Dark Gods In The Blood
Chapter Nine
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A/N: I don’t think I
clarified myself well enough previously, so I think I’ll go ahead and say
it. This story is not a romance.
(I am biased to certain pairings, after all :), this is more about understanding
than anything else.
Summary: A wandering
student comes home, a broken man pays his penance, and a gruesome murder is
both more and less than it seems. Some paths
to self-discovery have more twists and turns than others.
Rating: R, for
intermittent dark themes, violence, and language
Disclaimer: Nothing
you read here (save the plot and bits of the text itself) belongs to me.
property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. (and someone else, probably, but not
me). All chapter headings are properly
credited to their sources.
Dark Gods in the Blood
by: Hayseed (
Chapter Nine
I
let him run on, this papier-mâché Mephistopheles, and it
forefinger
him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose
dirt,
maybe.
-- Joseph Conrad, Heart of
Darkness
The phone was ringing.
Hermione’s head was swimming with sleep and the only thing she could
remember as she fought her way to consciousness was that it had
“Good morning, my lovely,” a familiar male voice chirped into her ear
as she managed to grunt into the receiver.
“And how are you?”
Blinking a few times, the miasma of sleep began to clear.
He chuckled into the phone.
“It’s me, yes.”
“But ... you don’t know how to use a telephone,” she blurted, still
feeling rather disjoint.
Again, he laughed gently.
“Hermione, I didn’t know how to use a phone fifteen years ago.
be taught, you know.”
Coughing, she sat up, letting the blankets fall to her waist.
that you’ve learned to operate a phone.”
“Indeed,” he replied, voice still full of warm humor.
match this afternoon, and I was planning to take the kids.
go into work.”
She was confused. “Incident?”
Ron’s voice was momentarily sober.
“William Summerford -- a young chap I work with, just out of his
training -- was found dead last night,” he explained.
“Good Lord!” she exclaimed unthinkingly. “What happened?”
“We don’t know,” he replied.
“But I’ve got to go in for the day, at least. So, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the game, with Ginny
and the kids.”
“I ... erm ... of course,” Hermione said, brushing hair out of her
eyes. “What do I need to do?”
“Just show up at the Burrow ‘round one or so. The match starts at two.
I’ll drop the kids off this morning -- Françoise is going out with
Petunia, you see. But Mum’s happy to
watch them for a bit. Sound good?”
She stood, automatically straightening her nightclothes.
I, um, hope everything is all rigt wot work, Ron.”
“So do I,” he said darkly.
“Bye, Hermione.”
“Bye ...” Still rather dazed
with sleep, Hermione hung up the receiver, regarding it carefully.
he spoke, it must be often enough that he was relatively used to it.
How did one get used to death,
anyway?
Ron was used to it. By all
accounts, he was a relatively well-seasoned Auror and could speak fairly
casually about his deceased colleagues.
And Snape was probably used to it. spanspan>She knew she’d never get a chance to ask him about it, but she was
pretty certain that he was very familiar with death and destruction due to the
nature of the work he used to do in the Order.
Shaking her head as if to rid herself of such thoughts, Hermione
shuffled toward the lavatory. Quidditch
-- -- --
--
“Have you eaten, Hermione?” Ginny asked as she opened the door to
Hermione’s knock.
Expecting a ‘hallo,’ or ‘good afternoon,’ or something like that, she
was rather taken aback. “I ... yes,”
she finally said, fully processing Ginny’s question. “I ate back at the hotel.”
“You’re still staying at a hotel?” she asked cheerfully, ushering
Hermione into the Burrow. “It’s been
what, a month now?”
“More than,” she conceded, following Ginny through the hallway.
“You know,” Ginny replied, waving her toward an overstuffed chair in
the den, “you could stay with us
here. Mum would be delighted to have
you. Tea?”
“Thank you,” she said. “Tea
would be lovely. And as for your other
offer, I’m grateful, Ginnut Iut I couldn’t.”
“Nonsense,” she snapped, reaching for the tea things.
Hermione smiled at the gentle jab.
“Ron offered me his flat, you know.
He’s spending all his time with the Potters these days.
“Stay at Ron’s then,” Ginny said, handing her a teacup.
can soon remedy that. What, d’you like
With a little start, she realized Ginny had managed to fix her tea
exactly how she usually took it.
“That’s not it, it’s just ... I feel like if I stay at Ron’s --”
“He’ll stay with Françoise that much longer,” she completed, preparing
her own tea.
