Chapter 8: Coming to a Head

Hermione woke to the patting of a feline paw on her face.

"Mmf. Go'way, Crooks." she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow. The big orange tom laid down on her back, and began to chew on her hair, pulling and biting.

After 2 minutes of it, she finally bolted upright.

"Enough!" she shrieked, throwing Crookshanks off her back as she sat up. The big cat glared reproachfully from the end of the bed, then jumped off, standing next to the door.

"You little tub of lard, you woke me up so I'd feed you?"

A kitty nod later, she was grumbling and groaning as she climbed out of bed, pulling on a short kimono. She grabbed her beaded bag and headed for the bathroom across the hall; she ran into Murphy as she came out from her own shower.

The two shared an icy glare of greeting, before Murphy stepped to one side. Hermione stepped past, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Karrin shook her head, shaking out her wet blonde hair and tying it back into a brief ponytail, then looked down; at her feet was a large orange cat, with a squashed face and rumpled fur.

"Oh, it's you. What's your name then?"

"Mrroww!"

"Right. I'm talking to a cat." she muttered, shaking her head as she went into the kitchen, the big cat following hopefully.

She whipped up a quick breakfast; scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and some fresh fruit. She gave the cat a corner of bacon, which vanished preternaturally fast from her fingers.

"Demon cat." she muttered.

"He's more of a magical cat, actually." Hermione said from the door. She looked fresh-faced and clean, her hair dry and styled.

"You work fast."

"Magic. It's wonderful to have."

"Dresden never seems to do that. Always takes him forever to take a shower."

Hermione glowered at her for the insinuation.

"Oh, cut that out. I'm not insinuating anything. But whenever I have to wake him up for a case, he takes fricking forever to take a shower. You'd think the ice water he keeps in his apartment would encourage him to go faster."

"Hmm." Hermione said, picking through her food. She offered another piece of bacon to Crooks, who nibbled at it fiercely.

"I've never met a cat that likes bacon. I mean, I'm sure Dresden's cat does. But then, he'd eat anything that's not bigger than him."

"Habit from school. He used to get fed from the Great Hall tables."

Murphy took a few bites of egg and bacon, then snagged a piece of fruit.

"What was your school like?"

"What, U of C?"

Murphy turned an expectant look on the other woman, who smirked sarcastically. "Whatever you called it...Hogwarts, right?"

"It's a castle. In the Scottish Highlands. I learned magic there."

"I wonder why Dresden never talked about any schools."

"He said he was apprenticed."

"I know that...what I mean is, did he even know about them?"

Hermione turned her eyes on Murphy, searching as deep as she dared without Legilimency so as not to completely shatter the 4th Law. Murphy flinched as she met her eyes, but after a few seconds, relaxed.

"This has to be secret."

"I can keep one."

Hermione explained as much as she dared about the British Wizarding World and Hogwarts. She glossed on details, especially about her and her friends.

"That explains the rash of terrorist attacks and murders in the late nineties in Britain."

"Hearing about it on the news pales to living through it." Hermione said, suppressing a shudder.

"I can understand that. There've been some wild stories out of Chicago that I was right in the middle of, or at least investigating."

"I heard of a few. I had friends in Bianca's Velvet Room when it burned to the ground. A bunch of people from the club scene were trucked up there for the party." She looked up, expectantly.

Murphy betrayed nothing, but suddenly felt nervous. She didn't remember much about that week (a blessing, really; having the Nightmare possess her was one of her top-three worst memories.) She knew from departmental reports later on, and her own talks with Butters in the morgue that not all of the bodies that were in the mansion when it burned were human. She knew a bit about Bianca's business, and knew that Dresden was involved. How much, she wasn't sure. But she'd seen enough major property damage caused by Dresden to recognize his handiwork. Had he told her about his role in that burning?

"It was a mess."

"I also was stuck in my apartment, watching out the window, when that huge storm rolled over the lake last June."

"I caught the first part of that. I was involved in the little battle at Walmart, when some Fae hitmen came after Harry. I took down an ogre and a tree with a chainsaw." Murphy said, smirking at the memory.

