Chapter 34: FrustrationChapter TextHarry stood motionless, his breathing shallow and uneven as he stared at the empty spot where Greyback had just disappeared. His fists were clenched at his sides, and tremors of barely restrained rage kept coursing through him. He chided himself in his mind, feeling like a fool for his oversight.
"How could I be so stupid?" Harry muttered under his breath, his voice shaking with frustration. He turned sharply, glaring at the ground as if it might yield answers. "I should've seen it coming. I should've destroyed that damn portkey. I should've—damn it, I let him escape!"
"Harry," Amelia said sharply as she stepped forward. "Focus. We've won the battle here, but there are still things that need to be done. Losing your head now will only make things worse."
"Worse?" Harry shot back, spinning to face her. "He's gone, Amelia! Greyback's out there somewhere, and who knows what he'll do now. More people will die because of my failure!"
"You're not the only one fighting this war," Amelia said with steel in her voice. "You've done more than anyone could have asked of you. And you're not the only one who made a mistake. We overlooked this too. If you keep beating yourself over it, you'll lose sight of what we've achieved here today."
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Nym stepped in, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "She's right, Harry," she said gently, trying to make him see sense. Her strawberry blonde hair was streaked with grime but her eyes were full of warmth. "You can't save everyone, and you're not perfect. None of us are. But what you've done today—what we've done—means something. You've stopped Greyback's pack from wreaking havoc on this village. That's no small thing."
Harry shook his head, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at the scorched earth beneath their feet. "It's the second time he's escaped after killing so many. No matter what we've done today, this doesn't feel like we've done enough."
"It never does," Amelia said, her voice softer this time as she stepped close, cupping his cheek lovingly. Her eyes softened as she continued, "But the only way forward is to accept that and keep fighting."
Harry stared at both the women for a long moment before he released a sigh. He gave them a nod, earning matching smiles from the women. However, before he could speak, a panicked voice pierced the tense air.
"Harry!" Daphne's shout rang out, her voice alarmed and filled with urgency.
As one, their heads shot to where she was. They stood frozen for only a split second before they took off toward the source of the shout, with Harry leading the way with his wand drawn. They crossed across the clearing strewn with werewolf carcasses to find Daphne and Fleur crouched near the professors. Aurora and Septima were on the ground, unconscious and their faces twisted in pain.
"What happened?" Harry demanded, skidding to a halt beside them.
Daphne turned to him, her face pale and stricken. "It's some sort of dark magic. Professor Vector and Professor Sinistra were hit during the fight. Professor Babbling was trying to heal them, but…" She trailed off, her eyes flicking to the two stricken women.
Harry's stomach dropped as he saw the effects. The two professors' skin was darkening unnaturally, patches of it blackened and rotting as if decaying from the inside. Through their skin, he could see tar-like tendrils writhing in their veins, spreading the corruption with every passing moment.
"We've been trying to slow it down," Fleur said, her voice tight with worry as she held her wand steady over Septima, a faint silver glow emanating from its tip. "But whatever this is, it's resisting every counter-curse I know."
Unconscious, Aurora let out a shuddering gasp, clutching her arm as the black tendrils seemed to thicken and twist beneath her skin.
"It's… the blood," Bathsheda whispered, casting a numbing charm on the arm where the tendrils flared once again. "It's spreading…"
Harry crouched down, his mind racing. "Did this come from Greyback's pack? One of the werewolves?"
"No," she replied through gritted teeth as she pressed her wand to Aurora's wrist, trying to stem the flow of dark magic. "This is something else. Much darker than the lycanthropy curse."
Amelia knelt beside them, her face grim. "We need to move them. Now. If this spreads too far, we'll lose them both."
"Lose them?" Bathsheda's voice was sharp with desperation. "No. There has to be a way to stop this."
"There is," Fleur said, her tone tight. "But we'll need advanced help—immediate help. This is beyond battlefield healing."
Harry stared at the darkening skin, his chest tightening as Aurora let out another pained moan. He knelt down beside her, looking closely at the darkening veins and tar-line tendrils. Clenching his fists, he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, focusing inward.
This was not the first time he was forcing himself to delve into Voldemort's twisted memories but the experience was no less nauseating. The disgusting pull dragged him down, and for a moment, Harry was no longer himself.
He was in a dark, flickering chamber lit up by green fire. He found himself standing over a writhing man, his pale arm stretched outward as he kept his wand pointed at him. The thrill of casting the Cruciatus curse was coursing through him as he gazed at the pitiful man. A soft incantation left his mouth with venomous glee and a black curse flowed from his wand, striking his victim and embedding itself, spreading like poison in no time.
"Anchor it within their flesh, let it rot them from the inside… Bind the body, command the will."
The words were poisonous and the thought sickened him but it brought Voldemort immense pleasure. With another pang of disgust, Harry focused on the counter-curse that came to him instantly, a whisper of words and precise wand movements burning in his mind. Without waiting for even a second, Harry wrenched himself from Voldemort's memories, blinking.
"I see," he muttered as he raised his wand over Aurora.
"Harry?" Daphne asked in concern, gazing at him.
"Hold her still, you all. This is going to take precision," he said firmly.
Fleur and Daphne moved instantly, securing Aurora's arms and legs respectively as they kept her prone on the ground. Harry immediately began to cast the counter-curse, his wand dancing through the air and his voice a sharp whisper as the spell poured out of his wand. The tendrils of dark magic thrashed violently, resisting his efforts, but he pressed on.
They watched with bated breath, their eyes fixated on the tendrils. Their eyes widened when the black veins slowly began to fade, eventually receding into a single darkened patch on Aurora's forearm. Although it did not recede entirely, the rot eventually stopped spreading.
"It's stable," he said. "But this isn't over. I believe Nat will fully treat this."