“Well ... sort of,” Hermione acknowledged. “But it’s more than that.
I just ... I don’t want to be an imposition.”
Ginny laughed shortly as she sipped her tea. “Believe me, Hermione, if Ron thought it would be an imposition, he
wouldn’t have asked. Fundamentally,
he’s still the same fellow you went to school with. Happy enough, but none too bright and not very thoughtful of
others.”
“Oh, I don’t know ...” she said, thinking about Ron’s face as he gently
teased Alice Potter or the look in his eyes as he told her about his job.
“I’m his sister,” Ginny said with a shrug. “It’s my prerogative to point out the fact that he’s a human pig
to any and every passerby. But I will
say again, if he’s offering to put you up, I’d take him up on it.
Françoise.”
Curious, she swirled the brown liquid around in her cup, wondering what
futures it would tell when she finished.
“Sacrificing, eh?”
“Françoise Potter isn’t my favorite person in the world,” Ginny said
tartly. “I’ll not make a secret of
it. But not for the reasons everyone
thinks.” She gave a soft snort.
still carrying some silly childhood torch for ... for Harry.”
They were silent for a moment, contemplative, until Ginny picked up her
thread again.
“She loved Harry,” she continued thoughtfully.
that. Loved him better than anyone else
could, I suppose. But there’s something
hard in herwellwell. Something that
wanted to keep Harry away from the world and all for herself.
...”
Pausing, Ginny took another draught of tea and Hermione didn’t think
she could bear the lull in conversation.
“What do you mean, Ginny, ‘wanted to take him?’”
Again, that bitter laugh.
“Haven’t you noticed yet?” she asked, a cynical edge in her voice.
right there beside him. Don’t get me
wrong -- Ron was happy to be there. Is
They were a matched set, like.
And now ... well, now Harry’s gone to the one place I don’t
Hermione ventured timidly into the ensuing silence.
some of Ginny’s obvious anxiety.
“Françoise is ... well, she didn’t go to Hogwarts, so I --”
“Beauxbatons,” she replied succinctly.
“She’s French?” she asked. “But
her English is completely --”
Again, Ginny interrupted her brusquely. “She grew up in England.
London, I believe. Her father
was a sort of liaison between the French Ministry and ours.
Alice have French bits in their names.
And when she gets angry, her accent is worse.”
Terse, clipped, to the point, the tension was not lifting.
half-smile frozen on her face, hoping against hope that Ginny understood.
“Shut it, you insufferable know-it-all,” she shot back.
The two women regarded each other stoically for a moment and then burst
into gales of laughter. Ginny did
“What’s so funny?” one of the Weasley twins asked as he stuck his head
in through the doorway.
Ginny stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath.
still grinning. “Where are the kids,
then? We’ve got to get going.
half-past one.”
“I think Mum has Alice in the kitchen,” the twin replied.
upstairs. We’ve been working on this
new sweet, you see --”
“Oh, no!” Ginny cried. “Françoise
will absolutely kill us!
The twin -- George -- threw his hands up in the air.
As if on cue, Fred came walking into the room, holding his hands
strangely in front of him, circling the empty space. “What’s all this, then?” he asked, all false innocence.
“Don’t you give me that, Fred Weasley,” Ginny snapped in an unconscious
imitation of her mother. “What have you
done with Nicholas Potter?”
“Well ...” Fred hedged. “The
good news is that he’s not purple any more.
I don’t think.”
Ginny tapped her foot impatiently and Hermione bit back a grin.
news.”
“Now he’s invisible,” Fred said very quietly, nodding down at his
hands. “But I think I can fix it!” he
amended, seeing Ginny’s rapidly reddening face.
“Ooh ...” she fumed. “I ought
to tell Mum. What on Earth did you feed
Fred made a complicated motion with his wand as George answered.
for about a minute. Sort of a
thirty-second Polyjuice. If we can key
it right, the person who gives it to you can determine who you’ll turn into.”
“Damn!” Frworewore as the empty space that was apparently Nicholas
Potter remained obstinately empty.
“George, could you ...?”
But George’s incantation failed as well. “Perhaps if we ...” he began thoughtfully.
“Yes,” Fred replied.
“Together.”
As the incantation was repeated a second time and both twins waved
their wands, Nicholas shimmered into view, impassive and quiet, watching Fred
and Geowithwith open suspicion. His
dark hair looked distinctly uncombed and his shoelaces were undone.
“Thank Merlin,” George breathed.
