Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Betrayal of Dumbledore [RoleplayMaster x Frogger]

RoleplayMaster

RoleplayMaster

Supernova
Joined
Jun 26, 2013
Location
Australia
Harry Potter was a special child. Destined to be the Chosen One, to stop the terrifying monster that was Lord Voldemort. Yet how much of that story was true? How much of that story was destiny? Was any of it? Or was it all orchestrated by one twisted old man with a superiority complex? No one wondered if prophesy was all a load of bull, since they all wanted hope to cling onto. And that hope was in the form of the Boy Who Lived.


It was a nice, sunny day at the Burrow, the residence of the Weasleys, when Dumbledore apparated the young Harry Potter to his makeshift home. Living with the Dursleys was never much fun, and the Weasleys always treated him like one of their own. With a loving smile, Mrs Weasley welcomes Harry into her home, a bone crushing hug being the norm.

As the raven-haired boy disappeared upstairs, still quite distressed about the loss of his Godfather, Sirius Black, his friend Ronald appeared from behind the corner.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" The redhead said, a little uncertainty in his voice. "Can we talk for a moment?" The request came, and the elderly fellow nodded with a small laugh. "Of course, my boy. And please, call me Albus." With the suggestion that they enter his father's shed, with the various Muggle equipment laying around, the odd pair was off for an obviously private conversation.



"You promised I would have her by now!" Ron stormed angrily, his face bright red as they entered the shed. "It's not fair. That prissy mudblood bitch should be grovelling at my feet right now, sucking my cock." He said, his face holding a dreamy look for a moment before shaking out of it. "I've been keeping up my end of the bargain like you asked. I've been a nice friend to the Potter prick, but now I want what's mine!" He finished, his face matching his hair.

"Quiet Ronald! You don't want anyone to hear you. Now... I intended Mr. Potter to die by Tom's hand at the Ministry, but he was much stronger willed than I inticipated. I even used a mild Cruciatus curse on him, but he relented still." Dumbledore sighed. "We are all missing out Ronald. Miss Weasley hasn't been able to give Harry her love potion yet. I haven't gotten the fame and fortune, so I think you can wait a few more weeks for that mudblood slut..." He suggested. Dumbledore was a powerful man, so crossing him was not advised.

"Yes sir." He sighed in defeat.

"Good. Now, I have made you and Miss Granger the Head Students a year early this year. This will give you two the master suite. I don't need to know what you'll be doing to that mudblood, just make sure she's still alive."

"Yes sir." Ron said again. A few minutes later, the conversation was finished.
 
“Harry?” Her heart reaching out to the raven-haired boy, Hermione was about to go after him when she caught wind of a different voice, familiar though uncertain. Wild, caramel brown curls fell about her shoulders, framing the graceful curve of her jawline, she decided that it’d probably be best to leave Harry alone… at least for now. He needs time, and she’ll give it to him… they’ll both give it to him.

Professor Dumbledore and Ron went into the small, rickety shed just a stone’s throw away, which only made things stranger. What could Ron possibly have to talk about that he needs privacy?

Intrigued and curious despite herself, Hermione moved in closer, about to reach out and open the door when she heard the first words. It cut through the silence like a Cruciatus Curse, or worse, Avada Kedavra. “You promised I would have her by now!” Hermione flinched, only for suspicion to set in seconds later. “It’s not fair. That prissy mudblood bitch should be grovelling at my feet right now, sucking my cock.”

Disgusted now, Hermione listened into the conversation… pieces finally falling into place. It all makes sense. From the very beginning, Professor Dumbledore orchestrated Harry’s life, all their lives. It can’t be just a coincidence that so many years ago, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named went after Harry, killing his parents that fateful night. He meant for Harry to die, though? Why? For fame? Fortune? Hermione can understand the reasons, but that doesn’t mean she condones it, by any means.

Nearly frozen in place, the girl forced her feet to move. Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, waving her wand and having a whisk stir pancake batter. More than likely, Mr. Weasley is getting ready for a day at the Ministry, and as for everyone else… well, she can only guess. Hermione didn’t waste any time considering it, though. A storm of emotions going off in her chest, the girl ran up the several flights of stairs, bursting through the door with a great big gasp. “H-Harry!” Hermione cried out, eyes wide and features flushed. “Y-You have… You have to hear this!”

Shaken, Hermione hurried and closed the door behind her.

“Ron and Professor Dumbledore… planned everything!” Hermione began with. Once she’d taken a seat on his bed, she relayed the conversation she just overheard, leaving nothing out.
 
Harry was relieved to be home. Well, not his real home, but it was more of a home than the Dursley's house would ever be. Climbing the many stairs to Ronald Weasley's bedroom, Harry slipped into the bathroom and took a well deserved shower. It felt good, having the hot water run down his naked body, stinging the many bruises he had accumulated throughout his summer holidays. After a nice ten minutes, Harry left the shower with a towel around his waist, ready to get dressed.

Three steps into the bedroom and the door slammed open, revealing a flushed faced Hermione. He had no time to assess the importance of the situation, instead slipping in shock, the towel floating away from his body as he hit the ground. Naked body on full display, the Boy Who Lived went a deep red, quickly covering his body with the towel beside him. "Mione!" He said, aghast at what he had done in front of his female friend. "What are you doing?!" He asked, standing up and grabbing some clothes from his trunk. Retreating into the bathroom once again, the boy quickly put some clothes on and returned to Hermione.