"And finally, I was deathly ill this February; that short-lived black plague epidemic that got nearly a hundred thousand people ill, all travelers on airplanes and trains. Then, as if a light was switched on, every single person suffering from the illness recovers. At the same time."

"Hmm." God, she did not want to get into that episode. There were horrible triggers all over that one. Men without tongues murdered with long blades, mob bosses chartering helicopters which were piloted by Valkyries, the grotesque ritual murder of an old man in an airport chapel.

"What other crazy things happened?"

"March of 2000, a bunch of people ended up with their hearts torn out, no visible evidence of how. Dresden followed it to the source, a small lakehouse north of the city. Along the way, Harry burned down Marcone's club, I got stung by a 6 foot scorpion and didn't remember much of what had happened after. I'm told we went on a ride on an elevator though."

"That's not much of an adventure." Hermione scoffed; Karrin had to admit, it sounded like the voice of experience talking.

"Going both up and down in the elevator shaft by riding on a column of air, then squashing said 6 foot scorpion, is pretty adventurous. Oh, he also got picked up by the uniforms while standing naked in the rain, after fighting off some sort of summoned demon."

"Looks like I missed out." Hermione said, a grin on her face. Murphy just frowned, and turned her attention to her cooling food. She'd kept her face and voice neutral so far, and talked about things that were relatively inconsequential, but her dislike was growing.

Hermione leveled her eyes at the older woman. "Why don't you like me?"

Blue eyes met brown, glaring across the table like lightning.

Murphy's temper, its fuse already only a half-inch long, burnt through.

"Because you're not right for him. You cause or draw more trouble than I've ever seen, even in 3 years of putting up with Dresden. You can't control yourself. You continually throw yourself at someone who's already turned you down. You're this pretty little bitch, and just because you've got magic and a hell of a rescue fantasy, he's wrapped around your little finger."

Hermione's face was getting red as Murphy spoke, and she finally snapped after a deafening moment of silence.

"You think you're any better, you jealous twat? I heard you talking to Sally; you're in love with him. Don't make out that you're just looking after his interests, when you've got every reason in the world to drive me away." Hermione said, biting back tears and a churning gut.

"You were listening, huh? What exactly did you hear?" Murphy sneered.

"I heard the words from your own mouth. 'God knows I love him, who wouldn't.' Seems pretty clear to me."

Murphy laughed mirthlessly. "If you're going to eavesdrop, you should actually listen to the whole conversation. I was telling her why I wasn't with Dresden, and never would be. Hell, I told you that first morning."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You can say that now..."

"Scout's honor. I told you the morning after your problem with the vampire. I can't do serious. I couldn't throw myself into a relationship with Dresden, we'd drive each other crazy. He's too intense. I haven't gone on a date in years, actually. Since the last divorce." Murphy said, slumping back into her chair.

"Why are you trying to stop us then?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Because I think you two will destroy each other. You cling on him like a limpet mine. Admittedly, you've had good reasons. Even so, he's...odd about that. I've never seen him like that with any other woman."

"From what I understand, that's a small pool. And from what I've heard, they were pretty short and stormy." Hermione said, remembering the photo and the little diamond ring in his closet.

"Exactly like how you two have been."

"Not exactly by choice." Hermione snorted.

"But you have to admit you two have shared in some chaos." Murphy said, glaring across the table.

"And this is a surprise how?" Hermione said, giving her a look. Murphy looked at the girl as she glared defiantly back at her. She imagined what the conversation with Dresden would be like on the same topic. Apart from the voice and probably word choice, along with the British accent, it would have been too similar. Probably more vulgar, though.

"You two deserve each other." she sighed, abandoning the cause. "Just try not to keep me up late with catastrophes anymore, huh?"

Hermione's face seemed to transform, from a cold glare to a grin.

"No promises."

Karrin just groaned, putting her head in her hands to the chiming of gleeful laughter.

"Georgia."

"Hey, Harry. What's up?" Georgia said, looking across the table at Billy. Her boyfriend wore a concerned look on his face; his hearing was good enough to hear both sides of the conversation.

"Did you ever get a chance to talk to Murph?"

"No, I got hammered at work this week."

"Damn."

"Why?"

"Hermione stayed the night at her place."

"Uh...what?"