Bathsheda knelt beside her, her hands shaking as she reached out. "She's alive," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You… you saved her. T-Thank You!"
"No time for thanks yet," Harry replied, glancing toward Septima. "We've got another problem."
Septima's face was pale as she lay on the ground, drenched in blood and sweat. Blood seeped through her clothes, pooling beneath her despite the healing efforts of all the witches. The dark magic in her wounds refused to yield to their spells.
"The Werewolf curse has not taken hold," Fleur said, gazing closely at the sealed wounds on her shoulder where her clothes were shredded apart. "But there's something else that's been fighting us. That same black tar-like magic."
Harry nodded. "Just how and when did those curses hit them?"
"I don't know," Bathsheda whispered. "It was all so chaotic."
Color was slowly returning to her face as Amelia had administered Blood Replenishing potion to her in the very beginning, and she gave Harry a firm nod.
Harry refocused on the rolling dark magic festering in Septima's wounds. He began to cast containment charms, using his magic to create a proverbial cage around the dark energy. It fought back viciously, sending flares through her skin, but Harry kept at it. Slowly, just like Aurora, he forced the dark magic into a single, isolated spot.
"Done," he said softly
Septima's breathing was shallow but steady as color properly returned to her skin. Relief spread across Bathsheda's face and she threw her arms around Harry's neck, clinging to him as tears streamed down her face.
"You really saved them," she whispered emotionally. "We were losing them, Mr. Potter. Miss Greengrass, Miss Delacour, and I… we couldn't… We tried, but…"
Harry wrapped his arms around her and squeezed gently, returning the hug. "Don't sell yourselves short. You kept fighting while you treated them. You kept the Lycanthropy Curse at bay and bought enough time for me to act. That is no small feat."
Bathsheda nodded slowly as she pulled back, wiping her tears away.
"Professor, you're coming with us," Harry suddenly said, his voice firm as he gazed at her.
"W-what?" Bathsheda stammered, startled.
"Nat will treat them so they'll be going with us," Harry explained. "You've done enough already. We'll handle things here. I'm sure you'd like to be with them when they are treated."
Bathsheda looked undecided for a moment before she nodded faintly. "Okay."
Amelia got to her feet, looking every bit the Head of the DMLE as she addressed the group. "Harry's right. Nym and I will coordinate the cleanup here. You all go back home. Take them to Nat and explain everything."
"Thanks, Amelia," Harry said softly, earning a firm nod from the redhead.
She handed the portkey over to him which Harry accepted, holding it out. He glanced over at Lucius' unconscious and battered form and sneered.
"You're coming with us, dipshit," he summoned him over, uncaring of his injuries. Together, they all grasped, and vanished in a swirl, leaving Amelia and Nym behind to oversee the aftermath of the battle.
XXXXX
The moment the group materialized in the familiar living room of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry unceremoniously dumped the unconscious body of Lucius Malfoy on the floor with a dull thud.
"Expecto Patronum," Daphne said, casting the Patronus Charm, and sent it with an urgent message to Nat. Just as her patronus phased through the wall, the door creaked opened and Cassie stepped in, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her.
"What—?" She began, her eyes flicking from the injured professors to the unrecognizable form of Lucius Malfoy.
"Long story," Harry remarked as he sighed, nodding at Narcissa and Andromeda who entered the room behind Cassie, their eyes also widening at the sight of them. "Dobby!"
The diminutive elf appeared with a loud crack, his green, tennis ball sized eyes widening at the sight of them. When his gaze fell on Lucius, however, his jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out.
"Master Harry Potter sir!" Dobby exclaimed, pointing a finger at the unconscious man. "That… that is bad Malfoy!"
The newcomers' eyes widened and as one, they turned to look at the unconscious man.
"That's Lucius!?" Narcissa asked in shock, her eyes filled with disbelief. The man's entire face was disfigured, his clothes in tatters as he bled on the floor. He looked like a corpse more than a human, and the furthest thing from whatever came to her mind when she thought of Lucius Malfoy.
Beside her, Cassie and Andromeda also stared with the same look of disbelief, the same thoughts rushing through their minds.
"Yeah," Harry replied, glancing at them. Turning to Dobby, he said sharply, "Dobby, take him to one of the Black cells in the dungeons and make sure he is secured. I'll deal with him later."
"Yes, Master Harry Potter sir," Dobby nodded, his ears twitching. He bowed low before snapping his fingers, and vanished alongside Malfoy's body with a crack.
"Where did you find him?" Cassie asked with a stoic look on her face.
"He was working with Greyback," Harry replied. "He's been turned. Greyback was not… let's say… too courteous with him."
"We can imagine," Narcissa replied dryly, looking entirely apathetic to his fate. Harry gazed at her for a moment before he nodded.
"What happened out there?" Andromeda asked.
"Not now, Andi," Harry replied, motioning to the three professors, two of whom were unconscious while the third was looking around with a surprised gaze. "We need to focus on them first."
On cue, Nat appeared at the doorway, striding into the room with an air of authority about her. Her sharp gaze fell on Aurora and Septima, narrowing at the sight of their injuries.
"Daphne, Fleur, bring them over to the couch," she instructed, moving over. As the two young women levitated them over to the couch, Nat turned and looked at everyone else. "You all come as well. If you've been exposed to any kind of dark magic—"
"We're fine, Nat," Harry said reassuringly. "None of us were hurt in any manner. Please look them over."
Nat's eyes lingered at him, her concern evident, but Harry merely nodded. She sighed before nodding reluctantly. "Okay. But if anything changes, you tell me immediately."
