he won't." She gives James a pointed look and he refrains himself from arguing. "It takes the blame off your back, James, and it shows that your friends are not on our side, they don't agree with what you're doing or with the way you're throwing your life away. I have a hunch this will be important in the future."

"It's too risky." James is still disagreeing with her plan.

"It's necessary." She states firmly. "Will you do it?" She asks Remus and Sirius.

Sirius gulps. "I'll do it."

The memory fades away.

Harry is staring at nothing in particular. Before he can even think about everything he heard, he needs to come to terms with seeing his parents in such a young age without him. He wasn't even a thought back then.

He feels numb. Sirius doesn't say a thing, letting Harry take his time to absorb the memory they just saw.

But when Harry sighs and closes his eyes, brushing away a few tears, Sirius says:

"Lily was thinking ten steps ahead." His voice is low.

"How did she know Riddle wouldn't come after her?" Harry makes a face at his strange voice. Exhausted. He's exhausted. "It feels like-"

"Like there's something we don't know, right?"

He turns to look at Sirius. "Exactly."

"Do you wanna know what I think about it?" Harry nods. "I think Riddle wasn't after them because of their relationship."

Harry frowns. "What?" He can barely register the words. "He killed them because of it."

Sirius makes a face and tilts his head. "Did he, Harry?" He shrugs and sighs. "It's just too strange. You read the file, didn't you? I suspect that from the very start he knew James and Lily were in a relationship."

Harry nods. "Yes. There are photos and detailed encounters." He stops breathing for a moment, his mind coming back to life, his body tingling away from the numbness. "And you gave your deposition."

"I did. I explicitly said I saw with my own eyes that they were together."

"And Riddle did nothing."

"He did nothing." Sirius confirms with his head.

Harry puts a hand over his chest. Breathing is a difficult thing at the moment. It seems like everything he ever believed or thought right is crumbling down before his eyes.

"He called my father for interrogation just for the show. And… Lestrange. Lestrange said Riddle knew since then where they were-"

"He was monitoring them."

Harry stops at that. "Do you think Riddle knows who I am, then?"

Sirius shakes his head. "No. However he monitored them, he never found out about you. I'm positive you would be dead, Harry."

"But why? Why monitor them?"

"I don't know. But I think the reason behind this is what really killed them, Harry. And we'll only know when an Auror that was there that night gives us the answer."

Harry holds his head with both hands. This is… a lot. "What they could possibly have that was so important?"

"I don't know." Sirius says again with sorrow. "But whatever it was… I don't think Riddle got it."

Harry tuns to look at the man. "The Persecution was a success according to the file." He states.

"Nah." Sirius dismisses his words. "We were at the Ministry the next day, Harry. Riddle was behaving anything but satisfied. In a way, he didn't get what he wanted."

"Fuck." He whispers. "Did you… go to the house?"

Sirius shakes his head. "No. We- it would be too much. And we know that if James and Lily had something to hide it would be pretty difficult to find clues inside an abandoned house."

"I… I went there." Harry's voice cracks. "And while I was in Italy I went through a few memories… I need to go back to the house. With time. Without having my emotions getting in the way. I think I might find some lost clues."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No. I- I want to do it alone."

Sirius nods, understanding. For long minutes they say nothing, until, "Sirius, do I have an aunt?"

The man opens a tight smile. "In fact, Harry, you do." Harry blinks, surprised. He asked but he was not expecting the confirmation. "And she's someone that's been dying to meet you."

A sudden hotness takes over him. Excitement mixed with exhaustion. "Yeah?" He gulps. "I- I would like to meet her too. You told her? About me? You made a Vow-"

"We only said we suspected. Even before you confirmed. But she said that if we doubted then it was true."

"She's a Muggle, right?"

"Yes."

"What's her name?"

"Petunia. Petunia Snape."

Harry opens and closes his mouth, his eyes wide. "As in… wife of Severus Snape?"

"Do you know about Severus?" Sirius blinks, surprised.

"I- Hermione-" He shakes his head. "Dumbledore gave her Snape's contact or whatever. She got in touch with him years ago, asking about the Persecution. Who is he?"

"He's an ally, Harry. Someone who seeks justice. He grew up in a house near the Evans. He knew your mother since they were children. They were good friends. Snape is a wizard, but he's a Half-Blood and he kept himself under the radar. Since he never caused any trouble, no kind of punishment was imposed on him. You know that Riddle exiled Half-Bloods from society. Muggleborns, he doesn't even acknowledge." Sirius shrugs. "We can go see your aunt if you want to. Snape will be there with her and you'll be able to talk. They're the leaders of the resistance, Harry."

"A Muggle and a Half-Blood?" He opens a smile.

"Fitting, right? And perfect. They unite Muggles, Muggleborns and Half-Bloods in one cause."

"All of Tom Riddle's favorite people."

Sirius chuckles. "Exactly. So, wanna meet her?"

"Yes." He takes a deep breath. Sirius nods. Harry feels calmer now, his thoughts more coherent. "What exactly do they do, Sirius? This resistance? I mean, they're not responsible for the attack at the Fair. Not responsible for invading Riddle Manor and surely not responsible for rescuing a squib… do they just protest at Halloween and proclaim that what happened with my parents was unfair?"

"Harry… they act behind the curtains. You have no idea everything they've done and keep doing. Every day they rescue Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. Every day they train those who can't attend Hogwarts. They've created their own society, their own community. It's a network of support." Sirius grips his shoulder, forcing Harry to look at him, "Making a difference is not about acts of war, Harry. It's about kindness. Caring. And we support them the best way we can. We teach whenever we're able to slip through Riddle's grasp on us." Harry gulps, looking down, ashamed.

"I-" He sighs. "You're right. I'm just- so focused on taking Riddle down that sometimes my judgment is compromised. When I left Rome I wanted to make a difference, Sirius, wanted to help Muggleborns, everyone. I wanted to do it to honor my parents. But since I got here things have been a mess. Such a fucking mess that sometimes I… I even lose myself in it." He looks up and back at Sirius. "I want to participate. I want to help. I want to know everything about the resistance and do my best for these people."

Sirius opens a bright smile. "Of course. Petunia will be ecstatic about it. And your parents would be proud of you, Harry. Very proud."

Harry opens a tight smile and accepts the half hug Sirius is giving him. "Even if the file didn't help much, at least now I know where the other Aurors are." Sirius pulls back to pay attention to his words. "Hermione wants to visit one Auror a month." He states and leaves a question in the air.

"She's being careful. I think it's a good thing." Sirius says, his eyes narrow. "What do you want to do?"

Harry snorts. "If it was up to me and my recklessness I would be flying to their houses right now."

"I know four months may seem a long time, Harry, but maybe laying low is the best tactic here. I'm sure Riddle controls these Aurors in a way and if he notices something strange he might move them-"

"Exactly, shouldn't we act fast, then?"

Sirius ponders. "I'm not sure. Maybe one strike after the other might alert Riddle and end in direct confrontation… Hermione knows her father, if she's suggesting one a month…" He shrugs, implying the obvious. That Hermione is right.

Harry sighs, letting out a grunt. "I'm so tired, Sirius. Sometimes I just- want to go back to Rome. Leave all of this behind." He voices what's been bugging him since he came back. "Sometimes I feel that I can't make a difference, that I'm just one man against Riddle and years of Blood Supremacy. One man that-" He stops talking, biting his tongue. Sirius is listening, gentleness in his eyes. And Harry says it because he can't hold it any longer- "I'm in love with my enemy's daughter."

Sirius exhales. Then he clicks his tongue. "Have you talked about it with her?" He doesn't judge Harry's feelings. At all.

Harry shakes his head. "She's marrying Pettigrew." He winces, as if the truth can hurt him. In a way, it can.

"Regardless, Harry. If there's the slightest chance that she loves you back… go for it."

Harry widens his eyes, chewing the insides of his cheeks. "Maybe… maybe after this whole thing with the Aurors?" He tilts his head. "I mean, I want to focus on this now and I don't think talking to her and being rejected is the best option to go through with this."

Sirius chuckles softly. "What if she doesn't reject you?"

Harry cracks his knuckles. "Truth is, Sirius, even if she feels the same… even if she loves me back… I don't think I know what to do next." He makes a face. "How can we be together? How can I tell her the whole truth? What would it do to our relationship?" He gulps.

"Well… these are all fair questions, Harry… give it time, then. Focus on the Aurors as you said. And be sure of what you feel, be sure of what you want. If her feelings are the same, you'll find a way. Just like your parents did." Sirius winks at him. And since Harry stays silent, the man continues, "But if I can say something, Harry… Eleonora and I also had the Perfect Harmony when we danced the Traditional. And in my opinion, it's not wise to treat this lightly." He gives Harry a pointed look.

Harry frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The Traditional only shows what already exists, Harry, a strong and special affinity. You were already involved with each other when you danced, already feeling something. This is not one sided. She feels for you too."

Harry purses his lips, trying not to get his hopes too high. "Was it like this with you and Eleonora?"

"Yes." Sirius opens a smile. "We met that day you saw on the memory. By accident, actually. She fell on the street and I helped her up. And you know, I'm not an idiot or anything, so I asked her to grab some tea with me. And I have no idea why but she said yes. Talking with her was easy, Harry. Carefree and fun. Merlin, we do have fun together." His smile gets wider. "But as I said she was thinking about traveling abroad to study for three years. It was odd, you know? We've just met and when she told me this I felt… sad. But even so, we kept in touch the months before her departure. We made no promises to each other, I mean, a lot can happen in three years and stuff, but I felt like there was no one else I'd rather be with. I'm not saying I didn't date for the years that she was abroad, and I know she also dated…" He makes a face. "When she came back, I was single. And we met again at a Ball thrown by the Weasleys. That day I was sure. So sure. I looked at her and I knew. I asked if she would give me the honor to dance the Traditional together." Sirius stops for a second. "I don't know what you and Hermione felt, but it still gives me goosebumps when I remember that night." Harry exhales, remembering his dance with Hermione. It was something from another world, another reality. It was as if life only made sense in that moment. "I proposed to her when we stopped waltzing." Sirius chuckles. "A bit dramatic, but, well…" He shrugs. "The connection we felt was too strong to ignore. And we weren't wrong, Harry. We've been married for almost twenty-six years. And now I love her even more." He lets out an enamored sigh. "Don't ask me how that's possible, but it is. There's no one else in this world that completes me the way she does."

Harry looks down, thinking, pondering… "Can I ask you something?" Sirius nods. "When you and Eleonora touch your left hands… do you feel a tingle? A powerful sensation? Anything?"

Sirius makes a face that's enough for Harry to know the answer. "No. Why?"

Harry bites his lower lip, not sure if he should share this particular thing with anyone. If feels like something unique between him and Hermione and he doesn't want to turn this into a big deal.

"I think I read in a book that this could happen when the Perfect Harmony exists." A believable lie.

"Did it happen with you and Hermione?"

"No."

Sirius narrows his eyes. But then he takes a deep breath and changes the subject, "So, when do you wanna meet your aunt?"

He opens a small smile. "As soon as possible."

Sirius smiles in return and pats his shoulder. "Great. You can come with us the next time we visit, then. And Harry, don't be too harsh on yourself. Things aren't always the way we want or expect them to be, and that's okay. That's normal. That's life." Harry nods, gulping. "Was there anything else worth sharing on that file?"

"No. Riddle kept everything to himself. Fucking bastard."

As Sirius also calls Riddle names, he stands and Harry follows him out and into the living room. Sally is there, her face a mask of suspicion towards Harry. He lifts his hands.

"Is everything alright?" She asks her father.

"It is." Sirius says and she relaxes. "Harry, you can stay here if you-"

"No." Even with a negative response, his tone is friendly, "it's fine, Sirius. I want to… reread it and think about a few things. But we'll see each other soon, yeah?" Sirius nods.

Harry takes a deep breath and hugs the man. Sirius seems at a loss of action or words.

"Thank you, for everything. And again," Harry says when he steps back, "I'm sorry about the way I-"

"Doesn't matter. It's fine, Harry. It's fine."

