Three For All
Chapter 7
By Kinsfire
The stories in this grouping have been abandoned by me, and will not be worked on again.
Three For All — Chapter VII
"Did you hear what happened?" seemed to be the only thing Harry heard as he went to breakfast Monday morning.
"What happened?" Harry asked Susan Bones as she passed by asking the question.
"Apparently, while Hagrid was roaming the grounds last night, he found the remains of Goyle’s broom by the Whomping Willow," she replied, blushing slightly. "It was one of those expensive ones, too — a Mercury Lightning. That’s gonna cost a lot to replace."
"Well, he shouldn’t leave the thing down in the shed with the school brooms," Harry replied.
"That’s the thing," she said. "He’s swearing it was in his room with him."
"Right," replied Harry, his voice quite sarcastic. "Either he left it in the school broom shed, or someone in Slytherin House has it in for him. If it’s the latter, then I’d recommend he watch his back." He smiled at her, causing her to blush even more. "Thanks for the info, Susan."
He made his way to the Gryffindor table and sat down, shaking his head. It was getting louder over at the Slytherin table, and Malfoy finally stood and stalked over to Harry. "Potter, I know you had something to do with this! How did you get into Slytherin and steal Goyle’s broom? I know it was in his room last night!"
Harry got a sly smile on his face and replied in a voice that he knew would carry through the Great Hall, "Are you really sure you want to be admitting that you have intimate knowledge of Goyle’s … uh, broom?"
"I saw it, you git! He spent some time polishing it!" Malfoy barked, not hearing the chuckles throughout the room.
"What an excellent friend you are, Draco, to offer to help him polish his … uh, broom." Harry was starting to smile at this point as the chuckles began to get louder.
Draco finally noticed this, and his face tried to take on the colour from the day before. "I am not a pouf, you bastard!" he screamed at Harry, unfortunately rather girlishly.
"Could have fooled me!" Dean said. "With how long you take on your hair? No straight man takes that long."
Jaws dropped though when Blaise Zabini said in a loud voice, "If you’re not a pouf, Malfoy, then why won’t you take no for an answer?"
Draco looked as if he were about to explode, and he reached for his wand. Before his hand reached it, however, it flew to the head table and into the hand of Severus Snape. "I was forced to take points from my own house yesterday because of you, Mister Malfoy, and it appears that you have not listened to me. Fifty points from Slytherin for your obvious attempt to attack a fellow student, when it was quite obvious that they were doing nothing more than teasing."
"That’s what you think," Blaise said loud enough to be heard throughout the Great Hall.
"Indeed?" Snape asked, an eyebrow rising. "Interesting information to learn, I would say. As I was saying before, however — as well as the points, I am giving you a week’s worth of detention with me." He looked to Harry. "If you could refrain from goading Mister Malfoy, Mister Potter, I would appreciate it."
"My apologies, sir. It was just that he made it so easy. In all seriousness, though, I think he’s trying to pin blame on me for Goyle’s own carelessness. Either Goyle’s broom was in the school shed, and anyone could have taken it and fed it to the Willow, or someone in his own House has a problem with him, and the resources to steal a broom and get it out to the Willow without being seen. Goyle should just be glad that they were only after his broom. If they’d been trying to say something else, then it might have been Goyle fed to the Whomping Willow, and none of us want that." He met Draco’s eyes, and the pale student widened his eyes as he understood what Harry was actually saying. "Again, Professor, I apologize. I even apologize to Draco for taunting him."
"Save it, Potty," snarled the Slytherin. He stalked back over to the Slytherin table, looking daggers at Blaise, who seemed supremely unconcerned.
In a nearly perfect New York City Bronx accent, Hermione said quietly, "Nice henchman youse got dere. Be a shame if somethin’ was to happen to him." The people nearby at the table laughed.
When Harry had stopped laughing, he said, "Bit of a chance that Zab … Blaise is taking there."
"Not really," Hermione said. "There’s an in-house rivalry for control of the House. Malfoy’s had it sealed up for years. You just gave Blaise a chance to drive a wedge in, and assert some control of his own. And trust me — you want Blaise in control of Slytherin House, not Malfoy."
