"I'm not going to give up. There's a reason I was always called insufferable, you know, and it's only half because I liked to know as much as I could." Hermione breathes out, scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve before she winces. She realises, now, that the mark on her face matches Harry's eye and she breathes out, wondering if that was half of the purpose of Alyosha's choice to cut her there.
She swallows, looking at him again, tilting her head and feeling something come over her. She breathes out before she offers Harry a weak smile.
"I told Ridire, you know. I told him that if the choice came down to you or this war, down to you or him, I'd choose you. He knows that I'm not entirely loyal to him. But Lancelot talked to Solais for me, at the audience. She means to destroy the sigil, Harry. I know it doesn't undo what I did, but - she didn't lie to me. She just didn't tell me the entire truth either."
It's not enough and she knows it.
"I'll do whatever I can and I won't make the same mistake again. I'm sorry, Harry, for everything that happened, for all that I did. I'm so sorry."
Harry lets out a shaky breath and looks so relieved to see her smile that
despite the scarring and other changes, he's almost the same boy she knew.
"I know you're sorry. I can't imagine that you wouldn't be and I'm so sorry
too, for having put you in that position. I'll ask and beg your forgiveness
for as long as you'll let me." And yet... "And you still believe her? Live
up to your word and don't believe her, don't let her use you up and leave
you crying like this. I'm sure she'll stick to the letter of the agreement
and destroy the sigil after every last Unseelie and their family is dead.
She put forth the order to kill everyone at Caer Scima. Every man, woman,
child, babe in arms, and she won't stop."
"Morla would do the same, I don't doubt, but that's what it boils down to,
isn't it? When the slavers take your children, does it matter which court
owns them?"
"I didn't say I believe that she'll do it soon - she didn't tell me the whole truth. But she probably will get rid of it once it's useless to her. I just have to try and do what I can to make sure that she never has the chance to use it again. I'll do what I can, Harry - it's not like she and I are best friends. Lancelot's my best friend, John's my best friend, Korra and Mako and - you, Harry. You're my best friend, better than that."
She steps closer, reaching out to find his hand, linking her fingers through his and squeezing gently, wanting to move closer and let herself have comfort.
"I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I'm going to fight at your side."
Harry makes a little noise as she takes his hand and then turns towards her
so he can embrace and hold her close. He's missed her so much and while
this isn't perfect, nothing is. He'll take what he can get.
It's the tail end of July, and with the heat, he's in short sleeves,
Hermione ought to be able to feel strange new callouses and odd, smooth,
scaled patches.
Her arms wrap around him and hold him tight, squeezing him before she presses her face against his neck. It's not the same as it was, a year and more ago, but it's enough. She has her best friend and, really, that's enough, isn't it? Even with the strange feeling under her palms, the knowledge that he's not exactly the same man any more.
"So," she leans into him, trying to fight back her tears and her relief - that and the sting of her face, ever present even now. "You're an owl."
Harry stifles a laugh as he hoots into her hair. "Only part-time. I'm a
prat the rest."
After one last squeeze, he pulls back just far enough that conversation is
easier. Harry moves to tuck her hair behind her ear and after that, he's
still going to hold her hand or find some other way to keep in contact.
Either he's still distraught and craves comfort or he's gotten used to
closer physical boundaries.
"I've the day off tomorrow. Personal study instead of lecture, so I can
stay up and talk."
"You're a prat all the time, no matter what shape you take."
Hermione leans into the touch all the same, breathing out a little. She feels worlds better, now, like all the weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She faced Alyosha, she claimed back what little honour she had left, she had Harry back with her... Everything felt better, now, as if she could breath again. Reaching out, she squeezes his hand again before she smiles, her eyes flickering over him.
"Maybe you can tell me about this magic you've been learning? And I can show you my animal form."
"Not only have I learned magic, but I have learned the true magic of hair
braiding." His own hair isn't particularly fancy, but there's a couple of
beads woven in and he keeps it tied back with a leather thong into a simple
queue.
If they find a place to sit and she lets him, he'll do her hair up really
rather well. Linn has a lot of hair, and he's had a lot of practice at this
point because it's either braid her hair back, or it gets everywhere when
they try to sleep.
"Every spell has a cost and it's better to overpay than under. Often you
pay in blood or sacrifice, and if you're doing that, a rune or a ritual
will make what you're doing go further."
"I can see that. You look like you're turning into a true professional." Hermione smiles softly, tugging him forward and taking him through towards the lounge. The chairs and sofa from the tent, the World Cup, are laid out there, and it's much cleaner now - thanks to Mako.
When they're seated she still doesn't let go, squeezing his fingers around hers. Now that they're together, now that he's here and they can talk, she doesn't really want to let go. If he wants to do her hair she'll let him; it's grown back now.