XXXXX
The tension in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place was palpable as Nat worked meticulously, her wand moving over Aurora and Septima's unconscious forms. The black tendrils that had been contained earlier still writhed beneath their skin, however, they no longer spread thanks to Harry's intervention. Everyone watched with bated breath as she examined the wounds, her brows furrowed in concentration.
"You did well containing this," she said, glancing up and smiling at Harry. "The corruption would have spread beyond salvaging if you hadn't acted when you did."
Bathsheda, who had not left her friends' side since their arrival here, looked up and gave him a grateful smile, her eyes red-rimmed from crying but filled with relief.
"What exactly happened out there?" Andromeda asked in concern as she gazed at the unconscious women. Harry, Daphne, and Fleur also showed signs of battle, with dirt and blood splatters on their clothes.
Harry's jaw clenched as he gazed at the fireplace and began explaining, "Greyback's pack attacked a village up north. The assholes targeted vulnerable people thinking there would be no auror force to guard it."
"Thankfully, Amelia has ensured all wizarding settlements have regular patrol. When we arrived, those two were already like that and Professor Babbling was fighting while also shielding them. You really did a brilliant job, Professor," Daphne said.
Bathsheda gave her a tight smile.
"We killed all the werewolves that attacked," Fleur took up the explanation, only for Harry to interrupt her.
"Not all. Greyback managed to escape," he gritted out, cutting her off. They all eyed him as he continued, "Because I was too stupid to keep an eye on him. It doesn't matter what we did today. He'll just gather more werewolves, create more monsters, and we'll be right back to where we started."
"That's not true, 'Arry," Fleur said softly, stepping closer to him. "We killed a huge chunk of his forces today. That's more werewolves eliminated. Yes, he may go and gather more werewolves, but at least they'll be fewer than they would've been if we didn't kill them."
"Also don't forget that we saved so many lives today, Harry," Daphne joined Fleur, taking Harry's hand in hers. "Dozens of lives. Dozens of families who won't be torn apart."
"For how long, Daph?" Harry asked with a tired sigh. "Werewolves are just cannon fodder to Voldemort. He doesn't care how many will die. He'll just have Greyback create more of them, turn more people. It's an endless cycle, and it will end only when he is dealt with. But he managed to get away once again."
"Excuse me?" Bathsheda's sharp voice cut through his tirade and everyone turned to look at her. She stood up from her seat beside Nat who glanced over in concern for a moment before she refocused on her task.
Bathsheda's eyes flashed as she walked over, coming to a stop in front of Harry. "Are you suggesting what you all did today was useless? That saving so many lives, saving us three, was useless?"
Harry blinked, taken aback by both her words and the intensity of them. "What? No, of course not—"
"Then stop this already!" She said firmly. "You saved all our lives today, Mr. Potter. You arrived when we would've been killed. And when no one could find a way to stop that curse, you managed to do it. Aurora and Septima would've died already if you hadn't done something about it. Do you think that is useless?"
The room was enveloped in silence as everyone stared at Bathsheda.
"No," Harry said finally, his voice quiet as his shoulders slumped. "No, it doesn't."
Bathsheda's glare softened and she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Greyback escaped today. But he won't escape next time. And in the meantime, two of my dearest friends are alive because of you. That matters, Mr. Potter. It matters more than you know."
The silence that enveloped the room was suffocating, broken only by the whispered incantations of Nat as she kept working. Bathsheda gave Harry's shoulder a comforting squeeze before she pulled back, taking her place by her friends once again. On Harry's either side, Daphne and Fleur gazed at him in concern, squeezing his hands supportively.
"I'm sorry for how I've been acting about this," he said softly. "It's just… it's frustrating."
"We understand, Harry," Daphne smiled gently. Together, she and Fleur pulled Harry over to the couch and sat together.
"Speaking of matters that need addressing," Narcissa began, joining them. Her eyes glinted dangerously as she gazed at Harry who looked up, raising an eyebrow. "What do you intend to do with Lucius?"
Harry glanced from her to Cassie, noting how they both stared at him with the same stoic expressions on their faces. "I'd like to know your thoughts first."
"He is nothing to us, as you well know," Narcissa said, her voice dripping with venom. "That man ceased to be anything to me the moment he showed his true colors to me. Right when my Cassie was born. Do you know what he said to me when he saw her, Harry? Do you know what he said to me that night? He called my Cassie an abomination. Said she was a stain on the Malfoy bloodline that needed to be… cleansed."
Cassie's eyes hardened at those words, but Narcissa's expression grew even colder, her fury even more terrible. She was breathing heavily as she gazed at Harry while everyone else stared at her with wide eyes.
"He would've murdered my girl in her sleep, all for his precious quest to gain a male heir who would continue the Malfoy bloodline. He's a monster who wrapped himself in the trappings of nobility while plotting the murder of an infant. It was only when he was told that I can't bear another child that he relented."
Narcissa's voice shook with rage.
"And that is not even counting everything else he's done. Everything that you already know. You want to know our thoughts? Listen well, then. He must suffer for everything he's done. He must rot in that cell until there's nothing left of his sanity. He must see himself losing everything that he has ever called his. And then he must rot some more."
The room had gone deathly quiet, everyone staring at Narcissa with wide eyes. Even Nat had paused in her work, her wand held aloft over Septima.
Cassie reached out and took her mother's hands, squeezing them comfortingly. Narcissa looked at her and allowed her to wrap her in an embrace.
Turning to Harry, Cassie said firmly, "I think that is enough."
Harry kept his eyes on his betrothed for a long moment before he gave a firm nod. "He'll face justice," he promised. "But first, I'll extract whatever information I can from him. Don't worry. He will suffer. I will make sure he does."
Cassie nodded as Narcissa pulled away from her and stood up, walking over to the side where she stood by the exit door, stoically leaning against the wall beside it.
