The Lost Horcrux

The Church of the Dark Mark

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, bashing the fucking Weasleys and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history.

***

They were ready at eight o'clock. Harry knocked on Hermione's door and she opened to him. She looked like she wanted to hug the life out of him. Something had happened, or she knew something she hadn't last time they met. Harry could tell that, and he didn't like the pained, slightly desperate look in her eyes. It wasn't much better than the fear he expected to see there, for where they were about to go ... or maybe it was just a different sort of bad.

"What is it?" Harry asked, guiding Hermione back into the room. They would have to deal with this first. It wouldn't do to be so distracted out in the dangerous world.

"It's nothing," said Hermione, evasively.

"You're lying to me," Harry retorted, genuinely surprised.

"No, not lying," said Hermione. "Just avoiding the truth."

"Hermione ..."

She suddenly flung her arms around him, knocking the wind from his lungs. "Oh, Harry ... what have you been doing to yourself!?"

"Breathing ... before this," he huffed, easing her away from him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing ... it's just that ... Enola has been telling me about things ... about those dark things that you carry around in your mind," Hermione whined, pulling Harry back to her.

"Oh she has, has she?" Harry scythed, his ire stirring. "What exactly has she been saying?"

"Nothing I didn't force from her," said Hermione, firmly. "You can't be angry with her. I wont let you be."

"And since when do you get to dictate to me?"

"Since we fell in love and you gave me that power. I give it to you in return. Just saying."

Harry's heart hammered in his throat and he almost fell apart at the declaration. It was the first time it had been phrased so succinctly. He couldn't stop picturing the words, or do anything to resist the grin they spawned.

"Oh, well ... since you put it that way," he teased, eventually. "It really isn't fair that you can calm me so easily. I'm supposed to be mad at Enola over here."

"Save it for the Death Eaters," said Hermione, darkly. "I am."

"And what are you mad at, dare I ask?"

"You!" she squealed. "For holding so much darkness inside and not letting me help you fight it! I'm going to, you know, no matter what you do to try and stop me. It wont work. You aren't alone anymore, Harry, you do know that yeah? We aren't alone anymore. Me and you ... we're one now. Your fight is my fight, your darknesses are my darknesses. And vice-versa. But you're still holding me at arms length. Stop it. Let me in."

Harry couldn't prevent a laugh. "You're so bossy. I forgot how much. Or how cute it is. Adorable, actually."

"Don't change the subject," said Hermione. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Harry replied. "You really are cute."

"Harry ..."

"What do you want me to say?" asked Harry, exasperated. "I'm a mess. I've not made any secret of that."

"Then let me help tidy you up!" Hermione cried. "I need you to help me get over my things. Let me help you just the same."

Harry learned in and hugged her. She curled her arms around him, too. "You already are," Harry whispered. "But it's hard for me to keep all this in as it is. I can't just open it all up. It's too volatile. Give me time ... I have to do it my way."