"She had a home intruder, Red Court. Or at least, one connected to the one I torched a week ago."

"God damn it, Dresden, why didn't you say something? Is she alright?" Georgia snarled.

"She picked him up before he even got in. Soon as she knew he wasn't human, she torched him. Sunlight, actually." His voice was touched with amusement.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." she muttered. Billy dropped his fork on his plate in a clatter.

"That about says it."

"Why'd she stay with Karrin?" you moron, she thought.

"I didn't want Murphy freaking out if I offered my place again. She's got one of the few thresholds I know about."

"You could have called Michael..."

"At 3 in the morning?"

"Dresden, you've got to get past whatever problem is preventing you from talking to Michael. I know he's worried about you." It's not like he calls every week asking about you or anything...Georgia shared a long-suffering look across the table with Billy.

"Maybe this week." he temporized.

"So she went with Murphy?" Georgia sighed.

"Yeah." Harry's voice was flat.

"This could be either good or bad."

"How so?"

"Either they'll clear the air and be more comfortable with each other, or they'll try to kill each other."

"Hell's Bells." She could hear him sigh in exasperation.

"Either way, I bet you'll find both of them at the station this morning."

"Should I bring bail money?"

"Couldn't hurt." Georgia said, smirking now. She heard another sigh over the line.

"Alright. Thanks, Georgia. Tell Billy to stop smirking." Dresden said, hanging up. Georgia looked up to see Billy's face drop from his usual self-satisfied smirk to a look of astonishment.

"How does he do that?"

Murphy felt her body squeezed through a rubber hose, and suddenly found herself standing on her feet.

She doubled over, emptying her stomach in an intense wave of nausea. Hermione stood nearby, smirking, then once she was done vomiting, waved her wand lazily and the mess vanished.

"Blegh. Should you be doing that in public?" Karrin muttered, glaring at Hermione darkly.

"Nobody's around." she said, having checked for muggles beforehand. "Here, have a drink." she said, holding out a glass of conjured ice-water.

Murphy cleared her mouth of the taste first, then took a long drink of the clean, cool water. Once she was done, the glass and water vanished as well.

"Congratulations on your first Side-along Apparition."

"You bitch, you knew that would happen." Murphy muttered. Hermione grinned fiercely.

"You're all in one piece; I didn't splinch you or anything. I consider that a successful jump."

They stepped out of the blind alley, about a block from the station, and Hermione walked with Karrin.

After their heart to heart, they'd agreed to mutual dislike. It didn't mean they wouldn't help each other, and they wouldn't let it spill over into their relative relationships with Dresden, but Hermione was strangely pleased.

Karrin was infuriating, but she really only wanted the best for her friend; Hermione could respect that. And she knew she could rely on the older woman in a pinch. In the meantime, it was fun to spar with her. Neither gave up in defeat easily, so they could get into a deadlock and not even notice.

Oh yes, this would be fun.

Harry sat in an empty desk at SI, the desk of one of the guys who wasn't there that day. He wasn't sure if Georgia knew what she was talking about, but he knew Murphy probably hadn't had a chance to get her car, so she'd be here...and once she got here, she'd get roped into working.

He was prepared for the worst, harsh glares between the two at the most civilized, so he was surprised when he heard Hermione's tinkling bell of laughter intermingled with the coarser, throaty laugh of Murphy as they came up the stairs.

"Harry!" Hermione said excitedly, rushing forward to get a hug. Harry was rocked back about a foot by its force, and looked over Hermione's shoulder to see Murphy shaking her head, rolling her eyes, and heading for her office. Stallings, sitting at his desk, watched the two women with fascination. Considering the frosty demeanor last night, seeing the two walking side by side and laughing was...interesting.

"Feeling better today?"

"Karrin and I had a nice talk this morning. And yes, I'm feeling better. Thank you." she said, kissing his cheek gently. She seemed to settle down as he watched; she had a subtle tension in her shoulders before she saw his face that quickly faded away; specifically, his eyes.

"I'll just have a quick word with Murphy..."

"Honestly, Harry, we're fine. Now come on. You're buying me lunch."

"I am?" Harry asked, bemused.