"Now... What was so important that you had to get me starkers?" He asked, an annoyed tone in his voice. He always had time for Hermione, but getting embarrassed was not a fun side effect.

--

The boy's shock and disgust was obvious on his face as Hermione confided in what she heard. If anyone else had said this, Harry would have slapped them silly. But Hermione would never lie about something like this. "What.. What do we do? We can't use magic.. Maybe we can find wands at Knockturn Alley?" He suggested nervously, obviously out of his element.
 
In an effort to move past that rather awkward situation -which will remain fresh in her memory for quite some time-, Hermione swallowed past the lump in her throat. “First, we wait,” she decided right then and there. “You’re right, we can’t use magic. Not right now, anyway. In a few days, we’ll be heading to Diagon Alley,” Hermione went on, already forming a plan. “It’s easy to get separated, what with everyone looking to buy school supplies. We slip away the first opportunity we get, and buy everything we need.”

Deep in thought, Hermione let her gaze fall away from him, focusing on nothing in particular. “I cast an Extension Charm on my bag years ago, so we don’t have to worry about anything weighing us down. I would say in the meantime, start gathering your clothes together. Don’t draw attention onto yourself!” Hermione emphasized, dark brown eyes flashing up and zeroing in on him. “If Ron suspects anything, he might go to Professor Dumbledore, and we will never get our chance. We will stop by Gringotts, too, so that we can take everything out.” Are they really going to do this? What if they are caught before they can even try?

Hermione drew in a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “Most importantly, don’t say a word. Ron needs to think that you are still his best friend,” she told Harry, reaching out and placing a hand over his.

“I know it’ll be hard. We have to, though, else… you’ll die, Harry.”
 
Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded at Hermione's instructions. "It.. shouldn't be too hard." he struggled to say. "School starts in a few weeks, so packing will seem natural." Harry said to himself out loud. After a moment, he nodded, looking up at his friend. "Thanks for telling me all this, I'm lucky to have you as a friend, Hermione." The boy wizard said softly, standing and pulling her into a hug. He held it for a moment before releasing, a small smile on his face. Hermione's hugs were the best - comforting without the threat of bones breaking, unlike Mrs. Weasley's hugs. "Now, you better get out of here before Ron or Ginny catches you." Harry instructed, gesturing to the door.

--

The next few days turned out to be the hardest of his life. He would take fighting the spiders in the Forbidden Forest over pretending to be Ron's friend any day of the week. And he would sooner look into the eyes of a Basilisk before he would ever happily look into Ginny's lust-filled eyes ever again. There were many close calls, including chocolates offered to him by his former love, which Harry promptly offered to Ron. It would be a shame that he would miss the sight of Ronald's hormone-fuelled mind chasing after his little sister.

--

Finally, it was the day of heading to Diagon Alley. The large group of Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione used a rubber duck portkey to appear in the Leaky Cauldron alleyway, an experience causing him to feel nauseous. Spewing all over the nearby wall, Harry coughed a bit and spat on the ground. "Disgusting... sorry folks." Harry forced a chuckle. "Could I meet you guys in Diagon Alley? Perhaps by Flourish and Blotts? I need a bit of time to make myself look decent." He smiled a little. "Hermione could stay so I don't get hurt." He suggested, before Mrs. Weasley could object. "That sounds perfect!" Mr. Weasley immediately replied, beaming at what seemed to be his favourite boy, despite the absence of red hair. "We'll see you inside. Weasleys! Let's go!" Arthur announced, leading his family inside, and leaving Harry and Hermione behind.
 
“It shouldn’t,” Hermione had to agree, even with the knot of worry in her throat. A slight frown pulling at her lips, the girl continued on, “Ron might think you’re starting a bit early, but you can just say I convinced you to pack early, or say I wouldn’t leave you alone about it.” Hermione had to laugh softly under her breath, because, under different circumstances… that would certainly be true. Dark brown eyes lifted, having heard his gratitude. A sheepish smile began to replace the frown. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend, too,” Hermione replied, returning the hug. It was warm, and helped ease the nervous butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Harry’s hugs always were the best. Mrs. Weasley’s are nice, but she has to worry about bruised ribs or broken bones afterwards. “I will see you later?” Hermione gave a small wave before rushing out the door.

--

The next few days were an absolute nightmare. Exams, Hermione can handle, even Professor Snape at his nastiest. Having to face Ron with a smile on her face, pretending as if everything is alright? No. It didn’t help that every so often, she’d see lust fill his eyes… greed make itself known in a cynical smile. It sent a chill down her spine every time she saw it. Hermione would make some sort of excuse to leave the room, but that would be too suspicious… especially if she did it often. And so she endured. If it wasn’t for Harry, she might have gone mad.