"When did you start paying attention to Slytherin politics?" Ron asked around a roll.
"Ever since I got called a Mudblood in second year. Never really saw a way of affecting them before, so I kept the information to myself. But now with Blaise …."
"Should I be jealous?" Harry asked with a smile, his eyes twinkling.
"Should I?" she asked with a laugh. "Susan was blushing like crazy while you were talking to her."
"I have no idea why, to be honest," Harry said.
"Remember the Gryffindor fountain on our first day after Tonks? Every girl in the school has heard about how you ate my knickers." She grinned for just a moment. "I think she was wondering if you’d like the taste of her knickers."
Harry snorted and started breakfast. "Not likely. Cute as she is, I’ve got my hands full," he said as he tucked in.
#####
November was an interesting month all around. Between Blaise’s attempts to take over leadership of Slytherin, which appeared to be working since the rumours of Draco’s sexual inclinations were spreading slowly, and the continued work on The Project, as all involved called it, Harry’s time was taken.
Harry had been avoiding doing anything to Draco, quite honestly, because he couldn’t trust himself not to go too far, especially once Tonks became a regular visitor to the school. After the attack, she had been assigned a desk job, and word had come through trusted Aurors about The Project. She was assigned to the school, officially as an investigator of some of the incidents that had been happening recently, such as the destruction of a broom. This would normally have escaped the notice of the Department of Magic Law Enforcement, except that the broom belonged to the son of a minor Ministry official, and Cornelius Fudge wanted it checked out. So it was that Tonks was sent to check out the destruction of Gregory Goyle’s Mercury Lightning.
She became involved with The Project, and had helped aim their researches. "Harry," she told him one day after the meeting had broken, leaving just her, Hermione and Harry in the Room of Requirement, "I love you more every time I learn something else you’ve done. You can’t stand Severus, and yet you do this for him."
"Part of it, my little Nymph," he said, kissing her hand, "is that he … he hated his part in what was done to you. He brewed the potion knowing that without it, they’d likely do something with our son. He quite likely saved your life. Even if he hates me, he did this. So, I have to do something to try to save his life. Not a real wizard’s life debt — just a debt of honour."
She sat down on his lap and kissed him thoroughly. When the kiss broke, Harry found that the room had changed. It was now a romantic setting, with a large bed prominently in the middle. "I’m sorry …" he started to say. "My subconscious …."
"… would not trump my conscious mind," Tonks finished. "This room is exactly the way I want it to look, Harry. I love you, and I’m willing to try making love to you again." A fire gently burst into existence in the fireplace.
He held her close, finding her shivering slightly. "Nymph, you don’t need to do this, you know. I still love you, and if you’re scared …"
"… then I’ll stay scared until I confront my fears." She disengaged from him and slowly began to undress. He wanted to help, but somehow knew that this had to be her — knowing that she had full control of the situation.
Soon, she was nude before him, and he felt himself reacting as he always did when he thought about her nude. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you for still finding me attractive."
"That’s an understatement, beloved. I’d like to ravish you, your body gets me so worked up. But what I will do is ask you to undress me. This is at your pace, and I do nothing unless you request it, even if it causes me certain bodily pains later on." He blushed slightly.
Tears came to her eyes, and she stepped forward, gently undoing his shirt and peeling it off before shaking hands reached for his trousers. He gently brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, and then gently slid down to her breasts and tickled her nipples slightly. "Harry," she moaned.
"You don't have to do this, Tonks. If you're not ready yet, then we wait." He pulled her close enough that he could feel the rapid hammering of her heartbeat. "I was serious when I visited you in the hospital. If being with one of the two women who give my life meaning requires that I live as a woman …." He punctuated his statement by closing his eyes and performing the morph he had practiced so many times from curiosity, transforming into what he thought he would have looked like as a girl his age. In a pleasant voice he didn't realize was sexier than he'd intended he said, "To stay with you, Tonks, I'll live life as a woman if I have to."
