Transformation Scene

This is the sequel of "Forest Scene". Actually, "Forest Scene" is a prequel for this. The events depicted there happen during Christmas break on Harry's 6th year, and "Transformation Scene" picks up at the end of 6th year. Both stories can be read independently, but you might want to read both of them orderly to better understand what's going on. Please be aware of the different ratings of these fanfics :)
Click on my name right up there to get the link to "Forest Scene".

Pairings: Harry/Hermione.
Genre: Romance/Drama.
Rating: R for sexual content.
Spoilers for books 1 - 5.
Status: COMPLETE.
Sequel to "Forest Scene"

Still clutching his wand tightly, Harry slid slowly down the wall, finally resting on his side. His vision obscured by the blood dripping from his reopened forehead scar, he stared dazedly around at the aftermath of the fight, but he didn't care anymore... Hardly able to move, he somehow managed to scoot over a short way until his hand found the bloody heap that was Hermione Granger, and with a final image of Dumbledore taking down some of the last Death Eaters, Harry passed out next to her.

...

The following days dragged on as Harry recovered in the suddenly full hospital wing. Even with the worst cases being taken care of at St. Mungo's, there were enough injured students and staff members to keep Madam Pomfrey running all the time. Most were going to be alright, even if some would remain scarred for life. Ron was heard humorlessly joking about giving Moddy a run for his money, what with having his leg almost blown off, but even he would heal eventually. In fact, after about a week, Madam Pomfrey sent him home, magically bandaged, because she had too many people to worry about.

Before leaving, Ron had asked Harry to owl him as soon as he got any news on Hermione. For even as Professor McGonagall was permitted to leave (after having been nearly mauled to death by one of Voldemort's giants), Hermione remained isolated in her bed, the hangings set so that she couldn't be seen. There was always someone guarding her and Harry and Ron hadn't been allowed to talk to her, nor had she sent them any messages. All they knew was that she was alive, but nobody would tell them anything more than that.

As weeks went by, term ended (the school had resumed normal classes as soon as possible), and the hospital wing emptied. Last to leave was a tearful Neville; Hermione had received whatever spell it was that Bellatrix had used when she had thrown herself in front of him. This had in turn allowed Neville to take Bellatrix down, but the price of it had proven too much for him. He'd always felt something close to reverence for her. Harry had tried to calm him down, telling him she would be fine, but deep inside he knew he was trying to convince himself as much as his friend.

In the end it was down to just the two of them in the hospital wing, with the ocasional visitors that included the Weasleys, other members of the Order, and finally Hermione's parents, who left in tears after every visit to their daughter. Harry felt fine, but Dumbledore had explained that he wanted him to stay until they could make sure that his mind hadn't been affected by Voldemort's attack. It was unlikely, the Headmaster had said, but better not take chances. Harry wasn't in any hurry to go back to the Dursleys' place, plus he wanted to see Hermione, so he didn't object to this.

However, even Harry was pronounced ready to go by a tired-looking Dumbledore, three weeks after the attack. They had seen each other a lot since then, as the old wizard, whenever he was free from dealing with war-related issues, would drop by the hospital wing to check on the injured students. They had barely talked, though, and Harry, who had grown increasingly desperate for the lack of news on Hermione's health after so long, had made a decision.

"Professor, I'm not going to leave," he told the Headmaster. "I'm going to stay here until Hermione heals. It's not like I have anything else to do anyways... and you know the longer I take to go back home, the happier the Dursleys will be. There's still time to go there later so I can spend my yearly month-in-hell..." he went on, expecting to hear the negative any moment.

But Dumbledore, looking older than ever, just nodded and sat down on the bed next to Harry's. Nervously, he sat down too; he might be getting some explanations now.

"It's alright, Harry, you can stay here for a while. In fact, yes, that's perhaps for the best..." He sighed. "Harry, there's something I have to tell you. We weren't sure until now, but Madam Pomfrey's investigation..." he trailed off.