“If Françoise ever found out ...”
“I’ve half a mind to tell her,” Ginny spat. “You know she doesn’t like
you feeding things to the kids. And
Nicholas, you know better than to take sweets from this pair.”
“Well ...” Fred said quickly.
“No time to talk about it now.
You’ve got to get going if you’re going to make it to the match on
time. I’ll just trot back to the
kitchen and fetch the other one, shall I?”
Ginny sighed and took Nicholas by the hand. “I can’t believe I’m about to let you two off the hook.”
“You know you love us, baby sister,” he tossed back as he walked into
the kitchen. Possibly unwilling to
continue to face his sister’s wrath, George followed his brother.
Finally tearing his eyes away from the retreating twins, Nicholas’ gaze
wandered the room and settled on Hermione.
Not again, not again, not again,
she prayed as his eyes widened and his breathing quickened.
she was certain he was going to start yelling his head off again.
“Nicholas,” she said swiftly, preemptively, mind racing.
Ginny looked first at the panicky boy and then gave Hermione a frankly
confused stare. “Well, of course you’re
not,” she said. “Nicholas, what’s
wrong?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she told an increasingly concerned
Ginny. “He’s ... afraid of me or
something. Nicholas, I promise
breaths became even more labored -- Hermione had a dim suspicion that this was
what a panic attack looked like and if Nicholas didn’t calm down, she was going
to have one herself.
“Nicholas,” Ginny said gently, dropping his hand to wrap her arm around
his shoulder in a seemingly futile effort to calm him.
Hermione stepped forward cautiously and stretched out her right hand,
inwardly wincing as Nicholas flinched.
“Nicholas,” she said, repeating his name as often as she could in hope
of making a connection with the terrified child. “Nicholas, I’m going to touch you, okay?
you.” Her hand moved closer.
herself remained firmly planted.
Even closer now -- her fingertips brushed the front of his shirt -- and
he was actually gasping for air, round eyes gazing at her with that
half-paralyzed animal look she remembered so vividly.
She longed to e hee her eyes, to break contact with his in hopes of
relieving the agony, but kept them stubbornly open as her fingers and then her
palm encountered his heaving chest.
Pressing firmly, Hermione tried her best to smile.
His breathing slowed a bit.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this, Nicholas,” she continued,
encouraged, “but I want you to know that I’ll never hurt you, all right?”
Body uncoiling slightly, he was almost leaning
And then his eyes slid closed and breabreathing became normal and
Nicholas was just an ordinary little boy again.
Ginny aermiermione exchanged a glance as he relaxed, neither one
willing to speak. Fortunately, George
broke the tension by ducking back into the room, holding a joyfully chattering
Alice, and before Hermione’s wits were properly collected once more, they were
out the door.
-- -- --
--
“Snitch!” Alice shoutxcitxcitedly, jumping up and down in her seat and
pointing as her curls flailed this way and that. “Snitch!”
For the seventh time, Hermione squinted up at the sky.
I don’t see it. Ginny, do you
...?”
“I don’t know how she manages it,” she replied.
kid and every time, she sees the Snitch about ten times before either Seeker
manages to catch a glimpse of it.
Harry’s bought her a broomstick already, according to Ron.
to let him teach her to fly. Which he
hadn’t, of course. She’s not even two,
for Merlin’s sake.”
“I can imagine his joy in discovering his daughter is a Quidditch
savant,” Hermione said dryly. “Tell me,
does she have a full set of Quidditch robes as well?”
Ginny laughed, throwing her head back.
“Actually,” she admitted. “They
both do, courtesy of yours truly. If I
recall, Nicholas used to insist on sleeping in his, didn’t you?” she asked him.
He did not answer, but Hermione thought he looked rather abashed.
“You gave them Quidditch robes?”
she asked. “Oh, wait, that’s
right. You used to be one of those as
well. Quidditch mad, the whole lot of
you.”
“Says the woman who had aningning correspondence with Viktor Krum for
the better part of four years. Ron
would have given his lucky Keeper gloves to read even one line
teased. “I’d say you’re just as guilty
of it as the rest of us, for all that you didn’t play.”
Concentrating briefly on not hexing her old friend, a thought flickered
through her mind. “I always thought
you’d be the one to play professionally,” Hermione said.
seventh year, if I remember.”
With only a small frown, Ginny automatically pulled Alice away from the
edge of the stands and back into her seat.
“Of course you don’t know ... what was it Ron said?
