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polyarmory2006-05-22 08:18 pm
shortitude.livejournal.com) wrote in polyarmory2006-05-22 08:18 pm
FIC: Stories From Every Corner Of The World (2/??)
Title: Stories From All The Corners Of The World
Chapter Title: The Recipe From Hell
Author: Cella
Ship: Charlie/Harry/Hermione
Challenge: The Prompt Game, gracefully provided by the readers of Universal Laws Of Attraction
Prompt: #10. we can work it out--![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ms_cd84
General Summary: It’s the brink of the war, and the victory depends on three still-children and a dragon tamer. Home doesn’t feel the same, and love might not cut it. The quest for Horcruxes proves to be a hard journey. Harry, Charlie, Hermione and Ron find themselves thrown into a journey that takes them to every corner of the world, in a race against time to save the world and live to see another day.
Chapter Summary: The first clue to destroying the Horcruxes might be a deal with the Devil
Spoilers: Up to HBP. SEQUEL to Universal Laws Of Attraction
Dedications: Toran_huo, who knows when to prod me to write, and who shoved me into this ship in the first place, and to inell, who managed to stick through it all like a loyal reader. To all the readers of ULOA, this sequel is for you.
A/N: Well, here we are. Not exactly sure where 'here' is, but that will undoubtedly change. If you haven't read ULOA, please do so: HERE. And Enjoy, because it's going to be one hell of a ride!
::Before::
“Oh shit,” Ron whispers.
Underneath that photo, in slanted writing, black ink on paper, the name of Hermione’s dream guest.
Regulus Abraxas Black
“We have to find Harry and Charlie,” Ron says, once he has his voice back. Upon receiving no answer, he turns to observe Hermione’s still form. She’s still looking at the album, frightened fingers brushing over the photo, tentatively. Her brow is brought down in a frown, and her lips are parted, small chocked noises coming out from them. “Hermione,” he tries again, placing a hand on her shoulder, and shaking her softly.
She looks away from the album, her eyes fluttering closed, then, with a shake of her head, she regains her focus, and nods at Ron. “Yeah, we should find them.”
Ron stands up, and holds out a hand, helping Hermione stand up from the dusty ground. They brush away the dust from their clothes, and with Hermione still holding the album under her arms, they set out to find the other half of the group.
They find them in the kitchen, and it’s somewhat surprising that the two of them are not in some compromising position. Charlie is looking inside the cupboards, for any trace of booze, or some water. Harry is sitting on a chair, one hand over the back of the chair, while the other rests on his upper thigh.
“What, no snogging?” Ron asks, breaking the ice as he steps into the kitchen.
Harry opens his before-closed eyes to mock glare at his best friend. Charlie looks at them over his shoulder, his hands still palpating for some bottle. “Harry’s scar is twitching,” he informs them lightly. It explains why Harry has his eyes closed, and tries so hard to look relaxed but can’t.
“When did it start?” Hermione asks, coming to stand behind Harry’s chair. She places the album on the table, and moves her hands to Harry’s temple, where she rubs circles into his skin.
“Just about when we entered the house,” Charlie speaks, closing the door to the cupboard. “There’s nothing to drink here,” he says, sighing. “I feel useless.”
“Mmmm,” Harry murmurs, so low that barely Hermione can hear it, “You made the pain lessen when it began.”
Hermione wants to ask how, but Harry’s swollen lips tell the tale for themselves. She blushes slightly, and leans in to brush a kiss against his scar. She pushes away with a hiss, her eyes wide open. “It’s burning,” she says.
Harry’s eyes flutter open, opaque green staring up at her from under black eyelashes. “Is it? Must be why it feels like hell,” he murmurs, not sarcastically.
“Do you think Voldemort is up to something?” Ron asks, trying very hard not to stumble over the name.
“When is he not up to something?” Charlie questions dryly. Then he shrugs, “I don’t think it’s much because of Voldemort as because of the house. It feels full of…dark magic seems like such a trite description.”
“It gives me the creeps,” Ron admits, shivering as he sits down at the table.
“It must be the Horcrux,” Hermione mutters, absent-mindedly.
Harry’s eyes open wide, and he stands up straight, extracting his head from her grasp. Charlie straightens from his position against the counter. Ron just blinks tiredly. “Horcrux? You’ve found it?” Harry asks.