And Harry can hear all the affection on his tone. He can feel that this man is ready to do anything to help him in a way he wasn't able to help his two best friends.

Also hugging Sally goodbye - because he's feeling like a hugger - Harry apparates back to his flat.

The next four months won't be easy.

But he's ready.

Chapter Text

January 14th, 2006

Grimmauld

Harry makes a face. Ron is beating his ass in wizard's chess. He can't help cringing a little each time one of his pieces gets destroyed. Letting out a breath, he makes his move, trying, in a last effort, to trap Ron.

He smiles, sure that he succeeded, but then, after two more moves, Ron says:

"Checkmate."

Harry snorts. "Fuck you." He says to Ron and they burst into a sincere laugh. "I don't ever want to play with you again, mate."

"Ah, come on, you cry baby. Hermione used to lose to me every time, but she never gave up until she beat me. It happened only one time and I have to say that I'm proud that I'm better than her at something."

Harry shakes his head. He doesn't want to talk about Hermione. Things are… awkward between them.

A few days after he read the file, he said she could take it back and Hermione went to his flat. Harry has to admit that he was a bit cold, distant. But not so much intentionally, it was just… after the talk with Sirius, he kept thinking about them and about his feelings. And the more he thought, the more sure he was that there's no future for them.

The realization wrecked him.

And when she apparated inside his flat, he felt unsure.

Unsure of what to do with the turmoil inside him and with the fact that maybe he should move on from her.

He completely froze when he looked at her engagement ring. He froze when he registered her Head Auror's uniform.

Pettigrew's soon-to-be wife. Riddle's daughter.

And Hermione herself seemed to notice that something was off.

She didn't try to hug him. They didn't kiss. They only talked.

They talked about the file. Talked about the Aurors. Talked about the Persecution. Talked about Sirius' deposition and James' interrogation. Hermione didn't bring up the fact that Riddle knew from the start where the Potters were and Harry didn't ask what she made of it… but he should have, though. He should have asked her, should have questioned if Riddle might have other motives to go after the Potters.

They settled on visiting Goyle next. In five days from now.

And since this talk they barely saw each other. Hermione has been working like crazy and Harry stays out of her way. She didn't go after him either, and he's focused on his own tasks, trying to stay under the radar.

Investigations on what happened with the statue are ragging. Hermione is mostly occupied with that. Since the attack, even when Harry was away in Italy, Riddle made her go through tracking spell after tracking spell to see if she could undo the damage. Ginny told Harry about this.

And then he saw it with his own eyes, just a few days ago, when he was leaving later than usual.

Hermione was alone inside the Atrium and she didn't notice his presence, so, Harry stood there, in the shadows, watching her perform spell after spell. From a fair distance he could tell that she was exhausted. But Hermione kept going, her lips pressed into a thin line while she tried discovering who might have done that.

And it was a perfect representation of the pressure she's constantly under.

His heart ached for her. But he just watched, in silence. After what seemed hours Hermione finally gave up and groaned to the empty place, letting out some rage. And then, she left, murmuring things to herself that Harry wasn't able to hear.

When he was all alone in front of the statue, he couldn't help a chill running down his spine. It was the first place he stood when he arrived there. And in front of that same wrecked statue, he talked with Hermione for the first time.

Somehow, standing there with it in pieces-

It felt… ominous.

But he shoved the thought away and went home.

And apart from that, they discovered that Vernon Dursley died around 2am. No signs of struggle. No sign of the murder weapon.

Harry knows Hermione stole the file from Riddle. She told him she went to her father's office when Riddle stood in front of the statue for an hour before the others arrived. He was trying to fix it and didn't notice Hermione slipping away into the elevators to an unguarded floor.

So, now they're sure the three things happened at different hours.

Mostly because it was the complete destruction of the statue that sent out an alert to Riddle and Hermione. She said she received the alert at around 4am. Riddle states the same.

And whoever did this… it didn't trig any other kind of alarm. So, it's someone who knows their way around the Ministry. A Wizard or Witch. One or two or three… they have no idea.

The whole thing is consuming all of them. Harry can't deny it was well planned and executed.

And on top of everything, Riddle is demanding answers from all other investigations. On the Fair, on who invaded the Manor, on the rescue of Lucinda Summers and her daughter…

Hermione said to Harry, on a brief encounter they had at an empty corridor, that she was going to talk with Riddle regarding Lucinda Summers. The interrogations were done and nothing came out of it, so, her official report is that someone from outside knew or imagined the transference was going to happen on that night and was prepared to strike. There's nothing else she can do to solve it. Harry agreed, said it was a good idea and they parted their ways.

He takes a deep breath and glances at his watch. In a few minutes they're all going to meet Petunia and Snape at their Head Quarters. It will be the first time that Harry will see his aunt. Talk to her.

And he's anxious.

"Are you nervous?" Draco asks, sitting by Ron's side and making a face at the obvious massacre on the chessboard.

"A bit." He answers sincerely to Draco. Their relationship is still the same, friendly but not so much. "But I'm more anxious to see what they've been doing all these years. What they've accomplished."

Ron and Draco nod.

"It's pretty impressive." Ginny says behind Harry and he turns to look at her. "Petunia still doesn't know that you're going with us, Harry." She says softly. "Sirius thought it would be fun to make a surprise, but since I have sensibility, I'm asking, do you want me to warn her in some way?"

Harry shakes his head, a tiny smile on his face. "No. It's fine, Gin, but thanks."

Deep down he wants it to be a surprise. It will be nerve wracking for him, so it can be surprising for them.

"The Portkey is ready!" Sirius calls from the kitchen and they head there.

Harry pockets his hands. The coin is inside his pocket. But the last time he or Hermione used it seems a thousand years ago.

"Let's go, people." Molly urges them.

Trying not to think too hard about what's about to happen, Harry closes his eyes when he reaches for the Portkey.

The Palace

Head Quarters

They land in the middle of nowhere.

It's a forest. There are only tress and a river. And silence. Harry frowns, looking around. Was this a trap and are they finally going to kill him or something?

But before he dwells on it, Sirius performs a spell and a bright bird goes soaring into the sky… and then into a magical ward that breaks and vanishes in seconds.

Harry blinks.

He's in front of what looks like a huge palace. And standing there, in front of it, he can see a man. Black hair, prominent nose and dark eyes. He has his arms crossed in front of him, waiting.

"Severus, my friend!" Remus says, walking to the man. Everyone follows.

Harry stays a tad behind the others. He can feel his heart pounding inside his chest. He knows the moment when he steps past the ward. He knows they vanished for the outside world.

"Remus!" Snape says, his voice dragging a bit. "Good to see you all. Is it a special occasion or did you just missed me?"

They embrace and smile at each other. And Harry sees himself walking forward.

He stops in front of Snape.

There's a silence, then.

Snape and Harry look at each other for a long minute. Harry has no idea what to say and the other man seems to be at a loss of words too.

When Harry opens his mouth, Snape yells, "TUNEY!" Harry blinks. "It's true, then." Harry nods and Snape smiles. "I'm glad. She'll be ecstatic." And he extends his hand to Harry. "Severus Snape. I guess you can call me uncle Snape."

Sirius snorts behind Harry and the tension leaves his body. "Harry Potter." He shakes the hand in front of him. Giving his true name sends a thrill of excitement down his spine. "It's a pleasure, uncle Snape." He says in a teasing tone, making fun of the title and the others all laugh. Snape too.

"Come." He pats Harry on the shoulder, walking to the palace. "She's probably at the greenhouse."

"Can you… tell me about this place?" Harry asks in a low voice, he's mesmerized by the palace and the grounds around it.

"Of course." Snape begins, "We made this our safe house or head quarters as they like to call." He motions with his head to the others behind them, entertained in their own conversations, "We began many years ago, me, Petunia and… your mother." He gives Harry a side glance, clearing his throat. "We thought it was incredibly unfair that only Purebloods could learn about magic and attend Hogwarts. But we surely didn't have the proper place or materials to learn stuff. So, it all began with a book." Snape smiles. "As it always does, right? Well, Petunia and Lily were on a trip with their parents and they met Remus' uncle. They were little, your mother was probably seven and Petunia nine when this happened. Remus' family, I have no idea how, had a feeling that Lily might have magic and in a generous gesture, they gave her a wizard's book about children tales." Snape stops talking for a brief moment when they reach the steps to the front huge door of the palace. "It became Lily's favorite. And since I'm a Half-Blood, I had easier access to books, wands… magical things." He clears his throat. "We started smuggling stuff."

"At ten?" Harry asks, surprised.

Snape snorts a chuckle. "Pretty much, yeah." They resume their walk and Harry observes while Snape murmurs a few spells to open the door.

His mouth hangs open.

The place is… majestic. The entrance is filled with light and Harry smiles at the huge tree inside. Its roots come from below the marble floor and its enormous trunk rises firm and tall. Since it's pretty much winter, it lacks leaves, but there's a hole on the ceiling for the tree to thrive. He's sure a few spells hold it in place. And circling it there's a huge staircase.

There are many corridors to choose from the hall and he can see… students.

He can't help a warm sensation inside his chest.

Some are older, others very young. And they're wearing uniforms, walking together, laughing. Free.

Harry inhales deeply. "How many students?" He asks Snape. The others all vanished inside.

"Almost a thousand." Harry widens his eyes.

"That's incredible." He whispers.

"I know." Snape clears his throat. "Come, the greenhouse is this way." And they resume their walk to what Harry assumes is the back of the palace. "So, at first it was just the three of us. Me and Lily, we were able to use magic, it was clear, but Petunia wasn't. Even so, her relationship with her sister was very strong and they promised to never part, so she took it to herself to help us in any way possible." Harry can hear the fondness in the man's voice. "I made my parents go to Diagon Alley to get me and Lily wands. And then, one day, Remus came to visit Lily and her family. We told him about our plans, about how we wanted to learn magic. He loved the idea. And then, books and all kinds of things that could help us exploring our magic began to arrive through the mail. Remus had told his parents and they mentioned it to Dumbledore." Snape raises an eyebrow. "He's pretty much the one responsible for this amazing place we have here."

"Really?" In a way it doesn't surprise Harry. Dumbledore dedicated all his life to teaching, to passing on knowledge…

"Yes. And when he started helping," Snape opens a door to a wide backyard, Harry can already see the greenhouse. He chews the insides of his cheeks. "Things were far easier. We had almost unlimited access to everything. Your mother used to spend nights studying non stop, she was very dedicated and an amazing witch." Harry closes his eyes at the words. "It was… terrible, what happened." Snape says in a low voice, turning his head to look at Harry. "I'm sorry."

Harry stops, shaking his head. His eyes on the greenhouse. He can see a few people inside. "Thank you. I just…" He trails. "It's nice, hearing about her."

Sensing that Harry is still not quite ready to meet his aunt, Snape steps in front of him and crosses his arms. He continues to talk, "When Lily met your father and the others, things got pretty serious. We began searching for whoever might need our help… the laws were getting absurd at that point, Muggleborns and Half-Bloods were practically exiled. And the incredible thing was… we found them, Harry. We found a lot of wizards and witches who were looking for a way to use their magic. We kinda of began teaching at my place's basement. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Until Dumbledore suggested this palace. It was abandoned, in the middle of nowhere. Of course we accepted his proposal of teaching. Dumbledore sends us students ever since. It's been some good twenty-five years."

Harry smiles. He's fascinated by the story, but he's also shaking. His aunt is right there, inside that greenhouse.

"She'll love to meet you." Snape says, sensing his nervousness.

"You really think so?" He asks in a whisper.

"I know so. Ever since Sirius and Remus talked about the possibility, she began searching about Harry D'Angelo." Snape smiles. "But we couldn't find a proper picture of you. It's impossible to doubt, though. Your eyes-"

"I know." He gulps.

"How Tom Riddle didn't-"

Harry shakes his head. "I have no idea. He suspects me, of course, but I think he doesn't want to believe that he failed."

"Failed?"