Hermione's eyes were wide. "Harry, did you intend to make a female form so, um, sexy?" She was biting her lower lip.
"Actually, I just sort of meditated on it. Knowing what I've learned about Muggle science, I just imagined all my Y chromosomes becoming X chromosomes. Opened my eyes to find my clothes fitting interestingly. Bumps in places I'm not used to having bumps," he laughed. He blushed furiously as he said, "Also found out why you girls go so crazy when I touch you in certain places."
Tonks looked at him, tears in her eyes. "Maybe when you spend Christmas with me, you can see how long you can hold the female form, but …." She bit back a small sob. "Please be male for me, Harry. You're proving that all men aren't like the Malfoys. You won't rape me, and if I don't face it now, I may never face it."
He, or perhaps she, got a solemn look shifting back to his birth form. Tonks stood straighter and reached down to gently undo his trousers. As she pulled them down, she chuckled. "Oh yes, there's that familiar tingle …."
#####
It was some time later when there was a knock at the door. Hermione, who had stayed dressed, cracked the door open slightly as Harry and Tonks finished dressing. "Ah, Miss Granger," came the voice of Professor Dumbledore through the slight opening. "May I please enter? I need to speak with both Harry and Nymphadora." The door opened once both were properly dressed. He entered with a smile. "I can not put into words how happy I am to see you smiling right now, Nymphadora."
"It’s all his fault, sir," she said with a laugh. "I just couldn’t be ugly about things with him around."
"Excellent news." He turned to Harry. "What can you tell me of the project so far?"
"It looks to me, sir, as if we've just about reached a danger point. We need to capture a few Death Eaters and use them as test subjects for the potential process."
"Why not use Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked.
"Because there's only one of him, and it might be fatal. It might sound horrible, but I'd rather use someone who's already decided they're expendable by knowingly serving a creature who may murder them at the drop of a hat." He shook his head. "I hate what this war is turning me into." He looked back up at Dumbledore. "I don't believe that the process requires the willing assistance of the person having the Mark removed. Get me Crabbe, Goyle, MacNair, and all the Malfoys. I'll practice on them." His eyes blazed. "The ferret gets a special revenge." He looked to Tonks.
"I find it interesting that you are worried about Severus's health," Dumbledore said, attempting to bring the conversation back, away from thoughts of revenge.
"Look, we're not friends, and I doubt we ever will be.. That doesn't mean I actively want him dead. Well, not anymore. He helps out against Moldieshorts, but I'm sure he wants free. If we develop a method of removing the Mark without killing the person, then we can offer him the chance. It'll have to make it easier for him to work with Moldie if he knows that he can leave when he wants to."
Harry heard a sniff from both ladies. "And that, Albus, is why I'm a whole woman again," Tonks said, wiping a tear away. "He cares, pure and simple. He has every reason to hate my 'cousin', but he's trying to give him a chance to escape."
"He cares, which is why we will win," Dumbledore said quietly. "And I strongly believe that we will win with Harry still around to enjoy the fruits of his victory."
Hermione looked a bit unhappy. "Do you really think we’re at a point where we should start testing it? I’d prefer to keep working until it’s a much lower chance of fatality."
"I love the Healer in you, Hermione, but I really do think we’re at a point where we have to start testing. People are going to die in this war, and I’d prefer it to be the bastards who work for that vile son of a bitch." He paused, an evil grin on his face. "I have a few ideas for the youngest Malfoy. He’s undoubtedly got that tattoo now, so I think removing it from him once the process is non-fatal, and then sending Snape to tell Moldie that Draco is trying to play both sides should lead to some interesting things."
Tonks looked at him for a long moment before saying quietly, "Harry, which one of us was raped?" He looked up at her, puzzled. "I have been listening to you since I got here. The bit with Goyle’s broom, and giving the warning that it’ll be Goyle next time. Mind you, that was actually due to the Quidditch situation, but still. The increasingly inventive and painful tortures you have planned for Draco." She took a deep breath. "Don’t you think that I’m the one who should be planning these?" She hugged herself. "I can’t say as I’ve really forgiven Severus, either, although I’m getting there, so I agree with leaving him out of the revenge schemes. But Harry — when do I get a say in what to do against my attackers?"
