FIC Inevitable 63: Chaos Theory (HP/AB)
Apr. 8th, 2006 08:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mhalachaiFirst off, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vivnow, thanks so much! I really appreciate it :)
Now:
Inevitable Sixty-Three: Chaos Theory
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter. Only the story is my own.
Note: This chapter is all over the place. Why is it all in one chapter? Because having three tiny chapters isn't the plan. More cohesiveness next time. Promise.thekams, whip out your G/H/L OT3 icon for this one. A little over 7,400 words.
Previous parts here.
~~~~~~~
"When is your detention?" Ron asked.
Harry lay on his back and stared up at the deep blue sky. "Tomorrow night, with McGonagall."
Hermione laid her potions text down on the grass and stretched out next to Harry. "It could have been worse," she said sympathetically.
Harry pulled a blade of grass out of the ground and slowly dismantled it. "I guess."
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Want to tell us what Malfoy said that had you in such a knot?" Ron asked.
"No."
Hermione gave it a try. "Does it have anything to do with what happened in your dream on Monday?"
Harry pulled off his glasses and tossed them on his bag. "Look, I appreciate you guys coming out here to talk to me and all that, but we all know that you're only doing it out of some obligation of friendship, so feel free to leave."
"Another thing we all know is that you're an idiot," Ron said genially. Hermione let out a groan.
Harry flipped over, glaring at Ron while the red-head rooted around in his book bag. "Were we in different places yesterday? I punched Malfoy, and threatened Hermione!"
Ron pulled an apple out of his bag and dusted it off. "You hit Malfoy, anyway."
"Ron!" Harry shouted. He didn't want to be talking about this with them. The fact that he'd been thinking such violent thoughts, and Hermione had been in the middle of that... Shame didn't quite cover what Harry was feeling.
"What?" Ron looked at him, suddenly very serious. "You were, what, about five seconds from losing it when Hermione grabbed your arm? You still kept it all in, right? You didn't hurt her."
Harry sat up, hugging his legs to his chest. "You don't understand!"
"Yeah, I do." Ron took a huge bite of his apple and spoke through his mouthful. "Charlie used to get like that sometimes. He and Bill would be fighting when Charlie'd get a bit too angry, y'know?" He swallowed. "Charlie just had to walk away, go hit something else besides Bill. Used to freak Mum right out, we could even see it back then."
"I didn't know that," Hermione said, her wide eyes on Ron.
Ron shrugged. "You have five brothers, these kinds of things come up. Charlie's got a temper, but he's got a good handle on it. Like Harry." Ron pointed at Harry with his apple core. "Is this a new thing or something to do with-- you know." Ron made a face and curled his hands into claws, in what Harry supposed was an imitation of a werewolf.
Harry stared. "Why are you doing this?"
Ron lowered his hands. "Because something's wrong."
"Something big," Hermione added before Harry could interrupt. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to, Harry, but if you want to, you can," she finished lamely.
"You wouldn't understand," Harry said, slumping back down to the ground. He looked up at the fluffy clouds in the sky, moving slowly toward the horizon.
"Do we have to understand?" Hermione asked tentatively.
Harry closed his eyes, trying to push the memory of Nathaniel's body out of his head, and shook his head.
"We won't push you, if you don't want to tell us," Hermione went on. "Just, if you want to, you can tell us."
"Hermione, leave him be," Ron said, nudging her. "You talk enough for all three of us sometimes."
She whipped her head around and glared at Ron. Without her attention focused on him, Harry could breathe easier. Would it hurt to tell them? He'd thought they didn't need to hear it, all that horrible stuff Olaf did, but how long would he last if he kept it all bottled up inside? He'd already hit Malfoy. What would be the next thing to set him off?
"You know..." Harry said slowly, picking restlessly at the grass with one hand, "Anyway, just don't tell anyone, okay?"
Hermione nodded, while Ron said, "Sure."
Harry took a deep breath, watching the quiet clouds. "So, once upon a time, there was a serial killer named Olaf," he began bluntly. "He liked to rape and torture women, then he killed them and dismembered their--"
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, pushing herself back. "What are you doing?"
Harry closed his eyes. "You wanted to hear what's bothering me, from my dream, right?" He opened his eyes and looked over at her. It took him a moment, but it finally registered how horrified Hermione was. "Shit, Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, sitting up. "I didn't mean--"
Hermione waved him into silence. "No, it's just..." She buried her face in her hands as Ron moved to put a hand on her back. "Is this really part of it?"
Harry nodded. "If you don't want the details, I guess I can tell it different."
"No," she said, setting her jaw. "You tell it your way."
Harry flicked his gaze to Ron, who was looking a little lost and more than a bit worried. "You tell me if you need me to stop," he said. Hermione nodded. It took Harry a moment to remember where he was in the story. "So, um... Yeah. Olaf." Even saying that name lit the fury in Harry's head, and he had to stop and concentrate for a moment. Dead, he's dead and the dead can't hurt anyone.
"Olaf. He met Anita in New Mexico a couple of years ago, it's in the southern part of the States. There was this vampire that was controlling a Quetzalcoatl dragon and a bunch of crazy vamps and stuff, they were killing people and skinning some of them, and others the dragon ripped apart."
Even Ron was looking a little queasy now.
I don't even remember Anita telling me this stuff, but she had to, right? Harry thought frantically. I know all this detail about Olaf and I can't remember why!
Hoping he was doing the right thing, Harry plunged onward.
"So Edward, that's Anita's friend, he called Anita down to figure out what it was doing all this, and Olaf was there too. But Anita didn't find out until after she got down there that Olaf's victims had all been..." Harry paused, searching his memory for the phrase. "Like muggle China dolls, pale skin and long dark hair and tiny. Exactly like Anita. She's even shorter than Hermione."
"Did... did something happen in New Mexico?" Hermione asked, voice rather shaky.
Harry shook his head. "Not really. Just Olaf left Anita a note, saying he thought she should be like his little psychotic girlfriend, and then he vanished. Edward called Anita in the middle of last month, told her that Olaf had gone off radar and he might be coming for her. No one heard anything for a while, but then--" Harry's voice broke, feeling the panic and terror from his dream all over again. "He was at home, waiting for her, one morning."
Ron uttered a curse he must have heard from Charlie. "Didn't they do anything for protection?"
"They had bodyguards," Harry said. "But Tony, the bodyguard from that morning, he took off early." Harry looked down at his hands, wishing his memory wasn't so good. "Olaf was there early, he'd gotten to Nathaniel first."
"Nathaniel, that's Anita's friend?" Ron asked.
"Boyfriend," Harry corrected softly. "He was home alone, and Olaf--" He swallowed against the rise of bile in his throat. "Nathaniel didn't even look human anymore!"
"Is he dead?" Hermione whispered.
Harry shook his head. "He's a wereleopard, they made him transform and it put everything back in the right place. Jason told me he wasn't going to die, but there was blood everywhere!" He dug his fingers into his hair, wishing he could break something. "Olaf nailed Anita to the floor, right through her hands," he continued, tonelessly. "He'd stabbed her in the chest once, and he was going to do it again, when I--" Harry held out his right hand, where the scab was stubbornly refusing to heal. "I don't know how, but I grabbed Anita's hand and this happened and we used magic together and stopped Olaf!"
"How?" Hermione said, hands over her mouth. "That's impossible!"
"I know!" Harry exclaimed. "But it still happened!"
"Did you kill him?" Ron asked grimly. "Olaf?"
Harry shook his head as Hermione slowly reached out and took his hand, tracing the wound with a finger. "Edward came barging in with a shotgun and blew Olaf's head up," Harry said. "He just kept shooting Olaf's body even after he was dead."
"What happened then?"
"Ron woke me," Harry said, drawing his hand back.
"I thought it was just another nightmare," Ron said. "You know how you have those, sometimes."
Harry nodded, feeling as exhausted as if he'd just run a dozen miles. "But it was real," he whispered, clenching his fist and wincing as the scab tore and hot blood trickled over his palm. "It was as real as if I'd been standing there."
"But how could it be real?" Hermione asked, still a little horrified, but her usual curious tone coming back. "You've never done that before! You've been Nagini attacking Mr. Weasley--"
"Arthur."
Both Hermione and Harry twisted around to look at Ron. "What?" Hermione asked.
Ron looked a bit startled himself. "Sorry. Dad wants you to call him Arthur, like you call Mum Molly... and I guess that's not important," he mumbled. "Sorry."
Hermione shifted around and leaned against Ron. "It's okay."
"But this dream wasn't like the other dreams at all," Harry continued. "I wasn't Anita in this dream."
"What?" Hermione said, latching onto his statement. "You've had other dreams with Anita? What kind of dreams?"
The openness and innocent curiosity in her face made Harry want to sink into the ground. "I dreamed of her doing things, is all," he said, managing to not stumble over the words. "Like, real things she was doing while she was awake, not dreaming."
"When did this start?" Hermione pressed.
"After I got to Hogwarts... No, wait," Harry said, frowning. "It started in St. Louis."
"But why?" Hermione bit her lower lip as she thought. "What would have caused that?"
"Maybe because his grandfather was a vampire?" Ron suggested.