“No,” Hermione answers, her gaze landing on the abandoned album on the table, “No, but we found my dream visitor.” She picks the album up, and opens it at the page with the photo. Placing the open album on the table in front of them, she says, “It wasn’t Sirius.”
“Mmm, this is better,” Charlie declares, bringing his hands above his head and stretching. The afternoon wind blows around him, shaking up morbid looking trees, making the tall grass dance at its will. They move their party outside, because it’s too stuffy and uncomfortable inside the gloomy house. Thought the garden isn’t better by much, the air certainly does well to Harry, who’s not pale anymore.
They each take a seat on one of the stairs leading to the porch, and enjoy a moment of relative peace.
“So, Regulus Black wasn’t a traitor?” Charlie finally asks, leaning his back against the wooden column near the stairs.
“I’m not sure what he was,” Hermione answers, rubbing her neck. “Since he wasn’t fighting for the ‘Light Side’ in the first place, we can’t assume he was a spy. I think he was either working in his own interest, or for,” here she pauses, and looks at the ground beneath her feet, “or for personal reasons,” she finishes.
“Isn’t personal reasons and own interest the same thing?” Ron questions.
“They are, in a way,” Hermione starts, “But I was referring to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he was wronged by Voldemort and acted out of revenge. Either that, or because he got some sort of payment out of it.”
“I doubt it,” Harry interrupts. “The note he left in the cave says that much. It must’ve been revenge. It must have been personal.”
“Strange enough, Regulus doesn’t strike me as the good Samaritan,” Charlie says.
“As far as we’re concerned, Sirius was the only Black that was somewhat good. We’re not even sure about Adromeda Tonks, what we know of her is that she’s married a muggle-born and defied her parents. But bad people do that for love, as well. Maybe Regulus really hated Voldemort. Maybe…Merlin, I wish we had some more clues on this. Maybe he knew more about Horcruxes than he let on,” Hermione frets.
They share another comfortable silence, and Hermione takes advantage of this to close her eyes. She’s still tired from last night’s nightmare, and seeing Regulus’ face in that album wore her out for good. She closes her eyes, and lets the wind play with her tresses.
But she can feel him behind her, as he grabs her chin forcefully and makes her look in the direction he wants her to look.
“Before the beginning, find the locket in the house where it’s always dark,” he whispers into her ear with a hoarse voice.
Hermione’s still watching the cupboard with open eyes when the man disappears, and the rooms stops shaking and screaming.
She jumps, her heart beating wildly in her chest. In front of her eyes, flashes from last night’s nightmare still replay, especially the image of a cupboard. A black cupboard where no one looks under, unless they’re Kreacher.
“Cupboard under the sink,” she breathes out, and before her friends can question, passes out.
Later, she feels the brushes of salty-mint-flavoured warm air brush over her, swirling around her body, and giggling in her ear. She remember this spell from her fifth year, remembers how it felt the first time someone cast an Enervate on her. The giggling continues until she wakes, and only then does the scent of mint and salt disappear. In stead, she’s looking into the concerned faces of three men.
“What happened?” she asks.
“You fainted,” Harry answers, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Gave us quite the scare,” Charlie says, returning the wand to his pocket. “What was that all about?”
“I had a replay of last night’s nightmare,” she vaguely answers, standing up from between Harry’s legs, and climbing the stairs to the porch. As she reaches the door to the kitchen, she turns around to look at their surprised faces. “I know where the Horcrux is.”
That gets them moving, although Charlie swiftly declares that as soon as they find it, they’re getting something to eat, and then moving to solving the whole ‘destroy-evil-Horcrux-thingy‘.
They find it underneath the sink, inside the cupboard where Kreacher guarded all his petty possessions, or all the petty possessions he took from inside the house when the Order was there. It’s hard to find, because it’s tiny, and barely visible underneath another leather-covered book. Harry vaguely passes the book to Hermione, as he holds the Horcrux in front of his eyes, speculatively.
“I know that look, and you can take your mind off of it,” Hermione drawls, her eyes skimming over the pages of the book.
“What look?” Harry questions jokingly.
“The look that says you want to destroy it right now. No deal, Harry. Remember how Dumbledore’s hand was, hmm? We have to study it first, and then we’ll destroy it.”
“But what if we lose it?” he asks, already placing the Horcrux on the table for them all to see.