--

Finally. Today is the day. Hermione can hardly wait. The sky a dark, murky grey, thunderclouds rolling in over the horizon, set her mood perfectly. It might work in their favor, though. Having used a Portkey, Hermione’s stomach churned after unceremoniously dumping them all into the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, breakfast threatening to come back up. “I-I need a moment myself,” she told the Weasleys, looking a little pale. “Don’t worry, we will be by Flourish and Blotts in just a little while, I promise.” It is a lie, of course, but they don’t know that. Hermione watched through a veil of curly brown as Arthur Weasley led his family into Diagon Alley… leaving them to their mission. “Alright,” she spoke up once they were gone. “Are you feeling any better, Harry?” Hermione turned to him, worry obvious in her eyes and in her voice. “We need to get moving as quickly as possible.”
 
Harry nodded with a small laugh. "If it were any other circumstances, I would be in Diagon Alley right now, regardless of what just happened." He admitted. "I'm fine, let's go." He told her, spitting one more time to get the nasty taste out of his mouth, before they left for Diagon Alley. "Okay, so... Gringotts first, then Knockturn Alley. We'll have a look around for a tent and wands, but what else do we need?" He looked over at Hermione for advice, as she was the one Harry always turned to.

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but we'll need lots of books." He laughed again, thinking about how he was channeling his inner Hermione. "Stuff on spells, both good and dark. We need every advantage we can get if we're to beat Voldemort. We also need the dark books because I'm convinced that there's something Voldemort is using to keep himself alive. But nothing I read actually helps." He was rambling, the nerves getting the better of him.

Walking with Hermione into Diagon Alley, it was definitely different to the previous year. While it used to be full of happy customers, it now seemed a lot more moody and depressing, wanted posters spread everywhere seeking names like Bellatrix LeStrange and Lucius Malfoy. Just seeing Bellatrix's face, smirking at him in that moving picture made Harry's blood boil, but he had to calm himself. Looking at a much better sight, Harry began speaking to Hermione once again.

"Where are we going to go? We have the tent so we can camp out, but I don't exactly know the ideal camping spots. After all, while the Dursleys went camping, I was mostly locked in my cupboa... I mean room." He quickly corrected himself. He did not need the added drama of Hermione knowing what his initial childhood was like.
 
Hermione offered a weak smile, only to laugh softly under her breath moments later. “Well, I’m glad that you’re alright,” she told him. In Diagon Alley, witches and wizards walked together in groups of two and three, not a smile in sight. It was stifling, this heavy depression. There was no laughter, no excitement… only a suspicion that can be seen in the eyes of everyone they come across. The Ministry put up wanted posters on nearly every building, Bellatrix LeStrange and Lucius Malfoy looking out in shades of black and white. Hermione glared at a nearby poster, the fingers of one hand curling into a fist. “Yes,” she replied with a quick shake of her head. “Gringotts first, then Knockturn Alley. Do you have your key?” came her next question, the girl reaching into her pocket to touch cold metal. It is reassuring, in a way. It is a way out, a means to help them escape from not only Ron and his lustful manipulation of their lives, but Professor Dumbledore as well.

“We will need to get Muggle money, just in case,” Hermione told him. At hearing his next words, a pleased smile curved her lips, light pink dusting across her nose and over her cheeks. “Do you not realize just who you are talking to?” Her hip bumped his playfully. “I already have all the books we can possibly need. Most have to deal with spells, both good and dark, but there are a handful delving into forbidden spells. Don’t worry, I already have that covered.” More than a little pleased with herself, Hermione pressed a little closer to him as a group of witches passed by, nearly knocking her over in a hurry to reach their destination. Their hands brushed for just a fraction of a second.

Hermione heard the stumble, but decided against pointing it out. “My parents and I went camping quite often,” she shared. “I remember most, if not all, the places we have visited… so I thought it’ll be best if we hop from one place to another. Oh, and we’re heading to Gringotts, remember?” A hand gestured to the grand white building blocking the alley from continuing on. “As for what else we will need… I will have to say food, though only things that will last.” Hermione stole a glance, shoulders stiffening as they approached Flourish and Blotts.

“Do you think Ron is keeping an eye out for us?” she asked in a low whisper. “Or Mrs. Weasley, maybe?” Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to let panic flutter about and take control. That is the last thing they need right now.
 
Harry smiled softly as she reminded him who he was talking to. "Yes. I thought I was talking to Hermione Granger, brightest witch of age, a woman who was nice and pure and would never even touch a book about dark magics." Harry said with a grin, playfully bumping her. As a group of witches approached, Harry wrapped an arm around her, keeping her close so they did not get lost in the sea of people. It was a reflex action, not wanting to lose his last life-line to his normal life.

Leading Hermione into Gringotts, Harry walked to the front desk. "Why, hello Griphook!" Harry said with a smile. The goblin seemed surprised that he was recognised. "Ah! Mr. Potter sir, how may I help you today?" He asked, a smile tugging at his wrinkled lips as well. A smile seemed unnatural on a goblin, although that could be because they never had reason to smile. "I'm here to make a withdrawal, and convert some of my Galleons to Muggle Money." Harry requested. With a small nod, the three were on their way.

A long trip later, the pair now possessed another bottomless bag with most of Harry's money in it, and a muggle wallet equivalent for their muggle money. "That took a while... And I don't think the goblins were particularly happy about all that gold disappearing from their vaults." Harry chuckled.