"No, that can't be it," Hermione said dismissively. "If it was, why didn't it start before now?"
"I haven't been able to think about why it was happening!" Harry said. "It's sort of like Voldemort's dreams, but not, really."
Hermione sat up so quickly that she almost hit Ron's nose with the back of her head. "Oh! OH! Those only started after he got his power back, after you two met!"
"So?" Ron said. "Are you saying these dreams are happening because Harry met Anita?"
"Was there some kind of power transfer between you two?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Like when Voldemort was in Quirrell's body and he touched you and he burned up?"
"That wasn't a power transfer!" Harry protested.
"You know what I mean!" Hermione said. "Was there anything in St. Louis? Did you and Anita do a spell? Anything magical?"
"No. We didn't. Anita's not a witch, not really, she's--" An idea hit Harry out of nowhere, and his jaw dropped. "The Crucio eternum curse!"
"What about it?"
"I told you I lifted it off Anita, remember?" Harry said, heart pounding. "Dumbledore told us there's no way to lift it, but I did! Bellatrix was gone and Richard was there and Anita was dying, she couldn't even scream anymore, and it was just like, I knew I had to do something! It wasn't a spell, really, just... It just happened, it just lifted."
"It just happened?" Ron repeated. "Harry, that doesn't make any sense!"
"It makes as much sense as me dreaming and being halfway across the world to get this!" Harry said, waving his right hand in Ron's face. "I know it's mental!"
"Nevertheless, it happened," Hermione declared. "I'll have to go to the library after class to find any references on magical dream transportation, I can't recall anything off the top of my head."
From across the lawn came the ringing of the bell, to signal the start of class. Hermione leapt to her feet and grabbed her book bag.
"I'll see you two after class in the library!" she ordered.
"Is that all?" Ron demanded.
Hermione hesitated a second, then flung herself back at him. She squeezed him and kissed him on the cheek, then untangled herself and ran toward the castle.
Harry was left staring at her. "That was... enthusiastic," he said.
"She hates being late for class," Ron said with a bit of a smirk on his face. Then the smirk faded into worry. "At least she's not dwelling on that stuff you said."
Harry slowly got to his feet. "I told her I'd stop talking about it," he said, uncomfortable.
"Like that'd stop her," Ron said. "Not blaming you." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. "I just wish I could keep that kind of stuff away from her, you know?"
Harry shook his head. "Don't let her catch you saying that," he cautioned as they turned toward Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. "She'll turn you into a slug."
"I know." Ron scuffed his shoe on the lawn. "But it doesn't mean I can't want it. Anyway, library time tonight means no more frustration with the bloody Animagus thing. I wish I knew how you did it, it's driving Hermione crazy."
"I told you, I got attacked by a werewolf, and didn't change the whole way," Harry reminded Ron. "Not my fault it worked it like this."
"Not to hear Hermione tell it," Ron said darkly. "She's convinced there's a trick she can duplicate."
"If anyone can figure it out, Hermione can," Harry said. He slowed. "Look, Ron..."
"What?"
Harry steeled himself. "You were right, about me telling someone... Thanks," he muttered to the ground.
Ron shrugged. "And, um, sorry I didn't believe you, with McGonagall."
"It's okay," Harry said. "Looks like almost everyone's to class, we don't want to be late."
"Even Hagrid's not here yet," Ron pointed out as they spend up. "So, about those dreams?"
"What about them?" Harry asked, distracted, as he checked his bag for the treat he'd brought for Fang.
"From Anita's point of view?"
Harry almost stumbled. "Yes," he stuttered, wishing desperately that he'd left that part out.
"While she was doing things while awake?"
Harry pressed his lips together and refused to answer.
"What kinds of things? Necromancer things? Making dinner?"
"Oh, look, it's Hagrid!" Harry said loudly. "We'd better hurry."
"No way!" Ron exclaimed, rushing after Harry. "Not that!"
"We are never going to talk about this," Harry said, face heating up as he remembered the vividness of those dreams of Anita having sex with Nathaniel, and later the vampires. "Ever!"
Ron started laughing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A tap on the door made me look up from my book. "What?" I said crossly.
"It's Jason," came the muddled reply through the wooden door.
"Fine," I said, closing the book and sitting up on the bed. "Come in."
Jason slipped into the stone room. I could feel the nervous energy radiating off him. "You gotta come," he said breathlessly.
"Go where?" I asked, standing. Nathaniel didn't move from the chair across the room, where he'd been sitting since before I woke up.
"To the living room," Jason said. "Rafael's there, and Jean-Claude and Edward and everyone!"
"Calm down!" I told Jason, even as I grabbed the gun on the bedside and shoved it into my shoulder holster. "Is there a problem?"
Jason gulped down some air. "They found Tony."
At the name of the bodyguard who had abandoned me to Olaf, I froze. When the rush of remembered panic eased up enough for me to speak, I demanded, "Why the fuck are they leaving me out of this?"
"They're not," Jason said. "Jean-Claude sent me to get you."
I looked over at Nathaniel, who still hadn't moved. "Micah's not back yet from the house," I said, torn between finding out what the hell was going on, and not leaving Nathaniel alone.
Jason waved his hand. "I'll stay here with Nathaniel," he said.
"Okay," I said, already moving toward the door. "I'll be back soon," I called over my shoulder. Nathaniel didn't acknowledge me.
I ran through the stone corridors of Jean-Claude's lair under the Circus of the Damned toward the main room. My mind wasn't letting me plan ahead with what I was going to do when I got there, it just kept circling: they'd found Tony.
I pushed my way through the drapes that served as a door, my bandaged left hand sending sharp pains up my arm as I hit the rock wall in my haste. "Where is he?" I demanded as soon as I was in the room.
The six people present all turned to look at me. Jean-Claude and Richard stood off to one side, facing off with Rafael. Edward was leaning against the couch, while a vaguely familiar man and woman were apparently the center of attention. "Ma petite, thank you for joining us," Jean-Claude said smoothly.
"Where is he?" I said again. "Jason said you guys found Tony?" My eyes turned to Edward.
"Don't look at me," Edward said, his voice pleasantly blank, but not enough to hide the irritation.
I looked at Rafael, then at Jean-Claude. "What's going on?"
Jean-Claude nodded at the two other people in the room. "They tracked Tony down."
I blinked at them. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask who exactly they were, when I remembered where I'd seen them before. They were Chirstoff's people, the two wererats sent to us from London as part of the deal between Christoff and Jean-Claude. What the hell were their names?
"How?" I said, inching closer to Jean-Claude and Richard. I made myself stop halfway across the room. I would not cling to anyone, not now. I needed to stand on my own. "How did they find him when Edward and Rafael couldn't?"
"A very good question," Edward said, turning his pleasant face with that dead stare in their direction.
The woman met Edward's gaze with eyes so still that I had to repress a shiver. "He knew where you would look," she said, a faint hint of a German accent overlying her British tones. "Rafael and the Rodere of this city; he knew their patterns. How long had he been your man?"
"That explains why Rafael couldn't find him, but not Edward," I said.
"But would not Olaf know Edward's methods?" the man asked. His accent was pure Irish.
"Didn't you ask him?" I demanded, voice a little shrill. Richard crossed the room and touched my arm. The contact made me feel stronger, better, and I let him stroke my arm. "You found him, right?"
The woman raised her eyebrow. "We did not set out to question him, only to return him to his King to face his betrayal. For money." The disgust was plain on her face.
"And return with him they did," Rafael said. I knew him well enough to know he was angry. "But somehow, I cannot bring myself to believe them when they say they just 'found' him."
"Wait, why did they go after him in the first place?" I asked.
"An excellent question, ma petite," Jean-Claude said silkily, his blank mask in place on his face. That was the face he wore to hide so many emotions; his Master of the City face.
The man and woman exchanged looks. "We did not locate him without assistance," the man admitted.
"Then how did you find him?" Rafael growled. "I let you in this city only upon Jean-Claude's assurances!"
"We received a message from our Master's servant, telling us where to look for this Judas," the man said.
"Elsa?" I exclaimed. "How the fuck did she know about this?"
The man took a step toward me, and Rafael was suddenly in his face. The level of lycanthropic energy spiked, and Richard's hand tightened on my arm, keeping me in place.
"Stop!" Jean-Claude commanded, his power sweeping through the room. Everyone froze. "Liam, Caroline, my patience is not boundless, and the recent assault on my servant has stretched that patience thin!"
The man, Liam, pressed his narrow lips together. "We have done nothing but assist you, and you threaten us as if we engineered this whole thing!" he exclaimed.
Caroline looked directly at me. "We were sent in the spirit of our Masters' agreement, to assist you in any way possible," she said. "We were instructed by our Master's servant how to find the man who betrayed you, and your wereleopard servant. Will you hear us out?"
I looked into her grey eyes. "Tell me how Elsa knew about this," I said. "Then I'll decide if we hear you out."
Liam shook his head. "The boy, Harry, called her," he said. "Right soon after it happened, before ever we heard about it from Rafael."
"Elsa's magic is strong," Carline said, her voice bordering on reverence. "She has many centuries of experience with those of our kind. After we learned that this Tony was missing, she told us where to find all the wererats in the city."