“We won’t, because I’ll be keeping it. And we all know I don’t lose things that often,” Hermione says, opening the book in her hand with a smug grin.
“That’s dangerous!” Harry protests, but he knows it’s a lost cause. Hermione’s stubborn like that, but that’ll help because she’ll want to get rid of it as much as he does, which will make her search for a method to destroy it faster.
But Hermione isn’t paying attention, because her eyes are glazed over, and her brow is furrowed again, her lips forming a tight line, as she reads the book--which isn’t a book after all--in her hands. She doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful, but it seems that things related to the Horcrux Regulus Black stole keep falling into her hands. What’s really horrifying is the fact that she just mentioned something about this while they were in the garden. The boys gather around her, and someone--Hermione thinks it might be even her--gasps.
Journal of Regulus Abraxas Black
“You know, I think Regulus likes you,” Charlie points out, placing the fork on his lower lip.
Hermione chokes mid chew, and glared up at him. “Wow, a dead guy likes me, that’s so nice,” she observes dryly, rolling her eyes.
“How else would you explain that everything he had which has to do with the Horcrux ends up in your hands…or mind?” Charlie asks, taking another bite of steak.
“I have no bloody idea. But I’d rather it not be because he likes me. It’s not good, when a dead man who used to work for Voldemort likes you. You know what I mean?” she finishes, raising her eyebrows.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fend him off for you, love,” Charlie grins. “It’s my duty as your boyfriend, you know?”
Hermione rolls her eyes at him. “Aren’t boyfriends supposed to kiss their girlfriends every now and then? You haven’t done that much.”
Charlie smirks, places his fork on the table, and stands up from his chair. He leans over the table, and catching Hermione’s face in one of his hand, brings her mouth close to his. “Allow me to correct that mistake,” he whispers, and kisses her.
Oh she’s missed this so. Stolen kisses in the bathroom don’t rise up to it when it comes to how Charlie can really kiss. She wishes the table would disappear from between them, because her neck is getting a crick, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because Charlie, who tastes like tea and steak, drags her bottom lip between his teeth, and tugs slightly. His forefinger and thumb play with her earlobe, and his tongue skims over her lips. She parts them slightly, allowing him to nibble on the more sensitive place on her lower lip, and smiles widely when he flickers his tongue against the bow that her upper lip forms. She pushes herself into her standing position, so that they’re kissing above the table, his steak and her rice discarded and abandoned. She vaguely considers clearing the table with her hand, but he makes her forget that thought, when he presses his mouth against her, tongue flicking against the tip of her tongue, daring her to play. He smiles into their kiss, and she sighs happily, tugging at his hair, and almost loosing balance.
“You two don’t waste one second, do you?” Harry dryly comments from the door.
They separate, lips swollen, and eyes glazed over. Charlie brushes a kiss over Hermione’s temple, and sits down again. Hermione rearranges her hair, and palming her face to cool it off, she sits down as well.
“Right,” Harry says, and steps into the Grangers’ kitchen. “The pizza’s here,” he announces, “and you’ve destroyed Ron’s mind,” he finishes, pointing at where Ron’s still standing, near the door, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.
“Ron?” Hermione asks, concerned.
“Hermione…my brother…and…kissing…the…noises…and…kissing…and…little Hermione…” Ron mumbles, dazed.
“Is he okay?” Hermione whispers in Harry’s direction.
Harry smirks, and shrugs as he takes a seat next to Charlie. “Probably marked for life. You try finding your childhood friend snogging your older brother. Speaking of,” he drawls, looking at Charlie smugly, “Hermione’s not the only childhood friend Ron has.”
Charlie rolls his eyes, and draws Harry in for a quick kiss. “Might as well give him the full show,” he finishes with a wink.
Hermione is still concerned over Ron’s absent look, and nudges Harry to do something about it. Harry knows how to deal with that.
“Ron, food,” he shouts.
Ron snaps out of his daze, blushing red to the tips of his ears, and shuddering while he directs a quick glance to Hermione. “I’m never going to be able to look at you in the same way again,” he declares, but takes a seat near Hermione anyway. “Now, let me see what this pizza deal was all about.”
“Ron here’s never tasted pizza before,” Harry says, informing them about the obvious. It’s not as if Harry’s had his great share of pizzas, but he knows what Ron would like. “You two sure you don’t want any?”