Meanwhile, Nat's wand kept moving over both Aurora and Septima's unconscious forms, tracing silver and gold patterns over the concentrated tendrils on their bodies. The tendrils twisted and writhed as they resisted her magic.
"The containment you performed gave me the opening I needed," she murmured, her eyes never leaving her patients as she worked. "That's how I can target the curse directly without it spreading further."
"I got the counter from the memories," Harry told her. Nat glanced at him for a moment before she turned away.
"Makes sense," she said softly.
The black tendrils fought back viciously, causing both Aurora and Septima to whimper, but Nat pressed on relentlessly. Finally, after so many efforts, the last of the dark magic dissolved into nothingness. Aurora's breathing evened out, her face relaxing.
"One down, one to go," Nat muttered, moving her wand over to Septima.
"Will there be any lasting effects?" Bathsheda asked in concern, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch Aurora's healed arm.
"No," Nat replied, working on Septima. "They'll both need rest, and there might be some residual weakness for a few days, but they'll make a full recovery."
Bathsheda bit her lip as she watched Nat healed Septima, tears spilling down her cheeks. When the black tendrils slowly lightened until they finally dissipated, she broke down completely, relief flooding her.
"Thank you," she sobbed, reaching for Nat's hands. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done if something had happened to them. They're not just my colleagues, they're my closest friends, and I—"
"Shh," Nat soothed, squeezing her hands gently. "You don't need to explain. I understand completely. They're going to be fine, I promise you. They just need rest now."
Fleur stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Bathsheda's shoulder. "Come, let us help you to your room. You need rest as well."
"But I should stay with them," Bathsheda protested weakly, even though exhaustion was clearly written across her face.
"Nat will monitor them, Professor," Daphne assured her, moving to Bathsheda's other side. "You've been through so much today. You need to take care of yourself as well."
Bathsheda hesitated, her eyes lingering on her two friends before falling on Nat who gave her a reassuring nod. Biting her lip, she finally relented, allowing the two younger witches to help her to her feet. As they guided her out of the room, she cast one final grateful look at Nat, her eyes brimming with tears. The beautiful huldra gave her a warm, reassuring smile in return.
She turned around and called out, "Andi, Cassie, help me out with them, will you?"
They nodded and walked over to where Nat was sitting. Before she could speak though, Narcissa pushed off the wall and said quietly, "Harry."
He turned to look at her, and so did the others, no one missing the unusual tone of her voice.
"Yeah?"
"I need to speak with you. Privately."
Without waiting for a response, she turned around and walked out of the room, her heels clacking on the floor. Harry's brows furrowed as he gazed at the exit. Her tone told him that it was not a usual request. There was something going on in her mind, and he wondered what it was.
He turned to the others who shrugged helplessly, and with a sigh, he got to his feet and briskly walked out of the room. He found her out in the hallway where she had been waiting for him.
"What is it?" He asked softly.
"Come," she said and began walking, leaving him with no choice but to follow. She led him up the stairs and turned toward the family wing, leading him further ahead, and Harry's surprise grew when they passed all the rooms and came to a stop in front of the master bedroom—the room that belonged to him.
"Narcissa?"
Narcissa entered without hesitation, pushing the door open, and turned to face him, her expression unreadable. She stepped aside, silently asking him to enter, and once he did, she stepped away, moving further into the room.
"Close the door, please," she said softly, although there was unmistakable steel beneath the gentleness of her voice.
Harry silently complied, curious more than confused, and he pushed the door shut. The latch clicked softly, echoing in the silence of the room, as the door locked.
For a long moment, the two stood still where they were, gazing at each other. Neither Narcissa moved, nor did Harry until finally, she stepped back and sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the spot to her right. His lips pursed, Harry walked over and joined her, turning to gaze at her grey orbs that shined with some unspoken emotions.
"What do you want to talk about?"
Narcissa glanced up at him, biting her lower lip, and Harry could not help but let his eyes linger.
"I want to ask you something," she began, making him take his eyes away from her lips to properly look at her.
"What is it?"
"Do you have any concrete explanation on how this bond works?"
Harry's eyes widened slightly. She had never brought up this topic in these settings before, and he was curious as to what suddenly changed. He asked as much, and to say that the answer shocked him was an understatement.
There was nothing but silence in the room once Narcissa finished explaining what she was feeling. Harry stared at her with his mouth open in surprise.
"I know how depraved this sounds," she whispered. "Trust me, it took all I have to tell you this… but… I just… I can't help but feel this strong urge to do this… I have no idea if there's something seriously wrong with me or if it's the bond at work, but I've never had such thoughts before, so I want to believe that it's because of the bond."
"Please hold on for a moment," Harry raised a finger, taking a few deep breaths as she watched him. He stared down at his lap for a long moment, his fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he looked up at her and Narcissa almost shivered at the look in his eyes.
"I don't know if it's really the bond," he said gruffly, and to her surprise, he reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand. He tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and Narcissa shivered under his touch.
"You don't?" She asked, her voice soft as her lips quivered.
"No," he continued in the same tone. "But I can tell you for sure that there's nothing wrong with you for having such a… wish. What you should be thinking right now is… what are you going to do about it?"
Narcissa's eyes darkened, realizing that they both were on the same page. Slowly, her lips curled up into a smirk and she whispered, "You seriously need me to spell that out for you? My being here right now isn't enough?"
Harry's smirk widened and he whispered, "More than enough."
They both moved as one, and the beast in Harry's chest roared in triumph as their lips collided in a furious kiss, taking their breaths away.
Down in a desolate cell, the broken form of Lucius Malfoy lay crumbling.