"You are. Then you're going to introduce me to this contractor you talked about. I want to meet him before I let him work on my place. I've had wars with my landlord about the people he sends in to fix things."

"Uh-"

"Where are we going for lunch?"

Harry had his mouth still a bit open; it looked like he was still processing. She giggled, and gave him another kiss on the cheek. Harry snapped out of his daze, and grinned at her.

"We're going to the place they treat me like a king."

"Morgan." he said, picking up the phone.

"Mr. Morgan, this is Arthur Curie down at the Morgue. We've had some...unusual bodies come in."

"Unusual?"

"Like the Velvet Room affair a few years back. The M.E. has shoved them off on one of our assistant M.E's, calling them aberrations, but I saw them coming in. Both are badly burned."

"Thanks for letting me know, Dr. Curie." Donald Morgan hung up the phone, sitting back in a padded leather office chair.

A new player in town? He reached over for his file cabinet, pulling it out and checking his list of the usual suspects.

Number one was his first suspicion whenever anything happened in Chicago; Harry Dresden.

He pulled up Dresden's file from his cabinets and leafed through it. It was about 3 inches thick, detailing his early life, the murder (in self defense) of Justin DuMorne and the subsequent trial, his activities in Chicago, and the things Morgan suspected he did but couldn't prove.

The man was impressive, he had to admit. Not many could lay claim to killing one of the Queens of Faerie, even if it was the least of them. He'd torn down half a dozen penny-ante sorcerers with the aid of his mortal pets in the Chicago PD, destroyed a loup garou, and it was rumored that he'd even had an attempt on his life by an Outsider, most likely He Who Walks Behind.

The problem was, to have done these remarkable feats, the man had to have skirted the boundaries of law.

He only had the one proven law violation; the death of DuMorne. And that was questionably in self-defense. Every other time Dresden had killed, they were either creatures and not under the law, or he killed them via mortal means; the man had a pretty nasty handgun, and was not above using shotguns or other more illegal weapons.

His rumored dealings with Denarians were questionable, but again, nothing he could point to. He had to admit, a man didn't have one of the fabled Three fall into his lap without having some good qualities. The swords wouldn't allow it.

Morgan was almost glad that Dresden had never shown an inclination to mind magic; most of that stuff was gray as it was, and a magus with Dresden's strength could overpower nearly anybody. He was far better, it seemed, at power exchanges, thaumaturgy, following trails, and evocations. A brute; exactly what he'd been born for, and trained for by DuMorne.

The truth was, Morgan didn't hate the man for no reason. He reached over to his desk and pulled a framed photograph of a beautiful blonde woman to himself, stroking the glass with callused fingers.

Ilyena.

Ilyena Talyanova Groschenko, a beautiful Russian woman, was engaged to be married to him. He'd given her a ring, and they'd set a date. The age difference hadn't bothered the younger woman, more than a century between them; they'd loved each other.

Then Archangel happened.

When the Reds took out the brute squad at Archangel, only finally revenged by Senior Council member Simon Pietrovich's death curse, Ilyena had been one of the fallen.

When the reaction team of Wardens got to Archangel via the Ways, and saw the utter devastation wrought by the old wizard, they knew it would be folly to check for survivors...but they checked anyways.

Morgan had been the one to find Ilyena. She'd been slashed nearly in two by a Red, probably a strong one. She'd fought to the last, and he suspected her death curse had ended her attacker.

Ilyena. Until we meet again...

No, Harry Dresden wasn't Donald Morgan's #1 suspect for nothing.

Time to make a call.

Hermione settled back in Dresden's couch, feeling a bit stuffed. "Oof. I think a Whopper was just too big."

He lounged beside her, finishing off her fries. "Eyes bigger than your stomach?"

"Always. I'll admit, I didn't think of Burger King as the place where you're treated like one. It wasn't a bad idea though." she murmured, as Mister bounded over to get his mandatory head scratches.

The phone rang, and Harry sighed, getting up and picking up the receiver as he watched Hermione give Mister ear scritches; the cat looked unbearably smug. Laugh it up, fuzzball.

"Dresden's Roadkill Cafe, you kill 'em we grill 'em." Hermione giggled, then quieted down.

"Insolent as usual, Dresden."

