FicWad

Chapter 15: Noir

Harry walked into the alley behind Number 12 Grimauld Place and stood away from the wall in clear view; illuminated by the reflected late afternoon sunlight. The shadows were in sharp contrast to the harsh light; one shadow was beyond dark. Disturbing blackness so complete he couldn't see where the brickwork wall formed an angle with the cobblestone alley driveway.

His plan was simple, let the dementor take his soul, and then somehow he and Hermione would escape. How? Well, the details were a bit iffy, but he was sure his bushy haired best friend would think of something. She always had before.

"I know who you are and I know what you are, I'm not here to fight, I'm here to talk" he said, without emotion, "let's see if we can't make some kind of deal, c'mon out."

"I can't" a little girl's voice answered from the shadows, "the light hurts."

Harry sighed and stepped into the shadows.

"Hermione?" he asked.

The thing that held Hermione's soul let Harry see her eleven year old self crouched in the shadows.

"So cold," she whined, "so hungry."

He knelt down in front of the tiny girl just out of her reach "can I bring you something, a sarnie perhaps?"

Hermione, even as a small girl, had a look that made you know you had just asked the dumbest question in the world.

"I'm sorry Mione," he apologized, "I don't know what to do here."

"If my host doesn't feed soon it won't matter Harry, we'll both be just, gone" the little girl sounded resigned; her pale face looked almost skeletal.

"I won't let that happen Hermione," he promised, "I'll feed it myself before I let that happen."

"She just trembled" the little girl said, "I think she likes that idea." Young Hermione looked down at her feet, "she knows all about you Harry, she has all my memories of you."

"She?"

Hermione nodded "dementors take on the gender of their most recent 'soul,' and since I was my host's last soul meal . . ."

"Hermione, how is it that you're not, well, eaten?"

"I'm not sure about that" the little girl said, "and neither is Noir."

"Noir?" Harry asked.

"It's what I call her, it means 'dark' or 'black' as in 'film noir,' it just seems appropriate."

"Is there some way to feed Noir?"

"We need a dark place with lots of people, the more the better, the more angry or emotional the better," the little girl shivered and Harry moved closer.

"No," she warned, "She'll try to get you if you come too close."

"I'm gonna let her have me anyway, that's why I'm here."

"No Harry, I won't let you, I can't let her take you. I will be the one in control here; she's weaker than I am."

He disregarded her warning and settled beside her so that he could wrap his arm around her. The little girl sighed and snuggled into his embrace.

"I've got an idea" he said, making himself as comfortable as possible against the brick and cobblestones "it'll be dark soon and I might know a place where Noir can feed."

They sat and talked, Hermione/Noir described 'shadowing,' the ability to completely disappear into a shadow and other things dementor related.

"I've learned so much about essensentials, Harry."

"Is that what they call themselves?" he asked.

"It's what we are," she explained, "essensentials are extradimensional, not from this Earth, not even from this reality. The first of our kind became trapped here when a witch tried to charm her husband - apparently he was cold and distant toward her and she was trying to put some passion back in their marriage. What she got was a frightened young essensential that defended itself the only way it knew how. When the aurors arrived on the scene the witch was, well, you know. Her husband was completely shattered, he held her unresponsive hands in his own and begged her over and over again to "come back, please come back, please, please. . . .

"The aurors called in the unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries who managed to trap the young one and took it back to the Ministry for study.

"Oh Harry," she sobbed, "no one tried to really talk with it, they just ran spell after spell, trying to see what made it tick. The unspeakables finally pushed and provoked it so much that it feasted on its tormentor. That was the second dementor's kiss in this dimension, the witch who summoned it had been the first.

"The unspeakables realized that they had a unique weapon, if they could only control it. They learned that their test subject was an emotivore; that it fed on raw emotion, not just happiness. Emotivores feed on emotions, feelings, passions; the stronger the better, but the ministry needed it to be a weapon, so they trained it to feed on happiness until it became unable to eat anything else.

"They brought in condemned prisoners and forced it to feed on them until it became overstuffed with emotions and dissolved into a grey mist. The researchers shrugged their shoulders and chalked it up to experience. Imagine their surprise and delight when, after two weeks, there were two emotivores, hungry emotivores where there had only been one.

"Essensentials are not monsters Harry," she explained very carefully, "at least, we weren't before those bastards took us and warped our natural behaviors to meet their own twisted agenda!"

Hermione/Noir finished her story as the sun dipped below the horizon. Harry stood and held out his had to his best friend.