"I learned a few runes from a man called the Outsider. I'm not really interested in the idea of using blood, but I can scrape them into things to enchant them."
"It was either learn or get buried under Linn's mane." There's also some
cultural significance to the way his is done up and he'll be careful not to
do the same to hers. It might cause a few awkward questions in the South or
among the Seelie in general. "We'll need a comb, though, and I brought you
a couple of charms for luck."
"And I know him. Odd fellow. Taught him to do a patronus while his fish
watched. They're lovely too, but a bit too much like the sharper-toothed
sort of Veela." Pretty, but probably pretty interested in eating him, too.
"Mine's in my bag, one moment - accio brush." And it comes flying into her hand before she hums, leaning back and offering it to Harry. She trusts him, almost blindly, and she's glad to ignore the worries she has to bask in his friendship for as long as she can. If that means she lets him tug and pull at the bush that she calls her own hair - well, she'll have to manage.
"Some charms?" That catches her interest and she turns again, brightening. "I saw his dogs, though I didn't get a chance to meet his fish. How do you show people here how to use our magic, Harry?"
"It doesn't work with everyone, but all shardbearers can do magic. Have you
noticed that having a wand helps for most of our magic from home, but we
don't need it for things we learn here?" Harry settles down behind her,
brushing out her hair with what appears to be a great deal of actual
practice. Along with new braiding skills, it seems he and Linn have been
testing the limits of what does and doesn't work with their magic.
Reaching into a pocket he pulls out two small carved bone beads and a
blue-green glass bead and shows them to her to get her approval before he
starts part and braid her hair. Wandwork makes for dextrous hands, he while
he's not going to win awards at it, Harry can do a neat enough plait. "The
fish might've looked like women. Or fish. I made them a charmed bubbler."
"So it would be like wandless magic for us, if we taught them?" Hermione sounds particularly enthused, even as she doesn't turn so Harry can keep a good hold on her hair. "That would make my life about a thousand times easier - especially if I can teach Dorian to help me with potions. I've shown him a few things but you and I both know that you need magic to finish a lot of the ones that are useful here."
She takes the beads easily enough, turning them over in her hands before she hums. "No, no women. Just him and his dogs. And what're the beads for?" She lifts them higher, letting the light flicker over them. "They're very pretty."
"A bit like, I think. I've found that when working with Linn, I can usually
provide the push of power, but she's far better at control." There's less
of a cost to his sort of magic, so it makes sense to use it over the native
kind. "And it helps if they've got a feel for using their shard. It's not
the same feeling, but there's something to it."
"They just look good, really. Although the bone ones should, if you need
it, make you run as fast as a deer. That's what they're from." It almost
sounds as if he made them himself.
"So she's a little bit like some kind of... Not a tool, because she's a person, but a means of using it like a wand? A conduit, maybe, for the raw power we have, just like what we use our wands for." She nods her head, thinking about it. The hands in her hair are comforting and she lets herself have a moment of thought. "I know how to use my shard to make myself a little stronger, but I haven't been practising much - I learned from Lancelot and we've both been a bit busy."
Leaning back a little, she makes a noise, squeezing the bone one.
"Did you make them, Harry? Do you think you could show me how, if you did - and could we enchant the other ones, the ones that aren't bone?" Always eager to learn, always wanting to have as much as her service as she can.
"She's a Revenant. I say she's a person, so do you, but everything we've found and read says she's a weapon." He pauses, adjusting how he's holding the brush and her hair. Harry isn't good at talking about these sorts of things, and his voice is soft when he speaks, "I can't let that happen to her."
"I did make them." Grateful for the topic change, he continues on. "But they need to be bone, and bone from the animal whose traits you want to use."
"It's not that simple, then, is it. She has feelings, she has thoughts, she has dreams, surely? Just because people say she's something doesn't mean she is. She's your friend, Harry, and that's what's important." Her own voice is soft and careful and she hums as she rolls the beads in her hand.
"Show me? I can work with bone, and animals. It's easier to hunt when I'm in my other form - it doesn't feel as terrible, tracking down animals. It's almost instinct, really."
"She does and she is." He looks at the braid he's done, at the fact that he's in a point where if he lets go, it'll unravel and then decides that what he wants to do is more important. He drops her hair and gives her a quick hug. "We're bound up so tight that it scares me. I've been trying to research what it all means, but with the library gone, I'm not having the luck I'd like. If you start to look, let me know, because I'll tell you what I've got. Give you somewhere to start."
"And for the bones, I'll show you. We'll find a good day to go and run around like idiots in the woods."
She turns, wrapping herself around him easily, almost crawling into his lap as she leans close. Her hand touches the back of his head and she shakes her own, drawing him closer and letting herself have him here, gentle and warm in her arms, solid and alive. "I'll look for you, Harry. I'll do as much reading as I can to try and help you. I'll do whatever you need me to do and I won't fail this time. I promise." She leans back, her hands cupping his cheeks before she grins.