Chapter 35: A Broken HuskChapter TextHarry didn't waste a second. The moment their lips met, the world around them faded away. Narcissa's fingers slid into his unruly hair, tangling in the thick strands as she tugged him impossibly closer. He groaned against her lips, the vibration traveling straight to her chest, making her shudder. Her smirk returned as she nipped at his bottom lip, eliciting another sound from him—half growl, half sigh.
His hands traced down her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her robes before he pushed them through the slit to grip her waist directly. Her skin was warm under his touch, smooth and inviting. She gasped when his hands tightened, pulling her flush against him, making her acutely aware of how perfectly they fit together. He felt solid, heat radiating off him as if he were burning from the inside out.
Narcissa tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss, her lips moving hungrily against his. Harry met her with equal fervor, his hands exploring the curve of her waist, sliding up her sides, memorizing every contour. Her nails scraped against his scalp, sending delicious shivers down his spine, making him press her harder against his body, feeling her supple curves pushed up against his chest.
Her breath hitched when his lips left hers, trailing down the elegant column of her throat. Harry didn't hesitate—he nipped, licked, and kissed his way down, savoring the way she trembled in his arms. Narcissa tilted her head back, offering more of her throat, her fingers tightening in his hair as he latched onto a sensitive spot just below her jaw. The soft, breathy sound she made in response sent a thrill through him, and he smirked against her skin.
"Didn't think you'd be this sensitive," he murmured, his breath hot against her pulse.
Her fingers tugged at his hair, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes dark with lust and wanton desire. "You have no idea."
Harry chuckled lowly, pressing another kiss to the corner of her lips before reclaiming them fully. She met him with equal intensity, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and nails digging slightly into his back through his clothes. The pressure sent warmth coiling in his stomach, making his grip on her waist tighten instinctively.
They moved as if they had been doing this forever, their bodies molding together effortlessly. Narcissa pressed herself even closer, if it was possible, her fingers slipping beneath his shirt, tracing the muscles beneath with deliberate slowness. His breath hitched at the feeling of her cool fingertips against his overheated skin, and he pushed his tongue fervently inside her mouth, making her gasp into the kiss.
Her robes had loosened around her shoulders, slipping slightly as his hands roamed freely. He trailed his fingers along the exposed skin, his touch feather-light, making her shiver. In response, she bit his lip again, a teasing smirk playing at her swollen lips when he groaned.
"You're playing dirty," he murmured against her mouth, his voice rough.
She arched a delicate brow, fingers tracing down his chest now, her touch maddeningly slow. "Oh? And what are you going to do about it?"
His answer was immediate. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing any further teasing words she might have had. One hand cradled the back of her neck, angling her exactly how he wanted, while the other continued its exploration, fingers dancing over the small of her back, pressing her closer. She melted into him, her own hands moving restlessly over his shoulders, his back, as if trying to pull him even deeper into the moment.
The heat between them built steadily, their kisses growing even more fervent. Harry barely registered the passage of time—his focus only on the feeling of her body against his, the way her lips moved against his own, and the intoxicating scent of her.
At some point, her breaths came in sharp, uneven pants, her fingers still tangled in his hair. His own breathing was just as ragged, his forehead resting against hers as they caught their breaths. Yet, neither of them pulled away completely, their hands still lazily roaming, their lips occasionally brushing in between breathless sighs.
It felt as if hours had passed as Harry and Narcissa made out like long-lost lovers who couldn't get enough of each other before he recalled what she had asked of him. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, grinning when he saw how swollen her lips were.
The blonde blinked and looked at him questioningly, making him chuckle.
"If we get carried away, your little idea would be toast," he said, rubbing his thumb on her plump lips.
Narcissa's tongue darted out and she licked his thumb, keeping her eyes locked with his.
"You really don't think it's weird?" She asked curiously, making him shrug.
"Not any more weird than everything else going on around here, to be honest," Harry replied with a chuckle. "I mean, I never expected I'd be involved with so many women who would gang up and create a coven—"
"And be involved with each other as well," Narcissa interjected.
"And that as well," Harry chuckled. "So this little act of yours… I can play along. Not now though. I don't think it's—"
"You don't need to explain, Harry. I understand, with everything going around," she smiled, stroking his chest softly as she looked up at him. "But soon. I've waited long enough."
Smiling, Harry nodded as he leaned in for another kiss. Narcissa returned it happily, feeling freer than she had in a long while. When they finally pulled back, Harry stood up and took her hand in his as he led her out of the room.
"I'll let you know when we can do it," he told her, seeing her nod out of the corner of his eye with barely hidden excitement. His lips curled. They walked together down the stairs where Narcissa parted from him with a meaningful gaze toward the entrance to the basement, watching him head over in that direction.
"Harry," she called out as he grasped the handle, making him turn to her. Her eyes hardened, all traces of humor and happiness vanishing and being replaced by nothing but scorn. "Make it as hard for him as you can."
His lips curled, a sneer appearing on his face as he nodded. "We've got a long time with him. Trust me, it'd be nothing less than he deserves."
The blonde gave him a nod and stood there, watching him vanish behind the door. Her eyes shifted over to her daughter who had emerged from the other corridor and was making her way over to her, and the moment their eyes met, she knew.
"Is he…" Cassie trailed off, her eyes trained on the door that led to the dungeons.
Narcissa nodded with pursed lips. "I want you to come with me," she said, to her daughter's surprise.
"Are you sure?" Cassie asked with a small frown.
"Tell me you don't want to."
Cassie did not reply. Her eyes drifted toward the door once again as a resolute expression crossed her face. Her mother saw this and nodded.
"Let's go," Narcissa said, and taking her hand, she led her daughter onward.
XXXXX
No matter how many times he stepped foot in the dungeons of Grimmauld Place, he always found the air thick with the stench of damp stone with dried blood stuck to it—evidence of torture many people must have endured in the place for centuries. There was a foul scent mixed with the usual though, and it was easy to recognize that it was coming from the man chained inside one of the cells.
