Harmonious Fire

Chapter Two
Her sleep was fractured, as always, she awoke three or four times, each from the same dream. A shadowy figure lurking at the back of her conscious, whispering dark, seductive caresses in her ear. Tempting her away from the safety of what she knew, just as he had done. Every time she woke, she would finger the ring around her neck, touching the cool silver metal, the cold burning her skin. It was if he had left a piece of him with her, and when she touched it she felt alive with the power he had given her. Although the circuit had been severed, it still existed between her and Blaise, though she had no idea where he was. Sun was streaming through the window and she hazarded a guess that it was around midday. Ron had returned during the night, and was still snoring heavily next to her. Curling her lip at him, she threw the covers back and went to shower. After almost scalding herself, she stepped out of the burning stream, and wrapped herself in a towel, wiping the steam from the mirror she took in her reflection. Weeks of sleepless nights had taken its toll on her, dark circles ringed her eyes, her skin was a pale white colour, with tinges of grey. Her hair hung limp, and her bones protruded at odd angles. Food had become second to research, second to everything. A freckled hand circled her waist,
"Morning sunshine," Ron bent to kiss her neck, she shuddered. The gesture wasn't lost on him, he drew back, "What? I've been away for a few days and you can't stand me touching you?" Inside she screamed YES, but outside she smiled weakly, and shook her head,
"I'm just cold is all. I missed you, of course I did." He smiled then turned her round, kissing her lips and made to undo the knot holding her towel up. She halted him, "We have work to do, Harry's expecting us to be on time to the meeting." She touched the fresh cut on his cheek, "Clean that up, it looks awful." She extracted herself from his arms and went to dress. Pulling on a worn pair of jeans and a tank top, she scrunched her wet hair into a messy ponytail and was out the door before Ron could exit the bathroom. She jogged down the stairs and entered the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was bustling around making lunch for the masses, on hearing Hermione enter she looked up,
"Oh Hermione dear, lend a hand and lay the table." Hermione smiled wanly and went about setting the table, Mrs Weasley was much changed since her youngest child's defection. Her temper was still to be matched but her normal upbeat nature was gone, instead she spent her days taking care of everyone else, with a dead look on her face. Hermione despised it, it wasn't as if Ginny was dead, from the snatches of conversation she had heard, Ginny was alive and well, and was now Mrs Zabini. How Hermione resented them both for being happy and getting on with things, whilst she was left behind. If it wasn't for her Blaise and Ginny would never have come together. But they had gone on without her, left her behind. She shook with the anger, her eyes momentarily flashing black, blinking once, twice she tried to control it, but couldn't. The dim lights started to flicker, and the pictures on the wall began to rattle. Mrs Weasley, dropped the plate she was holding, it crashed to floor, smashing into several large chunks. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to instill some calm in herself. In the darkness that was swirling in her head she saw him again, the shadowy figure from her dreams, he was beckoning out to her. Her mind was screaming at her, the confines of her life were suffocating her, all of a sudden the smoke in her head cleared and she could see him clearly. Silver blond hair, steel grey eyes, he was holding out a hand to her,
"I'm coming for you my love." He whispered. Her eyes snapped open, having returned to their normal brown colour. Mrs Weasley was approaching her cautiously, everything was still. Then the kitchen door burst open and Harry stormed in shouting at her,
"Did you know?!"