“I’m a happy man with a happy, rare steak,” Charlie declares, placing another bit into his mouth, and grinning.
“I’ll just stay with the rice for now,” Hermione says.
Ron, who takes a bite out of his first slice of pizza ever, shrugs at them, moaning pleasantly. “More for me.”
Harry looks up from the slice he was directing to his mouth. “More for us, Ron. Us.”
“Pizza-whore,” Ron accuses, and takes another bite.
“Yes, Pot,” Harry dryly answers.
“So, where are you keeping it?” Harry asks for the second time that evening.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Hermione answers dryly.
“Underwear drawer?” Charlie asks from behind his book.
Hermione throws a pillow at him. She fluffs her remaining two pillows under her, and settles down again, returning to Regulus’ journal.
“Where are you keeping it?” Harry asks again, half an hour later.
“In my underwear,” Hermione answers, licking her finger and turning a page. She does not look up, so she can’t see Ron shudder.
“Do you mind? I’m still fragile,” Ron says.
“Tell him to stop pestering me,” Hermione drones, pointing in Harry’s general direction. “I’m trying to read this.”
“She’s reading her wuvley Reggie’s diary,” Charlie snorts behind his book. He ducks the next pillow successfully.
“He’s not my anything, and it’s a journal, not a diary. Men keep journals, get your facts straight,” Hermione snaps.
“Not her anything, my ass. Look at her defend his manliness,” Charlie quips.
“That’s it, no more kissing for you, mister,” Hermione threatens.
“Liar,” Harry coughs into his hand, earning himself a glare from Hermione, which he fends off with a grin. “Found anything?”
“Not yet,” she mutters.
“Okay,” Harry says, and returns his gaze to the telly. Then, after a pause, “So where are you keeping it?”
“Harry, leave the damn Horcrux alone, it’s safe, okay?” she screeches, irritated.
“I can’t help worrying for your safety, Hermione,” Harry murmurs, and the joking has stopped.
Hermione looks up from the journal, and smiles kindly at him. “I’m safe too, Harry. I have you three.”
“I just want to destroy it soon, before anything bad happens to you.”
“So do I.” Hermione offers him one last smile, and returns to the journal. With the same perfect timing as always, things related to Regulus and the Horcrux fall into her hands at the perfect moment. “Found something,” she declares.
“Listen to this,” she says, looking up at them, and then back at the journal.
It seems ironic that this wretched number should precede what I’m about to say. I’ve found it, found where the necklace it. Tomorrow, I will head for its location, and because I am sure I will probably die before destroying it, I’m writing this here, now. In hopes that he who finds this journal will destroy what I could not. He who reads this is able to do so because he was looking for this entry. Do not worry, this will not fall into their hands, I kept telling myself, and it’s true. I’ve placed a spell on this entry, which enables only the one who looks for this subject of matter to read the entry. Only if you are looking into this journal for a way to destroy the pendant will you be able to read this. The way to destroy it is fairly intricate. Because He was an expert in Potions as well, I investigated that territory first. For this pendant to be destroyed, you needn’t attack it--in fact, it’s unadvised to do so. You must melt it. But because it’s magical as well, it does not suffice with simple muggle-like ways. There’s an alchemist’s formulae, which you will not find, and they will not find, because I killed the alchemist who created it, at my ‘master’s’ orders. The alchemist gave me the formulae before dying, after I confessed to him my purpose. Follow every step perfectly. I hope you succeed where I have not, and I hope you keep looking into ‘this’. It might solve problems.
They stare for a few moments at nothing, and shudder collectively.
“I don’t like the sound of those last two ingredients,” Ron mused.
“No one does,” Hermione whispers. “But it must be done. I have a feeling more clues will appear once we destroy this Horcrux.” What she fails to mention is the fact that she is determined to be the one to make the potion. She can not, will not let them make it, because they weren’t all that good at Potions. She doubts Charlie’s capacities, but nonetheless, it will be her duty. Her dive into dark alchemy.
“Well, I see three mentions of dragon there,” Charlie says. “It can only mean one thing. We’re going to have to go to Romania.”