"There are over two hundred Rodere," Rafael said.
"It took some time," Liam snapped.
I looked up at Richard. He was watching the two wererats with a wary face, not an expression I often saw on his face.
"Why would Harry call Elsa?" I murmured to him. He shook his head.
"Ma petite, what are you thinking?" Jean-Claude asked in my head.
"It doesn't make any sense for Christoff to have engineered this whole thing," I told him, widening the marks so Richard could hear us. "Why would he go through all this trouble to hurt us? Wouldn't the Council have take issue with this?"
"What if he thought no one would figure it out?" Richard asked.
"Christoff is not so simple as that," Jean-Claude replied. "If he had given his word to protect Harry and Anita while they were in his territory, then actively worked to have them assassinated while they were outside his lands.... it is stretching his word too thin. There are those who would see that as a betrayal of his promise."
"Elsa was always going on about how Chirstoff kept his word," I pointed out. "And I can't see Olaf working with a bunch of British vamps and lycanthropes. He doesn't play well with others."
"He's dead," Richard reminded me, and put his arms around me. "He can't hurt you any more."
I looked down to see that I was squeezing his arm, and quickly let go. I rubbed my sweaty palm on my jeans, hoping that no one else could see the tiny trembles. "Where is Tony now?" I asked Rafael. "What are you going to do with him?"
Rafael gave Liam one last glare, then turned around to face me. "I can't tell you that."
I felt my face go cold. "Why not?" I demanded, stepping away from Richard. I tried to cross my arms across my chest, but my left hand was hurting too much, and I had to settle on resting my right hand on my hip.
"You don't need to know," Rafael said.
Something stirred within me. Not my beast, but anger from a cold and dark place I held inside my body. I felt a brush of wind that couldn't possibly exist so far underground, that curled around me like invisible fingers. My necromancy twisted around my body, connecting me to the unhappy earth. "Why not?" I demanded softly.
Rafael, who had faced down monsters without blinking an eye, paled. "He's not going to get away with this," he said, holding his ground. "But you don't need to know where he is. The Rodere takes care of its own, including when they betray us."
I walked across the room, dropping my hand to my side, until I was close enough to Rafael to kiss him. "Did you see what Olaf did to Nathaniel?" I whispered, fighting the urge to touch Rafael. Touching anyone right now would be bad. Very bad. "Did you see his hand in that box? How Olaf ripped him apart, on the floor of the one place he was supposed to be safe?"
"Anita, I cannot tell you where Tony is," Rafael said.
I stared at him for a long moment, then I made myself back away, my cold power almost choking me. Glancing around, I saw the fear on Caroline and Liam's faces, the curiosity on Edward's features.
Dimly, I realized that I had to get away from everyone, now, before something happened. I walked toward the doorway in the curtains, ignoring Richard's call, ignoring everything but the ground in front of me. Step after step, until carpet gave way to stone, until light gave way to shadows, until I didn't know where I was.
The stone walls pressed in around me, shadows dancing, called to the anger within me. I stood in the middle of that corridor, fury at Rafael changing, twisting, into something much more ugly.
It was my fault this happened to Nathaniel. I'd gone into that house, not planning, not thinking, just reacting. It had very nearly gotten Nathaniel killed, me killed, Jean-Claude and Richard and Damian killed. I'd almost killed everyone I loved.
My fault.
I whirled and slammed my bandaged left hand against the stone wall, feeling the shattered bone give in a white-hot explosion of pain that drove my necromancy back, leaving only anger and self-loathing in its place.
My fault.
Before I could hit the wall again, I was grabbed from behind and dragged back.
"Anita, stop it!" Jean-Claude ordered, wrapping his arms around me. I struggled silently, tried to get away, but his grip was like cold steel. "Stop this!"
We collapsed to the ground, him holding me against his body. My breathing was ragged, but I wasn't crying. I had no fucking right to cry.
As soon as I stopped struggling, Jean-Claude let go of me, and I slumped against his body. He picked up my left hand and slowly began to undo the bandages. The pain in my hand was nauseating, but I didn't make a sound.
"I left Richard with Rafael and Edward," Jean-Claude said as he unwrapped the final layer around my hand. The skin had healed since yesterday, but the bone was sticking up in an unnatural way behind my bleeding knuckles. "You will need to see a doctor again, ma petite."
I stared at my hand, not able to think.
"Rafael will deal with Tony. He will not escape again," Jean-Claude continued, picking me up effortlessly in his arms. "I will take you to your rooms, and I will have Richard take you to the hospital."
"No," I murmured. "Not Richard."
Jean-Claude walked silently down the halls for a few minutes. He stopped by a large outcropping of stone that no one had bothered to get rid of, and sat me down. Once I was settled, Jean-Claude knelt in front of me. "Ma petite, look at me," he said. Gentle fingers lifted my chin, until I was staring directly into his midnight-blue eyes. "Why did you do this?"
I jerked my head away and stared down the corridor. "Maybe it's all a little much to handle, okay?" I snapped.
"This was not your doing," Jean-Claude said. "Olaf coming to this city was not your fault."
"I let myself get taken down!" I exclaimed. "I got stupid and I--"
"No," Jean-Claude interrupted forcefully. "Not stupid. You realized that Nathaniel had been hurt and you reacted."
"And almost got him killed!" I stared down at my broken hand. Red-purple bruises were starting to form under the skin. "The only reason Nathaniel got hurt was because of me. God, every time he gets hurt, it's because of me! Now he's sitting in that room, refusing to look at me, pretending like I'm not even there, because I let that happen to him!"
Jean-Claude went up on his knees, pressing the front of his body against my legs. He slid his hands around my waist, holding me tight. "Do you love him?" he asked.
The question startled me. "What?"
"Do you love Nathaniel?" Jean-Claude cupped my cheek with one hand. "In spite of all that occurred, do you love him?"
I pushed his arm away with my right hand. "What good is love when all it does is get you hurt?" I demanded. "So what if I love Nathaniel?"
"Love means you keep fighting," Jean-Claude said. "You need to keep fighting, ma petite. I need you to keep fighting."
I looked back down at my hands.
"This was not your fault."
"Yes, it was," I said before I thought.
Jean-Claude ran his fingers over my good hand. "You were the reason Olaf came, but you are not the one who held the knife on Nathaniel." His soft, relentless voice made me want to curl up and die, but he wouldn't stop. "Only he did that, and now that he is dead and beyond your reach, you seek another target for that fury. You cannot have Tony, and you cannot fix that rage on anyone else, so you turn it inward."
"Please stop," I said, my voice thick and quiet.
"Be mad at him, Anita, not yourself." He stood. "Only he is to blame, and now he is dead and cannot hurt you anymore. You are not the guilty one in this."
I closed my eyes. Olaf was dead, and the man who helped him was going to pay for what he did, but that wouldn't make Nathaniel better. I reached out blindly and grabbed onto Jean-Claude's shirt, feeling the thin cotton bunch beneath my fingers. "There has to be something else I could have done," I whispered.
Jean-Claude gently drew me up into a standing position. "There are some things you cannot control, ma petite," he said, moving my right hand to support my left arm. "It is a hard lesson to learn, but it is true."
"When did you learn it?" I asked, anger slipping a bit at the strange tone in his voice.
Jean-Claude smoothed some hair back from my face, a compulsive gesture that wasn't like him. Finally, he said, not able to mask the centuries-old pain, "After Julianna died, ma petite, and Asher almost so, I realized that there are some things that no amount of planning or control can prevent."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "This is fun!" she exclaimed, a wide grin on her face.
Harry found himself grinning down at her. "Sure is," he agreed.
Luna frowned. "I can't get it to fit."
"Try a different angle," Ginny suggested. "Quit shoving it."
"It's too big," Luna said.
Harry smothered a snort. "Here, let me give you a hand," he said, going around her. He put one hand on her wrist and the other on her shoulder. "Like this," he whispered, and moved her hand for her.
As Luna whispered the incantation, the hovering tea kettle dissolved into a tea-kettle-shaped cloud of mist, and painstakingly swooped through the small hoop in the centre of the Room of Requirement before reforming on the other side.
Ginny whooped, clapping her hands. "See? Perfect!" she crowed.
Luna glanced over her shoulder at Harry, a shy smile on her face. "Thanks for your help," she said.
Harry's heart flip-flopped in his chest. "It's easier if you can feel the magic, you know, sharing it," he stuttered, feeling himself blush a little.
Luna nodded and moved away, over to the collection of objects floating by the hoop. Harry shook his head and went over to the textbook by the wall, trying to get his bearings. What's with me? he wondered. All she does is smile at me and everything starts feeling all weird!
Harry flipped the page on the book, moving to the next part of the spell. He read the instructions a few times, then turned around to head back to the floor and almost jumped out of his skin. Ginny was standing there, watching him with a faintly amused expression.
"Yeah?" he said when his heart moved out of his throat.
"Next part of the spell?" she asked. "Why don't you show Luna first?"
"Okay," he said, frowning slightly. "Why?"