"If James and Lily had a son… how was that he didn't know? How can I be here? Breathing? Alive? If he recognizes this fact, he also recognizes that his Persecution was a failure. A Potter still lives. One of the best Aurors in the world inside his own Ministry. A Half-Blood."

"You're right." Silence. And then, "Do you want me to go fetch her?"

Harry gulps. "No. I- I'll go."

Snape nods and they share a final look before Harry walks alone to the greenhouse. He can feel a slight tremor inside him. He pockets his hands and his fingers close around the coin. He would give anything to have Hermione there with him. Anything. He's sure her warm hand and calming words would give him more courage to face this.

He stops a few steps from the door. And just when he's ready to open it, it opens itself, a few students coming out. He can hear a feminine voice from inside:

"And remember to study the right properties."

The students mumble in response and give Harry a strange look. He must look like a freak, frozen there on the spot. But he takes a deep breath and holds the door open. The woman he's sure is his aunt has her back to the door, she's tending to a vase filled with… lilies.

His heart is beating so fast. This woman is family. A blood relative.

"I-" He clears his throat, "Excuse me."

"Yes, dear?" She doesn't turn. "Did you forget something?" Her voice is gentle, a bit high pitched but fond.

"I just wanted to… introduce myself."

And it must be something in his tone… she stops fumbling with the flowers. He can see her taking a deep breath. There's nothing separating them. The greenhouse is even bigger than what it looks from outside.

So, when she turns around, their eyes meet dead on.

Petunia immediately starts to cry. Harry presses his lips together, his chin trembling, there are tears in his eyes. He can see the resemblance. He can see his mother's gentle features on his aunt. Of course she has wrinkles and the unmistakable traces of the passage of time on her face that his mother will never carry, but even so, it's certainly overwhelming.

Both are glued on the spot. Harry opens his mouth, but she beats him to it.

"Harry." She whispers. And his whole face contorts into an ugly cry. Harry sobs.

"I- I-"

He shakes his head. Petunia finally moves. And he does too. They meet halfway. He's not sure if he should hug her or not, but she wastes no time. In a blink her arms are around him.

"My God." She says, sobbing, her voice muffled by the embrace. She's shorter than him, but not fragile. Far from it.

And she smells of flowers. Of trees. Of a river. Of lilies.

"You do exist." She says. "My God." She repeats. "And you're so big! Such a grown man!" She's smiling when she takes a step back to look at him. Then her hands are cupping his face. Harry keeps crying. Her touch is gentle, similar to Bianca's. "You're the exactly copy of James." She chuckles softly. "But-"

"The eyes." He chokes out.

She nods, closing and opening her eyes, still crying. "Our grandfather had the same eyes. Lily got them from him. And then she passed it on to you. To her son." She clicks her tongue and suddenly her expression changes. "Harry, you need to know, you must know- if I had the slightest idea that you existed, that you were alive," She chokes, "I would have teared this world apart to find you. But Lily never mentioned, she never-" Petunia stops, crying harder.

Harry sighs and hugs her again. "I know." He says softly. "I know." And he does know. He feels it.

Something he didn't even realize was broken heals itself inside him and he squeezes his aunt - my aunt - even tighter.

"I want to know everything." She says when they finally separate. "You must tell me everything. My God." She repeats. Then she laughs. Content. "You're so handsome." She smiles to him. "And I guess I need to thank the D'Angelos. They were good for you, weren't they?"

Harry gulps. "Yes. Very much."

Petunia purses her lips. "Good, Harry. I'm glad. Good." She takes his hand in hers and squeezes it. "There's so much we need to talk about-"

The greenhouse's door opens and Snape pokes his head inside. He opens a smile when he sees their faces. "Sorry to interrupt. But there are two people here who want to meet their cousin."

Harry gasps. Cousin?

And then a man and a woman enter the greenhouse. They are adults, must be the same age as Harry, or almost- and the man, who looks like his aunt, opens a smile.

"I'm Oliver." The man says and extends his hand to Harry. "It's nice to meet you, mate."

Harry blinks many times, in a daze. But he shakes the hand. "I'm Harry."

"Hi! I'm Sam." The woman says. She's a mixture of Snape and Petunia.

Harry also shakes her hand, dumbstruck. "I- I had no idea I had cousins."

Snape laughs, "Sirius hid it from you? He's such a jerk."

Harry only chuckles, shaking his head. Petunia steps closer to him and hugs his side. He can't put into words how happy he feels. "Let's head to the Great Hall, it's almost dinner time and we can talk better." Petunia says, still hugging Harry while they walk out of the greenhouse.

Harry knows the food tastes amazing, but he's barely paying attention to it. He was not expecting such a mesmerizing Great Hall. It's filled with tables and people sit wherever they want. There's no kind of separation between certain houses or classes.

Snape, who Harry just discovered is the Headmaster, is sitting with them, talking and eating in such a carefree way that Harry never imagined existed for a Half-Blood in England. Petunia, who's sitting right in front of Harry, smiles at him while she sips on her juice. They're fascinated by each other. Harry can't believe he has an aunt and she's still trying to grasp the reality that he's actually there, eating with them.

He already told them a lot of things. Oliver and Sam are very curious about his life and they keep asking infinite questions. And Harry is thrilled to answer all of them and ask his own. Oliver is the oldest, he just turned twenty-four and Sam is twenty. They were born and raised inside the palace. Both magical. And now they both teach there, helping the newcomers and giving them all the support they can.

Snape also teaches. Potions. And it crossed Harry's mind that he might be able to get some Veritaserum from him. Finally.

Since Petunia is not magical, she teaches botanics. All theories and mostly things that don't require magic. And she's so proud of it. Harry can see in the way she explains how a plant can be used for infinite purposes. And each time a student stopped at their table and exchanged fond words with Petunia and Snape, Harry smiled.

They're loved there. It's their home. Their safe landing.

Of course things should be different. Of course they should be accepted into society as any other wizard, but Harry can't deny that even so, what they have there is truly special.

All the students live there. And also many Muggle families that had magical children and didn't want to part with them while they left for this adventure. Harry met some of them. And it blew his mind to learn that they all know about James and Lily. Petunia mentioned they never stop talking about them, about how fundamental Lily was for this place to exist. Harry held back his tears at this.

His parents weren't forgotten. They weren't betrayed by their friends. They were loved. And they still are until this day.

Harry smiles to Petunia while she teases Remus. They all form a big strange family. A family they chose. A family to maintain James' and Lily's memories alive.

Yes, Tom Riddle killed them. But they didn't die. Not really. They survived. Harry can feel it in every corner of this school. He can see his mother on his aunt. And he's kind of a copy of his father. He can feel the joy from all these Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. If anything, Riddle's attitude only gave them more strength to keep fighting.

And it's impossible not to feel emotional about all of this.

He's happy. Coming here was the right thing. It was exactly what he needed.

"Tell me, mate," Oliver says by his side, "Do you have a special someone?"

A partial silence takes over the table. They all seem eager to hear about this. Sirius gives Harry a pointed look, curious to know if he'll mention Hermione, if he'll open his heart. But how could he? She's a Riddle and she's marrying a Pettigrew. He's sure his aunt wouldn't approve. To be truthful, in a way, Harry himself doesn't approve his feelings for her.

"Not really." He says with caution, sipping and occupying his mouth. But Petunia keeps watching him and he feels compelled to say something more. "I was engaged back in Italy, but… it didn't work out in the end. I think I'm still recovering." He shrugs. "And besides, I have other things in mind right now."

Petunia purses her lips and nods. Harry briefly mentioned that he came to London to bring justice to his parents and he knows they'll talk more about this, but later, in private. Only the family.

"Well, I'm sure any woman is going to be lucky to have you." Petunia smiles while she says this and Harry sees the way Snape looks at his wife, with happiness. As if her joy from meeting Harry is reaching him, making him happy as consequence. It gives Harry a good sensation.

And Harry nods at the words. Apparently Hermione doesn't think like that. Apparently he's not enough for her-

A sudden house-elf appears by Snape's side.

"Sir, is there anything else you want from us tonight?"

Harry narrows his eyes. The elf is old. Incredibly old. But even so, he carries a singular glow to himself.

"No, Efrey, it's fine, you're all dismissed for the night."

"Okay, sir. Dobby will stay on protective duty."

And the elf gently says his goodbyes after staring at Harry for a while longer and then he vanishes. Harry frowns and Petunia notices his face.

"The elves here are free. Most of them were mistreated and dismissed by their masters because they deemed them useless. I have no idea how it happened, but somehow they heard about us. You can imagine my surprise the first day a bunch of them appeared outside." Petunia chuckles. "I've never seen one and it was a bit of a shock."

"We treat them fairly here." Snape says. "It would be hypocritical to claim for equality and treat these wonderful magical beings poorly, don't you think?"

Harry nods. His mind is already going back to Hermione. To the way she furiously said she hated the way the elves were treated. He grits his teeth in a nervous manner. "It's actually amazing. Do you pay them?"

"A symbolic sum was all they allowed us to pay, but it works. They even attend classes here. And some teach." Snape keeps saying. "Dobby, the one Efrey mentioned, was the Malfoys' house-elf." Snape points to Draco a bit further on the table, talking with Ginny and Ron. "But he got hurt one day and Lucius," Snape makes an ugly face at the name, "was disgusted by it. He actually left the elf bleeding outside the house. Draco found him later and brought him. He's relatively new here, but the elf is smart and he teaches the kids different and ingenious ways of using magic."

Harry opens his mouth, amazed. "I would love to meet him someday." He glances at Petunia.

She gets what he's asking without saying. "He never found anything related to Lily and James at Malfoy Manor. From what Draco told us, and Dobby confirmed later, the only involvement Lucius had with Riddle was funding his campaigns and bribing the press."

Harry scoffs. "As if Riddle doesn't have the money himself to do it."

"Of course. But he can't tarnish his name or get directly involved." Snape says.

"The only thing Dobby mentioned was that Pettigrew and his son were always there. Plotting." Petunia says.

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Plotting? Against Riddle?"

Snape shrugs. "Dobby didn't say. But I highly doubt it. They wouldn't be that crazy."

Harry blinks. "No one questioned him? About this?"

"We did. But he was too shaken… Dobby suffered a lot in Lucius' hands, Harry. He's been here for three years and until today he trembles when someone mentions his former master. I doubt we can get any information from him."

He bites his lower lip to stay silent. He would love to have a conversation with Dobby. But maybe another day.

Harry, instead, asks what he's been wanting for a time now.

"Can I teach here?"

His voice is low but by their reaction it seemed like he screamed at the top of his lungs. Petunia, Snape, Oliver and Sam open their mouths and widen their eyes and Harry makes a face. Did I say something wrong?

But Petunia opens a bright smile, some tears on her face. "Of course you can, Harry. Of course."

"You seem shocked I-"

"We never imagined you would want to." Snape says.

"I do. Very much."

"Well, then. What would you like to teach?" Snape asks while he moves a bit forward. Harry notices he's talking as Headmaster now.

"I want to teach them how to defend themselves. How to stand against those who might hurt them."

Oliver is nodding his head by Harry's side. "I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." His cousin says. "And I know it's going to be a bit difficult for you to come every day for the classes, so, what if you give one masterclass per week? My teachings can follow up yours."

Harry smiles at his cousin. He instantly liked the man and the idea is amazing. "I would absolutely love that, Oliver. Is that okay with you?" He asks Snape.

The man is smiling. "Sure." He says in a slow voice, as if marveling at what is unfolding in front of him.

With the corner of his eye he sees Petunia wiping away a tear. He extends his hand to hers and she squeezes it with a smile.

"Oh, shit. Look at the hour." Sirius says, interrupting the moment. "We need to go."

Harry glances at his own watch. It's almost 11pm. They've been there for hours and he barely noticed. But he needs to be at work tomorrow, so…

Petunia sighs. "Stay here, Harry." She says. "We can talk some more."

He smiles. "I need to go. But I'll be back as soon as I can."

And they talk about the many ways Harry can reach the palace. Snape will allow him inside whenever he pleases and Harry thanks them while they hug. Then he stops in front of his aunt.