His wand held aloft, the Lumos piercing the air, Harry stepped in front of the cell holding him and banished the orb of light, making it float above him. His cold eyes regarded the broken and mutilated form of Lucius Malfoy, his pride all lost and his state as pitiful as it could be. The man barely resembled a human being, and if he had not seen his chest moving in tandem with his short breaths, Harry would've assumed it was a carcass and nothing else.
Greyback's handiwork was evident in every inch of ravaged flesh, and for the second time, Harry scanned him keenly. Scars crisscrossed what remained of Lucius Malfoy's face, obscuring his features beyond recognition, and he had a hard time believing this was truly the prideful bastard who thought too highly of himself. His limbs were a patchwork of gashes and healing wounds matted with dried blood. His bones looked shattered and healed wrongly, and his nose was caved in, his lips torn apart as well. His robes were little more than rags, hanging off his gaunt frame like dead skin.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Harry thought scornfully. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He knew what Lucius was, what he represented, and the position he held, or perhaps used to hold. The man had willingly served Voldemort and poisoned the country with his prejudice, gold, and power, influencing ministerial policies over the past two decades and shaping up laws in favor of his ilk. This was a man of cunning, although he had used it to manipulate a buffoon, so he couldn't give him too much credit.
Harry flicked his wand, and immediately, a stream of ice-cold water shot out of the tip, smacking Malfoy right in the face. The man lurched immediately, gasping for breath, his eyes (or whatever remained thereof) wide in panic. His breathing was ragged, the chain rattling as he moved.
"You know, Malfoy," Harry mused, stepping inside and letting the door shut behind him with a heavy clang, "if someone told me a month ago that I'd see you like this, I'd have laughed in their face."
Malfoy lifted his head slowly and sluggishly, the chains rattling once again as he shifted. His breath wheezed through broken teeth. He tried to make a sound, but nothing more than a raspy whimper came out, making Harry sneer.
He crouched in front of him, meeting his ruined gaze. "Looks like you've had a rough time with your dear pals. Bet you never thought Greyback would turn on one of his own, or maybe it was Voldemort who ordered him to? Won't surprise me, to be honest, and you really should've seen that coming."
Lucius flinched. It had been hell. His life had been destroyed by whom he called his master. Throwing him to a rabid mutt like Greyback, who had broken him in every manner imaginable until there was no remnant of his old, prideful self that had remained. That was not to mention the monthly transformation that had begun to tear him apart from the inside, making his weak body fight a war it could not win.
Lucius recognized it for what it was—a slow, agonizing death.
"How does it feel?" Harry asked conversationally. "Being the thing you used to despise? Knowing you'll never be welcome among your own kind again? Must sting, huh?" He gave a mocking tilt of his head. "No more Malfoy name carrying weight, no more influence, no more looking down your nose at the rest of us. You're filth now. Just like the ones you called mudbloods."
The flare of anger that coursed through him at those words made him feel even more worthless, and all he could do was whimper out a broken "Potter…" that was barely even coherent. However, Harry understood it, even if barely.
"That's right. It's been a while, hasn't it? Considering your current state, I suppose 'long time no see' would be a gross understatement." Harry allowed a flicker of cold amusement to color his tone. "You're looking… rough."
Harry conjured a chair and sat down opposite the chained Malfoy, his emerald eyes unwavering in its glare. He let the silence stretch before speaking again. "Now, I could be kind and tell you I'm here to help. But we both know that would be a lie."
Lucius groaned, straining against the chains, and Harry let out a small sigh. He roughly grabbed Lucius' jaw and squeezed, forcing his mouth open.
"Ah. I see. He tore your tongue out, huh? You must be itching to speak, right? Here you go," he said, and with a casual flick of his wand, a real silver tongue materialized inside Lucius' mouth, not unlike the silver hand Voldemort had bestowed Pettigrew with. He saw Lucius' eyes widen as the sensation returned to his mouth.
"Now then," Harry continued, leaning back comfortably as he regarded the haggard-looking man. "I have some questions for you, Lucius. And trust me, you're going to answer them. I have... persuasive methods."
Lucius let out a rasping chuckle that turned into a pained cough. "Do your worst, boy. You don't have the stomach for real torture. Not like… them."
Harry sighed, shaking his head. "You misunderstand, Malfoy. I'm not going to use the Cruciatus. Too simple. Too crude. Pain is easy to withstand if you expect it. No, I think I'll try something different."
He pulled a small vial from his pocket and held it up. "You know what this is?"
Lucius swallowed. "Veritaserum?"
Harry snorted. "Please. If I wanted easy answers, I'd just shove that down your throat. But the problem with Veritaserum is that it doesn't give you what you don't already know. And you? You've fallen from grace. I doubt Voldemort tells you much these days. So, I'll have to be more... creative."
Lucius's one good eye narrowed, but Harry could see the fear there. The uncertainty. He was expecting something brutal. Harry would give him something worse.
"This is called the Drink of Despair," Harry said chillingly. "A nifty little creation of your dear master himself. The name should tell you enough, I hope."
A broken gasp was the only response, and Harry chuckled.
"You haven't been near a Dementor, have you, Lucius?" He asked casually, watching how the man flinched. "Oh, you have? Well, that would make the explanation much easier. You see, this little number here does the same thing, but without a dementor. I hope you're willing to cooperate? Or I can give you a little taste."
Lucius swallowed hard, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I… I don't know anything! He doesn't tell me anything anymore. I'm… I'm nothing to him now. A failure."
"Oh, I'll be the one to decide that," Harry replied, and with a snarl, he pushed Lucius' mouth open and poured the entire vial inside his mouth.