Ginny shrugged. "She gets things faster when you show her," she said, looking over to where the blonde girl was rearranging the work floor. "She looks good with her hair up, doesn't she?"
Harry blinked. Had he missed part of this conversation? "Yeah, I suppose," he said.
The object of their attention came over then. "Are we going to try the next part?" Luna asked.
"Yes," Ginny said before Harry could reply. "You two go first."
Luna gave Ginny a look that wasn't entirely friendly as Harry headed back to the floor, but she moved to stand by Harry's side without a word.
"Are you doing all right?" Harry said under his breath. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."
"No," Luna said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I can do this."
Feeling once again as if he was missing something, Harry raised his wand and demonstrated how to make the kettle dissolve into mist, float through a tiny hole, and reform as an oil lamp on the other side. "Get it?"
Luna nodded. She raised her wand and tried to repeat the spell, but she couldn't manage to get her object to dissolve.
Harry watched as she tried again, and then again. Her hand movement was perfect, her pronunciation correct. He didn't understand why she wasn't getting the spell. From what Ginny said, Luna was normally perfect at Transfiguration..
"Here," Harry said as Luna's fourth attempt failed. "Can I show you again?"
Luna hesitated before saying, "I suppose."
Harry stood behind her, feeling the brush of her shoulders against his chest as he held out his arm. "Put your hand on mine," he said, waiting as Luna slid her warm fingers over his hand, her finger reaching out along his wand in an echo of his stance. "Here we go."
Harry slowly moved his hand into the spell, pushing his magic out along his wand, feeling his body tingle wherever Luna was touching him as the spell spilled out his wand and toward the kettle. Once the object had formed on the other side of the hoop, Harry lowered his wand, but Luna didn't take her hand off his wrist.
"That was pretty cool," he said, hoping his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt. Doing that spell with Luna touching him had felt good, more than regular magic.
Luna twisted around, her shoulder pressing against his arm as she looked up at him. Harry tried to think of something to say, but looking into Luna's wide blue eyes, all coherent thought deserted him. She felt and smelled so good, it was all Harry could do to not lower his head and kiss her.
Suddenly, Luna went up on her toes and pressed her lips to Harry's. Harry instinctively wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her against him as he kissed her back. The kiss was awkward and electric and amazing and terrifying, all rolled into one, and Harry never wanted it to stop.
Just as quickly as she had begun, Luna pulled back, and Harry had to make himself let her go. He blinked, still a little stunned.
Luna pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes huge, then turned and ran out of the room.
"Wait!" Harry called after her. Ginny was already halfway to the door.
"I'll go after her," she said, no trace of anger on her face. Instead, for reasons Harry didn't understand, she looked guilty. "Just..." She stopped trying to talk and ran after Luna.
Harry stood stock still in the centre of the room, confused beyond belief. What had just happened? Luna kissed him, but why?
Mechanically, Harry put things back in order, as he replayed the last few minutes in his head. Everything had just fallen into place, the spell, touching Luna, even the kiss. Everything felt so right.
Luna! Harry thought. He'd never thought of kissing her before, not really. Certainly not that evening. Not with Ginny standing right there.
Harry's stomach dropped. Ginny has been standing there, watching the whole thing. Ginny, who he had entertained thoughts of kissing. I'm the world's biggest moron! he thought. There was no way Ginny would be interested in him now, after he'd let Luna kiss him like that.
In spite of all that, Harry couldn't feel sorry about kissing Luna. Her lips has been so soft, and she'd felt so tiny in his arms.
Frustrated at himself and everything else, Harry stomped over to retrieve the spell book from the side of the room before leaving in a huff. How do things get so messed up? he wondered as he stalked down the hall. If I'd been in the library with Hermione and Ron, none of this would have happened.
Harry made it all the way down to the main level of the school and out into the dark courtyard before he came to a halt. He rested his head against the wall. I'm not sorry Luna kissed me.
But why did she do it? Harry was puzzled. The last time they talked about such things, Luna had indicated that she liked Ginny.
Well, Nathaniel's done that, kiss boys and girls and stuff, too, he reasoned. There's nothing wrong with that.
Thinking about Nathaniel drove away a large part of Harry's confusion, replacing it with unease. I wonder how he's doing? Harry thought. It was Wednesday, two days since Nathaniel and Anita had been hurt.
It was so frustrating, being so far away and not being able to call them! Harry toyed with the idea of owling Tonks's dad, but quickly decided against it. Nathaniel and Anita were personal, not something to be discussed through a man Harry had never met.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nathaniel and Anita would be fine. They had so many people there supporting them, like Damian and Richard and Jean-Claude and Micah. Olaf was dead, and they weren't in any more danger. They had to be fine. Jason wouldn't lie to him.
After a while, the growing chill drove Harry back inside. He slowly made his way up to the Gryffindor common room. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he got there, but it was almost curfew. The last thing he needed, after getting in trouble for hitting Malfoy the day before, was more detention.
"Harry?"
Ginny's voice froze Harry in his tracks. He slowly turned around. "Um, hi."
Ginny had her arms crossed over her chest, but far from being angry, she looked embarrassed. "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?" she asked.
"Now?" Harry asked.
"Now." She waited until Harry nodded before leading him toward an empty alcove. Once there, she leaned awkwardly against the wall, while Harry dropped his bag to the ground and sat on the window seat.
"How's Luna?" Harry asked after the silence grew painful.
"She's fine," Ginny said quickly. "She-- I mean, what happened was all my fault."
Harry's eyebrows went up. "In what way?" he demanded.
Ginny set her jaw and met his incredulous gaze. "We'd been talking, about you, and I said if she wanted to kiss you, maybe she should."
Harry blinked, speechless.
"It wasn't bad, right?" Ginny said defensively. "You seemed to like it, and she was freaking out because she never kissed a boy before and--"
"Hold it," Harry ordered, standing up. "You told Luna she should kiss me?"
"She told me she liked you!" Ginny said, putting her hands on her hips. "And you're the one who asked her to Hogsmeade!"
"As a friend!" Harry protested. "Why are you pushing her?"
"You weren't pushing her away, were you?" Ginny said, her eyes flashing.
"I never said I didn't like Luna," Harry protested. "I just think that you're the last person who should be pushing Luna into things!"
"Is that a fact?"
"Yeah, that's a fact," Harry said angrily. "You're supposed to be her friend, not making her kiss boys she doesn't want to!"
"She wanted to!" Ginny said loudly. "She started this whole thing by saying she knew how curious I was about how good a kisser you are, and it went from there!"
Harry's lips were already forming a retort when the meaning of her words struck him, and he said something that sounded a bit like "Urgh?"
Ginny's eyes went huge, as if she's only just realized what she said. She took a step back, waving her hands in front of her. "Forget I said that," she ordered weakly. "Just forget it."
"No, I won't forget it," Harry said. His insides were twisting up, and not in a bad way. "You told Luna you wondered if I was a good kisser?"
Ginny looked mutinous for a moment, before saying, "Yes," as stiffly as possible.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you ever think of maybe just asking me how good a kisser I was?"
"No!" Ginny exclaimed. "You know what? Forget we had this conversation." She tried to brush past Harry, but he gently caught her arm. She froze as if someone had petrified her, staring up at Harry.
"I've, um, wondered too," Harry said softly, staring down into Ginny's startled eyes. "You know, about how good a kisser I am."
Ginny smiled before she could stop herself. "This is supposed to be horribly embarrassing," she murmured.
"It is horribly embarrassing," Harry said, smiling wryly. "I'm doing this all wrong and I have no idea what to do next."
"We could go back to the common room and never talk about this again," Ginny suggested.
"We could," Harry agreed, seeing the disappointment in Ginny's face. "But then you'd never get your answer."
"To what?"
"To if I'm a good kisser."
Ginny tried to hide a smile, then broke into a grin. "Luna said you're not bad."
Harry's ego jumped at that. "Good." His smile faded. "Look, about Luna..."
"She's my friend," Ginny said quickly.
"She's my friend too," Harry said. He supposed this was the place to say he wasn't going to kiss Luna again, but he couldn't make himself sat those words out loud.
"Good," Ginny said. "So..."
"So."
Ginny looked at him hard, then said, "Oh, hell," before putting her hands around Harry's neck and pulling him down.
She was a much more active kisser than anyone else Harry had kissed, he thought dizzily. Hands were moving, lips and...
Oh god, was that her tongue?
~*~
By some miracle, Harry and Ginny made it back to the common room before Ron and Hermione. Still breathless and grinning, Ginny gave Harry's hand a squeeze before vanishing up to her dorm.
Harry collapsed onto the couch in front of the fire, oblivious to the chaos around him. I kissed Ginny. And Luna. I kissed Ginny and Luna. And both of them know. And neither one thinks that's wrong.
Anita kisses more than one guy and everyone's okay with that.
I wonder if they'd let me kiss them both at the same time.
I'm doomed.
...to be continued
vivnow, thanks so much! I really appreciate it :)Now:
Inevitable Sixty-Three: Chaos Theory
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter. Only the story is my own.
Note: This chapter is all over the place. Why is it all in one chapter? Because having three tiny chapters isn't the plan. More cohesiveness next time. Promise.
thekams, whip out your G/H/L OT3 icon for this one. A little over 7,400 words. Previous parts here.