"What is it, sir? She... Hermione's going to be fine, isn't she?" asked Harry nervously. All this time he'd been worried, but had managed to convince himself that if she hadn't died on the attack, and wasn't considered a case severe enough for St. Mungo's, then it was going to be just a matter of time until she healed.

"Harry, we weren't sure but now it's clear what the curse that Bellatrix used was, and the problem is... there's no cure for it. No external cure, that is... it's completely up to the cursed person to deal with the effects of the spell, and I'm afraid Miss Granger isn't doing too well." He seemed to have trouble getting out some words.

"It's a disfigurement curse, Harry. One I think should be made Unforgivable. It has changed her appearance into... well, into nothing, really. Madam Pomfrey has managed to bind the damage to a certain area of Miss Granger's body, but the rest is up to her. She has to become stronger even that the spellcaster - that would be Bellatrix, and you know how powerful she is - and even then, there will be permanent damage."

"But... but professor, it can't be that bad!" said Harry, though he didn't feel too confident. "Remember in second year, when she became half-cat for like a month? She eventually healed and even then, it wasn't so bad, was it? I saw her every day, with the fur and the whiskers and all, and well, if she ends up with donkey ears or with a tail, that's not that bad, is it? She can, oh, i don't know... turn into a Metamorphmagus! I know it's hard, but if anyone can do it that's Hermione, she - " He stopped when Dumbledore raised his hand.

"This isn't an accident like that time, Harry." The Headmaster sighed deeply and paused for an instant. "This is a curse designed to scar a person forever, and even kill them if they aren't strong enough. And it's also purposefully horrible so that it will affect those who love the cursed person as well. But I think... I think it's time you see what Miss Granger has been dealing with for the past few weeks."

Silently they both walked towards Hermione's bed. Dumbledore pulled the hangings aside, and Harry's eyes fell upon a sleeping Harmione's pale, worn face. She was thinner than ever, but she didn't look that bad to Harry - nothing that some of Mrs. Weasley's food and some days under the sun couldn't fix, he thought weakly. But Dumbledore led him around the bed, and when the old wizard gently lift the blanket a bit, Harry had to fight the sudden urge to scream.

Hermione's back - at least her shoulders, since Dumbledore wouldn't raise the blanket too much, least her nakedness became obvious - was heavily bandaged, but that wasn't what made Harry want to scream. The bandages kept moving, as if there were things underneath, things like tentacles and contorting faces and unidentifiable, horrible forms - but that was impossible, Harry thought, this can't be...

Slowly, as not to disturb the sleeping girl, the Headmaster led a stunned Harry back to his bed.

"You see, Harry... your friend has been fighting this curse for weeks now. Because of her strong will and Madam Pomfrey's efforts, she was able to concentrate the effects of the spell on the area around her shoulderblades - the place where she was originally hit with the curse. I don't know if many would be able to fight such an unfair battle, Harry; and she's done it without even complaining. Very brave, Miss Granger... a true Gryffindor indeed."

"What - what happens if she can out-will Bellatrix?" asked Harry quietly.

Dumbledore seemed to be thinking about this question for a while before answering it. "She'll become something else, Harry. We don't know exactly what... it probably depends on just how well she does. A part human, in any case, if that."

"So that's the best we can hope for? And if she loses the battle, sir?" Harry's voice was now positively shaking.

Lowering his head, he replied: "In that case, parts of her body will turn into random things. Tentacles, like you saw, extra body parts, even minerals... this would torn her body apart. I hate to tell you this, Harry, but it's better if you find out now... she could end up with, say, a rock piercing her heart... she's almost sure to die a painful death, or live in agony for the rest of her days." A single tear fell from the Headmaster's face onto the stone floor.

...

From that day on, Harry could be found, no matter what the time, sitting on the stairs right outside the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had thrown him out once he didn't need to stay there anymore, so that Hermione, now the only patient, wouldn't need the hangings around her bed anymore and could at least enjoy what little sunlight came in through the windows opposite her.

Harry had asked Madam Pomfrey to let Hermione know that he wanted to see her, which she did, but there had been no reply. So with a heavy heart, Harry just sat there waiting for something to happen.