"Ever ridden on a motorcycle before?"

She trembled, "no, and I think I'd rather not."

"C'mon, it'll be fun, you rode Buckbeak, and you rode a thestral to the Ministry last year."

"Both times I was with you, and both times I thought I was going to fill my boots!"

"You'll be with me again, c'mon, please?"

She sighed and accepted the self-sizing leather jacket and boots.

Before long they were motoring in the direction of Southeast London, Lewisham road. Harry pulled up to a seedy looking 'sports bar' called Pitchers and got off the bike. He helped Hermione slide off and secured the Triumph to a broken signpost.

They walked into the crowded pub where highlights from the past summer's FIFA World Cup were playing on various screens around the room. Harry ordered a fizzy drink for Hermione and a stout for himself. Most of the action was on the largest screen over the bar, which was replaying the 1998 England Argentina match.

"Oh perfect!" Harry mused, and smiled.

With the score even at 2-2 and the second half just begun, England's midfielder David Beckham had been tackled hard by Argentina's captain Diego Simeone, who'd landed on Beckham's back. Beckham retaliated by kicking Simeone, earning a red card and changing the momentum of the match.

The English played valiantly the rest of the way with just 10 men, but there is no telling what might have happened had Beckham been given just a yellow card. The English had been the aggressors for most of the match up until that point, and they had to play more for the long ball the rest of the way.

Harry lifted Hermione over the bar and whispered "stay down," then stood up and said a bit too loudly; "I wonder how much Beckham got for throwing that match?"

What followed was a classic barroom brawl, Harry ducked the first punch, which landed on the guy who was at the bar next to him and the mêlée ensued, punches, kicks, screams, furniture flying, and glass breaking.

Hermione's face had a beatific expression as she and Noir absorbed all the raw emotion of the group.

Harry ducked one punch but that put his face in the perfect position to catch another and he was laid out next to the bar. He looked up and saw Hermione looking a bit older and a lot better fed, "How much more d'you need?" he asked.

"Could do with a bit more" she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Harry groaned and rejoined the brouhaha. His auror training made him hard to hit, but there were enough missiles flying around that it was impossible to not catch the odd pool cue or fist or foot for that matter as the fight grew to near riot proportions.

Someone blew a whistle and the Pitcher's patrons started running helter-skelter out of the bar.

Hermione took Harry's hand and ran out the door just as two Bobbies grabbed him, one at each shoulder.

Hermione's voice grew unearthly as she faced the policemen and growled "let him go!"

"Sorry darling, this one's for the wagon, we ear' tell e's the one whot started it!"

Hermione slipped the dragon hide jacket off her shoulders, levitated out of the matching boots and let Noir take over morphing into full dementor form.

Both policemen suddenly remembered other suspects, in other parts of the city - all of whom had a much, much higher priority than this barroom brawler.

"Hmmm," Harry mused, "apparently muggles can see a dementor, um, an essensential if it wants them to."

As Noir drifted into the alley Harry unlocked the Triumph and waited until Hermione drifted out, looking a good deal more like her 18 year old self. He helped her on with the jacket as she slipped effortlessly into the boots. She looked good in the school uniform under the leather jacket. The dragon hide boots conformed to her shapely calves making the ensemble very punk/schoolgirl hot! The fact that she was, well, gliding rather than walking was a bit disconcerting.

They rode back to Grimauld Place lost in thought, the thrumming of the Trident's three cylinders filling the silence. As Harry directed the bike to the carriage house Meacham stood in the driveway holding the double doors open.

"Thank you Meacham" Harry said.

"Not at all sir" the old elf replied, "you'll be wanting to see Mrs. Potter straight away sir, I believe she will have matters to discuss with you."

Harry shuddered; he hadn't expected to survive his encounter with the dementor that had been stalking them, now he was bringing that same soul sucker home.

"Ohhhh Haaarrry! Joo gots some 'splainin t' do!"

They'd just entered the small dining room when Hermione asked "Mrs. Potter?"

"Um, yes, well, y' see . . ." he started lamely, "I thought you were gone, y'know, Kissed and when . . ."

"I'm gone, what, four days and in your grief you get married?" Hermione was building up a head of steam now, and then she asked, almost too calmly "to whom?"

"Um, to you" he said trapping her with his sincere emerald eyes.

"You married my dementor kissed shell?" she said, aghast.