He looked at her in shock for a few moments before finally blushing. "I’m sorry, Tonks. You’re right. I’ll work on that." He looked up at the clock that had suddenly appeared in the room. "I think that dinner might be a good idea. Shall we four head down?" He ushered them from the room, carefully pulling the door shut behind him. "Thank you," he whispered to the room.
#####
As December loomed merely a week away, life seemed to return to a semblance of what might be called normal. Draco was still fighting a political battle within Slytherin, but Harry no longer was ‘gifting him’ with the sly looks and attempts at unnerving him, so he began a return to his prior arrogance.
Finally, Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her. "Harry? What happened? Draco had gotten to a point where he didn’t dare turn around, and now he’s back to his old tricks. Why did you stop?"
"It’s not my right," he said simply. "I was taking revenge for something that I have no real say in."
"Where’d you get that idea from?" she asked, bewildered.
"Nymph," he answered simply, returning to his essay for Transfiguration.
She looked at him for a long moment before getting up and heading out through the portrait hole. She returned about fifteen minutes later with Tonks, just as Harry was finishing the essay. "Hey Tonks!" he said cheerfully. "What brings you here? Oh Hermione? Mind looking over my essay? I’ll trust it better if you look it over."
It was the frown on both women’s faces that got him worried. "What? What did I do wrong this time?"
"Interesting reaction," Tonks said quietly. "Where did it come from?"
"Simple. Second year — Heir of Slytherin — Harry speaks Parseltongue — must be Harry. Fourth year — Harry’s name came up out of the Goblet of Fire — he must have found a way around the age line, and he’s lying if he says otherwise. Only Hermione believed me. Last year — I’m utterly bugfuck — just read the Prophet! So, it’s time for something else. It may or may not actually be my fault this time. And with Hermione’s look at me, I’m betting that it really is something I did wrong." He paused for a moment. "Actually, I probably screwed up concerning Malfoy again."
Hermione blanched. "Oh, Harry!" she breathed.
"Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more private?" he asked. "If we’re going to talk about what I think we are, then the whole Tower doesn’t need to hear it." He carefully put his things in his bag and carried it upstairs to his room. Coming back down, he headed to the portrait hole. "Shall we?"
They walked quietly to her office, and both women noticed his demeanour. It was an aura of quiet acceptance. When they got inside, Tonks turned to him. "What’s up, Harry? You walked down here as if … I don’t know. You’re sure you screwed up, and you accept it. That’s a weird attitude to have, you know."
He shrugged. "Maybe. I’m wrong so often, though, that I’m used to it by now. I’m just hoping to learn from it before I end up killing more people. Sirius is dead because I couldn’t admit that I might be wrong. I’ve accepted that he’s dead, and that if I’d listened to Hermione, he might be alive. That’s why I’m listening now. I said something wrong in the common room concerning Draco Malfoy, and that’s why you two want to talk to me. I’m going to listen this time, love," he said, looking to Hermione. He was surprised by the tears in her eyes.
"What was said in the common room?" Tonks asked quietly.
"She’d asked why I’d stopped my campaign of psychological terror on Malfoy, and I pointed out that I had rightfully been told by you that it simply wasn’t my place. So I backed off." He shrugged again. "I don’t see where the problem is, to be honest."
"When did I tell you that it wasn’t your place?" Tonks asked, puzzled.
"You reminded me that I wasn’t the one raped. I’d been planning on doing any number of things that were rightfully yours to do. You reminded me that it was your place to plan them, not me. That reminded me that it wasn’t my place to screw with Malfoy’s head. I wasn’t the victim here. You were. It’s not my place to get angry — it’s not my right. So I backed off like you wanted me to."
Tonks deflated. "I was just talking about making all the decisions about what was going to be done with the rapists. You had decided what was going to happen, but never asked me. You have every right to be angry."