"When is your detention?" Ron asked.
Harry lay on his back and stared up at the deep blue sky. "Tomorrow night, with McGonagall."
Hermione laid her potions text down on the grass and stretched out next to Harry. "It could have been worse," she said sympathetically.
Harry pulled a blade of grass out of the ground and slowly dismantled it. "I guess."
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Want to tell us what Malfoy said that had you in such a knot?" Ron asked.
"No."
Hermione gave it a try. "Does it have anything to do with what happened in your dream on Monday?"
Harry pulled off his glasses and tossed them on his bag. "Look, I appreciate you guys coming out here to talk to me and all that, but we all know that you're only doing it out of some obligation of friendship, so feel free to leave."
"Another thing we all know is that you're an idiot," Ron said genially. Hermione let out a groan.
Harry flipped over, glaring at Ron while the red-head rooted around in his book bag. "Were we in different places yesterday? I punched Malfoy, and threatened Hermione!"
Ron pulled an apple out of his bag and dusted it off. "You hit Malfoy, anyway."
"Ron!" Harry shouted. He didn't want to be talking about this with them. The fact that he'd been thinking such violent thoughts, and Hermione had been in the middle of that... Shame didn't quite cover what Harry was feeling.
"What?" Ron looked at him, suddenly very serious. "You were, what, about five seconds from losing it when Hermione grabbed your arm? You still kept it all in, right? You didn't hurt her."
Harry sat up, hugging his legs to his chest. "You don't understand!"
"Yeah, I do." Ron took a huge bite of his apple and spoke through his mouthful. "Charlie used to get like that sometimes. He and Bill would be fighting when Charlie'd get a bit too angry, y'know?" He swallowed. "Charlie just had to walk away, go hit something else besides Bill. Used to freak Mum right out, we could even see it back then."
"I didn't know that," Hermione said, her wide eyes on Ron.
Ron shrugged. "You have five brothers, these kinds of things come up. Charlie's got a temper, but he's got a good handle on it. Like Harry." Ron pointed at Harry with his apple core. "Is this a new thing or something to do with-- you know." Ron made a face and curled his hands into claws, in what Harry supposed was an imitation of a werewolf.
Harry stared. "Why are you doing this?"
Ron lowered his hands. "Because something's wrong."
"Something big," Hermione added before Harry could interrupt. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to, Harry, but if you want to, you can," she finished lamely.
"You wouldn't understand," Harry said, slumping back down to the ground. He looked up at the fluffy clouds in the sky, moving slowly toward the horizon.
"Do we have to understand?" Hermione asked tentatively.
Harry closed his eyes, trying to push the memory of Nathaniel's body out of his head, and shook his head.
"We won't push you, if you don't want to tell us," Hermione went on. "Just, if you want to, you can tell us."
"Hermione, leave him be," Ron said, nudging her. "You talk enough for all three of us sometimes."
She whipped her head around and glared at Ron. Without her attention focused on him, Harry could breathe easier. Would it hurt to tell them? He'd thought they didn't need to hear it, all that horrible stuff Olaf did, but how long would he last if he kept it all bottled up inside? He'd already hit Malfoy. What would be the next thing to set him off?
"You know..." Harry said slowly, picking restlessly at the grass with one hand, "Anyway, just don't tell anyone, okay?"
Hermione nodded, while Ron said, "Sure."
Harry took a deep breath, watching the quiet clouds. "So, once upon a time, there was a serial killer named Olaf," he began bluntly. "He liked to rape and torture women, then he killed them and dismembered their--"
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, pushing herself back. "What are you doing?"
Harry closed his eyes. "You wanted to hear what's bothering me, from my dream, right?" He opened his eyes and looked over at her. It took him a moment, but it finally registered how horrified Hermione was. "Shit, Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, sitting up. "I didn't mean--"
Hermione waved him into silence. "No, it's just..." She buried her face in her hands as Ron moved to put a hand on her back. "Is this really part of it?"
Harry nodded. "If you don't want the details, I guess I can tell it different."
"No," she said, setting her jaw. "You tell it your way."
Harry flicked his gaze to Ron, who was looking a little lost and more than a bit worried. "You tell me if you need me to stop," he said. Hermione nodded. It took Harry a moment to remember where he was in the story. "So, um... Yeah. Olaf." Even saying that name lit the fury in Harry's head, and he had to stop and concentrate for a moment. Dead, he's dead and the dead can't hurt anyone.
"Olaf. He met Anita in New Mexico a couple of years ago, it's in the southern part of the States. There was this vampire that was controlling a Quetzalcoatl dragon and a bunch of crazy vamps and stuff, they were killing people and skinning some of them, and others the dragon ripped apart."
Even Ron was looking a little queasy now.
I don't even remember Anita telling me this stuff, but she had to, right? Harry thought frantically. I know all this detail about Olaf and I can't remember why!
Hoping he was doing the right thing, Harry plunged onward.
"So Edward, that's Anita's friend, he called Anita down to figure out what it was doing all this, and Olaf was there too. But Anita didn't find out until after she got down there that Olaf's victims had all been..." Harry paused, searching his memory for the phrase. "Like muggle China dolls, pale skin and long dark hair and tiny. Exactly like Anita. She's even shorter than Hermione."
"Did... did something happen in New Mexico?" Hermione asked, voice rather shaky.
Harry shook his head. "Not really. Just Olaf left Anita a note, saying he thought she should be like his little psychotic girlfriend, and then he vanished. Edward called Anita in the middle of last month, told her that Olaf had gone off radar and he might be coming for her. No one heard anything for a while, but then--" Harry's voice broke, feeling the panic and terror from his dream all over again. "He was at home, waiting for her, one morning."
Ron uttered a curse he must have heard from Charlie. "Didn't they do anything for protection?"
"They had bodyguards," Harry said. "But Tony, the bodyguard from that morning, he took off early." Harry looked down at his hands, wishing his memory wasn't so good. "Olaf was there early, he'd gotten to Nathaniel first."
"Nathaniel, that's Anita's friend?" Ron asked.
"Boyfriend," Harry corrected softly. "He was home alone, and Olaf--" He swallowed against the rise of bile in his throat. "Nathaniel didn't even look human anymore!"
"Is he dead?" Hermione whispered.
Harry shook his head. "He's a wereleopard, they made him transform and it put everything back in the right place. Jason told me he wasn't going to die, but there was blood everywhere!" He dug his fingers into his hair, wishing he could break something. "Olaf nailed Anita to the floor, right through her hands," he continued, tonelessly. "He'd stabbed her in the chest once, and he was going to do it again, when I--" Harry held out his right hand, where the scab was stubbornly refusing to heal. "I don't know how, but I grabbed Anita's hand and this happened and we used magic together and stopped Olaf!"
"How?" Hermione said, hands over her mouth. "That's impossible!"
"I know!" Harry exclaimed. "But it still happened!"
"Did you kill him?" Ron asked grimly. "Olaf?"
Harry shook his head as Hermione slowly reached out and took his hand, tracing the wound with a finger. "Edward came barging in with a shotgun and blew Olaf's head up," Harry said. "He just kept shooting Olaf's body even after he was dead."
"What happened then?"
"Ron woke me," Harry said, drawing his hand back.
"I thought it was just another nightmare," Ron said. "You know how you have those, sometimes."
Harry nodded, feeling as exhausted as if he'd just run a dozen miles. "But it was real," he whispered, clenching his fist and wincing as the scab tore and hot blood trickled over his palm. "It was as real as if I'd been standing there."
"But how could it be real?" Hermione asked, still a little horrified, but her usual curious tone coming back. "You've never done that before! You've been Nagini attacking Mr. Weasley--"
"Arthur."
Both Hermione and Harry twisted around to look at Ron. "What?" Hermione asked.
Ron looked a bit startled himself. "Sorry. Dad wants you to call him Arthur, like you call Mum Molly... and I guess that's not important," he mumbled. "Sorry."
Hermione shifted around and leaned against Ron. "It's okay."
"But this dream wasn't like the other dreams at all," Harry continued. "I wasn't Anita in this dream."
"What?" Hermione said, latching onto his statement. "You've had other dreams with Anita? What kind of dreams?"
The openness and innocent curiosity in her face made Harry want to sink into the ground. "I dreamed of her doing things, is all," he said, managing to not stumble over the words. "Like, real things she was doing while she was awake, not dreaming."
"When did this start?" Hermione pressed.
"After I got to Hogwarts... No, wait," Harry said, frowning. "It started in St. Louis."
"But why?" Hermione bit her lower lip as she thought. "What would have caused that?"
"Maybe because his grandfather was a vampire?" Ron suggested.
"No, that can't be it," Hermione said dismissively. "If it was, why didn't it start before now?"
"I haven't been able to think about why it was happening!" Harry said. "It's sort of like Voldemort's dreams, but not, really."
Hermione sat up so quickly that she almost hit Ron's nose with the back of her head. "Oh! OH! Those only started after he got his power back, after you two met!"
"So?" Ron said. "Are you saying these dreams are happening because Harry met Anita?"