Chapter Title: The Recipe From Hell
Author: Cella
Ship: Charlie/Harry/Hermione
Challenge: The Prompt Game, gracefully provided by the readers of Universal Laws Of Attraction
Prompt: #10. we can work it out--
ms_cd84General Summary: It’s the brink of the war, and the victory depends on three still-children and a dragon tamer. Home doesn’t feel the same, and love might not cut it. The quest for Horcruxes proves to be a hard journey. Harry, Charlie, Hermione and Ron find themselves thrown into a journey that takes them to every corner of the world, in a race against time to save the world and live to see another day.
Chapter Summary: The first clue to destroying the Horcruxes might be a deal with the Devil
Spoilers: Up to HBP. SEQUEL to Universal Laws Of Attraction
Dedications: To
ran_huo, who knows when to prod me to write, and who shoved me into this ship in the first place, and to inell, who managed to stick through it all like a loyal reader. To all the readers of ULOA, this sequel is for you.A/N: Well, here we are. Not exactly sure where 'here' is, but that will undoubtedly change. If you haven't read ULOA, please do so: HERE. And Enjoy, because it's going to be one hell of a ride!
::Before::
“Oh shit,” Ron whispers.
Underneath that photo, in slanted writing, black ink on paper, the name of Hermione’s dream guest.
Regulus Abraxas Black
II. The Recipe From Hell
“We have to find Harry and Charlie,” Ron says, once he has his voice back. Upon receiving no answer, he turns to observe Hermione’s still form. She’s still looking at the album, frightened fingers brushing over the photo, tentatively. Her brow is brought down in a frown, and her lips are parted, small chocked noises coming out from them. “Hermione,” he tries again, placing a hand on her shoulder, and shaking her softly.
She looks away from the album, her eyes fluttering closed, then, with a shake of her head, she regains her focus, and nods at Ron. “Yeah, we should find them.”
Ron stands up, and holds out a hand, helping Hermione stand up from the dusty ground. They brush away the dust from their clothes, and with Hermione still holding the album under her arms, they set out to find the other half of the group.
---------
They find them in the kitchen, and it’s somewhat surprising that the two of them are not in some compromising position. Charlie is looking inside the cupboards, for any trace of booze, or some water. Harry is sitting on a chair, one hand over the back of the chair, while the other rests on his upper thigh.
“What, no snogging?” Ron asks, breaking the ice as he steps into the kitchen.
Harry opens his before-closed eyes to mock glare at his best friend. Charlie looks at them over his shoulder, his hands still palpating for some bottle. “Harry’s scar is twitching,” he informs them lightly. It explains why Harry has his eyes closed, and tries so hard to look relaxed but can’t.
“When did it start?” Hermione asks, coming to stand behind Harry’s chair. She places the album on the table, and moves her hands to Harry’s temple, where she rubs circles into his skin.
“Just about when we entered the house,” Charlie speaks, closing the door to the cupboard. “There’s nothing to drink here,” he says, sighing. “I feel useless.”
“Mmmm,” Harry murmurs, so low that barely Hermione can hear it, “You made the pain lessen when it began.”
Hermione wants to ask how, but Harry’s swollen lips tell the tale for themselves. She blushes slightly, and leans in to brush a kiss against his scar. She pushes away with a hiss, her eyes wide open. “It’s burning,” she says.
Harry’s eyes flutter open, opaque green staring up at her from under black eyelashes. “Is it? Must be why it feels like hell,” he murmurs, not sarcastically.
“Do you think Voldemort is up to something?” Ron asks, trying very hard not to stumble over the name.
“When is he not up to something?” Charlie questions dryly. Then he shrugs, “I don’t think it’s much because of Voldemort as because of the house. It feels full of…dark magic seems like such a trite description.”
“It gives me the creeps,” Ron admits, shivering as he sits down at the table.
“It must be the Horcrux,” Hermione mutters, absent-mindedly.
Harry’s eyes open wide, and he stands up straight, extracting his head from her grasp. Charlie straightens from his position against the counter. Ron just blinks tiredly. “Horcrux? You’ve found it?” Harry asks.
“No,” Hermione answers, her gaze landing on the abandoned album on the table, “No, but we found my dream visitor.” She picks the album up, and opens it at the page with the photo. Placing the open album on the table in front of them, she says, “It wasn’t Sirius.”
