Chapters 111-120

It Burns the Blood

‘Thank you for sharing your concerns with me,’ the Minister of Magic said and leant back in his wing-back chair. The gold hoop of his earring glinted. ‘Tea?’

‘Err…yes, thank you.’ Harry frowned.

‘Excellent.’ Shacklebolt smiled, teeth gleaming whitely in his dark face. His smile was slow and calm, as if Harry’s presentation of possible problems meant nothing to him. The Minister flicked his wand, and soon they sat sipping their tea in silence.

At last Shacklebolt put down his cup. ‘Harry, that’s quite a list you’ve presented me with.’

The scroll had grown rather voluminous. However, Harry really didn’t like the proposed law, and he was not on the relevant committee. He’d done his best to get Arthur Weasley to raise all the relevant points, but he wasn’t sure if Arthur…

‘Harry. Trust me, we’ve been over the points you’re raised. And a fair few you missed. I assure you that all possible precautions will be taken.
‘As Auror-in-training you know that we tried Charmed necklaces. The Cruddace family had them. But the seconds it takes for the victims to put their wands to them equals the time it takes the perpetrators to orient themselves and aim their wands.
‘We assume that even with the tattoos there’ll be more murders. But even to have investigators on the scene immediately after an attack will increase our chances of catching the perpetrators. I understand your misgivings, young man. But right now we’re all out of options.’

oooOooo

‘An Elhaz rune in a circle?’ Hermione held the ministerial announcement at arm’s length. Her forehead creased, as she contemplated the rune’s properties and history. At last she wrinkled her nose. ‘I suppose it could be worse. It is a rune of protection.’ She pondered the choice of the Ministry of Magic a moment longer. ‘The name is a reconstruction that represents the Proto-Germanic “z”,’ she informed him unnecessarily.

Hermione shifted into proper lecture stance: arms crossed with an imperious swirl of her robes, chin stuck out. The idea crossed Severus’ mind that she was imitating him. Irritated, he narrowed his eyes at her. But it was obvious that she wasn’t doing it on purpose. He was also well aware of the occasions when he’d used aggressive intellectualism to cover his apprehension himself.

‘It may represent the antlers of an elk. Or the basic warding gesture. It symbolizes both spear and shield. The relevant reference in an Anglo-Saxon charm—“and it burns with blood any man who in any way tries to grasp it”—indicates that this rune is difficult to exploit by anyone but the original wielder. But—’ Her frown deepened. ‘—it has very unfortunate historical and political connotations in the Muggle world. It was–’

‘Hermione, I may be a wizard, but I’ve not been living under a rock for the last twenty years,’ Severus interrupted her. ‘Contrary to your best mates Potter and Weasley, I do read. And different from some of my estimable colleagues the subscriptions I take out are not limited to potions magazines.’

The journals and magazines that arrived in his office every week covered indeed a wide range of topics. Besides potions and herbology magazines and Muggle pharmaceutical journals he perused a number of national and international academic and political periodicals, both magical and Muggle, on a semi-regular basis. At her stricken expression, Severus softened his tone. This new ministerial idiocy had both of them on edge. ‘I understand your misgivings. You know that I don’t share Shacklebolt’s optimism regarding the potential of this…safety-measure.’

She snorted, but she relaxed a little, sitting down on the edge of his desk. Normally he would have reprimanded her for showing not enough respect, but for some reason he just couldn’t summon the energy today. He glanced at the particulars. ‘Size of a Knut, position on the upper arm that is not your wand-side. And you can Disillusion it.’ Severus rubbed the scars that covered the inside of his left forearm. ‘Compared to certain precedents this is quite reasonable,’ he admitted grudgingly.

‘If you enjoy feeling as if you’ve got a bit of raw egg stuck in your arm, I imagine it’s just dandy.’ Hermione grimaced. ‘I guess there’s something to be said in favour of being stuck in school robes all the time after all.’

Unaccountably, the corners of his mouths quirked. ‘Not all the time,’ he said silkily. He rose to his feet in one fluid movement, swiftly stepping towards her. His hands moved around her waist. She leant against him with a sigh. Even through the various layers of fabric that separated them, he could feel her breasts pressed against him. Hermione raised her head, her eyes lighting up with an amber fire that would probably never cease to surprise him. Somehow his hands had made their way to her neck. He loosened the ribbon that restrained her hair. That ludicrous mass of locks sprang free and tumbled over his fingers, feeling like satin and smelling like heaven.

‘Kiss me,’ she demanded, as if it was completely reasonable for a beautiful young woman to stand in his study, clinging to the dreaded Potions Master of Hogwarts and attempting to summarily remove his robes and frock coat from his body. For a moment he frowned at her and wondered if this was truly happening to him. Or if it was only an illusion and he was really far away, locked up in a dark cell deep within the walls of Azkaban, watching a stranger who had usurped his body and a life of dreams so far-fetched Severus himself had never dared to dream them before.

But when he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers, they were soft and warm and sweet and real. She nipped at his lower lip. Daring, wanton—a true Gryffindor in every way. Their tongues twined around each other, as his hands buried underneath her robes. Soon all thought slipped from his mind and only wonderment remained.