"It'll be just like home, then, won't it? I thought we'd had enough of us running around like prats in forests."
"I am an expert at being a prat in a forest. I think it's my true calling," he says with all due solemnity before trying to figure where he was in her braid again. Over? Under? Oh well, might as well unravel and redo it.
"I know, 'Mione, but you're also going to find out some ugly things. Reul is Linn's father and Revenants eat people. Like with the vampires, we've worked out a way to manage that so no one ...well, Linn suffers for it, but the others don't."
"You would say that. You didn't have to carry everything around while we were being prats." It's a joke, of course, considering that her bag wasn't heavy at all, but she settles and watches him all the same, her expression soft. Even as he continues, she keeps herself gently managed, nodding her head.
"Then we'll - I'll read what I can. I'll do whatever I can, Harry, to make it easier for the both of you." She isn't comfortable about it, happy about it, about Harry being tied with something (someone, she reminds herself) that eats people to survive, but he knows how she feels about it. She's sure about that. "We'll figure it out."
"I know we will. We always do." After deciding that the braid is done well enough, he taps at her hand for the beads. "And, you know, there's a bright side to this whole mess: I might finally trade in that terrible name I keep being called for something with a touch of class, like 'Royal Consort'."
"I will actually hit you if you even joke about that, Harry James Potter." She shakes her head, laughing. "Have you heard my full title lately? It's a little bit of a mouthful, but, really, I'm quite fond of it. I'm really learning about this place." She shifts, settling back against him, opening her hands to offer him the beads back.
"You better teach me everything you learn about magic, too."
"Of course." She might not like what he's learning, but he'll tell it all to her. "Now, you can't hit me while I'm putting these in or I'll drop them, we'll go looking for them, and knock our heads like coconuts."
"It's either joke about it or get business cards that say 'Beware the Dick Lord!' and I can't find a printshop I like."
"It wouldn't be the first time we've done something a little ridiculous, would it? I hope you remember the time I turned myself into a cat - everyone here thinks it's utterly hilarious." Not that she's being petulant, but she sniffs all the same, trying her best to hide it and not let on the fact that it still rather haunts her.
"Joke about it all you want, at least you've got one! Hermione Granger, Marchioness - or Marquis if you prefer - of the White Citadel and Sorceress-Protectress of Caer Glaem is far more of a mouthful."
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She swallows, looking at him again, tilting her head and feeling something come over her. She breathes out before she offers Harry a weak smile.
"I told Ridire, you know. I told him that if the choice came down to you or this war, down to you or him, I'd choose you. He knows that I'm not entirely loyal to him. But Lancelot talked to Solais for me, at the audience. She means to destroy the sigil, Harry. I know it doesn't undo what I did, but - she didn't lie to me. She just didn't tell me the entire truth either."
It's not enough and she knows it.
"I'll do whatever I can and I won't make the same mistake again. I'm sorry, Harry, for everything that happened, for all that I did. I'm so sorry."
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Harry lets out a shaky breath and looks so relieved to see her smile that despite the scarring and other changes, he's almost the same boy she knew.
"I know you're sorry. I can't imagine that you wouldn't be and I'm so sorry too, for having put you in that position. I'll ask and beg your forgiveness for as long as you'll let me." And yet... "And you still believe her? Live up to your word and don't believe her, don't let her use you up and leave you crying like this. I'm sure she'll stick to the letter of the agreement and destroy the sigil after every last Unseelie and their family is dead. She put forth the order to kill everyone at Caer Scima. Every man, woman, child, babe in arms, and she won't stop."
"Morla would do the same, I don't doubt, but that's what it boils down to, isn't it? When the slavers take your children, does it matter which court owns them?"
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She steps closer, reaching out to find his hand, linking her fingers through his and squeezing gently, wanting to move closer and let herself have comfort.
"I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I'm going to fight at your side."
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Harry makes a little noise as she takes his hand and then turns towards her so he can embrace and hold her close. He's missed her so much and while this isn't perfect, nothing is. He'll take what he can get.
It's the tail end of July, and with the heat, he's in short sleeves, Hermione ought to be able to feel strange new callouses and odd, smooth, scaled patches.
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"So," she leans into him, trying to fight back her tears and her relief - that and the sting of her face, ever present even now. "You're an owl."
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Harry stifles a laugh as he hoots into her hair. "Only part-time. I'm a prat the rest."
After one last squeeze, he pulls back just far enough that conversation is easier. Harry moves to tuck her hair behind her ear and after that, he's still going to hold her hand or find some other way to keep in contact. Either he's still distraught and craves comfort or he's gotten used to closer physical boundaries.