“What happened?” she asked, subdued.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nicholas studying them with open
interest, blatantly ignoring the game.
“I fell,” she replied with a little shrug. Upon seeing Hermione’s quizzical look, she elaborated.
happened to catch my arm against a Bludger about two-thirds of the way down and
drag it with me, so when I hit, I didn’t hit dirt; I hit metal.
said I’d hurt myself playing.”
“You could have killed yourself.”
Smiling self-deprecatingly, Ginny pushed Alice into her seat yet
again. “Two days later, I very nearly
wanted to. Madam Pomfrey healed the
breaks and cuts immediately, of course, but my right arm and hand ... well,
there was a fair amount of nerve damage.
Can’t grow those back.”
normal'>To illustrate, she held up her hand limply. Curling her fingers around, Hermione noticed they did not
“Two of my fingertips on that hand are completely numb, and it’ll never
entirely close again. Can’t be a Chaser
if you can’t hold a Quaffle,” she said, eyes studying her fingers with something
akin to regret. “My hand is too small
to palm it. But I tried.
going to practice and dropping the Quaffle every damn time it got into my
hands. Sorry -- kids, don’t say ‘damn,’
okay? At least, not around your mum.”
Hermione managed a weak smile.
“Ginny --”
She silenced her with a little hand flap. “I came to terms with it.
And when I got out of Hogwarts, I went into marketing at Manchester --
merchandise, charming advertising customers with free tickets, that sort of
thing. I’m with Wimbourne now, hence
the tickets,” she said, waving an arm at the yellow and black clad players
zooming around the stadium. Laughing
shortly and what Hermione thought was bitterly, Ginny shrugged again.
the ironies of life ...”
“Ginny --” she tried again.
“Hermione,” she exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m fine.
merchandising as I would if I actually was out on the field.”
smile. “With the grand exceptions of
Ron the Battler of Evil and Charlie the Tamer of Dragons, there, us Weasley brats
have managed to do quite well, financially speaking.”
A question popped into her mind.
“Ginny, I’ve been meaning to ask, but what did Harry
he went into Auror training briefly, but Ron didn’t say just --”
She found herself without speech abruptly as a small voice from her
left interrupted her. “He worked at
Honeydukes,” Nicholas Potter said, staring at his shoelaces.
Ginny’s eyes bored into the top of Nicholas’ head.
Clearing his throat, his voice was much louder as he responded.
his didn’t make nasty things happen like theirs do. His were funny.” But he
did not look up.
“Nicholas, you just ...” Ginny stammered, reaching out a cautious hand
across Hermione to touch his shoulder.
normal'>He did not flinch as Hermione had expected. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“I didn’t mean to o:p>o:p>
“Merlin, Nicholas, you don’t have to apologize,” Ginny said, turning
the touch into more of a pat. “I’m just
... I’m glad you feel like talking again.”
The boy actually managed a smile.
“Snitch!” Alice shouted again, breaking the moment.
“Show me,” he told his sister quietly.
“Point it to me.”
Eagerly, she clamored over both Ginny and Hermione to plop down more or
less in her brother’s lap. “There,
Nic’las!” she cried, pointer finger extended.
“Snitch there.”
He squinted into the sky -- Hermione did not know whether he truthfully
saw it or not; certainly the golden glint had completely eluded her for the
entire game. “I see it, Alice,” he
said. “I see the Snitch.
“Both,” she agreed, beaming.
“Damn both.”
“Oh, no,” Ginny said, burying her face in her hands.
“Maybe she won’t notice,” Hermione said, trying to be helpful.
At that exact moment, Alice gave her adopted aunts a sweet smile.
“Well, she might notice that,”
she admitted as Ginny let out another little moan.
“Hermione?” Ginny said, muffled through her fingers.
“Yes?” she asked cautiously.
“Shut up.”
-- -- --
--
“For such a little china doll, she’s certainly a devil, isn’t she?”
Ginny asked rhetorically as she untangled Alice’s sleepy hand from her hair.
“That Cleaning Charm has come in handy throughout the day,” Hermione
agreed, watching Nicholas hover beside her, clutching at a handful of her
robes. Between Nicholas at her side and
Alice in her arms, Ginny was having a difficult time of it.
asked after a moment.
She shrugged minutely. “That
would probably be a bad idea. Do you
want to wake her up before we can get her back to her mum?”
“Excellent point,” she said, considering it.
“Although maybe Nicholas can pull at your clothes for a bit,” she said,
giving him a pointed look.