"Was there some kind of power transfer between you two?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Like when Voldemort was in Quirrell's body and he touched you and he burned up?"
"That wasn't a power transfer!" Harry protested.
"You know what I mean!" Hermione said. "Was there anything in St. Louis? Did you and Anita do a spell? Anything magical?"
"No. We didn't. Anita's not a witch, not really, she's--" An idea hit Harry out of nowhere, and his jaw dropped. "The Crucio eternum curse!"
"What about it?"
"I told you I lifted it off Anita, remember?" Harry said, heart pounding. "Dumbledore told us there's no way to lift it, but I did! Bellatrix was gone and Richard was there and Anita was dying, she couldn't even scream anymore, and it was just like, I knew I had to do something! It wasn't a spell, really, just... It just happened, it just lifted."
"It just happened?" Ron repeated. "Harry, that doesn't make any sense!"
"It makes as much sense as me dreaming and being halfway across the world to get this!" Harry said, waving his right hand in Ron's face. "I know it's mental!"
"Nevertheless, it happened," Hermione declared. "I'll have to go to the library after class to find any references on magical dream transportation, I can't recall anything off the top of my head."
From across the lawn came the ringing of the bell, to signal the start of class. Hermione leapt to her feet and grabbed her book bag.
"I'll see you two after class in the library!" she ordered.
"Is that all?" Ron demanded.
Hermione hesitated a second, then flung herself back at him. She squeezed him and kissed him on the cheek, then untangled herself and ran toward the castle.
Harry was left staring at her. "That was... enthusiastic," he said.
"She hates being late for class," Ron said with a bit of a smirk on his face. Then the smirk faded into worry. "At least she's not dwelling on that stuff you said."
Harry slowly got to his feet. "I told her I'd stop talking about it," he said, uncomfortable.
"Like that'd stop her," Ron said. "Not blaming you." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. "I just wish I could keep that kind of stuff away from her, you know?"
Harry shook his head. "Don't let her catch you saying that," he cautioned as they turned toward Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. "She'll turn you into a slug."
"I know." Ron scuffed his shoe on the lawn. "But it doesn't mean I can't want it. Anyway, library time tonight means no more frustration with the bloody Animagus thing. I wish I knew how you did it, it's driving Hermione crazy."
"I told you, I got attacked by a werewolf, and didn't change the whole way," Harry reminded Ron. "Not my fault it worked it like this."
"Not to hear Hermione tell it," Ron said darkly. "She's convinced there's a trick she can duplicate."
"If anyone can figure it out, Hermione can," Harry said. He slowed. "Look, Ron..."
"What?"
Harry steeled himself. "You were right, about me telling someone... Thanks," he muttered to the ground.
Ron shrugged. "And, um, sorry I didn't believe you, with McGonagall."
"It's okay," Harry said. "Looks like almost everyone's to class, we don't want to be late."
"Even Hagrid's not here yet," Ron pointed out as they spend up. "So, about those dreams?"
"What about them?" Harry asked, distracted, as he checked his bag for the treat he'd brought for Fang.
"From Anita's point of view?"
Harry almost stumbled. "Yes," he stuttered, wishing desperately that he'd left that part out.
"While she was doing things while awake?"
Harry pressed his lips together and refused to answer.
"What kinds of things? Necromancer things? Making dinner?"
"Oh, look, it's Hagrid!" Harry said loudly. "We'd better hurry."
"No way!" Ron exclaimed, rushing after Harry. "Not that!"
"We are never going to talk about this," Harry said, face heating up as he remembered the vividness of those dreams of Anita having sex with Nathaniel, and later the vampires. "Ever!"
Ron started laughing.
A tap on the door made me look up from my book. "What?" I said crossly.
"It's Jason," came the muddled reply through the wooden door.
"Fine," I said, closing the book and sitting up on the bed. "Come in."
Jason slipped into the stone room. I could feel the nervous energy radiating off him. "You gotta come," he said breathlessly.
"Go where?" I asked, standing. Nathaniel didn't move from the chair across the room, where he'd been sitting since before I woke up.
"To the living room," Jason said. "Rafael's there, and Jean-Claude and Edward and everyone!"
"Calm down!" I told Jason, even as I grabbed the gun on the bedside and shoved it into my shoulder holster. "Is there a problem?"
Jason gulped down some air. "They found Tony."
At the name of the bodyguard who had abandoned me to Olaf, I froze. When the rush of remembered panic eased up enough for me to speak, I demanded, "Why the fuck are they leaving me out of this?"
"They're not," Jason said. "Jean-Claude sent me to get you."
I looked over at Nathaniel, who still hadn't moved. "Micah's not back yet from the house," I said, torn between finding out what the hell was going on, and not leaving Nathaniel alone.
Jason waved his hand. "I'll stay here with Nathaniel," he said.
"Okay," I said, already moving toward the door. "I'll be back soon," I called over my shoulder. Nathaniel didn't acknowledge me.
I ran through the stone corridors of Jean-Claude's lair under the Circus of the Damned toward the main room. My mind wasn't letting me plan ahead with what I was going to do when I got there, it just kept circling: they'd found Tony.
I pushed my way through the drapes that served as a door, my bandaged left hand sending sharp pains up my arm as I hit the rock wall in my haste. "Where is he?" I demanded as soon as I was in the room.
The six people present all turned to look at me. Jean-Claude and Richard stood off to one side, facing off with Rafael. Edward was leaning against the couch, while a vaguely familiar man and woman were apparently the center of attention. "Ma petite, thank you for joining us," Jean-Claude said smoothly.
"Where is he?" I said again. "Jason said you guys found Tony?" My eyes turned to Edward.
"Don't look at me," Edward said, his voice pleasantly blank, but not enough to hide the irritation.
I looked at Rafael, then at Jean-Claude. "What's going on?"
Jean-Claude nodded at the two other people in the room. "They tracked Tony down."
I blinked at them. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask who exactly they were, when I remembered where I'd seen them before. They were Chirstoff's people, the two wererats sent to us from London as part of the deal between Christoff and Jean-Claude. What the hell were their names?
"How?" I said, inching closer to Jean-Claude and Richard. I made myself stop halfway across the room. I would not cling to anyone, not now. I needed to stand on my own. "How did they find him when Edward and Rafael couldn't?"
"A very good question," Edward said, turning his pleasant face with that dead stare in their direction.
The woman met Edward's gaze with eyes so still that I had to repress a shiver. "He knew where you would look," she said, a faint hint of a German accent overlying her British tones. "Rafael and the Rodere of this city; he knew their patterns. How long had he been your man?"
"That explains why Rafael couldn't find him, but not Edward," I said.
"But would not Olaf know Edward's methods?" the man asked. His accent was pure Irish.
"Didn't you ask him?" I demanded, voice a little shrill. Richard crossed the room and touched my arm. The contact made me feel stronger, better, and I let him stroke my arm. "You found him, right?"
The woman raised her eyebrow. "We did not set out to question him, only to return him to his King to face his betrayal. For money." The disgust was plain on her face.
"And return with him they did," Rafael said. I knew him well enough to know he was angry. "But somehow, I cannot bring myself to believe them when they say they just 'found' him."
"Wait, why did they go after him in the first place?" I asked.
"An excellent question, ma petite," Jean-Claude said silkily, his blank mask in place on his face. That was the face he wore to hide so many emotions; his Master of the City face.
The man and woman exchanged looks. "We did not locate him without assistance," the man admitted.
"Then how did you find him?" Rafael growled. "I let you in this city only upon Jean-Claude's assurances!"
"We received a message from our Master's servant, telling us where to look for this Judas," the man said.
"Elsa?" I exclaimed. "How the fuck did she know about this?"
The man took a step toward me, and Rafael was suddenly in his face. The level of lycanthropic energy spiked, and Richard's hand tightened on my arm, keeping me in place.
"Stop!" Jean-Claude commanded, his power sweeping through the room. Everyone froze. "Liam, Caroline, my patience is not boundless, and the recent assault on my servant has stretched that patience thin!"
The man, Liam, pressed his narrow lips together. "We have done nothing but assist you, and you threaten us as if we engineered this whole thing!" he exclaimed.
Caroline looked directly at me. "We were sent in the spirit of our Masters' agreement, to assist you in any way possible," she said. "We were instructed by our Master's servant how to find the man who betrayed you, and your wereleopard servant. Will you hear us out?"
I looked into her grey eyes. "Tell me how Elsa knew about this," I said. "Then I'll decide if we hear you out."
Liam shook his head. "The boy, Harry, called her," he said. "Right soon after it happened, before ever we heard about it from Rafael."
"Elsa's magic is strong," Carline said, her voice bordering on reverence. "She has many centuries of experience with those of our kind. After we learned that this Tony was missing, she told us where to find all the wererats in the city."
"There are over two hundred Rodere," Rafael said.
"It took some time," Liam snapped.
I looked up at Richard. He was watching the two wererats with a wary face, not an expression I often saw on his face.
"Why would Harry call Elsa?" I murmured to him. He shook his head.
"Ma petite, what are you thinking?" Jean-Claude asked in my head.