"Why, it's almost as if you know me." Harry said, recognizing the voice. His face turned into a frown as he wondered why the grizzled old warden would call him. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Warden Morgan?"

"I hear there's some Red activity in town."

Wonder how he heard about that. "Who'd you get that from?"

"You're not the only one with a source at the morgue, Dresden. I've been around longer than you have."

"Ahh. You heard about our resident deadheads, then?"

"Two corpses, burned to a crisp. The only reason I'm not there with a sword is that they're clearly both Reds."

"You know, we never talk anymore." Harry temporized, eyeing the staff leaning near the door.

"I know you're responsible for at least one of them, Dresden."

"Yeah. The one from the club on Clark Street. He was taking a patron out for a bite." Harry said in an odd tone, glancing at Hermione and getting a reassuring smile in return.

"Hmm. How did you know it was a Red?"

"Glamour. He was pushing it pretty heavily to get her away. Then I confronted him, and he transformed in front of me."

"Hmmph. What about the other?" Was that disappointment I heard?

"To be honest, I didn't see that one happen. What does it look like?" Hermione shot him an odd look, but he held up one finger to shush her.

"It looks like it was left out in the sun, Dresden."

"Maybe that's what happened? I haven't investigated."

"Probably didn't even get your lazy ass out of bed yet."

"While I won't lay claim to anything else, I take offense at the suggestion that my ass is anything less than firm and muscular." Hermione snorted.

The only response was a disgusted scoff.

"So. If you're interested about the sun-baked vamp, there's this paid service I provide where I find out information for clients. You should look into it."

"I'll be seeing you, Dresden." 'Click'

"That wasn't ominous at all." he said, looking at the receiver with alarm.

"Should I go?" Hermione said, sitting up and alert now; she had keyed off his nervousness.

"Maybe we should go see Michael. You can get to know him and see for yourself." And I'll feel better behind a heavier threshold, with a Knight of the Cross with us.

"Okay." she said, smiling.

As they went out to the Beetle, he couldn't shake the ominous feeling that speaking with Morgan had left hanging over him.

Maybe it was time to call in reinforcements.

Michael Carpenter looked up from his newspaper when he heard the at once familiar and long-missing wheezing putt-putt of an engine pulling into the drive and stopping with a rattle, and looked out the window.

"Charity? Dresden's here."

"Hmmph." she said, nonetheless quickly straightening up the main room, which was filled with toys (the detritus of many children; they could be heard playing out back, under Molly's watchful/bored eye).

Soon enough there was a knock at the door, and Michael got up, heading to open it.

He peered through a crack and saw Dresden, with a young brunette woman.

"Harry." he said, opening the door and engulfing the taller man in a bear hug. He could feel Harry uncomfortably react to it, struggling with where to put his arms.

He could feel it, once he had contact with Harry. The taint. It was tangible, for those with eyes to see, and Dresden had to know about it; he'd avoided Michael and his family enough for it to be fairly certain. It felt suppressed though, and he wondered just how the wizard had pulled it off.

He'd been walking around the side of the house that day in February, when a car drove by, depositing a tarnished silver coin in his lawn, feet away from his youngest son. He'd seen Dresden stoop and grab the thing before the child could touch it, sacrificing himself for a member of his family yet again.

He had kept as close an eye on Dresden as possible afterwards, enlisting the secret help of some of Dresden's friends, especially the Alphas and Murphy, without actually telling them the problem. The problem was, Dresden was frustratingly isolated. He kept to himself, only appearing when there was trouble, or when he was on a case.

Dresden didn't seem to be in such a dark mood now as he was in February though; he wondered how much of that was attributable to the young woman next to him. She was new; he'd never met her before.

"Hello, Michael." Harry finally said, released of the vise grip.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asked, in a fatherly way. She giggled.

"Hermione Granger." she said, giving him a brief hug. He could feel some darkness deep within her, dark deeds she wished she would never see in her dreams again. It felt similar to Dresden's natural inclination to darkness; something he was always fighting, striving to stay on the lighter path. It was a similar conflict.

"Lovely to meet you. Come in, come in."

They sat in the couches, and Michael looked at the two. "Coffee, tea? Something else?"