"It wasn’t me they raped, Nymph," he said seriously. "Was I the one tied down to that table and repeatedly violated? No. I have no rights to be angry in this matter."
Hermione spoke quietly. "You love her. That gives you every right to be angry."
"Why now? Why am I only now permitted to be angry? Because I love her? Why wasn’t being angry with Ron permitted when he betrayed me two years ago? Why is being angry at Dumbledore for not telling me the truth wrong? Why am I not permitted to be angry for the years of abuse that I suffered at the hands of the Dursleys? ‘We did it for the best of reasons’ was the reason I was given, but it was obvious that I wasn’t supposed to be angry about it. If it’s wrong for me to be angry when those things happen, then I have no right to be angry when this happens. The fate of the world doesn’t rest on this situation. If being mad then was wrong, then it’s wrong this time." His tone was surprisingly even, as if he believed that this was the proper way things should be.
"Who told you that you couldn’t be mad at Ron?" Tonks asked, bewildered. "Given what I heard, I’m surprised you forgave him at all."
Hermione sniffed. "That one is my fault. I just knew how good friends they were, and didn’t want them to lose that. I made him feel that his anger was wrong."
He shrugged. "Anger solves nothing. I went overboard on that thing with Goyle. I really ought to buy him a new broom to replace the one I destroyed. Yeah, I know his father already did that, but …."
"Harry," Hermione said hotly, "he intentionally struck Ginny with a bat. If you didn’t get angry, there’d be something wrong with you. You had every right to be angry with him, and I think you got a very important message across. All of Slytherin knows you did that, but they can’t prove it."
"Back to the thing we really need to talk about," Tonks said. "Harry, you love me, right?"
"Yes," he said simply. "You give my life meaning, the same way Hermione does. Why?"
"Then you have every right to be angry at what was done to me. It affects you, because it affects me."
"No. Anger is a bad emotion, and I shouldn’t fall prey to it, even if I do all the time. I need to control it, and stop it. It’s usually because I’m afraid of something." He paused, frowning. "Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. That’s the route Voldemort took. I won’t."
"Harry, I hope you didn’t come up with that series of connections on your own, because that is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard!" Hermione cried out. "Are you allowed to be jealous? Whoops, that’s a negative emotion — can’t have that. Can you be depressed? Not allowed — it’s negative, and might lead to something else normal!" She walked over to the wall, breathing heavily for a moment. "This is the Dursleys fault, isn’t it? Teaching you that getting angry at them was a bad thing, so you internalised it. When are you allowed to be human, Harry?"
"I don’t know!" he yelled back. "Everyone has been teaching me my whole life that every decision I make is wrong. I never wanted to return to the Dursleys, but I was wrong, because I needed their protection. Getting angry at them was wrong, because it earned me a beating with a brush, or a belt, or a frying pan. Getting angry at the teachers here is wrong, because none of them ever does anything against the rules — it says so in the handbook! Getting mad at your fellow students is wrong, because you need to keep unity amongst the student body. Mind you, it’s all right if they hate me, but since I’m the bloody Golden Boy, that arrow does not point in the opposite direction as well. If being angry and acting on it has been wrong all this time, then it sure as hell is wrong now!" He took a deep breath. "And now I’m getting angry again. I’m sorry. Let me go back to the common room. I’ll calm down by the time I reach there."
"Harry …." Tonks began.
"I understand what you’re trying to say, Nymph, but you were right. I simply don’t have the right to be angry over what was done to you. I wish I could go back and take your place instead, but that’s just not doable." He shrugged. "I’ll see you ladies in a while." Harry exited her office and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.
#####
Tonks wasted no time in grabbing Hermione and stalking to Dumbledore’s office. "Sir, we have a situation with Harry, and it’s damned well going to destroy him unless you fix it."
"What is wrong?"
"We need the Pensieve, and you need to watch both Hermione’s and my memories for the last half hour or so."