The man remained unmoving for a moment as the potion took effect before he lurched, a breathless gasp escaping him. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream, his head thrown back. Harry was oddly reminded of a horror movie he had watched when he was a kid. Lucius looked exactly like the man who had been possessed and was being exorcised, only more broken and bloodied.
In no time, the tears came, and the man started shivering. He began whispering broken words to himself, rocking against his bindings. He kept reaching out for something, and Harry knew exactly what he wanted.
He flicked his wand, and a goblet filled with water appeared in his hand. He didn't offer it to Malfoy. Instead, he levitated it just out of reach, letting the man's parched throat work in vain. His eyes had immediately fallen on the goblet, and he was desperately reaching out, but Harry kept it out of reach all the while.
"Let's start with the basics, Lucius," Harry began. "What are Voldemort's immediate plans? He's back, he's got a loyal core, but he needs more. How is he recruiting? Where is he operating from?"
"My house!" Lucius rasped out loud, frantically reaching out for the goblet that remained out of his grasp. His mind was continuously being assaulted by the most horrific memories he had, which were all from the past month. He was being forced to relive the atrocities Greyback had committed, all the while being forced to answer. "P-Please! I-I d-don't know any-anything!"
"Oh, I find that hard to believe. Even a broken tool can still be used, Lucius. And you were a valuable tool, weren't you? A master manipulator, with connections in the Ministry and access to vast resources. Surely, he's got some use for you, even if it's just as bait." Harry leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me about the inner circle. Who are left after he took the marks from those dipshits, yourself included? Who does he trust implicitly? Who is advising him? Don't insult my intelligence by claiming ignorance."
Lucius flinched but answered nonetheless. He stated the obvious names that Harry already knew. Narcissa had been a very competent source of information, even though she had never been a member of the little band of thugs. However, it was one name that surprised him.
"What? Say again?"
"Severus…" Lucius whispered. "Severus Snape is still in his good graces, I believe. He… he trusts Snape."
Harry paused, considering this. Snape. He knew the bastard was a double agent. He was still disgusted with the memory he had uncovered of the man asking Voldemort to spare his mother when he went to kill his family. Dumbledore trusted Snape, but Harry didn't. How deeply embedded was the man though, really? That was the question. Was he truly loyal to Voldemort, or was he playing both sides?
'Not that it matters in the slightest. He will die for the sole reason that he told Voldemort about the prophecy,' Harry thought to himself, glaring at Malfoy. Snape was living on borrowed time.
"Snape… what tasks has Voldemort assigned to Snape since his return?"
"I… I don't know. I s-swear! H-He keeps me in the d-dark. He's not even s-spoken to m-me s-since… since…"
"Since I fucked you over, yeah, I get it," Harry commented dryly. "I bet he must only speak to you when he wishes to remind you of your shortcomings, you muppet."
A sob wracked Lucius's body as he desperately begged for the water. Harry sneered and levitated it further, watching how the man shuddered once again as his mind was assaulted by another vile memory.
"Alright, Lucius. Let's move on. Voldemort wants something, doesn't he? Something more than just power and control. Something specific. What is it?"
The fact that Dumbledore had been putting Order members to guard different departments in the Ministry must have a connection with Voldemort. There could not be another reason. After all, for all his faults, Harry did not see Dumbledore plotting to take over the Ministry.
I have to reconsider this as well. Can't afford to keep a blind spot when it comes to that scheming old fart,' Harry thought to himself, resolving to discuss this with his girls soon.
Lucius shook his head weakly. "I… I don't understand."
Harry smiled cruelly, a humorless expression on his face. "Oh, but I think you do. Think hard, Lucius. Think about what Voldemort could want in the Ministry. He's got Death Eaters in there? Amelia and I have been working hard to flush those vermin out, but we know it's not so easy."
The mention of the Ministry seemed to light up something as Lucius jerked, his eyes widening in fear. "The prophecy! He seeks the full prophecy. He only heard part of it, years ago. He believes it holds the key to… to defeating you, Potter."
Realization dawned on Harry in an instant. Indeed. Voldemort had heard only part of the prophecy, so it made sense that he would want to know what it said in full. If the man put so much faith in the art of Divination that he had acted on it so drastically, it stood to reason that he would let the information dictate what his next course of action would be.
"The Department of Mysteries… in the Ministry," Lucius continued, crying. "He told us it's of the utmost importance. Along with breaking everyone out of Azkaban and infiltrating all the departments in the Ministry."
"So that's the plan," Harry muttered, feeling a surge of adrenaline. This was crucial information. Voldemort was planning an infiltration and, failing that, a possible raid on the Ministry. "Who is he sending? Who does he trust enough to carry out such a sensitive mission?"
"I… I don't know the details. H-He'd asked me to before… before… But I heard him mention… Rookwood. And Nott. They're both… discreet. And rabid."
Rookwood. Indeed. The man was a former spook, so it made sense. And he had memories of Nott as well. A quiet man but cruel nonetheless. Harry committed the names to memory.
"P-Potter… please… please…" Lucius rasped, desperately reaching out for the goblet. Harry stared at him in disdain for a long moment before he sighed. He watched as the man reached out and grabbed the goblet, devouring it like a madman, and he allowed him some respite, even though a part of him wanted to make the man grovel a bit more. However, the potion was still working as it should, and the man was not going to catch a break any time soon.
"Well, thanks for your cooperation," Harry remarked. "Now, let's talk about something a little more personal. What did Voldemort promise you in return for your loyalty? And don't give that pureblood superiority bullshit. We all know it means little to pricks like you. Was it simply the privilege of groveling at his feet?"
Lucius's face contorted in a mixture of fear and anger. "He… he promised me a place at his side. A position of power in the new world order. He promised… he promised…"
Harry laughed mockingly. "Power? Look at you, Lucius. Ripped apart by a werewolf, abandoned by your master, rotting in a cell. How's that for power?"
