Bewitched by You (A Marvel/Harry Potter Crossover) COMPLETED

Chapter Four: Broken Soldiers

Loki peered through the tear in reality, cautious that he'd overshot his destination. These rips in the fabric of space and time were plentiful, on the whole, but in smaller regions proved few and far between, which meant they led him either just shy of where he wanted to be, or somewhere beyond it.

Bloody hell, recuperation after coming back from the dead really put a damper on one's abilities.

Yes, he thought as he glanced about. This looked familiar—the pair was not far ahead of him. Perhaps he would even find another tear on his way to shorten the trip, further.

Holding in a sigh—how in the name of everything in existence had this become his lot in life?—he stepped from the tear and started through the woods lining the road, desolate even in these bright, mid-morning hours.

As he walked, the interaction he'd witnessed through the orb earlier came back to him. That oaf sitting on the bed next to the Witch. Unsightly, honestly.

His footfalls slowed as he wondered . . . . What if they were no longer there? Yes, he thought, as he pulled the orb from the pouch on his hip, what were they up to now?

Drawing a deep breath, he let it out slowly as he lifted the orb, allowing the sunlight slicing between tree branches to gleam through the sparkling glass sphere. He wasn't supposed to attempt directing the orb's power, but he needed to know what, precisely, was happening at this moment.

As he willed the swirling colored lights into form, he saw that depressing little room again. The view turned slowly, showing him the Midgardian brute, asleep on the suddenly tiny-seeming bed. Loki pretended he didn't feel at least a little pleased that the Witch wasn't beside him.

As the vision inside the orb spun, he glimpsed her. In some markedly uncomfortable-looking chair by the shaded window, she sat.

And she was dosing.

An idea struck. A wicked grin curved his lips as he tipped his head to one side. Oh, with any luck, perchance she was dreaming.

Or they both were.

Cupping the orb between his palms, he neatly seated himself cross-legged beneath one of the many trees. With a deep, centering breath, he focused on the beings reflected in the sphere; focused on combining his own power with the relic's energy and stretched out . . . . Searching, connecting.

After all, no time like the present to test his still re-emerging abilities.

Picking at the wispy tendrils of her slumbering imagination, he saw the person she was with in her dream. Tall, lanky, and fair-skinned, not unlike Loki, himself.

Well, this is going to interesting, he thought with a smirk as he slipped into her dream—right into the stead of the pale-haired young man who was keeping her company.

* * * * *

Hermione stretched beneath the water, enjoying the warm, gentle lapping against her skin. Enjoying the simple sensation her skin sliding against his as she moved.

There was nothing better than this, she thought. Sharing a bath with someone was the simplest, but most mindbogglingly sexy thing she could think of. How many times had it been, now, since the first night he'd coaxed her to sneak away from everyone to join him like this?

She wriggled just a little against him as she reached back, linking her hands behind his neck. Odd . . . his hair felt a bit longer than usual, perhaps because it was wet. It had grown some, recently, so maybe she simply hadn't noticed just how much it had grown.