"It doesn't make any sense for Christoff to have engineered this whole thing," I told him, widening the marks so Richard could hear us. "Why would he go through all this trouble to hurt us? Wouldn't the Council have take issue with this?"
"What if he thought no one would figure it out?" Richard asked.
"Christoff is not so simple as that," Jean-Claude replied. "If he had given his word to protect Harry and Anita while they were in his territory, then actively worked to have them assassinated while they were outside his lands.... it is stretching his word too thin. There are those who would see that as a betrayal of his promise."
"Elsa was always going on about how Chirstoff kept his word," I pointed out. "And I can't see Olaf working with a bunch of British vamps and lycanthropes. He doesn't play well with others."
"He's dead," Richard reminded me, and put his arms around me. "He can't hurt you any more."
I looked down to see that I was squeezing his arm, and quickly let go. I rubbed my sweaty palm on my jeans, hoping that no one else could see the tiny trembles. "Where is Tony now?" I asked Rafael. "What are you going to do with him?"
Rafael gave Liam one last glare, then turned around to face me. "I can't tell you that."
I felt my face go cold. "Why not?" I demanded, stepping away from Richard. I tried to cross my arms across my chest, but my left hand was hurting too much, and I had to settle on resting my right hand on my hip.
"You don't need to know," Rafael said.
Something stirred within me. Not my beast, but anger from a cold and dark place I held inside my body. I felt a brush of wind that couldn't possibly exist so far underground, that curled around me like invisible fingers. My necromancy twisted around my body, connecting me to the unhappy earth. "Why not?" I demanded softly.
Rafael, who had faced down monsters without blinking an eye, paled. "He's not going to get away with this," he said, holding his ground. "But you don't need to know where he is. The Rodere takes care of its own, including when they betray us."
I walked across the room, dropping my hand to my side, until I was close enough to Rafael to kiss him. "Did you see what Olaf did to Nathaniel?" I whispered, fighting the urge to touch Rafael. Touching anyone right now would be bad. Very bad. "Did you see his hand in that box? How Olaf ripped him apart, on the floor of the one place he was supposed to be safe?"
"Anita, I cannot tell you where Tony is," Rafael said.
I stared at him for a long moment, then I made myself back away, my cold power almost choking me. Glancing around, I saw the fear on Caroline and Liam's faces, the curiosity on Edward's features.
Dimly, I realized that I had to get away from everyone, now, before something happened. I walked toward the doorway in the curtains, ignoring Richard's call, ignoring everything but the ground in front of me. Step after step, until carpet gave way to stone, until light gave way to shadows, until I didn't know where I was.
The stone walls pressed in around me, shadows dancing, called to the anger within me. I stood in the middle of that corridor, fury at Rafael changing, twisting, into something much more ugly.
It was my fault this happened to Nathaniel. I'd gone into that house, not planning, not thinking, just reacting. It had very nearly gotten Nathaniel killed, me killed, Jean-Claude and Richard and Damian killed. I'd almost killed everyone I loved.
My fault.
I whirled and slammed my bandaged left hand against the stone wall, feeling the shattered bone give in a white-hot explosion of pain that drove my necromancy back, leaving only anger and self-loathing in its place.
My fault.
Before I could hit the wall again, I was grabbed from behind and dragged back.
"Anita, stop it!" Jean-Claude ordered, wrapping his arms around me. I struggled silently, tried to get away, but his grip was like cold steel. "Stop this!"
We collapsed to the ground, him holding me against his body. My breathing was ragged, but I wasn't crying. I had no fucking right to cry.
As soon as I stopped struggling, Jean-Claude let go of me, and I slumped against his body. He picked up my left hand and slowly began to undo the bandages. The pain in my hand was nauseating, but I didn't make a sound.
"I left Richard with Rafael and Edward," Jean-Claude said as he unwrapped the final layer around my hand. The skin had healed since yesterday, but the bone was sticking up in an unnatural way behind my bleeding knuckles. "You will need to see a doctor again, ma petite."
I stared at my hand, not able to think.
"Rafael will deal with Tony. He will not escape again," Jean-Claude continued, picking me up effortlessly in his arms. "I will take you to your rooms, and I will have Richard take you to the hospital."
"No," I murmured. "Not Richard."
Jean-Claude walked silently down the halls for a few minutes. He stopped by a large outcropping of stone that no one had bothered to get rid of, and sat me down. Once I was settled, Jean-Claude knelt in front of me. "Ma petite, look at me," he said. Gentle fingers lifted my chin, until I was staring directly into his midnight-blue eyes. "Why did you do this?"
I jerked my head away and stared down the corridor. "Maybe it's all a little much to handle, okay?" I snapped.
"This was not your doing," Jean-Claude said. "Olaf coming to this city was not your fault."
"I let myself get taken down!" I exclaimed. "I got stupid and I--"
"No," Jean-Claude interrupted forcefully. "Not stupid. You realized that Nathaniel had been hurt and you reacted."
"And almost got him killed!" I stared down at my broken hand. Red-purple bruises were starting to form under the skin. "The only reason Nathaniel got hurt was because of me. God, every time he gets hurt, it's because of me! Now he's sitting in that room, refusing to look at me, pretending like I'm not even there, because I let that happen to him!"
Jean-Claude went up on his knees, pressing the front of his body against my legs. He slid his hands around my waist, holding me tight. "Do you love him?" he asked.
The question startled me. "What?"
"Do you love Nathaniel?" Jean-Claude cupped my cheek with one hand. "In spite of all that occurred, do you love him?"
I pushed his arm away with my right hand. "What good is love when all it does is get you hurt?" I demanded. "So what if I love Nathaniel?"
"Love means you keep fighting," Jean-Claude said. "You need to keep fighting, ma petite. I need you to keep fighting."
I looked back down at my hands.
"This was not your fault."
"Yes, it was," I said before I thought.
Jean-Claude ran his fingers over my good hand. "You were the reason Olaf came, but you are not the one who held the knife on Nathaniel." His soft, relentless voice made me want to curl up and die, but he wouldn't stop. "Only he did that, and now that he is dead and beyond your reach, you seek another target for that fury. You cannot have Tony, and you cannot fix that rage on anyone else, so you turn it inward."
"Please stop," I said, my voice thick and quiet.
"Be mad at him, Anita, not yourself." He stood. "Only he is to blame, and now he is dead and cannot hurt you anymore. You are not the guilty one in this."
I closed my eyes. Olaf was dead, and the man who helped him was going to pay for what he did, but that wouldn't make Nathaniel better. I reached out blindly and grabbed onto Jean-Claude's shirt, feeling the thin cotton bunch beneath my fingers. "There has to be something else I could have done," I whispered.
Jean-Claude gently drew me up into a standing position. "There are some things you cannot control, ma petite," he said, moving my right hand to support my left arm. "It is a hard lesson to learn, but it is true."
"When did you learn it?" I asked, anger slipping a bit at the strange tone in his voice.
Jean-Claude smoothed some hair back from my face, a compulsive gesture that wasn't like him. Finally, he said, not able to mask the centuries-old pain, "After Julianna died, ma petite, and Asher almost so, I realized that there are some things that no amount of planning or control can prevent."
Ginny blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "This is fun!" she exclaimed, a wide grin on her face.
Harry found himself grinning down at her. "Sure is," he agreed.
Luna frowned. "I can't get it to fit."
"Try a different angle," Ginny suggested. "Quit shoving it."
"It's too big," Luna said.
Harry smothered a snort. "Here, let me give you a hand," he said, going around her. He put one hand on her wrist and the other on her shoulder. "Like this," he whispered, and moved her hand for her.
As Luna whispered the incantation, the hovering tea kettle dissolved into a tea-kettle-shaped cloud of mist, and painstakingly swooped through the small hoop in the centre of the Room of Requirement before reforming on the other side.
Ginny whooped, clapping her hands. "See? Perfect!" she crowed.
Luna glanced over her shoulder at Harry, a shy smile on her face. "Thanks for your help," she said.
Harry's heart flip-flopped in his chest. "It's easier if you can feel the magic, you know, sharing it," he stuttered, feeling himself blush a little.
Luna nodded and moved away, over to the collection of objects floating by the hoop. Harry shook his head and went over to the textbook by the wall, trying to get his bearings. What's with me? he wondered. All she does is smile at me and everything starts feeling all weird!
Harry flipped the page on the book, moving to the next part of the spell. He read the instructions a few times, then turned around to head back to the floor and almost jumped out of his skin. Ginny was standing there, watching him with a faintly amused expression.
"Yeah?" he said when his heart moved out of his throat.
"Next part of the spell?" she asked. "Why don't you show Luna first?"
"Okay," he said, frowning slightly. "Why?"
Ginny shrugged. "She gets things faster when you show her," she said, looking over to where the blonde girl was rearranging the work floor. "She looks good with her hair up, doesn't she?"
Harry blinked. Had he missed part of this conversation? "Yeah, I suppose," he said.
The object of their attention came over then. "Are we going to try the next part?" Luna asked.
"Yes," Ginny said before Harry could reply. "You two go first."
Luna gave Ginny a look that wasn't entirely friendly as Harry headed back to the floor, but she moved to stand by Harry's side without a word.