He wasn't alone though. Ron, whom he had owled as soon as he found out about Hermione's health, had come to visit a few times, along with Ginny, and they'd all sat on the stairs, talking about the ongoing war, but Hermione didn't ask them to come see her. Neville and his grandmother had come to visit too, and though she was allowed in, Neville and Harry again had to stay outside. Hermione's parents came to see her every day, but they wouldn't talk to anyone else.

Frustrated and desperate, Harry refused to leave his spot, the same place where years before Colin Creevey had met with the Basilisk. He even ate there - an permanently tearful Dobby would bring him food from the kitchen. Dobby had become very attached to Hermione and he seemed to be taking this worse than Harry even.

"It's the house-elves fault this happened, Harry Potter!" he kept saying between enormous sobs. Voldemort's elaborated plan this year had involved exploiting a blind spot in the Hogwarts anti-apparation defenses that had remained in place all these years to allow the house-elves perform their work. It was what had allowed Dobby to disapparate from the hospital wing back in Harry's second year at Hogwarts.

"It's not your fault, Dobby" said Harry heavily. "It wouldn't have happened if the wizards hadn't considered the house-elves as inferior creatures... See? All this time Hermione was right, and we kept laughing at S.P.E.W." Harry pronounced every letter this time. "If there weren't slave house-elves here, the anti-apparation defenses would have been built properly, but the wizards' foolish disregard for your kind didn't let them see the danger they were playing with. Just to ensure their comfort." Harry's knuckles had gone white as he clutched the stone step beneath him. He continued talking, though.

"What we were too blind to see, Voldemort was able to figure out how to use against us." Dobby had squeaked weakly at the mention of he-who-must-not-be-named, and dropped an empty trail of food that fell down the stairs making an awful lot of noise. When Harry had finished helping him pick it up, he kept talking. "He's done it before and we should have seen this coming. He sees how wizardkind keeps mistreating the other magical creatures, and uses that against us. That's how he got so many giants to join his side - by giving them what we won't - and now he's learned from the house-elves how to do this. Who can blame them, really?" Harry's eyes were now brigth. "None of us cared, Dobby, except..." He sighed and they both stared at the door to the hospital wing.

...

Another two weeks went by like this, and Harry had one more reason to be worried now; soon he'd have to head back to the Dursleys' for his annual fix of blood-protecting magic, and he knew Dumbledore would be firm on that.

Then, late one night, he was started from his troubled sleep by a rush of people running nearby. The door to the hospital wing was open and he could hear voices yelling - he recognized Madam Pomfrey's and Professor McGonagall's, and then - he felt his blood freeze - Hermione's anguished screams. He ran to the door only to slam into Professor Dumbledore.

"I was just coming to see you, Harry. Come with me," the old Headmaster said as he dragged Harry, who kept trying to steal a glance of Hermione through the open door, down the hall.

"Harry," he said, "I'm afraid things aren't going well. Miss Granger has put up an extraordinary fight, but she's exhausted and it seems whatever's going to happen, it will happen tonight."

"But - but, can't you do anything, sir? Madam Pomfrey? Can't you take her to St. Mungo's? We can't just let her die, professor!" Harry nearly yelled.

"No one can do anything now, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said softly. "It's entirely up to her. Which is why I wanted to talk to you, Harry. I think it's time that she gets some help - some help neither medicine nor magic can give her. We can't do anything for her, but I think you should stay by her side, Harry. I know you are her best friend, and she needs you now more than ever."

They both walked back to the hospital wing. Professor McGonagall walked past them, stopping only enough to give Harry a squeeze on his shoulder. They could heard her blow her nose as they entered the ward. To a nod of Professor Dumbledore's head, Madam Pomfrey left, and for only the second time in over a month, Harry was able to see Hermione. She had stopped screaming now and was lying with her back to them, whether asleep or not, Harry didn't know.

But even though she was covered by her blankets, the shuddering bulge in her back was apparent, as it kept raising and lowering again, and making strange, wet noises, like some wounded beast trying to breathe.