Knowing that Knockturn Alley was a dangerous place, he kept Hermione close to him, his wand in his pocket on the off chance that they were attacked. "Okay... Keep an eye out for a wand shop." He instructed his female friend.
 
“Oh, please!” With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Hermione met his gaze. Mirth danced in dark brown, persuading a cheeky grin to come forth. “Did you forget about how I was the one who brewed the Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom? Besides, it’s for the sake of research,” she added, flushing a darker pink. A jolt of surprise went down her spine when Harry wrapped an arm around her, keeping her close so that they didn’t get separated in the sea of people. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really… yet, she couldn’t help but steal a glance over his way.

Emptying both their vaults, not to mention converting Galleons to Muggle Money, took longer than they both expected. Hermione stepped back out into the alley, a heavy raindrop falling onto the tip of her nose right then. Her nose wrinkled, which resulted in a rather cute, though uncharacteristic expression. “I don’t think so, either,” she replied, moving to follow him. Knockturn Alley is the darker, more sinister side of Diagon Alley. That being said, the most unusual things can be found in the shops… and the most deadly, if that is what anyone is looking for. Hermione had to admit, she was a little surprised that Harry was keeping her so close… but, she felt safe.

“I will.” The first shop they walked past was full of owls, cats and the like, most, if not all, black. Yellow eyes focused on the students, all eerily intent on the boy and girl. Hermione stole a glance off to her left, only to find a bookstore of sorts. Further down was an apothecary, and right next to it was-

“There!” Hermione declared, pointing it out to her male friend and self-appointed bodyguard. “It is right next to the Apothecary.” The door was painted bloody red, the windows covered in dirt. The only indication that it was, indeed, a wand shop was a small sign off to the side, with a wand scratched into the wood. Grabbing Harry’s hand, Hermione led the way, weaving through the few people lingering on the street.
 
Inside was a shop quite unlike Ollivanders. While the Diagon Alley wand shop had rows upon rows of wands, looking as if they'd fall with a slight gust of air, this shop showed no wands behind it. A sign nearby explained why.

Welcome to Waldo's Wand's
Watch Your Wand Be Made In Front Of Your Very Eyes
Pick Your Poison,
And Add A Personal Touch​

Harry had just finished reading the sign when a man appeared from a side room. This stranger seemed the very opposite of Ollivander, seeming dark and sinister, while Ollivander was friendly yet a little eccentric. He was also fairly young: he couldn't have been over 30.

"Hello, children. Are you sure you did not mean to travel into Ollivander's? I think you'll find he is the type of place you're looking for." He said, gazing at them as if they were lowly scum on the bottom of his shoe.

"Actually, we came here on purpose. We're looking for wands that cannot be tracked by the Ministry." Harry informed the man. As he looked like he would object about being able to do such a thing, Harry raised his bottomless money bag, shaking it for his ears to listen to it. It seemed like music to his ears.

"Yes.. Yes, I think I can do that for you. As you can read on the sign, you get to choose your wand ingredients, or even bring your own. Ollivander insists that the wand must choose the wizard, yet with a bit of magic, you can force a wand to choose you." Waldo smirked. "Now, you sir, you can go first. Choose from the list and tell me what you want." Harry nodded and looked through the list, with it displaying the various ingredients and their prices. Noticing that if he brought in an ingredient, that part would be free, Harry raised his wand.

"My current wand... it is the brother of another's. Could you use the Phoenix feather inside and use it for my new wand?" Harry asked. The man looked uncertain. "A lot of work goes into a wand, and the last thing and wand-maker wants to do is to see one snapped..." he informed the young man. "Now... As long as you buy a wand from me, I will charm your current wand to be undetectable too." Waldo promised.

The Chosen One nodded, once again looking at the list. "Alright... I'll choose... a dragon scale wand with the core of a Dementor's cloak." Harry instructed. "Oh, and if possible, make that Hungarian Horntail for the scales." Harry requested with a smirk of his own. Justice for the pain that bloody dragon did to him during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

The man nodded and off to work he went. His new wand looked amazing, the crimson red scales glinting in the light. When the wand was finished, Waldo told Harry. "Now for the personal touch. I need to slice your hand before you grasp the wand for the first time. Your blood will infuse with the wand and it will become yours." Well... It seemed the rumours of Knockturn Alley's dark origins were true. With a nervous nod, Harry opened up his palm and felt a blade slice it thinly. Hissing as the cool air hit the skin, the boy gripped his wand, feeling a very cold sensation due to the Dementor's touch.

"Your turn Hermione." He said, gazing at his new wand. "Oh, and I'm paying for the both of us." He added, before Hermione could object.
 
Inside was a shop unlike anything Hermione has ever seen. In Ollivander’s, the walls are lined with boxes that could fall over any second, with the smallest provocation. Here, in Waldo’s… there was not a single wand on display. Did they walk into the wrong shop? A nearby sign explained everything, yet brought to mind other questions.

Welcome to Waldo's Wand's
Watch Your Wand Be Made In Front Of Your Very Eyes
Pick Your Poison,
And Add A Personal Touch​

Horrified, Hermione had to wonder what it meant by ‘poison’... however, her attention was drawn elsewhere when a man appeared from a side room. While Ollivander was friendly, a little eccentric… this man is the exact opposite, dark and sinister. Ironically enough, he was also fairly young, somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties.