"I-" He begins and stops. "I can't describe how happy I am that we found each other." He says from the bottom of his heart and she starts crying, shaking her head, her hands on his arms.

"You're family. My family, Harry. And I'll be here for whatever you need me for. Always."

He hugs her. "I'm here too, for whatever you need me."

She kisses his cheek. "We still have a lot to talk about." Petunia says.

"We do. And we will."

They nod at each other and then Harry follows the others, crossing the wards and going back to his life and his revenge.

January 19th, 2006

Harry's flat

It's Saturday and Harry couldn't be happier about that. Tomorrow he'll head back to the Palace to teach his first masterclass and he's extremely anxious about it.

However, there's something else consuming him at the moment.

He'll visit Goyle with Hermione today.

And even if he desperately wants to face the Auror and get some answers, meeting Hermione in private, inside his flat, is driving the butterflies inside his stomach completely crazy. He feels cold and hot at the same time. Sane and insane.

They're barely talking with each other and Harry has no idea when this became their routine, but he hates it. Totally hates it. Maybe it was when he kinda of rejected her kiss after she brought the file on the Persecution. Maybe it was on the way she respected his clear stance of not touching when she came back to fetch it-

He has no idea. Maybe even the things he said-

Dio. The things he said to her. That he wanted her. That even while they were together it didn't feel enough-

He lets out a breath.

Harry decides to read Chiara's latest letter. He tears the envelope and makes himself comfortable on the couch. She's keeping her promise of winning him back. She's writing so much that there's already a pile of her letters on his center table.

He laughs at her stories. Things are a bit crazy at the Auror Department there and Chiara is trying to keep everyone motivated to deal with the Mafias. She also talks about Matteo. His grandfather is having the time of his life being Ministro. Chiara goes on about all his plans and strategies to make Italy better. Harry can't help feeling a bit proud.

And just when he's reading the last lines, the unmistakable cracking sound of apparition takes over his living room.

He raises his eyes from the letter, still holding it with both hands.

Hermione is there.

Wearing boots, black trousers and a black jacket. Her hair in a ponytail. She's ready for action.

It takes a few seconds for her to spot him on the couch. And when she does, he's sure she takes a deep breath and that adorable blush comes up her neck. She clears her throat.

"Hey."

"Hey."

His voice is barely there. Harry gulps. Unsure of what to do next. Hermione crosses her arms and her eyes fall to the letter in his hand. Then to the many envelopes atop the table.

"Are you ready to go?" She asks, her eyes still on the envelopes.

Harry knows she can see Chiara's name on them. He folds the one he's holding and set it back on the table. Then he stands and says, "I thought you were coming later. I'll just fetch a jacket."

She purses her lips. "Okay."

He only nods and moves to his room. He hates the coldness between them. The lack of touch. Since they had sex that first time, this is probably the longest they've been without touching or kissing.

Chewing the insides of his cheeks, he opens a cabinet to take the jacket and when he closes it, Hermione is inside his room, watching him.

Harry raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I see Chiara is keeping in touch." Her tone is clipped. Strained.

Donning the jacket over his white t-shirt, Harry walks slowly to her, the closest he dares. "She is. She said she would."

Hermione clicks her tongue. "Are you thinking about going back to her?" She asks fast, as if she would regret her words. Which she probably does as she says after, "I'm sorry. It's none of my business. Sally should be the one asking you this."

She waves a hand in front of her face and takes a step to leave the room, but Harry holds her.

He takes her arm and then he pulls her to him, gently. Hermione shows no resistance. She actually sighs when he closes both arms around her.

Harry is tired of this awkwardness between them. He still doesn't know what he'll do about his feelings, but he's sure keeping a distance is too much of a torture, not to mention unnecessary.

So, as softly as possible, he kisses her. Asking for permission first, testing the waters. Hermione leans into him, opening her mouth and giving him access. His heart pounds inside his chest. The knife twists, but he barely cares. Her tongue finds his and they share a slow kiss.

Even if they need to go to Goyle's, they take their time. It's like the kiss is erasing these past days. Patching up their doubts and all the strangeness that loomed over their every encounter. Harry squeezes her and her hands cups his face, her body moving closer to his as much as possible. They separate briefly and Hermione smiles. She kisses his cheeks and jaw.

"Indeed, you're an excellent kisser." She says faintly, her words echoing what Chiara said to her at that pub in Rome.

He chuckles and pulls back. They hold their gazes. "We need to talk." He says, serious.

"About?"

"Us."

Hermione tenses. And she sets her jaw. But her answer is a simple, "Okay." She kisses him again, tasting him. "I'll be alone tonight. Sleep with me?"

He groans in answer and rubs his cheek on hers. She sighs again. "I would love to."

She opens a side smile and gives him a peck. Then she moves away and takes his hand, leading him back to the living room.

"So, all the protection around the house is set. I highly doubt anyone will be able to track us down there." She exhales and takes a hair band from her pocket. A Portkey. Harry chuckles.

"You have the strangest imagination for Portkeys."

She laughs. The sound is like music to Harry and he caresses her cheek. They share a look of pure fondness.

"And you find me adorable for that." She winks.

"I do." He winks back. And that blush. It takes over her neck. Harry tilts his head, mesmerized.

Hermione shakes her head. "Again, we'll interrogate him, Harry, not beat the shit out of him." She says with an eyebrow raised.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Let's go."

And in seconds they're being uncomfortably sucked into the Portkey.

Essex

Harry makes a sound of irritation when they land. Portkey is definitely not his favorite kind of transportation. Hermione seems to be fine, though.

It's the middle of the day and they just appeared behind a few trees. Harry can see some houses in the near distance. He leans on the closest tree trunk and observes. There are some people walking on the streets. Families with children.

Harry narrows his eyes. "Is this the best time for us to be here?"

"It is, exactly because it's unexpected."

He raises both eyebrows. Hermione is charming herself and he does the same.

Then she takes his hand and interlaces their fingers, pulling him out into the open. Harry doesn't say a thing while they walk like a couple - again - in the middle of others. His thumb caresses her hand and she squeezes his. Their pace is slow, calm.

A stroll.

A walk on the street before Harry murders another Auror.

He internally flinches at the thought.

As they keep going, some wizards and witches wave at them in warm greetings. Hermione smiles in return and Harry nods his head. In a low voice he asks, "Which house?"

"The next one."

They're going through a small white house, charming. And the next one, the one Goyle lives in, is brown. Dull. Strange. It doesn't match the rest of the street.

"Are we just going to knock?" He asks, his eyes wide when he notices Hermione leading him to the front door.

"Yes." She simply says.

"You could have warned me about this."

"Why? So you could argue with me like the most stubborn man in the world?" She glances at him, opening a tiny smile.

Harry chuckles. "Witch." He says under his breath. Hermione holds back a chuckle and they stop at the door.

Before knocking she looks around. Harry wants to ask what's the plan, but she's faster and does it. Two firm knocks. He makes a face at her and she makes a face at him, leaning into his frame and pressing her lips against his. "I promise to make it up for you later."

He opens his mouth the same time the door opens for them. There's a man on the other side, his face contorted into a question.

"Yes?" He asks in doubt.

Goyle looks decent - different from Lestrange who was certainly losing his shit. Hermione opens a smile.

"Sir, we're sorry to bother you, but my husband and I," Harry widens his eyes, "were told that you might have something we want." Her voice shows that she's talking about a secret and Harry can't believe she didn't brief him on this.

What the hell Goyle has that they could want? And how did she find this out?

The man's posture changes and he looks at the street before moving his hand and allowing them in. Harry steps inside with Hermione and tries not fidgeting. Goyle makes sure no one saw them and closes the door.

Hermione's plan of entering the house through the front door is actually brilliant. Goyle lives in a busy Wizarding village and even if they came at night, someone was bound to see them. But like this, at broad daylight, who would suspect a nice couple that was greeted by the man himself? A man that surely has something to hide and was very careful when allowing them inside?

He looks down and tries hiding a smile. She's too smart. He squeezes her hand and she gives him a look of fake modesty, batting her eyelashes.

"So, please, sit." Goyle says as he motions to a stained couch at the corner. Hermione clearly dislikes the invitation but she tugs Harry and they sit close to each other, their hands still together.

Goyle sits on a chair in front of them. The interior of the house is barren. There are barely any furniture or personal items that could show a bit of the man's personality. Harry doesn't particularly care, but he already feels that anger boiling inside him as he watches the man. He's bold and fat. His face full of wrinkles. He looks way older than he should.

"What do you want? How did you hear about me?"

"An acquaintance mentioned you. Moritz." Hermione says. Harry has no idea what she's talking about. "And now that we're here, I'm in doubt of what I really want. What do you say, my love?" She looks at Harry and he purses his lips. She's on purpose leaving him in the dark about this just to have some fun.

"Love," He repeats the words, Hermione gulps, their eyes locked. "I think our friend Goyle here should show us some samples."

Harry turns to the man.

"Moritz gave you my real name? That's not usual." Goyle says, raising an eyebrow. Suspecting.

Hermione clicks her tongue. "I'm just very persuasive. But it's a great idea. Show us some samples."

Goyle narrows his eyes at them.

Harry and Hermione are quiet, their postures and faces relaxed while they pretend to be a married couple. As Aurors they surely already had many shares of missions and moments of pretending to be someone else… both know extremely well how to behave and what to do. Of course this little visit will end with Goyle tied to a chair and them questioning him, but Hermione wants something first and Harry will play along.

"Okay." He finally says and summons a black suitcase. Hermione stiffens a bit and Harry leans forward, curious.

Goyle opens the suitcase and the moment he does it, Hermione moves so fast Harry almost misses her action. In a beat the man is strapped to the chair and she's up, her hand on the suitcase. Harry stands too, taking a few steps to her to see what's inside. Goyle is totally shocked, still processing what just happened.

Harry gags the man and muffles the sounds around the house, clicking shut every door or window. For an Auror, Goyle was too sloppy. It's hard to imagine that he wouldn't take any kind of precaution while clearly making illicit deals with wizards and witches. Crossing his arms he observes the man. He seems… resigned. And almost relieved. As if he was living waiting for this day.

Hermione is silent and Harry looks above her shoulder to see what's inside the suitcase. There are three little vials there.

"What is it?" He asks in a low voice.

She sighs. "Later." And they share a look. Harry nods.

Turning to Goyle, he asks, "What can you tell us about the Potters' Persecution?"

Goyle mumbles something and Harry remembers he's gagged. "Nothing!" He practically yells. Then he clears his throat and looks down. "I know nothing about the Persecution."

Harry makes a face, annoyed. He inhales deeply and asks Hermione, "Should I punch him?"

"Hmmm, maybe one strong punch?" She entertains the idea and he opens a side smile to her. Yes. These past days without her were torture.

"I think so too." He says and takes two steps to Goyle who screams and whines. Harry stops and raises an eyebrow to Hermione.

"Please, don't hit me. Please. I- I know little about it, I swear!"

Harry crosses his arms. "Tell us what you know."

"I- I wasn't supposed to be part of the investigation! I didn't mean to- I'm sorry. I'm sorry." And he actually cries. Harry takes a step back, honestly surprised. "I never went out on the field! I barely know what happened and I'm fairly sure I had my memories erased. I had just graduated the Auror training and I wanted to please the Minister! I accepted everything he told me, but my only duty was taking care of the papers, the records." Harry shares a look with Hermione. "Please, believe me. The only thing I can tell is that after that night Tom Riddle made me issue a statement that the traitors were dead and that the mission had been a success, but in my personal opinion, he didn't seem satisfied. He was actually angry-" The man chokes, crying some more.

Hermione is watching him, thinking, that wrinkle between her brows. Harry feels cold. If Goyle's words are true, what he debated with Sirius is also true. Riddle had another motive to go after his parents, one they have no idea of. And now things are getting even more complicated.

"Do you believe him?" Hermione asks Harry after enacting a silencing bubble around them.

Harry sighs. "I kinda of do." Goyle seems sincere. "But maybe one punch?" He asks with a playful smile. She shakes her head, snorting. "Fine, I'll just scare him a little."