Dumbledore lowered his head to whisper in Harry's ear: "Go on now, Harry. I can't tell you what to do, but I think that as her best friend, even having you close by is the best we can do for her now." Words having left him, Harry simply nodded and walked dazedly toward his friend's bed.

Sitting on a chair that had been set next to the bed side, Harry stared into her face, even paler now that it had been last time, and was started when her eyes opened to look at him.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, trying hard to make his voice sound natural. He forced a smile into his face. "It's not like you to be slacking like this. Better stop being lazy soon - why, you have all the final exams to make up to yet!"

Hermione's lip moved slightly and for a second she seemed to be almost smiling, but then she broke down completely, and covered her face with her hands as she cried.

"I - I'm sorry, Harry! This is why I didn't want any of you t - to see me - because I k - knew I'd lose it - Aaagh!"

She arched her back and went rigid for a second. Started, Harry grabbed her hand until she calmed down. Her face shone with tears, but she stopped crying, and when she talked, it was with a strained but controlled voice.

"I'm too tired, Harry... I can't do this anymore, you know? I've tried but... I just have to let it happen now, whatever it is." She stared at the ceiling as she said this.

Still holding her hand, Harry moved closer to the bed before speaking. "You can't give up, Hermione... You can't let them win. We - we need you. I need you, Hermione."

She looked into his eyes now, and seemed about to cry again, but somehow managed to control herself. "I don't want to leave you, Harry... that's... that's the last thing I want to do and you know it."

And Harry saw in her eyes that she knew it, that she knew what he felt for her. Even though he hadn't had the courage to say anything, she'd figured it out... of course, he thought, after all she's the cleverest witch in Hogwarts... of course she knows...

As if to reassure him, she gave his hand a short squeeze. Feeling safe enough to talk without crying himself, he said "I'm sorry, Hermione... I should have said something... before... and now, just - " He had to stop to breathe. This was incredibly hard to do. "You mean so much to me, Hermione... you have always been there for me and now I don't know what would I do without you. Please don't leave me, Hermione... Please..."

His tears were flowing freely now, and it was Hermione - hopeless, agonizing Hermione - the one that had to comfort him, running her free hand through his cheek.

"I want you to do something for me, Harry. Something I've wanted to do for a long time now... with you. Harry, please make love to me."

For a second there was no sound as they just stared into each other's eyes. Then Harry opened his mouth, closed it, opened and closed it again, and was about to do this yet a third time when he was spared by Hermione's words.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, Harry..."

"No!" he almost yelled. "No, it's not that," he contined somewhat more calmly. "It's just... ever since I begun feeling this way, I've wanted... but not like this... I wanted us to be together but not... well, eventually but..." He was losing confidence again. "You know what I mean, do you?" he asked hopelessly.

Hermione was almost grinning. "Yes Harry, I understand. Me too..." she blushed a little, but then her voice became stronger and more decided. "But I don't have any time left, Harry... I don't want to die without you knowing how much you mean to me... I don't want to die without having done this. And I want to leave you something to remember me by..."

Overcome with emotion, Harry clasped both his hands around hers. Then, ever so gently, he lowered himself upon her and kissed her, softly but lovingly. Dawn was approaching, and when they finally broke apart, Harry found himself staring at something he'd never believe he would see... the shiny eyes of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, staring back at him, full of the same love that was making his heart flutter.

And yet she's dying, he had to remind himself. But he stopped his train of thoughts from dwelling too much in the notion that he had just found the best thing in the world and that he was going to lose it inmediately. She wanted this to be a parting gift to him; well, he was going to make sure to do his best for her too, make her final moments as good as possible.

"So..." her voice snapped him back to reality. She looked so tired, he thought... "are we, hum... gonna do it?"

Harry stood up slowly, and for a moment it wasn't clear wether he was about to run away from her or what. But then he undid the silver clasps of his robes, which fell to the floor, and started taking off the rest of his clothes while Hermione smiled at him.

Soon he was down to his underwear, which he removed nervously, staring at the stone floor, cold under his bare feet. No one had ever seen him naked, much less a girl... He walked to the bed and finally made eye contact with Hermione, who was still smiling and had raised an eyebrow appreciatively.

