The Lost Horcrux

The Rats of The Ratway

Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasleys, liberties taken with mythical history and the HP real-life timeline.

***

An hour or so after breakfast and Hermione had tolerably gotten over the mortification brought on by Celesca Lovegood and her incessant curiosity. It was lucky, she reasoned, that she had Luna and Enola as fellows in the Chamber of Shame, and between them they laughed away any potential awkwardness, as they prepared for a very pleasant afternoon tanning themselves in the sunshine of the Blue Palace garden.

But before any of that could be enjoyed, Harry and Hermione had business underground, where Hermione would finally be shown the things that only a true Potter would ever be permitted to see.

The Third Sub-Level of the Palace looked a lot, in Hermione's opinion, like the Department of Mysteries back at the Ministry. Once she had followed Harry through the revolving elevator of Godric Gryffindor's suit of armour, she found herself at the end of a cool, shadowy corridor that looked more like the deepest emerald green than simple black. Numerous recessed doors were set into the shiny, dark-tiled walls and the crackling torches produced only insignificant light, giving the whole place a spooky air of subterfuge and secrets.

"Now, ignore all of these other rooms," Harry told her as they walked briskly past them. "We are here to see just two chambers, down at the far end, and I will tell you the stories behind them. All these others have stories, too, and one day, when it's appropriate, I'll tell you all about them as well. I promise you that, Hermione ... that one day you will know all my secrets, I wont keep anything from you anymore, and my full disclosure begins from today."

Hermione smiled shyly at that. "I know you will, Harry. I trust you."

Harry blinked back, his way of a warm smile, before soon coming to a halt outside a door that looked no more remarkable that its neighbours, but which the glint in Harry's eye suggested was otherwise. Hermione wrung her hands and waited for Harry to begin.

"Now, just to start, you know I've always had a bit of money about me, yes?" Harry asked.

"I've never actively thought about it, but I suppose I always knew you were well off," Hermione considered, thoughtfully. "I mean, you always had new robes and equipment and books and things ... well, apart from that bloody old copy of Most Potente Potions that came between us during our Hogwarts Sixth Year!"

"Yes, well," Harry grinned bashfully. "Let's not think about that year, shall we? ... the memory of you pining and slobbering all over Ron might bring my breakfast back up my throat!"

"Charming!" Hermione laughed. "I could talk about your behaviour back then, too, you know, ... but I'm worried that it might be the only tease that makes you genuinely decide to hex me!"

Harry chortled deeply. "I suggest we both forget about it. I got over you turning me down for Slughorn's Christmas Party, after all ... and piously ignored you having that animal McLaggen's tongue down your throat when you were under the mistletoe for most of the night ..."

"Harry, please ...!" Hermione begged, looking a little green. "I've tried to forget that ever happened!"

"Which part?" Harry quirked, wryly. "Not going with me ... or your five sets of tonsil tennis with Cormac?"

"Shut up, Harry!" Hermione rebuked. "Just tell me about this fortune you mentioned."

Harry laughed heartily, which surprised him. "Look at me! Laughing about you with other wizards! I genuinely break things when I think about stuff like that usually. Dr Freud might call it growth! I'll have to tell him about it later."