---------
“Mmm, this is better,” Charlie declares, bringing his hands above his head and stretching. The afternoon wind blows around him, shaking up morbid looking trees, making the tall grass dance at its will. They move their party outside, because it’s too stuffy and uncomfortable inside the gloomy house. Thought the garden isn’t better by much, the air certainly does well to Harry, who’s not pale anymore.
They each take a seat on one of the stairs leading to the porch, and enjoy a moment of relative peace.
“So, Regulus Black wasn’t a traitor?” Charlie finally asks, leaning his back against the wooden column near the stairs.
“I’m not sure what he was,” Hermione answers, rubbing her neck. “Since he wasn’t fighting for the ‘Light Side’ in the first place, we can’t assume he was a spy. I think he was either working in his own interest, or for,” here she pauses, and looks at the ground beneath her feet, “or for personal reasons,” she finishes.
“Isn’t personal reasons and own interest the same thing?” Ron questions.
“They are, in a way,” Hermione starts, “But I was referring to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he was wronged by Voldemort and acted out of revenge. Either that, or because he got some sort of payment out of it.”
“I doubt it,” Harry interrupts. “The note he left in the cave says that much. It must’ve been revenge. It must have been personal.”
“Strange enough, Regulus doesn’t strike me as the good Samaritan,” Charlie says.
“As far as we’re concerned, Sirius was the only Black that was somewhat good. We’re not even sure about Adromeda Tonks, what we know of her is that she’s married a muggle-born and defied her parents. But bad people do that for love, as well. Maybe Regulus really hated Voldemort. Maybe…Merlin, I wish we had some more clues on this. Maybe he knew more about Horcruxes than he let on,” Hermione frets.
They share another comfortable silence, and Hermione takes advantage of this to close her eyes. She’s still tired from last night’s nightmare, and seeing Regulus’ face in that album wore her out for good. She closes her eyes, and lets the wind play with her tresses.
------
But she can feel him behind her, as he grabs her chin forcefully and makes her look in the direction he wants her to look.
“Before the beginning, find the locket in the house where it’s always dark,” he whispers into her ear with a hoarse voice.
Hermione’s still watching the cupboard with open eyes when the man disappears, and the rooms stops shaking and screaming.
---------
She jumps, her heart beating wildly in her chest. In front of her eyes, flashes from last night’s nightmare still replay, especially the image of a cupboard. A black cupboard where no one looks under, unless they’re Kreacher.
“Cupboard under the sink,” she breathes out, and before her friends can question, passes out.
Later, she feels the brushes of salty-mint-flavoured warm air brush over her, swirling around her body, and giggling in her ear. She remember this spell from her fifth year, remembers how it felt the first time someone cast an Enervate on her. The giggling continues until she wakes, and only then does the scent of mint and salt disappear. In stead, she’s looking into the concerned faces of three men.
“What happened?” she asks.
“You fainted,” Harry answers, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Gave us quite the scare,” Charlie says, returning the wand to his pocket. “What was that all about?”
“I had a replay of last night’s nightmare,” she vaguely answers, standing up from between Harry’s legs, and climbing the stairs to the porch. As she reaches the door to the kitchen, she turns around to look at their surprised faces. “I know where the Horcrux is.”
That gets them moving, although Charlie swiftly declares that as soon as they find it, they’re getting something to eat, and then moving to solving the whole ‘destroy-evil-Horcrux-thingy‘.
They find it underneath the sink, inside the cupboard where Kreacher guarded all his petty possessions, or all the petty possessions he took from inside the house when the Order was there. It’s hard to find, because it’s tiny, and barely visible underneath another leather-covered book. Harry vaguely passes the book to Hermione, as he holds the Horcrux in front of his eyes, speculatively.
“I know that look, and you can take your mind off of it,” Hermione drawls, her eyes skimming over the pages of the book.
“What look?” Harry questions jokingly.
“The look that says you want to destroy it right now. No deal, Harry. Remember how Dumbledore’s hand was, hmm? We have to study it first, and then we’ll destroy it.”
“But what if we lose it?” he asks, already placing the Horcrux on the table for them all to see.
“We won’t, because I’ll be keeping it. And we all know I don’t lose things that often,” Hermione says, opening the book in her hand with a smug grin.
“That’s dangerous!” Harry protests, but he knows it’s a lost cause. Hermione’s stubborn like that, but that’ll help because she’ll want to get rid of it as much as he does, which will make her search for a method to destroy it faster.