‘Waldo’ and Harry engaged in conversation, Hermione swept her gaze through the dimly lit shop. For some reason, she got a bad feeling about this place… though she can’t quite put her finger as to why. Could it have something to do with why they’re there? Maybe. It could very well be.

Dark brown eyes focused on the man as he went on to explain how that Ollivander insists that the wand must choose the wizard, yet with a big of magic, a wizard can force a wand to choose himself. A list was presented, displaying the various ingredients and the prices. Hermione looked over the list herself, listening in to her friend’s next words without lifting her gaze up off the piece of parchment.

Alder, Blackthorn and the like was not altogether unusual to see… but everything else made her skin crawl. Hermione played with the tips of her hair, considering the options while Harry decided on the wood to be a dragon scale, the core a thread of a Dementor’s cloak. It is a twisted sense of irony, given his past with both dangerous creatures. Wait… Perhaps that is a method of picking. Just then, Hermione brought her eyes up… only to smirk at seeing the one written all over her friend’s face. “Why am I not surprised?” she told him in a low murmur, lifting a brow.

The new wand looked amazing, that much she had to admit. Light played over crimson red, making it glisten like newly spilled blood. Hermione heard the next part, and immediately reached into her purse for something, anything he can use to help stop the bleeding once the deed was done. “Here,” she spoke up, pressing gauze into his free hand. “I will take care of that when we’re out of here, okay?” Waves of curly brown framing her features, Hermione offered a smile.

“No, you are not,” she insisted with her next breath. “I am paying for my own.” That said, Hermione picked up the parchment. “I would like to make it where my wand is undetectable as well… but I will also buy a wand from you,” she explained. “Is it possible to use the scales of a Mermaid, and the sand of a Time Turner?” It could prove to be difficult, but she will never know unless she asks.

“Yes… I believe so,” Waldo replied, getting to work straightaway. Hermione watched in awe, rather fascinated by the process. Hers was an iridescent bluish-green, with veins of purple outlining every individual scale, which made it possible to see the white sand inside. “Now for the personal touch,” he spoke at last. “I need to slice your hand as well.” Light pink prickling over her features, Hermione gave him her hand, only to hiss as pain sliced through the palm. Next she felt a cool sensation… almost as if water has washed over her skin, or something along those lines. “Amazing…” she breathed.

Hermione lifted her head, a few curls falling against her jawline. “How much, sir?”
 
Both wands had their own beauty to them, and the fact that Hermione followed his way of choosing ingredients made him grin. Hissing softly as the gauze touched his cut palm, he watched in great interest as the wand was created. While she was distracted with the wand, Harry found out the (expensive) price for the two wands, and quickly paid, laying out the many galleons on the desk.

"How much, sir?" He heard Hermione ask. "It's time to go Hermione." Harry smiled at her, making his blood disappear from the gauze with a spell from his new wand, and then handing it to Hermione for her own palm. "I already paid." He added, before she would object to them needing to pay the man. "Thank you, Waldo." Harry added as they began to leave. Noticing something on a shelf nearby, Harry grabbed four of whatever it was, and quickly paid for them. Handing two to his female friend, she would soon realise they were wand holsters.

"I heard Moody mention them a few times." Harry explained as they left. "You put them on a wrist or ankle and rest your wand in it. They're charmed to be invisible, and resistant to forms of magic where the holster or the wand itself can be taken." The holsters were also dragon scale, and changed colour in the light, depending on how they were held. Wrapping them to his wrists, Harry slid his new wand in his right holster and his old wand in the left. The moment the wood entered the material, it disappeared. To test it out, Harry flicked both wrists, and the wands slid into his hands. "Nice." He mumbled, sliding them back in.

"Now.. we need a magical tent. Anything else of importance, other than food?"
 
“‘Time to go’?” Hermione repeated, taken by surprise. The cut was not too difficult to deal with, even with her attention elsewhere. Her eyes widened slightly, only to narrow once she processed the words and their meaning. “No,” she was quick to deny. “I was going to pay for my own wand, Harry. I appreciate the chivalry, or whatever you want to call it, but-” Quickly cut off, she nearly dropped his newest purchases… only to realize that they were holsters.

“I’ve heard of these.” Fascinated despite herself, Hermione put two on either wrist, and slipped both wands in. The moment the wood and scales entered the material, both disappeared. Flicking her wrists brought the wands back into her hands. Hermione had to admit, though, she was still amazed. “Very nice,” she agreed, flashing a smile. “I’m glad you noticed these on the shelf. I would have walked right past them without a second glance,” Hermione continued on, lifting a hand to brush a wave of curls behind her ear. Alright, what next? she wondered, frowning.

Her eyes swept over the nearest shops, flicking from person to person. “No,” Hermione murmured under her breath. “We have already withdrawn everything from our vaults. We have wands the Ministry can’t trace, and I have medical herbs in case either one of us gets seriously hurt or sick. All we need now is a tent, and food.” At least, as far as she knows. Hermione has tried to take everything into consideration, but she never has had to think about running away from everything she knows and loves. “Can you think of anything?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper, rubbing her thumb over the new wand. “Besides the tent, that is?”
 