"Are you doing all right?" Harry said under his breath. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."
"No," Luna said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I can do this."
Feeling once again as if he was missing something, Harry raised his wand and demonstrated how to make the kettle dissolve into mist, float through a tiny hole, and reform as an oil lamp on the other side. "Get it?"
Luna nodded. She raised her wand and tried to repeat the spell, but she couldn't manage to get her object to dissolve.
Harry watched as she tried again, and then again. Her hand movement was perfect, her pronunciation correct. He didn't understand why she wasn't getting the spell. From what Ginny said, Luna was normally perfect at Transfiguration..
"Here," Harry said as Luna's fourth attempt failed. "Can I show you again?"
Luna hesitated before saying, "I suppose."
Harry stood behind her, feeling the brush of her shoulders against his chest as he held out his arm. "Put your hand on mine," he said, waiting as Luna slid her warm fingers over his hand, her finger reaching out along his wand in an echo of his stance. "Here we go."
Harry slowly moved his hand into the spell, pushing his magic out along his wand, feeling his body tingle wherever Luna was touching him as the spell spilled out his wand and toward the kettle. Once the object had formed on the other side of the hoop, Harry lowered his wand, but Luna didn't take her hand off his wrist.
"That was pretty cool," he said, hoping his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt. Doing that spell with Luna touching him had felt good, more than regular magic.
Luna twisted around, her shoulder pressing against his arm as she looked up at him. Harry tried to think of something to say, but looking into Luna's wide blue eyes, all coherent thought deserted him. She felt and smelled so good, it was all Harry could do to not lower his head and kiss her.
Suddenly, Luna went up on her toes and pressed her lips to Harry's. Harry instinctively wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her against him as he kissed her back. The kiss was awkward and electric and amazing and terrifying, all rolled into one, and Harry never wanted it to stop.
Just as quickly as she had begun, Luna pulled back, and Harry had to make himself let her go. He blinked, still a little stunned.
Luna pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes huge, then turned and ran out of the room.
"Wait!" Harry called after her. Ginny was already halfway to the door.
"I'll go after her," she said, no trace of anger on her face. Instead, for reasons Harry didn't understand, she looked guilty. "Just..." She stopped trying to talk and ran after Luna.
Harry stood stock still in the centre of the room, confused beyond belief. What had just happened? Luna kissed him, but why?
Mechanically, Harry put things back in order, as he replayed the last few minutes in his head. Everything had just fallen into place, the spell, touching Luna, even the kiss. Everything felt so right.
Luna! Harry thought. He'd never thought of kissing her before, not really. Certainly not that evening. Not with Ginny standing right there.
Harry's stomach dropped. Ginny has been standing there, watching the whole thing. Ginny, who he had entertained thoughts of kissing. I'm the world's biggest moron! he thought. There was no way Ginny would be interested in him now, after he'd let Luna kiss him like that.
In spite of all that, Harry couldn't feel sorry about kissing Luna. Her lips has been so soft, and she'd felt so tiny in his arms.
Frustrated at himself and everything else, Harry stomped over to retrieve the spell book from the side of the room before leaving in a huff. How do things get so messed up? he wondered as he stalked down the hall. If I'd been in the library with Hermione and Ron, none of this would have happened.
Harry made it all the way down to the main level of the school and out into the dark courtyard before he came to a halt. He rested his head against the wall. I'm not sorry Luna kissed me.
But why did she do it? Harry was puzzled. The last time they talked about such things, Luna had indicated that she liked Ginny.
Well, Nathaniel's done that, kiss boys and girls and stuff, too, he reasoned. There's nothing wrong with that.
Thinking about Nathaniel drove away a large part of Harry's confusion, replacing it with unease. I wonder how he's doing? Harry thought. It was Wednesday, two days since Nathaniel and Anita had been hurt.
It was so frustrating, being so far away and not being able to call them! Harry toyed with the idea of owling Tonks's dad, but quickly decided against it. Nathaniel and Anita were personal, not something to be discussed through a man Harry had never met.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nathaniel and Anita would be fine. They had so many people there supporting them, like Damian and Richard and Jean-Claude and Micah. Olaf was dead, and they weren't in any more danger. They had to be fine. Jason wouldn't lie to him.
After a while, the growing chill drove Harry back inside. He slowly made his way up to the Gryffindor common room. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he got there, but it was almost curfew. The last thing he needed, after getting in trouble for hitting Malfoy the day before, was more detention.
"Harry?"
Ginny's voice froze Harry in his tracks. He slowly turned around. "Um, hi."
Ginny had her arms crossed over her chest, but far from being angry, she looked embarrassed. "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?" she asked.
"Now?" Harry asked.
"Now." She waited until Harry nodded before leading him toward an empty alcove. Once there, she leaned awkwardly against the wall, while Harry dropped his bag to the ground and sat on the window seat.
"How's Luna?" Harry asked after the silence grew painful.
"She's fine," Ginny said quickly. "She-- I mean, what happened was all my fault."
Harry's eyebrows went up. "In what way?" he demanded.
Ginny set her jaw and met his incredulous gaze. "We'd been talking, about you, and I said if she wanted to kiss you, maybe she should."
Harry blinked, speechless.
"It wasn't bad, right?" Ginny said defensively. "You seemed to like it, and she was freaking out because she never kissed a boy before and--"
"Hold it," Harry ordered, standing up. "You told Luna she should kiss me?"
"She told me she liked you!" Ginny said, putting her hands on her hips. "And you're the one who asked her to Hogsmeade!"
"As a friend!" Harry protested. "Why are you pushing her?"
"You weren't pushing her away, were you?" Ginny said, her eyes flashing.
"I never said I didn't like Luna," Harry protested. "I just think that you're the last person who should be pushing Luna into things!"
"Is that a fact?"
"Yeah, that's a fact," Harry said angrily. "You're supposed to be her friend, not making her kiss boys she doesn't want to!"
"She wanted to!" Ginny said loudly. "She started this whole thing by saying she knew how curious I was about how good a kisser you are, and it went from there!"
Harry's lips were already forming a retort when the meaning of her words struck him, and he said something that sounded a bit like "Urgh?"
Ginny's eyes went huge, as if she's only just realized what she said. She took a step back, waving her hands in front of her. "Forget I said that," she ordered weakly. "Just forget it."
"No, I won't forget it," Harry said. His insides were twisting up, and not in a bad way. "You told Luna you wondered if I was a good kisser?"
Ginny looked mutinous for a moment, before saying, "Yes," as stiffly as possible.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you ever think of maybe just asking me how good a kisser I was?"
"No!" Ginny exclaimed. "You know what? Forget we had this conversation." She tried to brush past Harry, but he gently caught her arm. She froze as if someone had petrified her, staring up at Harry.
"I've, um, wondered too," Harry said softly, staring down into Ginny's startled eyes. "You know, about how good a kisser I am."
Ginny smiled before she could stop herself. "This is supposed to be horribly embarrassing," she murmured.
"It is horribly embarrassing," Harry said, smiling wryly. "I'm doing this all wrong and I have no idea what to do next."
"We could go back to the common room and never talk about this again," Ginny suggested.
"We could," Harry agreed, seeing the disappointment in Ginny's face. "But then you'd never get your answer."
"To what?"
"To if I'm a good kisser."
Ginny tried to hide a smile, then broke into a grin. "Luna said you're not bad."
Harry's ego jumped at that. "Good." His smile faded. "Look, about Luna..."
"She's my friend," Ginny said quickly.
"She's my friend too," Harry said. He supposed this was the place to say he wasn't going to kiss Luna again, but he couldn't make himself sat those words out loud.
"Good," Ginny said. "So..."
"So."
Ginny looked at him hard, then said, "Oh, hell," before putting her hands around Harry's neck and pulling him down.
She was a much more active kisser than anyone else Harry had kissed, he thought dizzily. Hands were moving, lips and...
Oh god, was that her tongue?
By some miracle, Harry and Ginny made it back to the common room before Ron and Hermione. Still breathless and grinning, Ginny gave Harry's hand a squeeze before vanishing up to her dorm.
Harry collapsed onto the couch in front of the fire, oblivious to the chaos around him. I kissed Ginny. And Luna. I kissed Ginny and Luna. And both of them know. And neither one thinks that's wrong.
Anita kisses more than one guy and everyone's okay with that.
I wonder if they'd let me kiss them both at the same time.
I'm doomed.
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Re: Therapy for Everyone
Date: 2006-04-09 06:41 am (UTC)This was a filler chapter, but things that all needed to happen. We get a little less all-over in the next chapter.
You seem to forsee the major angst in chapter 64 :)
I like writing Anita 1st person POV. It's interesting getting in the character's head that far, for the narration you can't get in 3rd person limited, as well as characterization.
Sadly, I cannot comment on your last query, but I promise that we'll know the answers to that in the next chapter. Cross my heart!
Re: Therapy for Everyone
Date: 2006-04-09 06:58 am (UTC)I can't help but realize that there is a "the" between "forsee" and "major". Maybe my "inner eye" is working overtime.
Well, since my answers have been promised in the next chapter I shall hold you to that.