"Not married in the sense of "I Harry do take you Hermione to be my lawful wedded wife," he explained "we're, um, mate-bonded."

"Harry" she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, "the only way we could be mate-bonded is if we had . . ." her eyes grew wide in horror, "you had sex with my inert body?"

"NO!" he shouted, "I mean no, Hermione, you weren't inert, you were, um ert?"

"Harry, start making some sense or I swear I'm going to turn Noir loose!"

Before Harry could speak Hermione's voice screamed his name, only her voice was coming from another room.

He ran to the library where Myrtle was slowly rising on Hermione's unsteady legs, "Harry?" she repeated. He burst into the room to see his wife shaking off the effects of his stunner.

She nearly fell over as Harry rushed to catch her and hold her, "it's okay baby, shhh, shhh, it's okay, I'm here, I'm here."

"Oh Harry, I had this awful dream, you were fighting for your life and I wasn't there to protect you, and you stunned me and you . . ."

The realization came to her slowly, "you stunned me."

"You would have tried to stop me" he said by way of a lame excuse.

"You stunned me?"

"I wanted you safe . . ."

"You" her hands gripped his shirt front, "stunned" she pushed him out to arms length and let go with her right hand, holding his shirt front with her left, "Me?"

He nodded lamely and she smacked him, leaving a handprint on his left cheek.

Then she broke down in inarticulate tears sobbing into his chest even as she beat his arms and shoulders.

He just stood there and let her wear herself out.

Hermione cleared her throat from the door.

Harry turned around and said softly, "sweetheart, we have guests."

She looked up at him with disbelieving eyes, then at the doorway where Hermione stood.

"Myrtle, this is Hermione and Noir. Hermione, Noir, this is Myrtle Frisbee Potter, currently residing in your dementor kissed body."

As Hermione entered the library Myrtle cowered behind Harry.

"They won't hurt you sweetheart" he reassured her. Then he looked at the purposeful manner with which Hermione floated ominously into the room, "you won't hurt her, will you?"

She glared at Myrtle.

"Um, Hermione," he asked "could you just, um, please walk in the house? The gliding thing is a bit spooky."

"Sorry Harry, I didn't realize."

"Myrtle Frisbee Potter" Hermione asked "as in Moaning Myrtle?"

She nodded.

Meacham appeared at Harry's elbow and whispered "parliamentary procedures, sir, take the ladies to the table and have it out."

He looked quizzically at his diminutive butler, who looked back and forth between the girls and Harry and then meaningfully at the library door.

Harry moved the two girls to the library table where he held out two chairs so they could face each other and have the table as a buffer between them as he sat at the head of the table keeping an eye on them both.

"Parliamentary procedures" Harry announced, figuring that Meacham knew what he was about, besides, as head of the house it seemed the thing to do, "Miss Hermione Granger has the floor, Hermione?"

"Myrtle" she asked, "start with why are you in my body; what gave you the right to take possession of it?"

"Well you weren't using it . . ."

"You do realize that I am in control of a fully fledged dementor and that I can suck your little ghost soul right out of my body if I so choose?"

"Harry wouldn't let you!"

"Point of order" Harry interrupted, "Miss Granger still has the floor; do you concede the floor to Mrs. Potter."

"Don't call her that!" she said in her distorted dementor voice, clearly agitated.

"I'm sorry Hermione, but we are mate-bonded and in our own home she is my wife."

"Don't I get to say what happens to my body anymore?"

"We'll discuss that too if you like, Meacham?"

The little butler read from the scroll he had been writing on and in Hermione's own voice he repeated "Don't I get to say what happens to my body anymore?" Then in Harry's voice he read "We'll discuss that too if you like, Meacham?"

Hermione looked confused, "This is an actual meeting?"

"Hermione I am the head of two great houses, when I say 'Parliamentary Procedures' it becomes an actual meeting, any decisions we make will be legal and binding. Now, you still have the floor, do you yield?"

"I'll give up the floor if Ghost Girl here will just answer my question."

Three pairs of eyes turned to Myrtle.

She sat up defiantly and said, "If I hadn't, Harry would have died. Everyone would have died, and as I said before, you weren't using it!"

"What do you mean Harry would have died?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Oh what I wouldn't give for a penseive right now" Myrtle moaned.

"Meacham?" Harry asked.

"In the cellar sir." He said.

"Could you?"

Meacham looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry sir; we shall have to go to it. It's too heavy for me to carry and you can't summon something like a penseive because it contains so much magic. I'm afraid it will not react well to the direct application of charms."