Laughing as the new toy distracted her, Harry was happy with his purchase. "No, I couldn't think of anything, that's why I asked." Harry replied cheekily.

Walking back into Diagon Alley, he noticed a shack called "Camping Classics." Reminding him of the Shrieking Shack, Harry supposed that it used an enlarging charm for the inside. "C'mon" He said, leading her to the building. At the last moment, the boy wizard noticed the familiar red hair and quickly pushed Hermione up the stairs, a hand cupping and pushing on her ass. "Quick, Ron's looking this way." Thankfully it was busy, so there was a good chance they weren't seen, but they had to be quick. It was only once they were inside that Harry realised what he had done. Blushing lightly, he didn't say anything, hoping that she didn't notice.

The shack/building was amazing, the size of the Great Hall with tents set up all over. A nearby sign said "Try Before You Buy", meaning they could enter as many tents as they liked.

Every tent was different, with various changes from beds to furniture. One that Harry particularly liked was a muggle tent which had many muggle appliances (yet still could be operated with magic), even so far as to include a TV. It would be especially useful for keeping up with Muggle news, and it even had a bookshelf for all of Hermione's things. "Let's get this one." He said, waiting for Hermione to agree, not noticing that there was just a double bed available.
 
Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley were as different as night was from day. It was a relief to be out of that dark, dreary place. Basking in the warm sunlight, Hermione stole a glance over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose, sticking her tongue out at him just moments later. “Very funny,” she replied, tone dry. It wasn’t long until a smile crept up, and a laugh followed.

“C’mon,” Hermione heard next, and was led to a shack just a little farther down. It bore a striking resemblance to the Shrieking Shack, where they spent many hours practicing charms in secrecy. The memory brought a smile to her face… only for shock to wipe it away. Harry’s hand was on her ass, pushing her up the stairs and inside. “Quick, Ron’s looking this way.” Hermione hurried inside, too embarrassed and too worried to comment on where his hand is. Thankfully it was busy, otherwise he’d notice them right away. “Yikes,” she breathed on a sigh, her heart finally picking up where it left off and starting to beat again. ‘Camping Classics’ was easily the size of the Great Hall, perhaps a little smaller, with tents set up on display against either wall. A nearby sign said ”Try Before You Buy”.

Every tent was different. The first one they walked into could easily fit a family of ten, and had a game room. Another reminded Hermione of the Weasley’s tent during the Quidditch Tournament, which felt like an eternity ago. The fifth -or maybe it was the sixth- tent they checked out, Harry seemed to like, and she liked it herself. It had many Muggle appliances that can be operated with magic, had plenty of space… not to mention, it was easy to assemble and take down.

“I love this one,” Hermione agreed, nibbling on her lip. “Don’t you think it’s a little pricy, though?” Playing with the tips of her hair, she swept her gaze throughout the living room area of the tent, taking a seat on the couch. “I don’t want to spend most of our money on a tent,” she continued on. “We still have to worry about food.” Hermione drew in a breath, only to let it escape in the form of a sigh. “I don’t want to rely on you for money, either. It was really nice of you to buy both our wands, but I’m going to buy the tent.”
 
Harry was glad she liked it too; as they were both raised by Muggles, it seemed like the perfect choice, like a small apartment. "Pricey... Hermione..." He sighed, trying to think of the best way to phrase his words. "Last year, I asked Sirius how much money I have. What he told me, is that I could buy Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Ollivander's, and Flourish and Blotts, and I would still have enough money for three generations of future Potters." Harry was rich, thanks to the savings that 24 generations of Potters went through. He was literally the wealthiest wizard in the UK, maybe even the world. "Trust me when I say that we have enough money to buy this." He told her, wrapping an arm around her in a friendly side-on hug. "I won't complain if you buy the tent, just as long as you're alright with me slipping some Galleons in your purse when you're not looking." Harry proposed, laughing a little more.

Calling the manager over, he let Hermione buy the tent, knowing he would pay her back somehow. Watching the exchange take place, Harry pulled out his new wand and magicked the tent into a manageable size, slipping it in Hermione's bottomless bag. "Okay, let's go."

--

As they left the building, Harry and Hermione were greeted by a wonderful yet disturbing sight. It seemed like Ron had seen them and approached Camping Classics, but thankfully he still had some of Ginny's love-potion filled chocolate with him. What it looked like, it Ron must have taken one and found Ginny, fucking her in the middle of Diagon Alley. Her dress pushed up to reveal her hairless pussy, her older brother had mounted her like a dog in heat as their parents attempted to pull them apart. While he didn't like either person, he found the sight to be strangely arousing, feeling himself grow harder the more he watched. Maybe it was the public aspect?

"Okay, let's get out of here." Harry suggested, his eyes still on the sight in front of them. Grasping Hermione's hand, he waited for her to apparate away. Before they disappeared, the boy wizard caught sight of Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George looking at him and Hermione, giving them a knowing look, and holding a finger to their lips. It seemed like they had allies in the Weasley household after all.
 
