The Lost Horcrux

Unwilling Defenders

Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, villainising the Weasleys and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history and the HP real-life timeline.

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Harry's heart was beating so hard that he didn't know what to do with himself. He paced around the private living room that he now shared with Hermione, grinding his jaw hard and looking so fraught that Hermione was concerned that the throbbing vein above his good eye was about to pop at any moment. He was so cross that Hermione wasn't sure how best to subdue him as Harry bristled at Enola, who was sat opposite her on one of the cosy futons.

"You should have come to me with this right away," Harry seethed, his hands on the back of his neck in his anguish. "There's no excuse for you to not have told me about this, and you know it!"

"What? When was she supposed to have done that?" Hermione cried, rising to her friend's defence. "Leave her alone! If anyone should be confessing around here, it's you! What happened to no more secrets? I understand you have loads!"

Harry scowled at her. "I said I wouldn't keep any new ones ... and I did say I have to tell you all the others in my own time."

"Well, time is a luxury that we've just lost, so that plan is moot," Hermione huffed. "Now, apologise to Ennie before I lose my temper with you."

Harry couldn't resist a cheeky grin. "Sorry, En."

"Better," Hermione nodded with a cross little smirk. Then she got up and moved to Harry, taking his tense arms in her hands. "Now ... tell me about Ron. What did he do to me that you wouldn't tell anyone? What could possibly have got you that upset?"

Harry closed his eye and bowed his head until it touched Hermione's. His anger flowed away like a gentle river. Enola watched the whole thing in jaw-dropping astonishment ... Harry never calmed this quickly ... not ever, not when he was that tightly wound. She was in awe of Hermione's ability to make it happen.

Harry took a weighty breath and moved to look out of the window to tell his story.

"Ron tried to make you forget about me ... by using powerful cerebral magic," Harry began, drawing fierce intakes of breath from the ladies. "It was just after the Deathday Party you held on my second anniversary ... the first one after you got married to him."

"After he forced me to get married to him, get it right!" Hermione hissed angrily. She span her new wedding ring to offset her pulsing rage. "Explain, quickly Harry, before I break something in here."

"He thought, after you married him, that you wouldn't bother with me anymore," Harry explained. "He thought that he'd finally beaten me, where you were concerned, because you accepted his marriage proposal. He knows you delayed until after the first anniversary ... just in case I'd come back. I'm sorry, Hermione. I knew ... and I should've come to you then ... I very almost did."

"What stopped you?"

Harry took a heavy sigh. "You'd said yes to Ron the week before ... and seemed quite happy about it. I thought he'd won, too. I took myself off to Germany a few days after Nev told me about that. I thought I'd failed in that part of my destiny, so I threw myself wholly into the other part. But I was so broken inside ... Dietmar still tells stories about the trail of destruction I left in my wake. He tooled me up with training and experience ... but I was so furious at myself for letting you go that I was like a walking natural disaster."

Hermione looked so heartsick at Harry's words that he throbbed with the guilt of causing it.

"It didn't take long for Ron to start abusing you after that, did it? You were putting up too much resistance, complaining too much, making a nuisance of yourself just by reminding people what good looked like. Riddle he ... he began insisting that Ron subjugate you by force. But Ron couldn't do it to start with. He retained a shred of the decency that made us friends, but the more he was exposed to the horrors of the Death Eater creed, the less squeamish he became.