Lucius whimpered as Harry pulled the goblet from his grasp and vanished it. He forced his eyes shut as the potion kicked in once again.
Harry regarded the man with disdainful eyes and waved his wand again. This time, a small cage appeared, containing a large, venomous-looking spider. He levitated the cage close to Lucius's face.
"You know, Lucius, I've been hearing a lot about venoms lately. Snakes and scorpions are the obvious ones, manticores and chimera as well, not to mention basilisks. However," he shook the cage, agitating the spider. "Did you know that the venom of Acromantula spiders, even little ones, can cause excruciating pain, hallucinations, and even death? I read it recently, and I found it quite fascinating."
Lucius screamed in fear, his body thrashing against the chains. "No! Please, Potter! I've told you everything I know!"
"Oh shut up. I'm not going to kill you. At least not yet," Harry rolled his eyes as he leaned closer. "Here's what's going to happen, Lucius. I'm going to leave this little friend here. It's going to crawl all over you. And every time you lie, or every time you withhold information, I'm going to let it bite you. Sound fun?"
He watched with cold satisfaction as Lucius's eyes filled with terror. He knew he was pushing the boundaries, descending into a darkness that was not healthy. But he couldn't afford to be soft. Not anymore. This was war.
"Now," Harry continued, his voice steady. "Let's talk about your biggest secret, shall we? Tell me about your son, Lucius. Draco, that's his name, right? What role does Voldemort have planned for him? He is still attending Durmstrang, isn't he?"
Even when he was filled with fear, Lucius' eyes bugged out in sheer shock. He stared at Harry aghast.
"H-How—"
"Oh, I know more than you think, Lucius," Harry grinned ferally. "You think too less of Narcissa. She's much more capable and smarter than you think. Now, spill, or I can let my little friend here make you speak up."
Lucius screamed as Harry opened the cage and dropped the baby acromantula on his shoulder, casting a Confundus charm on it. The man sobbed, tears streaming down his mutilated face.
"Leave him out of this! He's just a boy!"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Don't play innocent, Lucius. You expect me to believe that Voldemort would make you sire a child without having some sort of plan for him? I refuse to believe your son has been raised to be anything but a scumbag like you. A bigot, a bully, and a Death Eater in training. Tell me what Voldemort wants from him."
Lucius hesitated, and Harry nodded toward the little spider that reared back to attack.
"No! Wait!" Lucius gasped, making Harry stop the creature. "He… he wants to use him. As the future. The future of Death Eaters. To take part in expansion once he conquers Europe. Draco… he will inherit everything—"
"Like hell he will," Harry snarled, shooting to his feet. He glared at Malfoy with utter loathing. "Your bastard will die before I let him touch what belongs to Cassie. You've treated her like crap all her life, you were going to sell her off, and all the while, you were planning to give what's rightfully hers to a bastard you sired on some poor helpless woman. I have half a mind to kill you off right here."
The asshole had the audacity to grin at him, and Harry almost lost it.
"So that's it, huh?" Lucius rasped. "That's why you stole Cassandra away. You are a worthless scum, Potter. You'll never touch a knut that belongs to my family."
"I won't," Harry agreed, sneering. "But I'll ensure it all gets to who it belongs. It's Cassie's right, all of it."
"That girl deserves nothing!" Lucius hissed. "The Malfoy name, and the Malfoy riches, all belong to my Draco!"
Harry glared at the man as he slowly raised his wand, only for a hand to stop him. Glancing to the side, he saw Narcissa, who had taken his hand and lowered it.
"Ah, the bitch herself," Lucius rasped.
The blonde glared at the man with utter loathing before she flicked her wand, firing a sharp cutting curse straight at the man. The dungeons were filled with wild, agonizing cries as the curse severed his left arm entirely, blood spurting out of the appendage. Narcissa easily cauterized the wound, paying no heed to the man's cries as she levitated the arm and turned it around, gazing at the very faint skull tattoo emblazoned on the inside.
"Don't be late," she said softly, and with a final disdainful glance at the whimpering man, she turned around and walked away.
Cassie, who had been invisibly standing right outside the cell alongside her mother while Harry interrogated Lucius, looked at him with pursed lips. Harry gave her a reassuring nod and watched as she smiled tightly before she followed her mother.
His face contorted in a sneer, Harry took his seat once again and merely stared at the sobbing man. He spent the next hour meticulously probing, pushing, and threatening him. He extracted every scrap of information he could from the broken shell of Lucius Malfoy. He learned about potential Death Eater recruits, hidden safe houses, and even a few tantalizing hints about Voldemort's modus operandi in this war. Lucius's knowledge was patchy, but he had been close enough to Voldemort once that what he did know was worthwhile.
Harry finally stood up, his body aching with exhaustion and a bone-deep weariness. He knew he hadn't gotten everything. Lucius was too broken and too peripheral to Voldemort's current plans.
He looked down at the pathetic figure chained to the wall, and nothing but a look of sheer disgust crossed his face. However, it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"You've been… helpful, Lucius," Harry said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Though, you were more resourceful than I thought you would be."
He turned to leave.
"Potter… please," Lucius croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "Kill me. Please. I can't… I can't live like this."
Harry paused at the doorway. "You really think I'll let you off so easily? You've seen nothing yet, Lucius. You've got a lot of time, a lot to see, and a lot to realize."
He stepped out of the cell, leaving Lucius Malfoy alone in the darkness. Death was mercy for someone like him. He deserved to see himself lose everything, and he knew that was what Narcissa and Cassie both wanted. He would ensure he saw to it. Lucius would see himself lose everything, and only then would he grant him the cold embrace of death.