Rolling her eyes, Hermione honestly couldn’t say she was surprised. “You’re going to do it, whether I want you to or not,” she pointed out, leaning against him some. It feels good, having someone to rely on. There isn’t many friends who are willing to hug one another, but Harry does seem to be the exception of many rules. “You paid for our wands, even though I told you I’d buy mine,” Hermione recalled with a small tilt of her head, lifting a brow. There was a tiny smile curving her lips, though she was trying not to let it show. “Then again, you’ll do it when I least expect it.” Harry laughed under his breath, which she couldn’t help but join in. Minutes later, Hermione bought the tent. The manager was a tall, slender young man with thick blonde hair and a dazzling smile that could charm anyone into buying one of his products. “Thank you,” she told him with a nod of her head, opening her purse so that the tent could slip inside. It is a good thing she did that Charm so many years ago, otherwise they might be in trouble. “Okay, let’s go,” Harry spoke up, and she followed him back outside. The sunlight was warm on her skin, a heady balm to this frightening situation they’ve found themselves in. Over the horizon, threads of white can be seen in impossible blue, though she wouldn’t worry about rain anytime soon.

Hermione froze, eyes wide. It seems that Ron spotted them and had begun to approach ‘Camping Classics’... but thankfully, he’d eaten one of Ginny’s chocolates laced with love potion. Right there in the middle of Diagon Alley, in front of everyone, he pushed her dress up and had mounted her like a dog. Their parents were trying to pull them apart. Dark red, Hermione averted her gaze and looked anywhere but at the two. A sliver of heat went down her spine, coiling in the pit of her stomach until an ache replaced it.

“Y-Yes.” Feeling his hand wrap around hers, Hermione closed her eyes and dove into her memories for a destination. Being that they didn’t buy any food, someplace near running water would be best… and private. Hermione opened her eyes, only to blink as she caught sight of Mr. Weasley, Fred and George looking over in their direction, holding a finger to their lips. Did they know-? No, there is not a doubt in her mind they did. Diagon Alley fell away, the noise and colors slipping out of reach. Hermione held onto Harry’s hand, panic fluttering in her chest like caged butterflies. Focus. Breathe. You can do this. In a heartbeat, the duo was standing among tall, vibrant green trees rather than on a busy street.

“Milin Kerhé,” Hermione explained with a relieved smile. “I came here once when I was seven. It is in France, and there is a river not too far from here.” Tendrils of her blush lingering along pale skin, the girl shook her head while trying to get her thoughts together. “I can go ahead and start heading over there while you set up the tent.” Dark brown eyes glanced at him, then quickly away.
 
Noticing the shyness that Hermione had, it was no doubt due to the event they had both witnessed, involving the Weasleys. "U-Uh.. Yeah. You get some fresh water while I set up the tent." He repeated, grabbing the necessary supplies from Hermione's purse before she left. Watching her leave, the tent was soon up and ready to go.

Entering and looking around, it was then that Harry noticed his mistake. "Crap... One bed." He muttered to himself, looking around. To improve on the sales of magical tents, most furniture could not be transfigured into anything else. Otherwise it would be all too easy for a customer to buy a cheap tent and create the expensive furniture themselves. So that made it impossible for them to turn a chair into a bed, which would likely cause some issues.

Once Hermione returned, Harry pointed out their problem, while playing a game on the Playstation.
 
A hand brushed over the rough bark of a nearby tree, leaves crunching underfoot as Hermione went through the forest. Memories of Diagon Alley kept passing behind her eyes, despite the vibrant, beautiful blue and green surrounding her. “I’m glad Harry never ate any of those chocolates,” Hermione spoke up at last, breaking the precarious silence. With a shake of her head, Hermione found the river before very long, and pulling out several bottles from the bottomless purse. Maybe later, she’ll come here to fish… but right now, they need to get familiar with this place and go from there.

Ten minutes later, Hermione lifted the flap and stepped through. Harry was lounging on the couch, playing a game by himself. As she handed over a bottle, he pointed out their current sleeping arrangement… which does present a new problem. Light pink spreading along her features once again, the girl plopped down beside him while thinking it over. “Well… There is one of two things we can do,” Hermione told her male friend. “We are both adults, so we could sleep in the same bed without any problems… or if you prefer, I can always sleep on the couch. No big deal.” Hermione shrugged, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Little threads of curly brown tumbled over her own, the faint scent of lavender perfuming the air.

“I was planning on fishing later,” Hermione murmured. “Either that, or popping into a village and buying some food. Do you have a preference?”
 
"You're not sleeping on the couch." he immediately replied, not wanting to force her there. They were both adults, they could survive sleeping in the same bed, right? "We can share the bed" He finally replied, a light pink tinge to his cheeks too. Putting his controller down, Harry gazed down at Hermione, who was beginning to cuddle up to him on the couch. It was a cute sight... 'Oh god.. I'm never going to survive sleeping in the same bed as her, am I?' Harry thought to himself.

"Fishing? The traditional way or with magic?" Harry asked. "Just accio the fish and it's free food. I'm thinking we do that for tonight, and grab some other food tomorrow." Harry suggested with a small shrug. "I can cook it if you catch it. I've had plenty of experience cooking fish that the Dursley's caught or bought."
 