"I'll have a Coke if you have one."

"A tea sounds lovely."

"Coke and tea it is." he said, smiling briefly. Charity nodded at Michael from the kitchen door, before he got up, and disappeared back into the kitchen to prepare it. A few minutes later, she came out with a tray; a Coke, two coffees, and English tea.

Hermione took a waft of the tea, and sighed. "Heavenly." she said, taking a sip.

Charity sat down beside Michael, one hand planted possessively on his thigh.

"So what brings you two out here?" he asked, meeting Harry's eyes without fear. Hermione wondered at that; Harry wouldn't meet her eyes directly, and was even worse with everybody else.

"Actually, we're here on business for her." he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, then leaned back.

She sighed. "Well, I've had a break-in at my apartment. Bluntly, I've not liked the handymen my landlord hired in the past, and I've an agreement with him that I would provide my own in future. I'm just not comfortable having strangers in my place."

"Ahh." Michael nodded approvingly. "And you need someone to fix anything that's broken?"

"It's really only the door; I jerry-rigged it closed for now. I would do the major repairs myself, but...I want some extra security."

"Sensible. What sort of break-in was it?" Michael asked, glancing at Harry.

"Red Court. A rogue, actually." he answered. Michael sat back, digesting it while sipping his coffee. Charity looked to him concernedly.

"Why is the Court interested in Miss Granger?"

"I don't think they're interested in me so much as I got in the way." she said, leaning into Dresden a bit (which was not missed by either pair of eagle eyes watching them).

"I was working a case at a club about 2 weeks ago, and I prevented her from going with the guy; it turned out he was a rogue Red Court vamp. Then, just last night, his partner went after her at her place."

"Mercy!" Charity said, getting up and stepping over to the couch, inspecting Hermione. "Did he hurt you, child?"

She grinned. "He tried." she said, sliding her wand out of her wrist holster and showing it to Charity, then stowing it away. She stood up, face wiped blank.

"Ahh. This explains a great deal."

"It does. I never imagined a Sunlight charm could take out a vampire like that."

"You're a wizard, then?"

"Witch, actually. Same thing though."

Michael looked at Dresden searchingly, asking without words exactly what the difference was.

"Term of art." he said bluntly, grinning. Truth was, Harry didn't know the difference either; the usual Council term of art was wizard for both.

"Ahh. Well...are you sure you want to go with purely physical security? I'm sure you could probably ward it..."

"I have several wards on my apartment, and I'll be adding more. But to be honest, I'd need a solid foundation to work off of. My door is wrecked, and even if I repair it magically, it's never the same."

Michael gave Harry the same searching look, and this time got a shrug. Curious. I'd have expected Harry to be at least knowledgeable about it.

"Well, I can certainly do that for you. Now, as to options..." he said, grabbing a pad and paper to write down the specs.

She described exactly what she wanted, and he sketched it out, determining exactly what it would cost.

"A steel security door, with a double-locked bolt and a 3 inch steel door bar, will run about...this much." he said, writing down a figure. She looked at it, and after brief consideration, nodded.

"Sounds good."

"Do you need it done right away?"

"Beginning of the week is fine. I'm staying with Karrin Murphy right now."

"Oh. Are you comfortable there?" Charity asked, looking curious.

"Oh, she and I have an understanding." Hermione said, grinning smugly.

Harry snorted, getting a swat on the arm in retaliation.

"Honestly!" she huffed.

"I feel like I'm missing the joke..." Michael said, looking to Charity.

"Girl talk." she said, and he rolled his eyes, getting a swat of his own.

"Come, let's talk in the kitchen." Charity said, snagging Hermione and nearly dragging her away.

Once out of earshot, "She's a very nice girl." Michael said, smiling.

"That she is. She's had lots of troubles recently. I'm hoping that talking with someone will help."

"She's had a troubled past?" Michael asked, getting a nod. He'd had that feeling.

"She lived through a civil war of some kind in Britain during the late nineties."

Michael furrowed his brow, trying to think of what Dresden was talking about.

"IRA?" he asked, finally.

"No. My impression is it was an internal thing, more like a gang war. But not. I don't really know. She hasn't talked about it much; she did say she was physically tortured as a teenager."