"He might piss himself." She makes a face.

Harry goes to Goyle and leans forward, very close. A dangerous stance. He turns serious. "Are you lying, Goyle?" Harry asks in a low voice. "Is that all you know?"

"I swear! I swear! Please!"

Harry raises his fist and the man closes his eyes, flinching.

Truth is… Harry doesn't want to punch him anymore. Doesn't want to kill him. Maybe he's being too forgiving but Goyle seemed sincerely sorry about everything-

Maybe just one punch.

Harry throws it and Goyle yells, crying some more. It surprises Harry that it gave him no satisfaction. Not like it was with Lestrange. Not even close.

"That's all I know, all I know…" Goyle is repeating in a low voice.

Hermione touches Harry's arm, pulling him back. Then her hand touches his cheek and her thumb goes over his skin. Harry lets out a breath, impressed by how well she knows him and his emotions. He relaxes. And she focus on Goyle.

"Let's talk about Moritz, then." Harry perks up. Who the fuck is this Moritz? "Where is he?"

Goyle sniffs, his expression changing a bit. He doesn't look as frightened as he did moments ago.

"He's always traveling. I don't know where he is."

Hermione is not happy. "He vanished six months ago and that was not the deal he made with the Ministry. He should be more careful, don't you think? I just want to talk with him. I swear this won't come back to you."

Goyle shakes his head. Harry understands this is something that happened when he wasn't even thinking about coming to London. And he's extremely curious now.

"I don't know where he is. It's been a long time since I got a shipment from him." He moves his head to indicate the suitcase. "You can see for yourself, that's all I have left. Only three tiny vials."

"Are you sure, Goyle?" He nods. "Let's say then, that if I use Legilimency I won't find a thing inside your mind? Or my associate here could punch you a few more times-"

"No." The man recoils. "You can do it, you won't find a thing."

Hermione crosses her arms, considering. "Is Moritz testing new things, Goyle?"

"Not that I know of. Only the same old stuff."

Sighing, Hermione says, "Fine. I believe you."

And she moves to take Harry's hand, the suitcase on the other. Before he can even think about it, she apparates them to her house.

Harry blinks. Both lift their disguises and Hermione sits down on the couch, the suitcase on the center table.

"So?" Harry asks.

He knows he vowed to end the Aurors who took part on his parents' assassination, but now that he's here with Hermione, alone, inside her house, knowing they won't be bothered, and after days of being distant… he doesn't really care about Goyle that much.

He decides it can wait.

"Well, Moritz is an Alchemist that spun out of control." She groans. "He was one of the best and my father, wrongly, used to favor him. Moritz began bossing around and getting everything he wanted from everyone. He was a piece of shit. But the Minister liked him, so, he never feared getting sacked."

Harry clicks his tongue. "What changed?"

"He got tired of being on a leash. He had many liberties already, but they weren't enough, he wanted more. He used to talk a lot and one inferior Alchemist came to me one day. The man said Moritz was talking about leaving the Ministry and starting his own business. Instead of mentioning it to my father, I began to watch Moritz myself. One night I caught him experimenting on illicit things." She gives him a pointed look.

"Drugs?"

"Yes. Heavy stuff. Incredibly powerful combinations capable of anything. Being an Alchemist, Moritz is able to create whatever he pleases. And inside the Ministry he had access to a lot of elements and materials." Hermione presses two fingers against her temple. "I confronted him. This happened a year and a half ago. He begged for mercy. The sentence for what he was doing is life in Azkaban."

"Apparently you were merciful." Harry states in a non judgmental voice.

"Stupidly so." She scoffs. "I made a deal with him. I said it was a warning and if I caught him at it again I would personally send him to Azkaban." Harry tries not flinching. "And guess what?"

"He did it again."

"He did. I got reports from St. Mungo's of adults overdosing, almost every day. And I knew it was Moritz selling what he was brewing inside the Ministry's labs. I waited to put my hands on some hard evidence… but when I was arresting him, my father stopped the whole operation." Hermione purses her lips, looking down. "He said Moritz was an excellent Alchemist and the misunderstanding could be solved in another way. I tried to argue, believe me. He was killing wizards with his experimental drugs!" Her tone goes a bit higher up and Harry moves closer to her, but still keeping some distance, standing and waiting for her to finish. "I had a… nasty fight with my father. But well, he won. Moritz got a warning and then fired." She sighs, angry. "He was supposed to stay in London. But he vanished after one month."

She leans back on the couch and crosses one leg over the other.

"Okay." Harry says, frowning. "I'm missing the connection here." He squints, thinking.

"Well, I thought about Moritz because-" She waves a hand in the air, "The bullets able to penetrate the wards, what happened to the statue… I thought… what if it's not a spell, but a drug, or something else? Something Moritz created and began to sell at the illicit market? Something capable of nullifying magical protections?" Harry raises an eyebrow.

"Makes sense."

"Right?" She makes a face and exhales. "Then, last week I began snooping around Goyle's house. I realized he was selling drugs. It was too obvious." She motions to the suitcase. "It was a long shot. Mentioning Moritz. I couldn't be sure if he was the supplier, but well, I was right."

She looks at Harry. He pockets his hand. "Well," He begins. "If you were snooping around Goyle's, why didn't you say? I thought we were supposed to do this together." He says through gritted teeth.

"From all I said, is that what you're worried about? Honestly, I didn't think you would like to tag along-"

"Of course I would!"

"After the way you treated me I wasn't so sure." She states in a cold tone. Her words landing between them.

Harry knows what she's talking about. "The way I treated you?" But he needs to hear from her.

She wets her lips with her tongue. "I felt it, Harry. The way you pulled away from our kiss and how you kept your distance when I went to retrieve the file." She shrugs. "I mean, the other day I waited for hours at your flat and you never came. You clearly prefers other companies."

Harry sets his jaw. Probably the day he spent at the Palace, the day he met his aunt.

"Don't do this." He says in a low voice.

"Do what?"

"Don't act jealous when you have no right to. Not when you're wearing this fucking engagement ring."

Hermione stands from the couch and takes two steps to him. Harry straightens his back. "Is the ring the problem?" She asks and then she takes it off and tosses it behind her back. "There. Problem solved."

Harry exhales. "Why are you marrying him?"

She bites her lower lip and crosses her arms. "Because I want to."

The knife. Shit. The knife burns inside Harry's chest. "Because you love him?"

"Because-" She gulps, "he's the obvious choice…" Hermione trails.

"He's a jerk." Harry states. "And you know it. And I have no idea why-" He grunts, frustrated. "Don't marry him." He says faintly.

He hears Hermione gasping. "Don't. Please."

Harry looks up at her. She looks desperate. "Don't do it." He repeats. "You don't want to." She shakes her head.

"You have no clue of what-"

"Do you love him, Hermione?" He cuts her, his voice firm, his head high. This is it. He steps closer to her. She purses her lips, their eyes locked. "Do you?"

"Nothing will change the fact that I'll marry him, Harry." Her voice is low and she looks down, avoiding his eyes now.

"You can't even say the words." He steps closer, now there's only a few inches between them. He takes her left hand with his and the tingle comes to life. Warm. Good. Exhilarating. "Don't do it." He's pleading now. In a second he might get to his knee and beg.

Hermione squeezes his hand. "I'm not changing my mind about this." She says. The knife goes in deeper. Harry has a hard time breathing.

Gently lifting her chin with his fingers, he makes her look into his eyes. Harry's not sure what to do next. He decided that he won't tell her everything before they visit all the Aurors- her eyes are bright. Unshed tears. Pain. He leans forward, his brow on hers. Harry gulps and closes his eyes. "Have you decided on a date?"

"Probably September." She says.

"Then I have some time to show you that marrying that stronzo is the wrong thing to do."

"Harry." She warns him.

He pulls back to look at her. "You don't want him, Hermione. Not really." He kisses her cheek and she sighs. "And we already agreed that Hermione Pettigrew is an awful name."

She laughs sincerely and he smiles. She tilts her head, their hands still together, bridging their need to touch each other. "Exactly how are you going to show me that?"

"Hmmm, let me see." He finally releases her hand to hold her by the waist with both his, her arms find his neck easily. Harry nuzzles her neck and she shivers. "I want to take you out on dates."

She pulls back to look at him, shocked. "What?" Hermione shakes her head. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Very." His tone shows how much.

"We- we can't be seen together, Harry."

"I know. But we'll find a way. Twice every week."

"Twice is too much. Once a week."

"I can't believe you're negotiating with me." He snorts and she chuckles faintly. "Fine, once a week but we spend the night together."

Hermione bites her lower lip, pondering. She's considering the absurdity of what he's proposing. Not even Harry is sure why he came up with this idea, but it seems to be the only way of wooing her without involving investigations and death and Riddles and Potters. The only way to be with her as simply man and woman. Maybe the only way to show her that they might work together, that their chemistry is something unique.

Maybe the only way to make her love him in a way that the ugly truth won't separate them.

He can tell that she's torn. Tell that she'd already accepted the idea of marrying Pettigrew, but now…

She gulps. "Okay." Hermione says slowly. "I can agree with these terms."

"Great." Harry kisses her. "Amazing." He says when he moves to kiss her jaw and then her neck. "Perfect." He can't hold back his excitement.

And on the same page, Hermione jumps him, her legs around his middle, their lips meeting again. While he leads her to the bedroom, Harry steps on the engagement ring on the floor.

He will make it work.

He'll show her that he's the man for her. Show her that they should be together. Show her that if she marries Pettigrew she'll be miserable. And after they visit the last Auror he'll tell her everything. He'll open his heart. He'll say the words and he'll beg her for a chance.

He'll show her he's the right choice.

Chapter Text

January 24th, 2006

Potters' abandoned house

Stepping inside is overwhelming.

The house is exactly the same way he and Hermione left it. Harry closes the back door and stays frozen for a moment. Then, with wobbly legs, he sits on the couch.

Taking deep breaths, he relaxes and lets some tears fall down. When he came with Hermione he couldn't show any true emotion, but now there's no one else there, just him.

He leans back and looks around the living room. Maybe he should bring his aunt some day, show her the place where Lily lived the last few years of her life, maybe let Petunia search for things she might recognize from her sister. It would be nice.

He smiles despite the odds. The first masterclass he gave at the palace days ago was special. Every children, every teenager and also every adult were paying attention, giving Harry an importance he never felt he truly deserved.

And he was in an incredible good mood because he'd just spent the previous night with Hermione.

The way they had sex that night was… intense. A shiver goes down his spine while he remembers how she raked her nails through his skin. How she kissed him desperately. She was insatiable. And she had three orgasms. Something he's kinda of proud.

But as always, it was hard separating in the morning. He hugged her tightly and for the first time he felt that she really didn't want to let him leave. She groaned in frustration when he got up from the bed and started dressing himself. She was in a bad mood, pouting angrily. He showered her with kisses to make her smile, but Hermione kept pouting.

He said that she should have agreed with the two dates per week and she rolled her eyes, then he kissed her some more and said he would talk to her through the coin to set things right for their date. She finally opened a tiny smile and held his face while she kissed him.

Harry left with a heavy heart.

But also with some kind of… hope.

Maybe these dates are just what they need to break this last barrier between them, exactly what they need to finally meet at the other side of the last line they could cross.

He won't give up on them.

Sighing, he stands and walks to the big bookcase. He takes his time.

It's filled with both Muggle's and Wizard's books and Harry lets himself imagine which one was his mother's favorite, which one his father used to read for comfort… his fingers travel through them. He's looking for the white one. The one he saw inside the memories. He noticed that his mother read it more often than his father.

He stops and puts both hands on his waist. The book is not there. He's sure. It's huge and he wouldn't miss it. The photo album is not there either.

Harry looks at the kitchen and with a wave of his wand, he opens all drawers and cabinets at once. The book's not hidden inside any. He closes everything and enters the corridor. There's nothing else at the ground floor and he moves to the stairs.

Before entering his parents' room, he takes a turn and goes to the other room. Maybe a guest bedroom, or even the room he used to sleep when he got a bit older. Harry opens the door and finds nothing inside. It's totally empty.