"I've the day off tomorrow. Personal study instead of lecture, so I can stay up and talk."
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Hermione leans into the touch all the same, breathing out a little. She feels worlds better, now, like all the weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She faced Alyosha, she claimed back what little honour she had left, she had Harry back with her... Everything felt better, now, as if she could breath again. Reaching out, she squeezes his hand again before she smiles, her eyes flickering over him.
"Maybe you can tell me about this magic you've been learning? And I can show you my animal form."
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"Not only have I learned magic, but I have learned the true magic of hair braiding." His own hair isn't particularly fancy, but there's a couple of beads woven in and he keeps it tied back with a leather thong into a simple queue.
If they find a place to sit and she lets him, he'll do her hair up really rather well. Linn has a lot of hair, and he's had a lot of practice at this point because it's either braid her hair back, or it gets everywhere when they try to sleep.
"Every spell has a cost and it's better to overpay than under. Often you pay in blood or sacrifice, and if you're doing that, a rune or a ritual will make what you're doing go further."
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When they're seated she still doesn't let go, squeezing his fingers around hers. Now that they're together, now that he's here and they can talk, she doesn't really want to let go. If he wants to do her hair she'll let him; it's grown back now.
"I learned a few runes from a man called the Outsider. I'm not really interested in the idea of using blood, but I can scrape them into things to enchant them."
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"It was either learn or get buried under Linn's mane." There's also some cultural significance to the way his is done up and he'll be careful not to do the same to hers. It might cause a few awkward questions in the South or among the Seelie in general. "We'll need a comb, though, and I brought you a couple of charms for luck."
"And I know him. Odd fellow. Taught him to do a patronus while his fish watched. They're lovely too, but a bit too much like the sharper-toothed sort of Veela." Pretty, but probably pretty interested in eating him, too.
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"Some charms?" That catches her interest and she turns again, brightening. "I saw his dogs, though I didn't get a chance to meet his fish. How do you show people here how to use our magic, Harry?"
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"It doesn't work with everyone, but all shardbearers can do magic. Have you noticed that having a wand helps for most of our magic from home, but we don't need it for things we learn here?" Harry settles down behind her, brushing out her hair with what appears to be a great deal of actual practice. Along with new braiding skills, it seems he and Linn have been testing the limits of what does and doesn't work with their magic.
Reaching into a pocket he pulls out two small carved bone beads and a blue-green glass bead and shows them to her to get her approval before he starts part and braid her hair. Wandwork makes for dextrous hands, he while he's not going to win awards at it, Harry can do a neat enough plait. "The fish might've looked like women. Or fish. I made them a charmed bubbler."
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She takes the beads easily enough, turning them over in her hands before she hums. "No, no women. Just him and his dogs. And what're the beads for?" She lifts them higher, letting the light flicker over them. "They're very pretty."
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"A bit like, I think. I've found that when working with Linn, I can usually provide the push of power, but she's far better at control." There's less of a cost to his sort of magic, so it makes sense to use it over the native kind. "And it helps if they've got a feel for using their shard. It's not the same feeling, but there's something to it."
"They just look good, really. Although the bone ones should, if you need it, make you run as fast as a deer. That's what they're from." It almost sounds as if he made them himself.
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Leaning back a little, she makes a noise, squeezing the bone one.
"Did you make them, Harry? Do you think you could show me how, if you did - and could we enchant the other ones, the ones that aren't bone?" Always eager to learn, always wanting to have as much as her service as she can.
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"I did make them." Grateful for the topic change, he continues on. "But they need to be bone, and bone from the animal whose traits you want to use."
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"Show me? I can work with bone, and animals. It's easier to hunt when I'm in my other form - it doesn't feel as terrible, tracking down animals. It's almost instinct, really."
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"And for the bones, I'll show you. We'll find a good day to go and run around like idiots in the woods."
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"It'll be just like home, then, won't it? I thought we'd had enough of us running around like prats in forests."
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"I know, 'Mione, but you're also going to find out some ugly things. Reul is Linn's father and Revenants eat people. Like with the vampires, we've worked out a way to manage that so no one ...well, Linn suffers for it, but the others don't."
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"Then we'll - I'll read what I can. I'll do whatever I can, Harry, to make it easier for the both of you." She isn't comfortable about it, happy about it, about Harry being tied with something (someone, she reminds herself) that eats people to survive, but he knows how she feels about it. She's sure about that. "We'll figure it out."
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Harry James Potter, don't you even.
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"You better teach me everything you learn about magic, too."
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"It's either joke about it or get business cards that say 'Beware the Dick Lord!' and I can't find a printshop I like."
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"Joke about it all you want, at least you've got one! Hermione Granger, Marchioness - or Marquis if you prefer - of the White Citadel and Sorceress-Protectress of Caer Glaem is far more of a mouthful."
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