Fractures and Flames
Chapter Five
The Room of Requirement shifted once more as the group gathered the following evening, now resembling a war room. A vast table occupied the center, its surface littered with maps, enchanted blueprints of Hogwarts, and Fred and George's experimental gadgets. A faint hum of magic coursed through the air, the room seemingly feeding off the energy of its occupants.
Harry stood at the head of the table, his hands braced against its surface. The events in the passageway weighed heavily on him, and he could feel the group's collective unease. “We need to act faster,” he began, his voice steady but firm. “Whoever left that note, whoever’s watching us—they know more than we do. If we wait, we’ll lose the advantage.”
Draco, lounging in a chair with his arms crossed, arched a brow. “And what advantage would that be? Running blind into another death trap?”
“Your complaints are noted, Malfoy,” Hermione cut in, her tone sharp. She was tired, the faint circles under her eyes betraying the hours she had spent pouring over magical texts in the library. “But Harry’s right. We can’t afford to be complacent.”
Ginny, seated beside Blaise, leaned forward. “Hermione and I have been looking into wards—strong ones. If we can figure out who’s targeting us, we can trap them before they make another move.”
“And what about that thing you found?” Fred asked, his eyes darting to Harry. “The creepy orb you described. It sounds like something out of a cursed tale.”
Harry exchanged a glance with Draco, the memory of the orb’s ominous glow flashing in his mind. “We don’t know enough yet,” he admitted. “Hermione’s working on deciphering the runes. Until then, we need to stay alert.”
The tension in the room was palpable, the air heavy with unresolved questions and growing distrust. But beneath the surface, other tensions simmered, more dangerous and volatile than the magic they sought to master.
A Moment Alone
Later that night, the Room of Requirement had cleared, leaving only Ginny and Blaise behind. The silence between them was comfortable, a stark contrast to the frayed nerves of the others. Ginny was bent over one of the blueprints, her fiery hair cascading over her shoulder as she traced a potential weak point in the castle’s wards.
“You’ve got a knack for this,” Blaise commented, his voice smooth. He leaned against the table, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her stomach flutter.
Ginny looked up, her brown eyes meeting his dark, unreadable ones. “Don’t sound so surprised,” she said, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “I can be clever when I want to be.”
“I never doubted it,” Blaise replied, his tone warm. He studied her for a moment before speaking again, more quietly now. “You know, ever since we did the spell, I’ve been thinking a lot about how it’s affecting us. I think it’s amplifying things—feelings we didn’t even realize were there.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”
Blaise hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice careful. “I’ve started to realize that we’re not just feeling the magic from the bond—it’s pulling on our emotions, making them stronger. Maybe even exposing things that were buried before.”
Ginny considered his words, a small frown tugging at her lips. “Are you saying this spell is messing with our heads?”
“I’m not sure,” Blaise said, his gaze softer now. “But I’ve felt... more connected to people in ways I didn’t expect. And it’s not just the magic—it’s like it’s bringing the truth to the surface.”
Ginny nodded slowly, processing his words. “So, what do we do with that? If it’s pulling at what we really feel, then we could be walking into something we’re not ready for.”
Blaise’s lips curved slightly, his expression thoughtful. “I think we just have to be honest with ourselves. It’s a strange feeling, but maybe it’s a good thing. It’s not all bad.”
Ginny paused, looking up at him with a hint of surprise. “And how does that relate to you and me?”
Blaise took a breath, his eyes darkening with a more serious thought. “Actually, I think that’s why I’m telling you this. Because before we even did the spell, I started feeling something for your brother—Ron.”
Ginny blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “What? Ron?”
Blaise gave a small, almost hesitant smile. “Yeah. I never thought I’d admit it, but there’s something about him that’s... different. Stronger than I gave him credit for.”
Ginny’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. “So, you’re saying the spell didn’t make you feel this way. It just helped you realize it.”
“Exactly,” Blaise nodded. “And now, I’m just trying to make sense of it all.”
Ginny was silent for a moment, her mind processing the unexpected admission. Finally, she gave a small smile. “I can’t say I’m thrilled about the idea of you liking my brother—but I get it. And I respect the honesty.”
Blaise’s smirk returned, warmer now. “I figured it was time to stop pretending I didn’t feel something. Maybe it’s just the spell, or maybe it’s just me, but either way, it’s something real.”
Ginny shook her head, her smile widening. “You’ve got a strange way of doing things, but I respect that too.”
As the conversation continued, a quiet understanding bloomed between them. What had started as an unlikely partnership in their magical research was now a genuine friendship, each of them unburdening their thoughts and feelings—feelings that had only grown stronger, complicated by the bond they had formed.
Unexpected Allies
In the library, Hermione sat in a secluded corner, her brow furrowed in concentration as she flipped through a tome of ancient magic. The glow of candlelight cast a soft warmth on her features, but her mind was far from at ease. Across from her, Fred watched her with an intensity that felt almost out of place for him. His usual playful grin was absent, replaced by a quiet seriousness.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” he finally said, his voice low but firm.
Hermione didn’t look up, her eyes scanning the text. “We don’t have the luxury of slowing down,” she replied, her tone sharp but tired.