Even so, he goes in and starts tapping his foot on the wooden floor. He covers every inch, but there isn't a single loose board or something of the sort. Then Harry starts banging the walls, looking for a hollow point.

Nothing.

With his wand he tries a few revealing spells. There's nothing.

He can't help wondering where his parents hid everything about him. All concrete proof of his existence vanished.

And as he walks to their bedroom, he comes to terms with what Sirius said, that if James and Lily wanted to hide something, they wouldn't be able to find it.

Harry stops at the threshold, pocketing his hands. There's some faint sunlight invading the bedroom and he goes directly to the books at the corner, to the bookcase from which Hermione took that one book. He makes a face when he concludes that there's nothing there either.

Clicking his tongue he sits on the edge of the bed. Harry takes the coin from his pocket and sends a message to Hermione:

Do you like popcorn?

He smiles at his own question and sighs, crossing his arms. He's planning a nice evening for their first date. Since they can't be seen outside, his options are heading into Muggle London or leaving the country and going somewhere they won't be recognized, but these are bigger plans for future dates.

He wants the first one to be more intimate. Just the two and nothing else getting in the way. So, he decided to watch a Muggle movie with her at his flat. Harry already got hold of a projector and he's still thinking about what movie to watch-

The coin turns cold:

Yes

He can't swipe the silly smile on his face. So, popcorn and-

What are you up to, D'Angelo?

He snorts softly. Hermione clearly hates surprises. Not being in control is torture for her and since he came up with the idea of dating, she has no other choice than wait to see what he has in store for them. He knows curiosity is killing her, but he won't say a thing.

You'll see later

He chuckles. She must be fuming, wherever she is right now… probably with Pettigrew. Harry tries not minding the pain in his chest. But it's a bit suffocating. Knowing that she's with that stronzo.

He shakes his head to dismiss the thought. Hermione didn't say how she got rid of Pettigrew for the night and the next day, but Harry doesn't care. He just wants to be with her and that's enough.

Pocketing the coin he lets himself observe the room. Every inch of it. It's the same he saw in some memories, the same window, the same bookcase, the same table at the corner, the same bed and rug-

He frowns and taps the rug with his foot. Of course. The trapdoor. Harry stands and pulls the rug with exaggerated force. At first he sees nothing. The wooden floor is the same as it is at the rest of the house… He kneels on the floor and brings his eyes closer to it, searching for a clue-

He finally sees it. The slight difference between boards. Gulping, he uses his wand to reveal a medium size door. Harry is shaking now, his heart beating extremely fast. His parents hid him inside to save his life, to try to give him a chance at surviving…

With trembling fingers, he opens the door.

The space is not small, but not big either. And it's not empty. Some tears fall from his eyes directly into the fluffy blanket inside. A baby's blanket. Harry takes it, observing the faded green color and the initials - H.P. - sewed onto it. His mind has a hard time understanding how Matteo left that behind… someone could have found it.

He chews the insides of his cheeks and folds the blanket with care, his eyes already searching for something else… apparently there's nothing more. Harry sighs. And he fists his hand to knock at the wood. He goes into the hole up until his shoulder.

When he's about to give up he hears a different sound and frowns. Harry leans further inside and sees something that might be another tiny door. Using his wand, he opens it, the wood giving away at his strong spell.

And he lets out a gasp of surprise. The phoenix. The toy, is there. And the photo album.

The phoenix is much smaller than what he thought. At the memory, when he saw it in his tiny hand, it seemed huge, but now it fits perfectly on his palm. It's such a nice and detailed toy. Its eyes and feathers look real, the same as its colors that are bright and alive.

Harry presses his thumb against the beak. A sudden anxiousness takes over him. A long forgotten memory. He'd done this before. The same movement. It gives him goosebumps. He swallows a lump in his throat. Something pulls at his stomach.

He blinks a few times. Inexplicably he knows he needs to protect this toy. Keep it safe. Hidden from others.

Harry pockets the phoenix and takes the photo album. Then he stands and closes the trapdoor and puts the rug back where it belongs. He sits back on the bed, still shaking a bit.

For a few minutes he breathes. Nothing more. The blanket is folded by his side and the photo album is resting on his lap. Harry puts a hand on the hard blue cover.

It's not big. But it feels monumental.

Then, he finally opens it. The first picture is of his parents. Young. Probably when they first met. Both look fifteen. They're side by side in a friendly way, his dad's arm around Lily's shoulders. James shows his tongue in a playful way and she laughs. The image keeps repeating itself. Harry is transfixed.

The next pictures are also of James and Lily, but at each page, they turn older, their expressions not so carefree anymore, their eyes a bit lost. Until- Harry chokes and sobs.

It's them. Harry as a newborn and his parents. On this one their smiles are brighter, their eyes full of life. James moves to kiss Lily's head and then Harry's.

He can't believe this picture exists.

Harry closes his eyes. Fuck. He got lucky no one found out about him. This photo album was right there, under the rug. Any Auror could have found it a few days later. But deep down he believes that no one came back to the house. From what Harry can imagine, on that night their only goal was to exterminate James and Lily. Riddle didn't care about the house or anything else. He just wanted them dead and after he got his wish, he left with the Aurors.

Why bother coming back?

Harry exhales heavily. There are many more pictures of him as a baby. But then… he raises an eyebrow. There are gaps. Pages that were surely filled with pictures but are blank now. There's no way of knowing what happened to the photos. Maybe his parents took it from the album way before they hid it.

Maybe…

The coin turns cold inside his pocket. He brushes his tears away and fetches it:

I'll be free in an hour

Sighing and being sure that he won't find other things right now, he hugs the blanket and, clutching the photo album, he apparates back to his flat.

Harry's flat

He hears the knock on the door at the exact moment he finishes preparing the popcorn. Harry smiles. He prohibited Hermione from apparating directly inside so she wouldn't see what he's planning right away.

Checking the projector and the couch that he enlarged for them to lie down comfortably, he walks to the door and opens it.

Hermione raises her eyes to him. There's a smile playing on her face, but also some… irritation. He breaks out in a laugh.

"Pissed with all the secrecy?" He asks, provoking and taking her hand, pulling her to him.

She's dressed casually as he instructed her to. Just some jeans, boots and a white sweater - his own clothes are similar to hers, the only difference is his black sweater. But there's some light make up on her face, and her hair looks even softer and prettier than ever.

He kisses her gently in greeting. "You look beautiful." He says in a low voice. And she smells amazingly. He has no idea what she did, but she clearly did something. "As always." He kisses her again and her arms go around his neck. Hermione sighs against his mouth, practically melting in his arms.

Harry pulls away to close the door and she looks around his place. "You can't do this with a curious person, Harry. I swear." But her tone is playful, light.

He hugs her from behind, his arms closing at her middle. Their left hands come together and both breath heavily at the tingle. There's no engagement ring on her finger. He kisses her neck and she leans back on his frame.

"Sorry, but it'll be like this with all of our dates." He says close to her ear. She shivers.

"Well, tough luck, I guess." She turns her head to kiss his cheek. "But can you fucking tell me already what we're doing tonight?"

He laughs and she chuckles.

"It's a movie night."

"A movie night?"

He moves and takes her hand, leading her to the couch. "Yeah. Have you ever watched a Muggle movie?"

She makes a face at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you seriously asking if Tom Riddle's daughter has watched a Muggle movie?"

He can't help chuckling. "Okay. Stupid question. Well, there's always a first time, right?" He winks at her. "Make yourself comfortable." He motions to the couch. "I prepared us some popcorn."

She sits and leans far back on the couch. "Why popcorn?"

"It's kind of a tradition. To watch a movie while you eat popcorn."

"A Muggle tradition." Hermione says. He nods and takes the big bowl he prepared. Taking off her boots, she asks, "What about you? You used to go to the movies in Rome?"

"Ah, so you do know about the movie theaters." He says while he takes off his own boots and climbs the couch with the bowl. There's a nice blanket for them and Hermione is already under it. "And yes, I went almost every week. It's something I enjoy way too much."

He finally settles down by her side, they're sitting with their backs on the pillow and their legs spread out in front of them. One of his arms goes around her shoulders, bringing her closer. Hermione goes easily and nuzzles his neck. They share another kiss.

"Do you miss it? Going to the movies?"

"I kinda of do." He shrugs. "But well, if I can't go to the movies, I brought them here." He gives her a peck. "And to watch them with a movie virgin." He teases her.

She laughs out loud. "I'm kinda of… excited." Hermione states, her expression showing she was not expecting this.

He kisses her again, their bodies very close. And the kiss escalates quickly. His hand already under her sweater, hers on his thigh, squeezing. They're breathing hard when they separate.

"Let's watch the movie first." He says in a hoarse voice.

"Okay." She whispers back to him, but her mouth goes to his ear and she nibbles his lobe, her hand moving up his thigh, to his groin.

"Hermione." He warns her.

She snorts. "I'm sorry. You're just too irresistible." She winks.

He chuckles again, groaning, maybe they can watch the movie later- he clears his throat and moves a tad away from her, not much, but enough for them to breathe. Hermione bites her lower lip while she observes him fetching the bowl and putting it on a little space between their legs.

"So, what are we watching?" She asks and takes a handful of popcorn.

Harry turns on the projector, all the rest of the lights dying around the living room. "I have to say that I've thought a lot about which one to choose. I mean, I have a few favorites and I surely wanted you to see one… but, I couldn't decide between two, so, it's your choice."

He summons two cases of DVDs. He can see how intrigued Hermione is. Really into what they're about to do.

"On the left," He begins, "it's my favorite animation. I swear, I've lost count on how many times I've watched this movie. I confess I was a bit old when it came out, but I don't know… the story talks to me." He shows her the case. "The Lion King. I remember watching it inside my dorm at Aurora." He laughs. Chiara used to watch it with him. But Hermione doesn't need to know this detail. "And on the right, a serious and deep movie about life and love," they lock their gazes, "And overcoming difficulties, accepting things as they are. This one is relatively new and I won't say a thing about the plot or else I'll ruin it for you. A Beautiful Mind." He shows her the case. "So, which one?"

Hermione crosses her arms and the wrinkle appears between her brows. She's thinking hard about this and Harry feels an overwhelming love for her. Not resisting it, he kisses her. Because he can. Because they're on a date inside his living room.

"What was that for?" She asks quietly.

Just because I love you.

"Because you looked cute thinking."

She chuckles lightly. "Well," She exhales, "why do I have to choose? Let's watch both."

He raises one eyebrow. "Are you sure? What if you don't like the experience and such?"

"Then we can just have sex the entire night." She winks at him and he holds back a grunt. "We can begin with the animation." She says, taking another handful of popcorn. "I mean, we have the whole night to ourselves and we don't need to be at the Ministry tomorrow, so, why not?"

He smiles. "Okay. You're right."

And flicking his hand, the disk goes flying into the DVD system. Harry pulls her closer again and takes a handful of popcorn for himself. Hermione naturally leans to him and he squeezes her. Harry can't describe how special the moment feels.

She sighs and he wonders if she's thinking the same.

The animation starts and he can almost sense her excitement. She can't see his face, but he's smiling.

"Merlin, why am I crying?" Hermione says when The Lion King ends. "That poor baby lion. What an awful uncle!" She's outraged. "To do that to a cub!" Harry is laughing softly, brushing some of her tears. Despite them, she's smiling. "And of course the female had to solve everything." She shakes her head.

Harry opens his mouth. "What do you mean? Simba came back and took his kingdom!"

"Yeah, just because Nala found him and made him do it! Honestly, Harry, Simba was satisfied living the good life and not caring about a thing!"

He frowns. "Well, Nala isn't the-"

She shuts him up with a kiss. Their lips are salty because of the popcorn. She moves to him, their bodies even closer. Harry steers her face to deepen the kiss, their tongues caressing each other.

He loves kissing her.

Harry pulls back. "You won't win this argument with a kiss." He says and she chuckles. "Simba was afraid of coming back and he thought things were fine with the kingdom. Nala was fundamental, of course, but he saw for himself that he couldn't keep living like that."

Hermione looks into his eyes and they share an intense moment. Harry gulps. Suddenly it doesn't seem like she's thinking about the movie. But then, she says, "Fine. Since it's your favorite movie I won't ruin it for you."

Harry pinches her waist and she yelps. "But did you like it?" He asks.

"I loved it." Her hand cups his cheek. "Thank you. For this."

"I'm just glad you liked." He says in a serious tone. He can see her chest moving up and down fast, her heart must be erratic. Because of him. Because of this night he planned for them.

Hermione hugs him, her face on his neck. His chest hurts. They should be together. They're perfect together.

"Do you want more popcorn?" He asks, kissing her temple.

"No, I'm fine."

And she levitates the bowl away from the couch. In an understanding, they lie down after drinking some water. Hermione hugs his side. Harry puts on the next movie, one of his arms behind his head and the other hand caressing her arm.

She takes his hand and kisses it gently.

"Wow." She says when A Beautiful Mind ends. Hermione is sitting on the couch now, awestruck by the movie. Harry is still lying down, observing her. "The mind is really something…" She waves a hand in front of her, seeking a word, "incredible. I mean he imagined all those things." She stops talking, thinking. "He was living two lives."

Harry tilts his head at her tone. There's a hint of something he doesn't quite catch.

"And again," She continues, "If it wasn't for his wife…" She raises an eyebrow to Harry, implying the obvious.

He laughs and pulls her to him. Hermione lies on top of him, their faces close. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Women are superior." He whispers and kisses her.

She smiles through the kiss. As if she can't hold back her happiness. Harry feels his heart swelling inside his chest. The knife, again, being plucked by Hermione herself.

When he feels her hands seeking his belt, Harry stops the kiss. "I have one more thing for you." He says.

"Oh, really? Another movie?" She asks, excited.

He laughs. "No. Maybe another day?" She nods, giving him a peck. He already knows one movie she'll like immensely. "What kind of date," He kisses her neck, "would this be if I didn't feed you?"

She snorts. "We're stuffed with popcorn." She says, kissing his jaw, her hips moving atop of his.

"I know. But what about something sweet?"

Hermione opens a slow smile. "I would like something sweet." She nibbles on his jaw and neck. "You."

Harry groans and squeezes her in his arms. Then he turns them over on the couch. "I don't think I'm that sweet." He makes a face.

"Maybe not. But you sure are delicious." Her right leg is going up and down his left leg, slowly.

"So I've heard." He says and she smacks his shoulder playfully. Harry leans over and kisses her. Hermione moans softly.

With some effort, he pulls back, extricating himself and standing. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way she's looking at him. As if she's about to devour him. With a wave of his hand, Harry turns the lights back on and walks to the kitchen, doing his best not to think about his erection.

Taking a few deep breaths and drinking some water, he moves to retrieve the dessert he kept inside the fridge.

Hermione is already there, sitting at the table and waiting him. There's a softness in her eyes that he's not sure he ever saw before. Magically, he summons the plates and spoons.

"I made it myself." He says when he sets it on the table.

"Oh my, he also cooks." She says, pressing her lips together.

"I have many hidden talents." He winks. "So, this is my favorite Italian dessert. Tiramisù."

"Hmmm."

Harry serves her and observes while Hermione eats the dessert. He knows it's perfectly balanced. It was the first thing he ever learned how to cook. His grandfather made him go through all kinds of lessons and of course cooking was one of them. As Matteo used to state, 'if you know how to cook, you'll never starve.'

Which is true.

Hermione closes her eyes and makes an indecent sound while she swallows. She nods her head as if agreeing with her own thoughts. "Harry. Come on. This is heavenly."

"You sound surprised." He smiles while he eats some, happy that she liked.

"Well, it's like an orgasm." Her eyes set on his. Suddenly it's pretty damn hot inside. She licks the spoon, taking her time. "I loved learning about some of your favorites." She says slowly. "And I surely loved this night you planned." She stands from the chair and walks to him. Harry moves for her to straddle him. Their kiss is sweet. The taste of coffee and cream on their mouths. He hugs her tightly. Her hands on his hair. Hermione pulls back to look into his eyes. "Take me to bed, Harry." She says in a low voice.

He says nothing. Harry only stands up with her in his arms, her legs around him. He walks steadily to the bedroom while they share another kiss.

January 29th, 2006

Ministry of Magic

He narrows his eyes at the parchment in front of him. Harry is trying to find something in common between the attack at the Fair and the one inside the Ministry.

The investigation on what happened with Lucinda Summers and her daughter is closed - thanks to Hermione. So, that's something Harry doesn't need to worry about anymore. Of course the Minister didn't like this conclusion, but even Riddle knows that there's no way of finding legal answers if the Aurors have already been questioned and know nothing about it.

Harry knows the invasion at Riddle Manor was Sirius and the others.

Which leaves him with four questions. The Fair, the destruction of the Statue, the Muggle's assassination and the man who attacked him at the funeral.

Harry still had an hour of work and he couldn't be more bored, so, he decided to organize his thoughts. After the latest events - going to Italy, killing Lestrange, meeting his aunt, Hermione - he barely spared a moment on these things, but now, he feels like they're all missing something important.

He still thinks there's a traitor amongst them. And maybe this traitor, somehow, is making them look the other way, steering their investigations and fooling them.

Leaning back on his chair, he runs both hands through his hair. Most Aurors are saying their goodbyes, leaving for the day. Harry makes a face. Hermione is in her office. With Pettigrew. They've been there for hours and he knows he won't be able to leave before them…

Maybe Harry enjoys suffering. It must be it. Because he has no idea why he tortures himself so much. No idea why he feels a need to see her the moment she arrives and then the moment she leaves. And unfortunately, for him, since their date she's been spending every morning and every evening with her fiance.

And Harry noticed a pattern. When they undoubtedly get closer, right after, she finds a way of distancing herself, always spending most of her time with Pettigrew. As if she's denying the reality of things, as if she's trying to convince herself that she wants to be with Asmodeus.

Sighing, he looks back at the parchment.

If he didn't think the idea of Pettigrew killing Purebloods absurd, he would suspect the man for sure. Pettigrew knew beforehand all the protections and spells around the Fair. He knew Vernon Dursley was inside the Ministry and, being an employee, he had easy access, even in the middle of the night. Not to mention that the man who attacked Harry at the funeral surely wanted him to die… just like Pettigrew.

It makes sense.

But Hermione was a target at the Fair. Pettigrew wouldn't plan to kill her, would he? Harry frowns, chewing the insides of his cheeks. He remembers the few times he saw them fighting. Deep down, he fears for Hermione when she's with her fiance… as if Harry knows that the man could harm her out of the blue.

But maybe he's just making crazy assumptions. He doesn't really know what kind of relationship they share.

In no way Harry suspects Hermione on these attacks. Even if she had a score to settle with her father, he knows she wouldn't kill innocent people to do it… but-

He tilts his head. If she had any part in all of this… pretending to be a direct target would be genius. No one would dare suspect she'd put her own life on the line.

However, Hermione is extremely intelligent. Brilliant. And highly trained. Powerful. Harry looks at the closed door of her office. No. She wouldn't. The man at the funeral almost killed Harry and-

He remembers she said something made her go to him… but what if she knew he had been attacked because she had planned it all?

Harry feels cold all of the sudden.

And the door opens.

Pettigrew comes from inside the office, his eyes briefly stopping on Harry before he snorts and walks to the elevators. He doesn't look happy. Harry wonders if they had another fight. They seem to be fighting a lot lately.

He looks around the floor. Everyone is gone. Harry barely noticed them leaving.

Cracking his knuckles, he strides to her door. They've kept a secure distance these days, Harry still wants to be under the radar, forgotten by Riddle.

He knocks. And after a beat she allows him inside.

He gulps when he closes the door behind him. Hermione is on her couch, her legs crossed and her expression lost, her eyes vague. But when her head turns to look at him, she opens a bright smile.

"Hey, handsome." She says and he feels hot at the way she does it.

He opens a wide smile of his own.

"Hey, beautiful."

She pats the couch by her side and he goes, feeling giddy, behaving like an enamored fool. Which he is.

The moment he sits she turns to him, her lips on his, their arms closing around each other. He faintly hears her locking the door.

And they shamelessly make out on her couch. Long and slow kisses. Soft moans and a lot of squeezing and biting. Then soft and fast kisses, innocent pecks and caresses.

Harry rubs his cheek on hers and she sighs, her hands again on his hair after traveling his whole body.

"Is everything okay?" He asks in a low voice, their faces close.

"Yes." She answers. "You?"

"Yes." He kisses her cheek. "I just missed you." He has no more reservations when it comes to this kind of statement. He doesn't really mind what she might think. He squeezes her waist and Hermione turns her head to kiss his jaw.

"I missed you too."

He smiles and looks at her. She smiles back, her expression soft. He leans to speak into her ear. "I already know what to do for our second date."

"Hmm. I'm sure you'll tease me about it, killing me slowly with curiosity, but," She says in a serious tone, "I'll be with you so I know it's going to be amazing."

He pulls back. His heart beating fast at her words. He searches for clues of any kind of feelings in her eyes, but she's unreadable.

"I never disappoint." He says in a playful tone, trying to slow his heart rate.

"You really don't." She's not joking.

He kisses her again, this time in a tender way.

Hermione sighs and pulls back. Harry rearranges himself on the couch and she laughs at how disheveled they both are. She stands up and utters a spell to put herself back together, Harry does the same but remains seated, watching her.

"I was thinking," She begins, leaning on her desk and looking at him. She's wearing her uniform. "You were the only one capable of slightly mending the statue." She narrows her eyes at him.

Harry tilts his head. He was thinking about making love to her right there, but apparently her mind is working at another frequency. He clicks his tongue.

"I guess." It's what he says.

"I didn't mention it to my father." She crosses her arms. "You know why?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "Because he would suspect you immediately. And you would be locked up for it." She sets her jaw. "Later that day when you tried again, he was watching and I'm glad you weren't able to fix it, Harry." She sighs. "But I have to ask." He straightens his back. He knows what's coming and he feels the irritation inside him, the anger. "Did you do it? Did you destroy the statue?"

He scoffs. "No." He says, gritting his teeth.

"And I believe you, Harry." She says in a low voice. He avoids looking at her, his fingers more interesting. "But you have to agree with me that… it was strange. And suspicious."

"I'm a powerful wizard, Hermione." It's all he says, his voice deep. He's trying to hide his hurt at the question. But wasn't he just entertaining the idea of Hermione being the responsible for all the attacks?

"I know." She says firmly and he finally looks up at her. "But I'm also very powerful, Harry, and I've tried every spell I know. Nothing works." She takes two steps from the table. "It irritates me. I'm going a bit mad with this because every night, every fucking night, my father wants to know if I succeeded. And I always have to say that I didn't."

"Well, it sucks that you're disappointing your amazing father."

"Careful." She says in warning. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "I want you to try again." She says to him. "Now."

Harry inhales deeply, annoyed. But he stands from the couch and walks to the door. "Fine."

Hermione unlocks the door, her mouth in an angry pout while she follows Harry out. They don't say a word the whole elevator ride. The warmth is all gone, from both. Harry can't believe she's still suspecting him this way and Hermione seems angry with the whole situation.

When the elevator stops at the Atrium, he asks her, "You're never going to trust me, are you?"

Hermione wets her lips. "You may think I don't, but I do trust you, Harry."

"It doesn't seem like it." He says and walks past her, striding to the statue.

She scoffs behind him, but says nothing.

Harry stops in front of the statue. The Ministry is deserted. The Aurors are always the last ones to leave, so, the emptiness at the Atrium was expected.

Hermione stays a step behind. Harry lifts his wand and closes his eyes. The spell he used the first time was one of reverse effect. He simply was trying to undo what had been done, as if erasing the action, hence, putting things back where they belong.

Sighing, still very much irritated, he performs the spell.

And nothing happens.

Clicking his tongue he turns to her. "Satisfied?"