He stared down at his trainers, peeking out from under his robes.
Softening immediately, she shifted Alice in her arms.
your father and your Uncle Ron.”
Perking up slightly, he lifted his head. “Really?” he asked, looking directly at Hermione for the first
time in about two weeks. “You’re that
The one Papa talked about in his stories?”
“Uh oh,” she said, smiling at him.
“I’m afraid that I am, although I doubt I’m as interesting as Har -- as
your father made me out to be.”
He actually grinned. “But
you’re the one who always got them out of trouble. Him and Uncle Ron. You
and your clever plans.”
With a self-deprecating laugh, she shook her head.
you the entire truth.”
“Is it true that you and my papa met a giant
She thought she heard Ginny snicker.
“I --”
“And did you really turn yourself into a cat
“I always thought ...”
Yes. A definite laugh now.
“Ginny, shut it,” she said firmly.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’d forgotten about the cat thing,” Ginny said through her
giggles. “Ron told me about that.
“Ginny ...” she warned. “Don’t
make me hex you.”
“So violent,” she admonished
playfully, shifting Alice to her other arm.
“What would your monks think?”
Hermione sighed. “Your mother
told you, didn’t she?”
“Of course she did,” she said matter-of-factly.
she won’t admit it. She’s absolutely
fascinated by the fact that you’ve up and disappeared for all these years and
you won’t even talk about it. Actually,
she’s positive you’ve got a husband and kids socked away in Mongolia or
wherever you’ve been.”
“Tibet,” she corrected tiredly.
“And no. You can tell your
mother that I’m still quite unmarried.”
“Like Uncle Ron,” Nicholas said unexpectedly.
Taken aback, she looked down at his possibly-deliberately neutral
little face. “What?”
“Uncle Ron,” he repeated with an impatient shrug.
She blinked and Ginny giggled again.
“Erm ... no, Nicholas,” she said slowly. “Your Uncle Ron and I aren’t going to get married.
“But you like him,” he persisted.
Sighing, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“He’s one of my dearest friends.
But we’re not in love.
Generally, people marry when they love each other.”
“Like Mummy and Papa,” he agreed, nodding a bit.
though. I’d call you ‘Aunt Hermione,’
then,” he said in what she thought was a rather sly tone.
Ginny laughed. “What a cheeky
little boy! Hermione, I do believe he
just offered you a bribe in return for my brother’s hand in marriage.”
“Nicholas,” she began, wanting nothing more than to drop the subject
entirely. “I’m very sorry, but I’m not
going to be marrying Ron,” she said firmly.
Immediately, he was downcast.
“All right,” he said, studying his feet again.
Perhaps her tone had been too harsh.
“When we were young, Nicholas, your father used to tease me and Ron all
the time about getting married,” she explained. “He thought it would be perfect.
Ron and I, living in the house next door to him and his wife.
teasing us like that very much, so it still sort of bothers me.
His brow was furrowed. “I think
so,” he said. “It makes you mad because
it always did. And it makes you sad,
too, I think. Sad because it makes you
think about Papa.”
Hermione exchanged a surprised look with Ginny.
“It makes me sad to think about
him,” he said with a little shrug. “And
your eyes are sad. I just guessed.
“Sure,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Nicholas, can I ask you a question?”
He smiled a little. “You just
did, silly.” And then, he sobered.
Treading carefully, Hermione spoke slowly, thinking about each word
before she said it. “When -- when I was
at your house for supper two weeks ago, did -- did I make you sad?
“Did you know who I was, then, Nicholas?” she asked, still cautious,
curiosity burning her inside and out.
Her face felt warm and Ginny was giving her a completely perplexed look.
“Not really,” he replied, beginning to look rather confused
himself. “But ...”
“But what?” she prompted.
He looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“I had a dream about you once.
Before you came to my house.”
Hermione sucked in her breath and she heard Ginny gasp.
Alice, who whimpered in her arms. But
Hermione’s attention was focused solely on the fidgeting little boy walking by
her side. “Do you remember what it was
about?”
“I do,” he said miserably. “You
fought a dragon. You fought him and you
killed him. And the dragon was holding
my papa prisoner. In a little cage,
with a snake beside him. And ...”
“Yes ...” she whispered, eyes transfixed on his face.
“And you took the snake in your arms,” he continued, dark eyes full of
pain. “And you let my papa fall down a
black hole. You let him die.”
-- --
-- --