"Hermione asleep?" Harry looked up, Ron was leaning on the door frame. It was the middle of the night, and he had just returned from his latest mission. Harry was sat at the kitchen table, picking his way through a casserole Mrs Weasley had cooked that evening. A glass of whiskey sat nearby,
"Yeah. She disappeared to the library, then went upstairs." Harry was still fuming from his argument with her. That's all they did these days. They couldn't have a decent conversation without biting each others heads off. Ron noticed the fact that Harry had tensed at the sound of her name, and sighed. Walking over to the whiskey decanter he poured himself a glass and sat opposite his friend,
"You two have the argument again?" Harry shrugged, "I take that as a yes then?" Harry shrugged again, Ron frowned, "Wow, quite the talkative mood you're in there mate." A smile twitched at the corner of Harry's mouth, as usual Ron was the only one who could break his mood swings. Harry looked up at his best friend. The red head looked exhausted, and a long scratch marred his cheek. Harry started,
"She still doesn't see it. And she's not working fucking hard enough." Ron swirled his drink and took a sip, he wasn't an idiot. He knew that Hermione didn't love him, never would, she wasn't the person they had known. Not anymore. He sank back in his chair, feet on the table, tired and aching he was resigned to the fact that they never should have forced her to go with them,
"She never will. I don't know why she bothered coming with us. She must of known we wouldn't have actually killed her. What did she think we were?" Harry shrugged yet again, then turned to look at Ron, a grim smile on his face,
"Who the fuck knows. Did we do the right thing bringing her back here? After what I did, I'm fucking surprised she didn't try and kill us." Ron shook his head,
"After what we did. We both went their that night with the intention of killing the bastard. In the process we destroyed her. What could we have done? Left her there to be killed? At least here we know she's safe. Even if she is miserable." Harry nodded, then lifted his glass taking a sip, then indicated the cut on Ron's cheek,
"You look fucking awful. What happened?" Ron's expression turned dark,
"I ran into an old friend. Greg Goyle, remember him? I bumped into him whilst doing re-con down in Hogsmeade. We had a go, I sent him off with a broken arm and no toes." Harry clinked his glass against Ron's,
"Nice job. What did you find out?" Ron raised his eyebrows,
"Well, I spoke to the innkeeper of the Hogs Head and he said that a couple of Death Eaters had been in during the week asking questions. Had he seen anything, or anyone; Did he know anything new. These blokes were threatening him with all sorts but the guy didn't crumble. At least we know someone is loyal to us. From what he could gather, Voldemort is sending his best to retrieve something that apparently was stolen from him." Harry made a confused face,
"And what the fuck is that?" Ron shook his head,
"He didn't know." They both looked at each other, obvious frustration in each expression, Ron yawned, "I'm going to turn in, I've been up for the past two nights. See you in the morning." The red head downed his drink then left the kitchen, leaving Harry staring at the bottom of his own glass. He got up and went to pour another. Lack of sleep and to much alcohol were making him lightheaded and he had to steady himself against the counter to stop from falling over. Voldemort's best, that could only mean one person. Blaise Zabini. The one who had stolen his fiance from right under his nose. He had sworn vengeance, and he would have it. He took his glass and went to the study, and sank down in the desk chair. The people in the picture in front of him waved. Hermione and Ron, him and Ginny, many years ago, before Dumbledore had been killed. It had been taken a week after he and Ginny had got together. He knocked it face down. His Ginny was gone. He had no wish to associate with Mrs Blaise Zabini. His business was with her husband. It was just after two in the morning and sleep pulled at him. With the last swig of whiskey, his head hit the desk and he was out like a light....................................................................................................................................................................
"HARRY! WAKE UP!"
"Fuck off." He was shaken awake, Charlie and Bill Weasley were towering over him, "What do you want, and stop shouting so fucking loud, my head can't take it." Charlie smiled,
"We got Wormtail." Harry's head cleared immediately, and he stood up,
"Where?" The two Weasley brothers smiled in triumph,
"We blindfolded him and threw him in the basement," said Bill. Harry straightened himself out,
"Lead the way."


He knocked tentatively on the door, not really expecting an answer. Nothing. He knocked again, harder this time, still no answer. He sucked in his breath and pushed to door open. The room was completely dark, he couldn't see a thing, he clicked his fingers and a candle flared up in the corner of the room. The room was doused in a flickering orange light, it was empty. That was weird. Blaise peered around, as if expecting someone to appear out of thin air. Turning to leave, he was halted by the sound of a match flaring up, and the smell of tobacco hit his nostrils. Then a voice whispered, hot in his ear,
"What did I tell you about disturbing me? Didn't you get the message when I didn't answer the fucking door? Get out." Blaise turned,
"This has got to stop. You can't keep fucking treating me like this!" He shouted, a little louder then necessary, in one fluid motion, the man in front of him had stubbed the cigarette grabbed Blaise's arm and twisted it back, slamming him face first into the wall,
"Fuck you." He growled out angrily, Blaise struggled, but he was held to tightly,
"HE has a mission for us, but he wants to see you first. He's getting tired of your constant disobedience to him. His trust in you is wavering." The arm holding him tensed, and Blaise could feel hot breath on his skin,
"Do you think I give a fuck what he thinks? We're so close Blaise, I am not going to fuck this up. Not again. Fuck him and his trust, he's fool to think he could trust me in the first place." He let go of Blaise, and walked to the centre of the room, "What's the mission?" Blaise sighed, any interaction he had with this man ended up the same, Blaise nursing a bruised something or other,
"You're not going to like it," A snigger,
"Well you better fucking get it out, before my patience wears out." Blaise laughed,
"If it hasn't already, asshole," He was shot a raised eyebrow for that remark, "Anyway, we're to go to London, me, you and Red. We have to retrieve it. I know, you have your doubts but thats our order."
"I've reconsidered anyway, my research has turned up some information. I want to check it out. Then maybe we can end this fucking thing." Blaise nodded, then trod carefully, considering what he was about to say,
"What about...." He was cut off,
"What about her?" Blaise took a step back, the atmosphere in the room had shifted and the candle was flickering dangerously, he could feel the power whipping about the room,
"Surely its time? Its been six years. How much longer do you expect her to wait?" That was when Blaise found himself slammed back into the same wall he had just been released from. But this was different, this time his lips were caught in a hot, heavy kiss, that left him gasping for air. Flashes shot through his head, a tangle of limbs on his bed at Hogwarts, he twisted his fingers in the silver blond hair and pulled forward, locking his lips with the others once more. Then the voice said huskily, right in his ear,
"We take her with us." Draco smirked.