Hermione gulps and takes a step to stand by his side. "I…" The wrinkle between her brows is there. "I remember being by your side that day." She's thinking out loud.

"So?"

She bites on one of her nails. "So," Leaning closer to him and whispering she says, "we have some kind of weird thing going on, Harry. The tingle. I think it can enhance our magic."

He makes a face. "What?" She widens her eyes for him to lower his voice. "Why do you think that? Have you been doing research on this, Hermione? What did you discover?"

"Nothing." She states. "But I want to… test something."

In a awkward position she takes his left hand in hers. The tingle comes to life and all the remaining anger between them vanish. It seems like this tingle - whatever it is - is the real thing. And through it Harry is sure she trusts him. There's no way of doubting the energy that comes from her. He makes a face.

"Sorry." He says, his lips pressed together. "For reacting that way. I know it was only logical-"

She squeezes his hand. "I know. I'm sorry too." Discreetly he moves his face closer to hers in a reassuring way and they share a heavy look.

"What do you want to test?" He asks.

"I want to perform the spell together. With our hands united."

"And you think it'll work?"

She sighs. "I think it will."

"Why?"

"I have no idea."

He chuckles. "Okay. Let's do it."

But the position sucks and they laugh a bit while they try being comfortable… until Harry loses his patience and positions her in front of him, hugging Hermione from behind, their left hands together at her middle.

She's breathing hard and he knows it's because of the proximity and the tingle.

"Hm." He grunts. "I'm suddenly very horny." He says in a low voice and she- she burst out in a loud laugh.

Harry laughs with her.

"Fuck. Me too." She says in a low voice.

He squeezes her hand. And she lets out a soft moan. Harry presses his lips together. They can't kiss in the middle of the Atrium. So, they take a few seconds to calm down.

"Ready?" He asks after he explains the spell he used that first time.

She nods.

And in unison they raise their wands. Harry keeps his eyes open this time.

What unfolds is unbelievable.

All the pieces and bits of the statue start to float and attach to the main marble. And there, before Harry's eyes, the Supremacist Statue comes to life again. It bothers him that he's half responsible for it.

But he can't deny the sensation. Whatever it is that they're sharing between their left hands is powerful. A strange force. Breathtaking. And astonishingly exhilarating. Inevitably he brings her closer to him, their bodies touching and the connection growing, the spell intensifying.

In a matter of seconds the statue is whole again.

Harry gulps and not resisting anymore, he kisses her neck. She lets out a heavy breath. Their hands are burning with a numbing tingle. But it feels good. So good.

"I want so badly for you to fuck me right now." Hermione says bluntly, her voice low.

"Likewise." He says and bites her neck gently.

Hermione clears her throat. "We can't. Not here. Not tonight." She sighs angrily and with great effort takes a step away from him.

Harry almost whines. And when their left hands let go of each other's, he feels a hole inside his chest, as if part of him is leaving, Hermione taking it for herself.

She widens her eyes to him and he wonders if she felt the same. He motions to the statue.

"What does it mean, then? That we were able to do it?"

"The reasons behind it are… a mystery. But we were able to do it because, whatever we share, it indeed enhances our magic." She looks at the statue. "No one can know, Harry. This is… a big deal." He nods in agreement.

"But what will you say to your father?"

"That I have no idea how it glued itself back together." She turns to him. "It's fixed. He won't care how it happened."

"Okay." He nods. "We do need to investigate this."

"We do. Well, I guess it's a good thing that we make a great team, right?" She winks at him.

Harry smiles. "I should go." He says. She nods. "I'll send you messages about the date, okay?"

She opens a smile. "Okay."

He turns and begins to walk to the many fireplaces. Her voice reaches him when he's about to leave.

"I'm looking forward to it, Harry!"

He is too.

February 1st, 2006

Essex

Harry observes from behind the trees. At night, the streets are way less crowded. And at this hour people are preparing for their peaceful night of sleep.

He thought a lot about coming back here. Thought a lot if it was worth it. Thought a lot about Lestrange. About how he felt.

But he also thought about his parents. About the exhaustive training he went throughout his whole life. A training that prepared him exactly for this.

He made promises. He claimed he would avenge his parents. He wants to prove that he can do this.

And maybe he's incapable of letting go.

Knowing where Goyle is and that he still breathes while his parents are dead is something that messes with his feelings. What kind of justice would leaving Goyle alive bring? None.

So, he decided.

Covering his face with a hood, Harry walks casually to the house. He used a concealing spell, but maybe, since it's a Wizarding neighborhood, someone might detected him before he reaches the house, regardless… he'll say he wants to make a trade with Goyle.

He reaches the brown house and, scanning his surroundings in a discreet way, Harry registers that there's no one around, no one close enough to see him sneaking through a fence and reaching the back of the house. At least, no one he can see.

Doing a detecting spell he notices there are no wards guarding the house. It's unbelievable how stupid Goyle seems to be. Even more so for a former Auror. And when Harry reaches the back door, he puts one ear against it, trying to listen if there's anyone inside.

A few minutes go by and he finally distinguishes footsteps. Only one person. Probably Goyle.

Harry puts a hand on the knob and not really thinking the door might be unlocked, he turns it. He frowns in surprise when it actually opens.

All the alarms inside his head go off. It's a trap.

"It's not a trap!" Goyle says from inside.

Harry opens and closes his mouth and then he enters the house. He shouldn't, but even if it is a trap, he's skilled enough to find a way out of it.

But there's only the Auror. Sitting on a chair and watching Harry while he steps inside. Goyle is smoking a cigar.

"This is the best cigar in the world." He says to Harry. "I bought it to myself with the reward I got from the Minister. When the Persecution ended. I've been saving it for a special occasion." He blows some smoke.

Harry begins to seal the house with silent spells, one after the other. Goyle can't escape.

"And is this a special occasion?" Harry asks when he finally stops close to the chair, lifting his hood and revealing his face.

Goyle doesn't react. Not like Lestrange did. But Harry sees the recognition in his eyes.

"It is. I've been waiting for you, H.P." Harry narrows his eyes. "When you invaded my house with that lady… I wasn't sure what to think, but then you asked about the Persecution. About the Potters." He scoffs, coughing after. "Before we do this-"

"Do what exactly?"

"Duel to death." He says simply. Harry realizes that Goyle's posture is not of a stupid man, but of someone who thinks he can win in a fight. He's that confident. "Well, as I was saying, before we do this I want to say a few things. I wasn't supposed to be part of the investigation and I barely attended any meeting. My memory from that Halloween night was erased. But," He raises a finger, "when Riddle practically banished me to live out here without any contact with my previous life… I knew he wanted to hide something. Shut us up. I went back to the house. I saw proofs of your existence, little Potter." Harry holds his breath.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Meh." Goyle stands from the chair. The cigar is almost done. "You may not believe me but I felt guilty about the whole thing… and at that point I had no idea if you were alive or not." He shrugs. "And I didn't owe Riddle a thing anymore. If he didn't discover for himself, that's his problem."

And so fast that Harry barely manages to see it, Goyle throws the cigar at the floor and a spell at him. It hits Harry hard and he flies back all the way to the door. He grunts, annoyed and hurt, but he acts swiftly, protecting himself with a shield.

Goyle moves like a beast.

A couch and a chair come flying towards Harry and he finally manages to move. He explodes both things mid motion and feathers fill the room, falling from above. It gives Harry a slight advantage. He utters a hex, one that's supposed to hurt and Goyle grunts. The man's wand falls on the floor. Harry just made his hands burn.

"Bloody Hell!" Goyle exclaims while he shakes his hands in the air. Harry approaches him slowly.

If Goyle can't perform wandless magic, the duel he was so sure of winning is practically over.

Harry fetches Goyle's wand from the floor and crosses his arms, standing in front of the man that keeps yelling because of his burning hands. His mind is set now. Harry has no doubt of what he needs to do. In silence, he straps Goyle to the chair and eases the pain from his hands a bit.

"Do you know why Riddle was after the Potters?"

Goyle presses his lips together. Then he clicks his tongue and says, "I don't know. But I'm sure their relationship wasn't reason enough for him to be after them. Even if Riddle can be that petty… he's smart before anything else."

Harry nods. And without warning, he invades Goyle's mind. He finds no resistance at all. And from what he sees, it's clear that the amount of drugs and chemical combinations Goyle abused of his entire life took a toll on his mind and judgment. It's also obvious that he knows nothing else and Harry sighs when he ends the spell.

"You're a waste of space." Harry says, taking a few steps to the man. He can feel that murderous rage taking over him.

Now Goyle seems frightened, his emotions changing at each second. "Look, maybe we can make a deal-"

Harry uses a spell to slice open a cut on Goyle's thigh. The man screams. "You can scream all you want. No one will hear you. No one will come for you."

And a moment before he takes another step to Goyle, Harry briefly wonders what having another death on his hands will do to him. But he shakes his head and dismisses the thought.

There's no room for weaknesses. No room for doubts.

Not now. Not in the future.

Chapter Text

February 3rd, 2006

Somewhere in Romania

"I must be completely out of my mind to let you bring me to another country without explaining a thing." Hermione says.

Harry snorts a chuckle. She's blindfolded by his side and he's guiding her, their hands together while they walk through a wooden passage in the middle of a forest. She's wearing light clothes and her hair is up in a bun, proper for fast movements and flying.

No engagement ring again.

So, it happens that Harry has a friend who takes care of some… Dragons. And he imagined that a date involving soaring into the sky at the back of one might be perfect.

Even if he doubts his decision a bit, he knows he won't regret it. And he's sure Hermione won't either. He just hopes she has never experienced something like this.

"You'll thank me later." He says. They're closer to his friend's house now.

"I'm starting to doubt that." She mumbles.

Harry squeezes her hand. "You said you knew it would be amazing, regardless."

"I'm regretting my words."

He laughs wholeheartedly and turns his head to look at her. She has a mischievous smile on her face.

Harry stops and brings her closer to him. They're both under a heating spell. "If you don't like what I've planned, we can…" He leans to her ear, "just have sex the entire night." She lets out a sigh.

"I might not like it on purpose, then."

He chuckles, kissing her cheek. "Come on, I know it's just the curiosity killing you."

She turns her head and her lips find his in a soft kiss. "Tell me at least where we are." She pleads, her mouth close to his.

Not hiding his smile, he shakes his head. "In Romania."

Hermione pulls back, opening her mouth in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

And he says nothing more as he starts to lead her again. Hermione follows closely and he can tell that her curiosity spiked now that she knows where they are. He hopes she doesn't figure it out before they make to the Dragons.

As they had settled before, they're forbidden of talking about work or investigations on these dates and it was their best decision, by far. This way, everything is more intimate and meaningful. And Harry thinks he might be more in love with her than before. Which is certainly not healthy. But inevitable.

Finally, he sees the house and stops. "Now." He clears his throat, Hermione perks up at his voice. "I need to talk with a friend and you're not gonna be with me."

She crosses her arms. Even with the blindfold he can see her expression of clear distaste. "Why?"

"Because if you hear or see anything, the surprise is over. So, you have to promise me that you won't peek through the blindfold and that you won't use a spell to hear my conversation."

She taps a foot on the floor. Dio. She's annoyed.

"Harry." She whines. "You can't do this to me."

"You just have to be patient." He smirks. "You can be, can't you?" He holds her in his arms. Her own go around his neck. It's strange looking at her and not seeing her eyes, but at the same time… "You know, it's kinda of hot seeing only your lips." He gives her a kiss. Then his thumb goes over her lower lip in a caress.

"Yeah?" She nibbles at his thumb. "How hot?" Her voice is low.

"Very." He kisses her again, his tongue invading her mouth, going over her lips. "We might use this blindfold later, huh?" He hints and she opens that devious smile.

"We will." It's what she says, her chest moving up and down heavily.

He groans, his hands roaming over her body. "Promise you'll behave."

She lets out a sigh of discontentment. "Fine. I promise. But hurry."

Harry gives her a peck and moves to the house - that's more a hut than anything else - still watching Hermione standing there with her arms crossed while he knocks on the back door.