But Hermione isn’t paying attention, because her eyes are glazed over, and her brow is furrowed again, her lips forming a tight line, as she reads the book--which isn’t a book after all--in her hands. She doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful, but it seems that things related to the Horcrux Regulus Black stole keep falling into her hands. What’s really horrifying is the fact that she just mentioned something about this while they were in the garden. The boys gather around her, and someone--Hermione thinks it might be even her--gasps.
Journal of Regulus Abraxas Black
---------
“You know, I think Regulus likes you,” Charlie points out, placing the fork on his lower lip.
Hermione chokes mid chew, and glared up at him. “Wow, a dead guy likes me, that’s so nice,” she observes dryly, rolling her eyes.
“How else would you explain that everything he had which has to do with the Horcrux ends up in your hands…or mind?” Charlie asks, taking another bite of steak.
“I have no bloody idea. But I’d rather it not be because he likes me. It’s not good, when a dead man who used to work for Voldemort likes you. You know what I mean?” she finishes, raising her eyebrows.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fend him off for you, love,” Charlie grins. “It’s my duty as your boyfriend, you know?”
Hermione rolls her eyes at him. “Aren’t boyfriends supposed to kiss their girlfriends every now and then? You haven’t done that much.”
Charlie smirks, places his fork on the table, and stands up from his chair. He leans over the table, and catching Hermione’s face in one of his hand, brings her mouth close to his. “Allow me to correct that mistake,” he whispers, and kisses her.
Oh she’s missed this so. Stolen kisses in the bathroom don’t rise up to it when it comes to how Charlie can really kiss. She wishes the table would disappear from between them, because her neck is getting a crick, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because Charlie, who tastes like tea and steak, drags her bottom lip between his teeth, and tugs slightly. His forefinger and thumb play with her earlobe, and his tongue skims over her lips. She parts them slightly, allowing him to nibble on the more sensitive place on her lower lip, and smiles widely when he flickers his tongue against the bow that her upper lip forms. She pushes herself into her standing position, so that they’re kissing above the table, his steak and her rice discarded and abandoned. She vaguely considers clearing the table with her hand, but he makes her forget that thought, when he presses his mouth against her, tongue flicking against the tip of her tongue, daring her to play. He smiles into their kiss, and she sighs happily, tugging at his hair, and almost loosing balance.
“You two don’t waste one second, do you?” Harry dryly comments from the door.
They separate, lips swollen, and eyes glazed over. Charlie brushes a kiss over Hermione’s temple, and sits down again. Hermione rearranges her hair, and palming her face to cool it off, she sits down as well.
“Right,” Harry says, and steps into the Grangers’ kitchen. “The pizza’s here,” he announces, “and you’ve destroyed Ron’s mind,” he finishes, pointing at where Ron’s still standing, near the door, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.
“Ron?” Hermione asks, concerned.
“Hermione…my brother…and…kissing…the…noises…and…kissing…and…little Hermione…” Ron mumbles, dazed.
“Is he okay?” Hermione whispers in Harry’s direction.
Harry smirks, and shrugs as he takes a seat next to Charlie. “Probably marked for life. You try finding your childhood friend snogging your older brother. Speaking of,” he drawls, looking at Charlie smugly, “Hermione’s not the only childhood friend Ron has.”
Charlie rolls his eyes, and draws Harry in for a quick kiss. “Might as well give him the full show,” he finishes with a wink.
Hermione is still concerned over Ron’s absent look, and nudges Harry to do something about it. Harry knows how to deal with that.
“Ron, food,” he shouts.
Ron snaps out of his daze, blushing red to the tips of his ears, and shuddering while he directs a quick glance to Hermione. “I’m never going to be able to look at you in the same way again,” he declares, but takes a seat near Hermione anyway. “Now, let me see what this pizza deal was all about.”
“Ron here’s never tasted pizza before,” Harry says, informing them about the obvious. It’s not as if Harry’s had his great share of pizzas, but he knows what Ron would like. “You two sure you don’t want any?”
“I’m a happy man with a happy, rare steak,” Charlie declares, placing another bit into his mouth, and grinning.
“I’ll just stay with the rice for now,” Hermione says.
Ron, who takes a bite out of his first slice of pizza ever, shrugs at them, moaning pleasantly. “More for me.”