"Could we put it in a box and just levitate the box?" Harry asked.

"Levitate" Meacham said; "The" he slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand "Box!"

The old elf faded from view then walked in a few moments later levitating a large wooden crate which he placed on the library table, then made the crate vanish leaving the penseive behind to wobble in place for a few moments.

Myrtle drew the appropriate memory from her temple and placed it into the penseive.

Harry and the girls placed their heads into the basin and found themselves on the battlements. Harry and Myrtle were both shocked to see Hermione standing there holding onto Noir's shoulder, restraining her.

"Noir, if I let you go will you stay with me?"

The dementor nodded and Hermione let go. The wraith floated in place.

An utterly defeated Harry Potter was cradling Hermione's apparently lifeless form against his chest and he was begging Voldemort to kill him.

"I couldn't let it happen, I had to do /something/; so I took possession of your body to try to help Harry" Myrtle explained, then shrugged her shoulders, "I guess it worked."

"Have you tried to un-possess my body?"

"Yes," she said, with a sigh of relief, thankful that she had really tried to do the right thing. "I tried the very next day and I found that I am trapped, I'm sure Noir here could un-trap me but then I'd be gone and your body would still be just a shell."

They left the penseive and returned to the table.

"I yield the floor to Mrs. Potter" Hermione said wearily.

"Hermione, I've never heard of a soul being able to control a dementor, how are you doing this?"

"I honestly don't know," she sighed exasperatedly, "Ron and I were on the battlements when everything went black, when I came to there was a dementor, Noir here, with her face inches from my own and all I could think of was 'no.' No I will not go, you will not take me! Harry needs me! Ron needs me, my Mum and Dad need me and you can't have me! I fought and struggled even as I felt my soul leaving my body behind I fought the shadows. I could see my body on the ground looking up at my pitiful efforts, I was fighting, but I was loosing. I was getting weaker and weaker; I knew I was going to be taken. Then, all of a sudden it was like I was seeing through new eyes. I became what I am now, whatever that is. I was about to try to get back into my own body when I saw Harry cast a wandless spell that made my fellow essensential scream in pain and horror, then he looked like he was about to cast the same spell at me and I panicked and flew over the battlements."

She took a deep breath, "I wandered around the shadows for a bit and then kind of blundered into the great hall where a dozen or so first years stung me with bright lumos spells. I had to flee again. After a while I noticed the vents under the great hall and started listening and reaching out. I discovered then that I could inhabit dreams, I even sent a message to Harry by way of an auror's daydream, remember?"

"Friendship and bravery" he said, "very clever, how could I forget that?"

Hermione nodded, "after that we began to test each others boundaries."

"You and Noir?" Harry asked.

"Spot on" Hermione concurred, "she tried to assert control over me, or failing that to digest me but it seems she can't. For some inexplicable reason I'm indigestible.

After a while we formed a kind of truce, but she started to get weak - apparently I'm a parasite, I weaken her and she needs to feed more often than other dementors. I wouldn't let her feed on anyone in Hogwarts so we followed a healer through the floo to St. Mungo's where I remembered Grimauld Place. I knew you'd be back sooner or later. We even shadowed you to Diagon Alley yesterday."

"I remember" Harry said, shuddering at the memory, "why didn't you just try to talk to us?"

"Noir was preventing it, she feels especially threatened by you Harry; you're the first wizard she's ever seen who can actually destroy her kind. I did manage to find a bit of chalk on the sidewalk and leave you some runic clues."

"Friendship and bravery" he said.

"We had just about given up when you showed up in the alley, typical Gryffindor, more courage than brains." She placed her warm palm on his cheek, "thank you Harry."

She sat up straight in her chair and said "and the rest you know."

Myrtle interjected, "I don't know the rest, what happened?"

Hermione smirked, "pretty much what you'd expect, Sir Galahad here was going to sacrifice himself in order to free me and spare you. He had no way of knowing that I'd become the controlling symbiot in our relationship."

"All I saw in the alley was a cold, hungry, frightened little girl. I've been cold and hungry and frightened myself, I had to try to help" he said with a shrug.

"We were in bad shape, Noir and I, and Harry came up with an idea to feed us."

"What do you eat Hermione?"

"Apparently nothing, I'm totally dependent on Noir for sustenance, if she doesn't feed, we both go hungry. She's been 'snacking' on all the excess emotions running around this house since you, um, woke up."