Roughly thirty minutes later, after watching Hermione’s memories, he looked to Fawkes and scribbled a note, which the phoenix took in his beak before flying away. He returned a short time later. Harry appeared just a few minutes behind.
Before anyone else could speak, Harry said, "Since this is apparently yet another time I’m wrong, can I ask for someone to give me a written set of rules when it is permissible to be angry? Apparently, I was supposed to be angry with Ron when the whole Goblet of Fire fiasco happened, but only after the fact. I’m allowed to be angry at the Dursleys, apparently, but only now that I no longer live with them. I can assume that my anger at you, sir, will become justified once I’ve left school. Can I please be told the formula for when anger becomes justifiable? I’m apparently allowed to be angry at what happened to Tonks now, but it wasn’t right a week or so ago, when we talked in the Room of Requirement." He sighed and sat heavily in a chair. "Can I at least ask for a bloody scorecard?"
"Anger is a natural emotion, Harry," Albus said. "One can not help but feel it."
"Yes, but every time I have, it’s been deemed wrong. I can’t get angry at the things Professor Snape has done over the last five years, because he’s a teacher, and every removal of points is justifiable. I assume that the teacher’s handbook states that. The fact that you allow it to happen to Gryffindor on a regular basis leads me to believe that you condone it. The only reason I’m working on The Project is because I don’t need him distracting me. He hates me, and when I get out of school, I suppose then I’ll be permitted to hate him, rather than the respect that is required of me. He’s no idiot — he’s nicer to me now because of The Project. I still have to call him Professor, although he’s never done anything to me to deserve the respect — from day one he’s denigrated and belittled me because I had the misfortune to have the last name Potter. When everything for literally as long as I can remember teaches me that getting angry is wrong, why am I suddenly supposed to be allowed to get angry at Tonks’s rape?"
"Is it just another ploy to get me to do what you need in order to defeat Voldemort?" he asked simply. He stood and began pacing with nervous energy.
Dumbledore sat back heavily. "I am at a loss as to how to proceed. Everything I say will seem as if I am trying to aim you in a given direction."
"This is my fault," Tonks said heavily. "He didn’t snap to this attitude until I mistakenly told him that I should be planning the revenge, not him. I’d meant that I wanted to be involved with it, but I phrased it that he had no right to be involved."
"We’re all at fault," Hermione said. "Whenever he’s been angry, rather than try to discover why, we tried to head it off. We all taught him that he shouldn’t be a human being. Harry, you have a right to be angry. Be angry at the way things have been. Be angry at us for daring to tell you that you don’t have a right to be angry. Know that you have every right to be angry at the people who caused your son to be killed."
Harry simply did not know how to react. He wanted to be angry, but he’d been told so many times that being angry was wrong. "What do I do?" he asked plaintively.
"Let yourself feel, Harry," Dumbledore said simply. "I give no other advice than that. Feel, and accept what you feel is right, no matter what."
He looked to Tonks, and then to Hermione, both who had tears in their eyes. "I want to be angry, but I’ve been told so many times …." He sat down again in the chair, and put his head in his hands. "I want to be angry. I want to hate them. I want to kill them all slowly and painfully for what they did to my beautiful Nymph — for making her feel that way. I want them to suffer, dammit!" He started to shake slightly as tears began to flow. "I want to hurt them the way they hurt us." He shook himself slightly, forbidding himself to cry and looked up, allowing the anger to show, and it scared the group slightly.
"If it’s all right to feel angry, then Draco’s getting the treatment again. Should get him plenty confused. I can even make it seem like this was part of the whole plan." He looked over at Tonks. "You’ll be part of the revenge, as you say. After all, it was your body they violated. I request the right to go back to plotting, though. Final say is yours, though."
She blinked at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Feel free to plot again, but no final action against them unless I agree."
He nodded. "Unless it’s a ‘get him now, or lose the chance’ kind of thing, okay?" She thought for a moment before nodding. "Now, should we get back to plotting how to capture some Death Eaters for experimentation purposes?"
Things are worked out, we meet someone new (in a manner of speaking), and a new problem crops up.