"God's blood! She certainly seems well-adjusted for all that." Michael felt a sense of horror at the thought.

"She's had a few breakdowns since I met her, but to be honest, those circumstances were entirely justified. Vampire attacks?" he said, shaking his head.

Michael nodded. "I'm glad, in a way, she's met you. You have more experience with that sort of conflict than anyone I know." he said, hinting loudly that he knew something of Dresden's problems.

"There's something I meant to ask you." Harry said, blatantly ignoring the hint. "I got a call from Morgan today, apparently he's heard about the dead vamps. While they wouldn't necessarily go after her for killing a vamp, she's attracted attention from the Council with the spell she used to do it. Some things in her past might set them off. I'm going to talk to Eb, but if worst comes to worst..."

"She can come here. We'll protect her as best we're able, and spirit her out if not." Michael said, looking steadily at his friend. Harry smiled grimly, nodding.

Hermione sat down with Charity at the kitchen table. She could feel the older woman's eyes on her, and looked up, to see Charity studying her carefully. There was a trace of dissatisfaction.

"So, how did you meet Dresden?" she asked carefully.

Hermione told the story, and Charity nodded, frowning at the description of her clubbing and when she heard of them sharing a bed, although there was a little smile that appeared when Hermione made it clear that she had not slept with Harry.

"He's too good a man for that. When I told him I wanted to thank him...well, properly, he turned me down. Said it would be like taking advantage of a drunk person." She sniffled momentarily, but smiled. "He's way too perceptive for his own good."

"For all the things I don't like about the man, I have to admit he's been that way for a long time."

"You don't like him?"

"He saved my youngest son's life, so I cannot hate him. Besides, hatred is a waste of time. But I do not overly like him. He's...reckless. My husband has been arrested because of him, he's been injured because of him...he could have died in February if I hadn't been a bit foresighted with my armoring skills."

"Wait...February?"

"Hmm. Dresden, Sanya, my husband, and that dreadful criminal Marcone were riding on top of that train fighting against Nicodemus and his ilk, to save the Shroud of Turin. Shi-someone had already been killed for defending Dresden, sacrificed his own life to save him. When they went after Nicodemus...I feared none of them would survive. Nicodemus has killed enough Knights."

"Who...who is Nicodemus?" Hermione asked carefully, realizing the session of Girl Talk had turned into something far more deadly serious.

"He is Darkness. The leader of the Order of the Blackened Denarius. The Fallen." she said, saying no more.

Hermione digested that for a few minutes, and they sat in silence. Charity was watching her with piercing eyes.

"What do they do?"

"Mayhem. Destruction. Armageddon."

"I'm familiar with all three."

"I doubt it..." Charity said, frowning at the thought of this innocent-looking girl being involved in such things.

"When I was 11 years old, I was introduced into the world of magic. By the end of the first year at school, I had helped my friend Harry Potter stand against an evil undead wizard...two, or was it three times that year?

"By the age of 15, I had been petrified by a basilisk, had faced off with what we thought was a servant of that same undead sorcerer and soul-sucking manifestations of death, and my friend Harry had been an unwilling witness to the resurrection of said sorcerer to some mockery of life, after surviving a deadly tournament, a true Roman circus.

"I was involved in my first true life or death duel at the age of 16. Another at 17. And from the middle of 1997 to 1998, I was on the run, hiding from dark wizards who hated me for no other reason than I was born to non-magicals - whom I'd erased the memories of, by the way - running around the British countryside looking for the shorn-off pieces of that self-same undead sorcerer's soul, so we could kill the bastard once and for all. I was tortured by a psychopathic bitch named Bellatrix." she said reedily, holding out her arm and showing the faint marks remaining from her scars. "We met Him and his ilk in combat at our school...there were a lot of people rallied there who had formed the resistance against Voldemort.

"We won. Barely. We all fought for our lives, and did things we'll never forget to do so. Harry actually died at one point, and was only able to come back because of some unrepeatable circumstances that tied him to the world. A lot of people I saw as family and friends died that day.

"So don't think I'm somehow immune to such things, just because of my age."