“I suppose?” Hermione ventured a guess. “We are adults, after all. We can behave ourselves. Besides, I’m pretty sure you can keep your hands to yourself.” An eye cracked open, a playful smile curving her lips. Threads of brown fell against the girl’s cheek, emphasizing the dark brown of her eyes, the graceful curve of her jawline. From this vantage point, the black robe Hermione had on dipped down… revealing a lot of smooth, flawless skin… but not nearly enough, too. “Don’t be greedy with the blankets, though,” Hermione told him, tilting her head so that her cheek was resting on his shoulder. “Otherwise, I might have to kick you out of the bed.” Her body arching off the couch in a lazy, cat-like stretch, Hermione rubbed at an eye and resisted the urge to yawn. Today has taken a lot of time, energy, concentration and… well, all that, and she’s worn out. If only she could take a nap before going after dinner… ah, but priorities.

Dark brown eyes glanced over in his direction. “Must I remind you that we need to be careful?” Hermione asked, lifting a brow. “I am not going to use magic for fishing. Muggles like to camp in this area, not witches or wizards. I just… I don’t want to give ourselves away, alright?” Her eyes heavy, she snuggled more into his side and this time, let out that persistent yawn. “I better get moving…” Hermione murmured under her breath. “I might just fall asleep right here, if I don’t…” A leg crossed over the other, black fabric falling away to reveal the slender thigh underneath. Not quite satisfied, it was just seconds later that she curled both legs up on the couch… moving closer to his warmth.
 
Watching Hermione get comfortable brought a small smile to his face, though it did pose the issue of him being able to move. It also raised the question of if Hermione would be like this when they were in bed together. Pulling out his dragonscale wand, Harry summoned a blanket, gently wrapping it around his friend slowly. "I can go fishing, just get some rest." He instructed. Slowly pulling himself from her grasp, Harry got the idea of grabbing one of the pillows and heating it up with magic. Giving it to Hermione to cuddle up to, it wouldn't be the same as Harry, but it would be a decent alternative for now.

Grabbing his wand, a bucket, and his invisibility cloak, Harry went out. Knowing that Muggles might be out, he used his invisibility cloak to steal fish when they weren't looking. On occasion, he would use magic for a distraction, anything from a noise to making a muggle slip in the water. Smirking to himself, he soon came back with a bucket full of fish that the boy promptly began to cook.

Thirty minutes later, a small feast was prepared. Laying it out on the table, Harry approached Hermione and gently shook her awake. "Wake-up sleepyhead, food's up." He informed her.
 
Far too comfy to move, Hermione let out a sleepy noise of protest… only to settle down seconds later as the blanket wrapped about her in warmth. “I can’t have you doing that,” she told him, the words coming across as husky, nearly sultry. “I should get up and do it…” A faint smile playing along the curve of her lips, no amount of motivation could have moved her from that spot. Her eyes feeling heavy, Hermione unleashed another yawn… this time, lifting a hand over her face. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim its next victim… or for a dream to unfold behind closed eyelids. Hermione rolled over onto her side, clutching the pillow he enchanted. None of the images were of an ongoing dream, but rather fragments of many. An hour passed by, and then two, yet it proved to be less than… restful. Perhaps it has to do with everything they’ve had to go through the past several days, or maybe even just today, but in any case… she could not put her mind to rest. Holding the pillow tightly, Hermione buried her face into it… curly brown fanning out about her shoulders as she finally laid down on the couch. Her lips parted just so… a soft sigh escaping before very long.

The scent of salmon infiltrated her nose, earning a growl from the girl’s stomach. “Nn…” Hermione drew in a deep breath. It was amazing, a collage of delicious aromas teasing the tip of her tongue and the edges of her consciousness. Little slivers of dark brown appeared underneath long lashes, cloudy with sleep. “Food is-?” Hermione replied, an arm emerging from beneath the blanket to rub at an eye. “Okay… I’ll be up in just a moment…” Her legs undilated, a languid stretch making it to where her toes brushed the other end of the couch. A few threads of hair fell across her face, but she pushed these aside with a quick, impatient gesture. Getting into an upright position, Hermione was unaware that her hair was sticking up every which way… or of the light pink blush splashed across her features.

“What did you cook? Aside from salmon, that is?” she asked, prompted by curiosity. Hermione had to admit, she was a little surprised he cooked at all… well, unless he used magic. Knowing Harry, that is more than a little likely. Rising up off the couch, the girl approached him and the dining table, lying her chin on his shoulder while she stole a glance at the small feast.
 
While she may have suspected he cooked with magic, the burns on his fingers proved otherwise. He had learned to be a good cook growing up with the Dursleys, yet never learned about staying safe. Two fingers were already in bandaids, and he seemed to slightly flinch every time a burn was touched by a utensil.

"I made salad, chips, and salmon." Harry answered, walking closer to her and patting down her hair gently. He was soft and somewhat sensual with his touch, even though there was no intent to behave like that. "Your hair was sticking up a bit." Harry explained, pulling her chair out for her before sitting in his own. Beginning to eat, he was silent. It was not common for him to speak while eating dinner, another trait gathered from the Dursleys, but he always replied when spoken to.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom