In Need

~~**~~


Jeremiah Dickson looked down at Harry Potter’s scar and frowned. He and the other healers in St. Mungo\'s ward for magical maladies who were assigned to Harry had at least been able to determine that the magic behind the injury originated from Voldemort, but they were unable to determine the cause and were therefore still at a loss about the cure. At first, Harry’s condition had caused a bit of panic among the members of the Ministry who knew about it - because Harry had fallen ill after Voldemort’s alleged death, there had been some initial worry about ththenthenticity of his demise. Once his death was verified, however, the focus of their concern turned to Harry and what Voldemort might have done to him.


The healers at St. Mungo’s Hospital were the best in the world at treating magical maladies, mostly because of the collection of talent they hired, but also due in part to their reliance on outside consult when stumped. If injuries could be treated, they were generally able to find a way to do it. Having already lost several of the Order of the Phoenix whose injuries had been beyond treatment, Jeremiah was particularly concerned that they not lose Harry Potter too. The swarms of wizarding media outside were difficult to hold back, and the healers all felt pressured to do something quickly.


Their consult at the Ministry who had specialized in researching and cataloguVoldVoldemort’s magical abilities for defense purposes had turned out to be a death eater and was killed in battle. Two wizarding university professors in Scotland that he frequently used in complicated consults were unable to offer advice in this situation. Albus Dumbledore, while brilliant beyond all others in many areas of magic, was not versed in the dark arts. That left one person at the top of the list, and Jeremiah dreaded contacting him: Severus Snape at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


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Severus was in bed, the same place he had been for the last three days. There was now a collection of empty sleeping potion vials on his bedside table. Dumbledore’s face appeared in the fireplace and said, “Severus?”


The wad of blankets did not move.


“Hello?” Dumbledore said, this time louder.


Ernie, who was curled around Severus’ head like a black fur hat, raised his head and blinked sleepily at the fireplace. He began to lick Severus on the forehead, his rough little tongue scraping across the pale skin. Finally, a hand emerged from under the blankets, pushed Ernie off the pillow, and withdrew again under the covers. Dumbledore’s face disappeared from the fire, and a moment later he stepped out in person and walked over to the bed.


“Severus, wake up,” he said, leaning over the bed and gently shaking the pile of covers where he judged that a shoulder would most likely be.


Although not yet fully awake, Severus was on his feet in an instant with his wand pointed at Dumbledore. As his brain engaged enough to recognize where he was and who was with him, he transfigured his nightshirt into teaching robes asking, “How long have I been asleep? Has anything changed? Are the earth mages with her?”


“Nothing has changed yet with Megan, but the earth mages are monitoring her. I am sorry to interrupt your rest, my boy, but St. Mungo’s has been trying to reach you for a consult. It is quite urgent.”


Severus glared at Dumbledore and then transfigured his robes back into a nightshirt, climbed back into bed, and unceremoniously pulled the covers back over his head. From under the blankets, Dumbledore heard a muffled, “Go away and leave me alone. And tell St. Mungo’s to sod off - I keep telling them that I’m not a bloody healer.”


“Please Severus, I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t have to. We need someone with expertise in the dark arts who understands the connections Voldemort made. Something is wrong with Harry.”


The covers slid slowly back, revealing a terrible grin on Severus’ face. It worried Dumbledore quite a bit. “Potter’s in trouble?” he asked softly.


“Yes.”


“And I’m the only one who can help him?” Severus was now sitting up in bed and looking at Dumbledore in sinister gratification.


it wit would seem...”


“Then I thank you for this one bit of pleasure I have: I decline your request for consult. You and St. Mungo’s can *all* sod off and leave me alone. My compliments to Potter for departing the scene so heroically.” And he disappeared once more under the covers.


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Viktor Krum was exhausted. Hermione had finally been released from the infirmary that day and was back in her Head Girl’s room, but she was still suffering terribly from the things she had seen in the battle. Her role as apparation transport for the wounded and captured exposed her to the grisliest parts of the battle and her perfect memory had recorded every bit o. V. Viktor, who had not gotten more then three or four hours’ sleep since bringing her in to St. Mungo’s for treatment after the battle, watched her through dark-circled eyes as she sat by the window and looked listlessly out of it. At least she had stopped crying, he thought.


He put his hand on her shoulder and she flinched at the sudden sensation. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I vill need to sleep soon but I don’t vant to leave you alone. May I rest here?”


Hermione looked at him, really seeing for the first time how very tired he looked. “Oh my goodness, Viktor - yes, of course. I’m so sorry...”


She started crying again. Viktor looked alarmed and said, “Vat is it?”


“You... you’ve just been so sweet,” she cried. “Thank you for everything. You have no idea how sweet you’ve been - you really didn’t have to do all of this.” She blew her nose into a hankie and shoved a stray lock of hair behind her ear.


He ran his hand tenderly over her hair and said, “Yes I did have to. I could not leave you alone ven you vas so sad.” He took off his boots and climbed into her bed, and held the blankets up in an invitation for her to join him under them. “You come next to me and rest, yes?” he asked. She crawled in next to him, still dressed in the nightgown she hadn’t yet changed out of that day.


Hermione watched Viktor’s eyes close as he sank into a heavy and much-needed sleep. It gave her a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach to look at him, and the feeling surprised her as it spread through her and thawed the ugly coldness that shock and grief had embedded within her. It wasn’t logical at all, she thought to herself. There was nothing, after all, that Viktor Krum could actually *do* for her that would have made her any safer in battle, bring back the friends who had died, or that could erase the memories that kept replaying themselves over and over in her thoughts now. Yet there it was - warmth spreading over the blackness inside her, just from being close to him. The hurt was still there, but at least there was something else now too.


~~**~~


Three hours later, Viktor opened his eyes and saw Hermione asleep next to him. It was starting to get dark outside, but there was still enough light to see her face on the pillow next to his. Her brown hair was mussed in the back , and her lips were slightly paras sas she slept, and he stroked her cheek with one finger. She stirred at the sensation without waking and rolled over, thng hng her leg over the blanket and making a little muttering sound. Her nightgown had bunched up at the side and her leg was bare to the hip, exposing her underwear. Viktor felt a bit guilty about getting a peek at her without her knowing, but looked anyway and felt his body responding.


Then he sighed and pulled the blanket back over her. He’d had women throwing themselves at him ever since quidditch had made him someone easily recognized and he had accepted plenty of their advances as long as they left him alone afterward. This was different though - he cared about Hermione and she trusted him. As much as he hoped to have physical satisfaction with her, he also simply enjoyed being with her and didn’t want to jeopardize that, especially now that she was so hurt and scared.


Which is why it came as a complete surprise to him to feel her scoot across the bed and press against him. Moving the blanket must have woken her, because she was looking at him sleepily as she put her face to his and pressed her mouth against his in a slow and lingering kiss. Her lips were warm and soft and he closed his eyes as he tentativelusheushed his tongue against them. She parted her lips and he felt her tongue meet his. Under the covers, he felt her knee pressing against his, trying to nudge her leg between his and he drew back.


“No, Hermione, don’t do that.”


“Why not?” she asked, feeling a bit hurt. “Don’t you want to be close to me?”


Gods. How could she even ask that? He bit his lip and propped himself up, his nostrils flaring a bit in the effort to keep himself under control. What he was especially worried about was showing a side of himself to Hermione that he wasn’t sure she would like and that he really wasn’t certain she was ready for. He was a Durmstrang wizard and had a dark side thouldould come out if he let himself get caught up in the moment. She was pushing the limits of his control and he doubted that she knew what she could expect if she pushed him too far. He knew a dozen different spells and potions that could have already made her beg for him and made her bend to his every whim, but he didn’t want things to be that way with her and had made up his mind early on to err on the side of caution.


“Yes...” he said, still holding her away from him, “but I think that ve are both too tired to do something you might be sorry about later. You don’t know... how I can be ven...”


Hermione looked bewildered. “What do you mean? I was just trying to be close to you - I’m not trying to trick you into anything, Viktor. You are the only thing that has felt good...when...” Tears started to well up in the corners of her eyes and she scrubbed them impatiently away with her sleeve.


It occurred to Viktor at that moment that she had probably not been trying to seduce him. It was entirely possible, he realized, that she really didn’t know what her slim little body and her hair that smelled so distractingly of strawberries did to him. A bit of his reserve snapped out of sheer surprise at her virginal naïveté. Could the brainy Hermione he knew really be so dim about men? He got out of her bed and crossed the room to her desk chair, sitting astride it and facing her, his arms crossed over the back of it. It was time to ask her a few questions.


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Dumbledore sat calmly down in the chair next to Severus’ bed and stroked Ernie who was weaving through his legs. He rummaged through his pockets until he found the crinkled paper packet he was seeking. He unrolled it and picked through its contents, choosing a lemon drop and popping it into his mouth.


“I know re sre still there,” said the pile of blankets, “and you are wasting your time.”


“It really is a pity,” said Dumbledore, settling into the chair and crossing his legs.


“Oh is it?” replied the blankets. “Plenty of other people died in the war. Potter has ceased to be my responsibility.”


no no - you’re quite right. I meant it’s a pity that he will die with you in his debt.”


The covers flipped indignantly back. “In his *debt*? You have to be joking Albus. I’ve been chasing after that brat for nearly twenty years now and rescuing him from things he never even knew to be worried about. Ha! In his debt indeed!”


Dumbledore tamped down the contents of his pipe and lit it, puffing contemplatively. “So then I suppose that his killing Voldemort was his return in a way. True, without our help he probably couldn’t have done it - don’t make that face, boy, I do mean ‘probably’ and not the ‘certainly’ you were waiting for - but he has rid us of Voldemort nonetheless. Your bondage is over.”


“So then that would make us even in your estimation, would it not?”


“He stopped you from killing yourself, Severus. That’s not just your life, but also a future with Megan if she recovers. Oh yes...” he paused, sizing up Severus with his twinkling blue eyes. “There is also the matter of satisfaction. Aren’t you the least bit curious how he knew Megan wasn’t dead?”


That struck Severus like a bucket of cold water over his head. His thoughts had been so wrapped up in her condition and his own pain that it hadn’t even occurred to him until now that Potter seemed to know something pretty important about his bride - about which he himself hadn’t a clue. He raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore and said, “I suppose it’s useless to try and get that answer out of you instead.”


“How on earth would I know something like that?” asked Dumbledore nonchalantly and blew out a puff of smoke shaped like a triangle.


Severus sighed in resignation and got out of bed. “I’ll be ready in an hour. You will owe me dearly for this, you realize.”


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“You think you need to *protect* me from something?” said Hermione indignantly to Viktor. “You’ve thought this all through then, without even talking to me about it?”


“Hermione, I vas just...”


“I can’t even kiss you without it turning into some ultimate conclusion, then?”


He was starting to get irritated by this conversation. “Please, you don’t know vat you do to me ven ve are so close.”


“Well *tell* me then, for goodness sake!” She sat on her bed and glared across the room at him. She picked up an elastic from her night table and attempted to tame her hair into a ponytail.


Another band of his control snapped, and it struggled to break free from the iron will that was holding it in place. “How could you be so naive?” he asked. “Look at you!”


He swept across the room and brushed his hand over her shoulder, which was bare where the wide neck of her nightgown had slipped off. She tugged it self-consciously back over her shoulder, and the low scoop was in front instead, making Viktor look away and bite his lip, exhaling loudly. He looked down at her slim leg that was bare to almost the top of her thigh, where the nightgown had bunched when she sat up. He ran his hand lightly over the top of her exposed thigh, this time getting a sharp intake of breath from Hermione as he generated sensations she’d never had before. The image that she had witnessed months ago of Snape pulling Megan to him and hungrily kissing her flashed through her mind and her mouth went dry because she now recognized the same look in Viktor’s eyes. For as much as she had wanted to see a man look at her like that, now that the moment had come she was petrified. A thousand insecurities and reasons to tell him to leave immediately ran through her mind.


Instead, after locking their eyes for a brief pause that felt like an eternity, she reached up to him and said, “Kiss me. Please.”


He swore softly and rapidly lost his capacity for English, looking at his sweet woman sitting there like a fantasy begging to happen. Slim arms and legs showing from a rumpled nightgown sitting in a rumpled girly bed. Her face still pink from sleep turned up toward him and trusting eyes waiting for an answer. Her look told him that, whether she knew it or not, he could have anything he wanted at this point. He kissed her on the forehead and turned quickly to leave. “I go now, my beautiful girl. I vill see you tomorrow.”


His hand was on the doorknob (he had not come by broomstick this time, but no one questioned his presence) when it was snatched away. Hermione stood with her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You can’t just run off like that Viktor. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but please don’t leave me alone tonight.”


His limit was nearly reached. “Hermione,” he said roughly as he took her hand that had held him back, pinned it neatly behind her, and pressed her back up against the door. He kissed her deeply and pressed himself against her, the evidence of his desire outlined sharply against her belly. “It is like a fire,” he stammered as he searched for the words that were escaping him, “and I don’t think I can control myself if I let it go.”


“I’m a Gryffindor,” she said. “Trust me to take care of myself. Now just shut up a minute, will you?”


Any bit of resolve Viktor had left dissolved as the darkness of his passion swelled up and rushed through his veins. With a low growl in his throat and a string of words that Hermione couldn’t understand, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed where he dropped her and knelt over her. The fierce look normally reserved for the quidditch field was on his face now, and all of the waiting, wanting, and wondering of the last three years was poured into the kiss that he now gave her.


Underneath Viktor, Hermione felt every nerve beginning to hum with new sensationat sat swept the darkness from her mind and left her wondering what had taken her so long to give this a try in the first place. He devoured her neck in kisses, teasing sensitive nerves that made her back arch, pushing her pelvis toward hiAs sAs she moved against his erection which was begging to be released, he groaned something in his own language and bit her shoulder, sinking his teeth far enough into her tender skin to leave a red mark. Hermione cried out and pushed herself against him again, feeling a primal urge swelling inside her - for as little as she had been able to prepare for something like this by reading, instinct quickly began to take over and guide her.


She pushed Viktor off her and rolled on top of him, bending down to kiss him as fervently as he had been kissing her. She could feel his erection through his trousers, and she centered herself over it, pressing it through the thin fabric of her underpants. Viktor made a motion with his hand and her nightgown disappeared. In shock, she covered up her breasts and sat up, and he sat up with her in one fluid motion, pulling her face to his and kissing her with one hand wrapped around the back of her head and one hand caressing the smoothness of her back. He kissed down her neck again and onto her shoulder, making his way down to her collarbone, avoiding her hands which were still cupped ectiectively over her breasts.


She relaxed a bit and began to kiss him again, mimicking the kisses that he was giving her. As she sucked and teased down his neck, his breath rasped and he ground his hips up into her. He gently pried one arm away, looking into her eyes the whole time, and brought her wrist to his mouth, teasing it with kisses. He kissed his way down her hand and took her fingers into his mouth, sucking them greedily and teasing the tender flesh between them. In Bulgarian, he said, “You like when I kiss your sweet spots, don’t you, you adorable girl? You just wait - I plan to kiss every inch of you before this night is over.” Hermione couldn’t understand a word of it, but made a noise in her throat in response to the heat of his words. She mak making a small moaning noise at each new sensation now, feeling like they were twisting something up so tightly inside of her that she would die if the pressure of it couldn’t be unwound soon.


She allowed him to lay her back on the bed, and he devoured the sight of the small swells or brr breasts now uncovered. Her nipples were already tightened into points, even before he bent down to suck on them, rolling the one not covered by his mouth between his fingers. He began to make gentle circles on her tummy with one hand, working his way gradually lower to her thigh, the inside of her thigh, and then between her legs. Her breathing was fast now, and she moved against the pressure of his hand between her legs in an attempt to find some relief from the building pressure.


He moved off the bed and knelt on the floor, pulling her around so that her hips were near the edge of the bed. He put his mouth between her legs and gave a lick up the center of her panties. Hermione’s eyes opened in shock and she tried to sit up, but he held her still with a hand on her tummy. He felt her soft folds through the fabric and put her mouth over it and began to suck her slowly and teasingly. “What are you *doing*?” she demanded.


“Do you vant me to stop?” he asked in a husky voice, taking her into his mouth again as he looked into her eyes.


“Nooo...” she said tentatively, and then more definitely, “No - please, do it more...” Her voice trailed off into cries as he continued, now holding nothing back. He waved his hand and her panties disappeared, and she lay spread out before him. He licked and sucked at her, teasing her clit with his tongue and tasting the juices that were pouring out of her. Her cries became more urgent and she was now rubbing herself frantically against his face. He slid a finger into her tightness and sucked her harder, and her world exploded around her in waves of delirious sensation.


Viktor’s clothes were off and he was kneeling between her legs, and his erection was pressed up against her entrance before she knew what was happening. He kissed her deeply and she tasted herself on him. He pushed the tip into her and said, “I need this Hermione.”


She nodded, still throbbing with the sensation of her orgasm. Viktor pushed carefully into her tight warmth - even though she was so wet from their contact so far, he was stretching her and as much as he needed relief, he didn’t want to hurt her. It was going to be inevitable though as he felt himself against her barrier. “Ready?” he asked, and pushed through in a quick motion when she nodded. He rested there to let her adjust, and kissed her face as she winced in pain. He could stand it no longer though, and began to move in and out of her. He couldn’t believe that the moment had finally come when this was happening, and he had actually imagined it to be different, but with the present activity before him those thoughts were fleeting. He sank into her warmth again and again, milking everything that he could from it and trying to control the growing tightness that was going to push him over the edge.


Hermione looked up at him and said, “Do I make you feel good, Viktor? I want you to feel like you made me feel...” His bloodndednded in his ears at her words and his movements increased as he thrust rapidly in her. He cried out as he came, spasming into her, shuddering, and pulling up great handfuls of the bedsheets. He collapsed next to her and draped an arm across her as he pulled her close for another kiss. She was about to begin discussing it with him when he made it clear to her that there nre nowhere near done.


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Harry Potter opened his eyes and all he could see was flowers. “Oh bloody hell,” he said, believing in his grogginess that he had died and was now lying in some sort of heavenly meadow. Then the face of Professor Snape appeared above him, looking down at him. “Oh *bloody hell*!” said Harry with more feeling, now wondering if he had ended up in hell instead.


“It’s so good to have you back,” said Snape drily. He turned to Jeremiah and the other healers gathered in the room and said, “If that’s all you need then I’ll leave you to do your own jobs now.” He swept out of the room and disappeared.


Dumbledore handed Harry his glasses and sat down next to him. “How do you feel, Harry?”


“Fine, I guess - what happened? Am I in the hospital?”


“Yes, you collapsed a few days ago - you gave us quite a scare. It seems that Voldemort’s connection with you had an overwhelming affect when he was killed. The magic that connected you, the prophecy that connected you, and the wands that connected you all began to cause quite a muddle. tunatunately, Professor Snape had the presence of mind to figure out what the problem was, so you are safe now and forever rid of any tie to Voldemort.”


Harry rubbed his scar, noticing that it felt tender. “Are you sure it’s over? Why can I still feel it?”


“That will pass - it is just sore from being tended. It has changed color to black, in case you’re interested.”


Harry took the mirror that Dumbledore conjured and offered to him. He saw the changed scar and rolled his eyes - as if the way it had been wasn’t already enough of an advertisement! Now it looked like someone had tattooed the lightning bolt onto his head in shiny black ink. He put the mirror aside and let the information sink in as he looked around his room. Vases of flowers covered every surface that wasn’t already covered by piles of candy and stacks of cards. The only space on the floor not covered by bouquets was a path leading from his bed to the door. “Gosh,” he said, looking at the loot. “What is all of this?”


Dumbledore smiled gently. “The fame you gained as an infant is nothing compared to what is happening now,” he said. “You are the hero of the time and people want to pay their respects and show their gratitude. This is only what would fit in here - there is a mountain of gifts collecting down in the courtyard.”


Something was missing. “Where is everyone though?” Harry asked. “Isn’t this the part where my friends are supposed to run in to see me?”


“They have been here to see you Harry... but they have other concerns that have made it... necessary to divide their time.”


With a sinking feeling, Harmmedmmediately knew that something bad had happened - nothing ordinary would keep any of them away. “I think you’d better fill me in,” said Harry.


Dumbledore nodded and began.


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A/N - Thanks to all you readers - let me know what you think! :-)

Special thanks to all of you who have reviewed - you all kick ass.

Maggie - Thanks as always for your comments. Yeah, it was kind of hard killing 2 of their sons, especially since I love their family so much! The twin dynamic is definitely going to be a really significant thing for Fred. The angst has definitely made it some heavy work lately - but I\'m trying to play it out as realistically as I can, based on my own experience of loss. Re: tuning in to the soap opera - lol, totally! I can hear the theme to it now! Please keep me in check if it starts to get cheesy. You take care :-)

deblovesdragon - I know, I really hated doing it and almost didn\'t - I love the Weasley twins too. They were always so funny in the books and gave them such a neat chemistry. The loss of one of them is definitely going to make an impact. Thanks so much for your comments & we will definitely be seeing more of Charlie later on. :-)

Droxy - Oh my gosh! You\'re in *India* and you\'re still checking the story and leaving reviews??? (Rapunzel bows to Droxy) Thanks!!! Yeah, definitely pretty angsty, and I promise that a service is slated to appear soon. There is always hope - in my own work with trauma, I never cease to be amazed at how resiliant even the most broken people can be. Most lives are a mix of happy and sad, and that\'s what I\'ve been going for in this story. Be well & safe travels. :-)