Charity looked at the girl in a whole new light. She was a fighter, as surely as any Knight of the Cross. She reached with two fingers, running it along the marks which read Mudblood on Hermione's arm. Then she put one hand on Hermione's cheek, comfortingly.

"I'm sorry. The Lord says judge not lest ye be judged...and here I am, reading books by their cover." She reached out and hugged Hermione, who gratefully accepted the crushing press.

Hermione heard a tiny sobbing sound through the door that led to the backyard, and cast a silent Hominem Revelio; a little white light shot through the door, and appeared to Hermione as an image of a girl, maybe 15 or 16, leaning against the door.

"You can come in." she said, clearly, startling Charity, who turned to see her oldest, Molly, come hesitantly through the door with her head down in shame.

"Margaret Katherine Amanda Carpenter! What have we told you about eavesdropping?"

"'Eavesdroppers seldom hear any good news.' I know, mom. I'm sorry. I just...I saw them arrive."

"You saw them? You were in back with the others. How..." Charity trailed off, as something occurred to her. Many strange instances that had happened of late, like formerly reliable electronic equipment dying, odd sounds, the sensation that someone was in the room but not visible on a few occasions...they all hit her in the same moment.

"You're...you're a practitioner?"

"I didn't want to tell you, mom." Molly said, starting to cry herself. "I knew you wouldn't approve."

Hermione reached out and took the girl in a hug herself. "It's alright, hun. It's really a wonderful gift...as long as you learn the right and wrong way to do it."

Charity sat, unmoving, her face stony. "I don't want you to...I just...it's dangerous, Molly. Especially with the Council at war. They'll draw you in, try to make you into a soldier. I forbid it."

Molly burst into greater tears and buried her head in Hermione's neck. Hermione looked over her shoulder (Molly was as tall as she was) and frowned.

"Charity, the magic will happen whether you want it to or not. It's a part of her. If she tries to suppress it...I've heard of bad things that happen to people who suppress a part of themselves like that."

"They feel unfulfilled, empty...like they've cut off a part of their souls. Yes, I know exactly what it feels like to lay aside power."

"Mom?" Molly said wetly, looking over her shoulder.

"I learned, at about the same age, Molly, that I was special. My parents didn't like it. They pushed me into hospitals, asylums, "rest homes". Prisons." she muttered, her eyes distant as she sank back into her chair.

"I left as soon as I was able, at 18. I fell in with a bad crowd. A young man named Gregor. He promised power. And he seemed to be ever more powerful, all the time. But members of the coven were disappearing." Molly sniffled.

"I found out, too late, what he was doing. He was selling us for power...giving us in sacrifice to a dragon. Siriothrax. He tried to sacrifice me to the dragon, but someone saved me..."

"And that's when you met Michael?" Hermione asked, smiling now. Charity nodded, tears running down her cheeks now.

"He came, with a shining sword. He killed Siriothrax. He rescued me, from the dragon and from myself. And I vowed never to use my power again. I felt so empty...like I had lost part of myself...until I had you, Molly. My first little miracle. I felt complete again."

Molly raced forward, hugging her mother nearly to death.

"I'm so sorry, Mom. I shouldn't have held it back from you. I just...I didn't want to disappoint you. You already disapprove of what I do..."

"That's because you dress like a hooligan, Margaret." said her mother, suddenly stern. Molly broke into giggles, then laughter, as she felt an intense burst of relief. Hermione smirked in amusement.

"I'll make a deal, mother...if I tone down the clothing, the makeup, and all that...will you let me pursue magic? I won't make any promises about the hair color." Hermione felt a brief pang as she was reminded of the punky, vivacious Tonks; dead for more than five years now.

Charity sank into her chair, studying her daughter intently. "If you promise to work hard, and to stay on the light path. I can't lose a daughter to Council 'justice'."

"Deal." Molly said, then hugged Charity again, and Hermione again for good measure. Hermione looked over the shoulder of the blonde girl and saw the two men peeking in the door, wondering what had happened. Harry looked bemused, although Michael looked concerned.

"Come in, guys. Michael, I think Molly has something she wants to tell you." She gently pushed Molly towards Michael as he stepped in, looking curious but wary.

"Daddy...I think I'm a wizard."