Harry looks up from the slice he was directing to his mouth. “More for us, Ron. Us.”
“Pizza-whore,” Ron accuses, and takes another bite.
“Yes, Pot,” Harry dryly answers.
---------
“So, where are you keeping it?” Harry asks for the second time that evening.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Hermione answers dryly.
“Underwear drawer?” Charlie asks from behind his book.
Hermione throws a pillow at him. She fluffs her remaining two pillows under her, and settles down again, returning to Regulus’ journal.
“Where are you keeping it?” Harry asks again, half an hour later.
“In my underwear,” Hermione answers, licking her finger and turning a page. She does not look up, so she can’t see Ron shudder.
“Do you mind? I’m still fragile,” Ron says.
“Tell him to stop pestering me,” Hermione drones, pointing in Harry’s general direction. “I’m trying to read this.”
“She’s reading her wuvley Reggie’s diary,” Charlie snorts behind his book. He ducks the next pillow successfully.
“He’s not my anything, and it’s a journal, not a diary. Men keep journals, get your facts straight,” Hermione snaps.
“Not her anything, my ass. Look at her defend his manliness,” Charlie quips.
“That’s it, no more kissing for you, mister,” Hermione threatens.
“Liar,” Harry coughs into his hand, earning himself a glare from Hermione, which he fends off with a grin. “Found anything?”
“Not yet,” she mutters.
“Okay,” Harry says, and returns his gaze to the telly. Then, after a pause, “So where are you keeping it?”
“Harry, leave the damn Horcrux alone, it’s safe, okay?” she screeches, irritated.
“I can’t help worrying for your safety, Hermione,” Harry murmurs, and the joking has stopped.
Hermione looks up from the journal, and smiles kindly at him. “I’m safe too, Harry. I have you three.”
“I just want to destroy it soon, before anything bad happens to you.”
“So do I.” Hermione offers him one last smile, and returns to the journal. With the same perfect timing as always, things related to Regulus and the Horcrux fall into her hands at the perfect moment. “Found something,” she declares.
“Listen to this,” she says, looking up at them, and then back at the journal.
---------
Entry 666:
It seems ironic that this wretched number should precede what I’m about to say. I’ve found it, found where the necklace it. Tomorrow, I will head for its location, and because I am sure I will probably die before destroying it, I’m writing this here, now. In hopes that he who finds this journal will destroy what I could not. He who reads this is able to do so because he was looking for this entry. Do not worry, this will not fall into their hands, I kept telling myself, and it’s true. I’ve placed a spell on this entry, which enables only the one who looks for this subject of matter to read the entry. Only if you are looking into this journal for a way to destroy the pendant will you be able to read this. The way to destroy it is fairly intricate. Because He was an expert in Potions as well, I investigated that territory first. For this pendant to be destroyed, you needn’t attack it--in fact, it’s unadvised to do so. You must melt it. But because it’s magical as well, it does not suffice with simple muggle-like ways. There’s an alchemist’s formulae, which you will not find, and they will not find, because I killed the alchemist who created it, at my ‘master’s’ orders. The alchemist gave me the formulae before dying, after I confessed to him my purpose. Follow every step perfectly. I hope you succeed where I have not, and I hope you keep looking into ‘this’. It might solve problems.
Inferno’s Mouth
Ingredients:
+dragon’s breath
+dragon’s fire
+dragon’s blood
+unicorn’s hair
+venom of a rattle-snake
+blood of the potion-maker
+an Unbreakable Vow
Ingredients:
+dragon’s breath
+dragon’s fire
+dragon’s blood
+unicorn’s hair
+venom of a rattle-snake
+blood of the potion-maker
+an Unbreakable Vow
---------
They stare for a few moments at nothing, and shudder collectively.
“I don’t like the sound of those last two ingredients,” Ron mused.
“No one does,” Hermione whispers. “But it must be done. I have a feeling more clues will appear once we destroy this Horcrux.” What she fails to mention is the fact that she is determined to be the one to make the potion. She can not, will not let them make it, because they weren’t all that good at Potions. She doubts Charlie’s capacities, but nonetheless, it will be her duty. Her dive into dark alchemy.
“Well, I see three mentions of dragon there,” Charlie says. “It can only mean one thing. We’re going to have to go to Romania.”