"Yeah" Myrtle said, throwing an 'I'll get you later' look in Harry's direction.

"So where did you go?"

"Apparently Harry knows some very dodgy bars in Southeast London" she said, casting him a dark look.

"Hey, I'd never been there, Seamus told me about it, said it was always packed and always looked like a fight was about to break out" he explained, "he said I should wash my hands and watch my back on the way out."

"So Harry takes us to this dive of a bar and starts a fight!"

Myrtle looked at Harry's face and noticed the cuts and bruises for the first time, "ooh, we need some healing magic here."

"Later" Harry assured her, "Hermione and Noir fed on all the raw emotion in the place and we rode home, and that is the rest of the story."

"Let's get you cleaned up Mr. Potter" Myrtle suggested, "then maybe some supper. Smells like Meacham has a shepherd's pie in the oven."

"Um, Harry, I don't eat and I don't exactly sleep at night, could I just stay in the library while you're, um, healing?" Hermione asked.

"Do you sleep during the day?" he asked.

"After a fashion, we just go inert for a few hours, but then Noir usually wakes up hungry" she looked thoughtful for a moment, "we don't need to feed everyday, but at least twice a week, we're going to need another food source - you can't be starting barroom brawls twice a week for the next few decades."

Harry chuckled, "no, we'll have to think of something else. Hermione, you don't even have to ask - my home is your home, I hope you'll always feel that way."

"Mrs. Potter, may I?"

She smiled and nodded as Hermione pulled Harry into one of her patented bone-crushing hugs. He stoically accepted the embrace even though it reminded him of every scrape and bruise on his battered body.

Hermione looked away as her doppelganger took Harry by the hand and led him up the stairs.

Once behind closed doors they fell into a tight embrace which unfortunately caused Harry to hiss in pain. Myrtle jumped back, "I'm so sorry, I didn't think. . ."

"S' okay" he winced "you couldn't have known."

"Strip" she ordered.

He groaned, his movements stiff as he peeled out of his T shirt and sat on the bed.

"Oh Harry" she said, looking at his bruises and abrasions. Rowena Ravenclaw's healing jewel was on his nightstand. She picked it up and said "we'd best start from the top."

Holding the jewel in the palm of her left hand Myrtle gently probed Harry's scalp, "you have a knot on the back of your head."

"Pool cue" he explained.

"And a nasty bruise on your left temple."

"Someone had a pretty good right-cross."

She didn't say a word as she placed the jewel on his left cheek, where her hand print practically glowed.

"I suppose I deserved that" he said, chagrined.

She smiled weakly and applied the stone directly to his scrapes and bumps, lightly kissing his skin and scalp as she healed them.

She thought, "why not?" and applied the stone to his lighting bolt shaped scar, which faded noticeably but a persistent hint of it stubbornly remained, no longer etched but rather traced on his forehead. Oh well, it had been a part of him for so long, he might actually miss it.

She healed his split lip, and then kissed him tenderly. He reached to embrace her but winced as the rest of his injuries manifested themselves.

"Hold still" she smirked, "let your healer work here."

She cataloged his bruises, nasty welts on his back and forearms, huge purpling bruises on the sides of his torso from three cracked ribs.

"Doesn't it hurt to breathe?"

"A bit" he admitted, "I've had worse scrapes on the quidditch pitch."

She caressed his exposed skin with her warm fingertips and followed each caress with the healing stone.

"You've had a right pasting Harry, the best we can do is just let you kip with Rowena's stone."

"Riddle healed a lot faster" he groused.

"Riddle had the stone under his skin."

She thought for a moment and then smiled evilly "do you want this stone inside you?"

He looked confused for a moment, "it's too big to swallow. . ." then looked horrified at his wife, who was barely containing her guffaws.

"That is just wrong!" he grumbled.

She found a small pouch and placed the stone inside, then attached a long cord so that Harry could wear it around his neck.

"Lie down," she ordered and then joined him on the bed, being very careful not to bump him. She placed her hand on the pouch and said "thank you Harry."

He was nearly exhausted as he asked "what for?"

"For not dissolving our bond, for letting me keep the ring, for not hating me."

"I was pretty sure I knew who you were when I gave you the ring, Love, and you are the girl I'm mate bonded to."

"And if she finds a way to take her body back?"

"Then it'll still be you I'm bonded to. . ." he sighed, then drifted off to a healing sleep.

Downstairs the brightest witch of her age was devouring all the books she could find on soul magic.