Fred leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His gaze flicked to her face, tracing the curve of her jaw, the way her lips pressed together in frustration. Something in him shifted, a pull in his chest, and it took everything he had to keep his distance. He could feel the heat rising in him, the desire to take her in his arms, to do something, anything to make her stop working herself into the ground.
“You’re not listening,” he said softly. “You need a break. You need to relax.”
Hermione finally glanced up at him, but her expression was unreadable. She opened her mouth to argue, but Fred cut her off before she could speak.
“Don’t you want a little distraction?” His voice was casual, but the undertone was unmistakable. It sent a shiver through Hermione, her breath catching at the intensity in his eyes.
She hesitated, her gaze flicking between Fred and the open book in front of her. There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but there was something else too—something that pulled at her. She felt it as much as he did, the tension building between them, thick in the air.
“I... I don’t know, Fred,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “We’ve got so much to do, and... I don’t know if I should—”
Fred stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against her shoulder as he reached for the book in front of her. He didn’t pick it up; instead, he let his fingers linger on the edge of the page, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. “Don’t think,” he murmured. “Just let me distract you for a while.”
Before she could respond, Fred placed his hands on either side of her waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted her gently from her chair. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as Fred effortlessly set her down on the edge of the table, standing between her legs. He was so close now, his body warm and solid, and the world outside their small bubble seemed to fade into the background.
Hermione’s pulse raced, her heart thudding in her chest as she looked up at him. He was staring at her with an intensity she’d never seen before, his gaze dark and hungry, like he was starving and she was the only thing that could satisfy him. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, with the kind of yearning that neither of them had ever dared to acknowledge before.
Fred leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers, his breath mingling with hers. “I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered, his voice rough. And then, without another word, he kissed her.
It was slow at first, a hesitant brush of lips, but the hunger quickly built between them, an overwhelming need to be closer, to feel each other. Fred’s hands moved to her back, pulling her against him, his kiss deepening as he let go of the restraint he had held on to for so long. His fingers slid into her hair, tugging her head back slightly to gain better access, and he kissed her like he had been waiting for this moment for years.
Hermione’s mind raced, the rational part of her screaming that this was reckless, that they shouldn’t be doing this. But the rest of her—the part that had always been drawn to him, to his carefree charm and the warmth he brought into her life—was lost in the moment. She kissed him back with a fierceness she hadn’t known she was capable of, her hands gripping his shoulders as if she never wanted to let go.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their chests heaving. Fred rested his forehead against hers, his hands still on her waist, grounding them both. “That’s a little distraction, yeah?” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
Hermione’s heart was still racing, but she managed a small smile, her lips still tingling from his touch. “You certainly know how to keep me off task.”
Fred grinned, his thumb brushing over her lip. “I aim to please.”
She met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them—a promise, an understanding—that whatever this was, it was far from over.
The tension lingered in the air as Fred reluctantly pulled away, but neither of them spoke of it immediately. It wasn’t necessary. Not yet. For now, they would let the feelings simmer, buried under the weight of their mission. But both knew it was just a matter of time before they had to confront what was growing between them.
As Fred gave her a final lingering glance before turning to leave, Hermione’s fingers lightly traced her lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss. Her breath hitched, and a thrill ran down her spine, leaving her torn between the desire to dive deeper into this, and the undeniable truth that their rebellion—and whatever this thing between them was—was just beginning.
The Burden of Power
Elsewhere, Harry paced the Astronomy Tower, the night air cool against his skin. He had needed space, away from the group, away from the suffocating weight of their plans. He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Draco’s voice drawled, his presence as sharp and unnerving as ever.
Harry didn’t turn. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
Draco moved closer, his boots scuffing against the stone floor. “I could ask you the same thing. Brooding up here like some tragic hero. It’s exhausting to watch.”
Harry exhaled sharply, finally turning to face him. “If you’re here to pick a fight, I’m not in the mood.”
Draco smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Relax, Potter. I’m not here to fight you.” He paused, his gaze softening slightly. “You’re carrying this too much on your own.”
Harry blinked, startled by the unexpected concern in Draco’s tone. “I’m the one they look to. It’s my responsibility.”
“Responsibility doesn’t mean martyrdom,” Draco said quietly, stepping closer. “You think you’re the only one with something to lose? The only one fighting for control of their own life?”
Their proximity sent a strange thrill through Harry, the tension between them crackling like static. He could feel the heat of Draco’s presence, his breath faintly brushing against Harry’s skin.
“You’re infuriating,” Harry said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Likewise,” Draco murmured, his lips curving into a faint smirk. His gaze flicked to Harry’s mouth for a fraction of a second before snapping back up.
Harry’s pulse quickened, the air between them charged. For a fleeting moment, he thought Draco might close the gap, but then, with a slight shake of his head, Draco stepped back.
“Don’t stay out too long,” Draco said, his voice neutral once more. “We can’t have our fearless leader catching a cold.”
Harry watched as Draco disappeared into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Whatever was building between them—whatever this was—it was dangerous, tangled in the very power they sought to claim.
The Edge of Control
As the group gathered the next morning, the cracks in their carefully constructed alliances began to show. The desire for power was intoxicating, but it also brought out the fractures in their relationships—the unspoken desires, the buried tensions, and the constant pull between freedom and control.
Each of them knew that the deeper they went, the harder it would be to turn back. But none of them were willing to stop, even if it meant sacrificing the very bonds they had begun to forge.