As he made to remove the blanket covering her, though, her smile faded again. "Harry," she said softly, "could you... you know... not look at me? Close your eyes or something... I mean..." she sighed a little. "I've never been much to look at, and now..." she trailed off.

It was his turn to smile now as he replied to her worries. "I told you once that I didn't think you were ugly... I should have said, even back then, that I thought you very pretty. And as for this," he added, with just a quick nod to the bandages visible covering her shoulders, "that doesn't bother me... what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let something like that get in the way of doing naughty things with my girl?" He was smirking as he said this.

Hermione laughed at this, and it was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard, as he was already beginning to think that there would never again be more laughs in his life. He swore to himself never to forget this moment.

"My boyfriend! What are you talking about, silly..." she said, still smiling, as he got under the covers and passed an arm over her waist.

"Well, that's what I think this is," came his now serious reply. "You and I... this isn't something casual, even if, you know..." He stopped; he didn't want to say "even if it only can happen this one time." He moved on quickly though. "What I mean is, I could never think of you as of someone I just slept with. You are for me... everything." He stopped again, because what had sounded in his mind so important to say had came out all wrong and corny-sounding. But Hermione seemed to have understood, because she scooted closer to him, pressed her whole body against his, and kissed his lips fully.

As he responded to her passionate kiss, he became suddenly very aware of her complete nakedness resting again his equally uncovered body, and the fact that his right hand had somehow - without him meaning to - found a very bare butt cheek to hold on to. Soon Hermione also noticed his 'awareness', and smiled as she broke the kiss.

"Mr. Potter! How dare you point your wand at me like that?" she asked, in mock indignation.

"Hermione!" he said, amused at her lame joke.

Laughing again - another wonderful memory, he thought - she apologized. "I know, it's so trite, but I always thought it would be worth just to see your face when you heard it." She tried to kiss him again but he pulled back, smirking.

"Always, huh? Just how long have you been wanting to do this?" As he said this, he moved his other arm under her small frame, and clasped both his hands around her, carefully avoiding the bandaged area.

"I see you are already thinking too much of yourself, Potter" she said, snorting. "I'd hate to make your head get too big... but I guess, maybe it's already late for that?" she added, while pushing her hips against his and eliciting a short moan from his throat. "It's not like you have the biggest wand around here," she said in a mocking tone.

At this, Harry was suddenly distracted. Instead of asking her if she was done with her terribly lame innuendos, he said, in what he hoped sounded like an off-handed voice: "Er.. why... have you, hum, seen... I mean..." He didn't know how to ask this.

She looked at him in the eyes and didn't say anything for a few seconds during which Harry felt his insides get strangely heavy. Finally, in a slightly amused voice, came the reply.

"Can't bring yourself to ask me, Potter? Where's that Gryffindor courage now?" She was positively smirking now, but Harry was thinking that this was probably a memory he wouldn't want to keep.

"No, I'm sorry, Hermione, I - I'm sorry, you know? It doesn't matter to me - " he said apologetically, but her laughter - and again, Harry felt transported - interrupted him.

"No one, Harry, and you should know it. I know you haven't been with anyone either," she added to his bewilderment. "And I'm glad, I wanted you all for me." With this, she kissed him again but withdrew quickly. "But Harry, amazing at this is... I don't think we should waste much time, you know?"

Harry was started to see, now that the night outside was getting more and more clear, just how pale her face was.

"Right!" he said, and he was surprised to notice that his body was, indeed, very ready for the task at hand. "Hum... you know, what we just said is great but... eh..." Again, words failed him, but Hermione answered his unspoken question and Harry had time to feel amazed at just how much she knew him and how easily it was for her to understand what he wanted to say, before the full meaning of her words ("I think I should be on top - you know, because of my back...") finally sunk in and other, more powerful emotions took control of his actions.

And so Harry found himself laying motionless on the bed as she climbed on top of him. He stared at her, noticing her bandaged breasts and the way her legs had parted so she could sit with her knees on either side of his legs, revealing her sex for the first time. He barely had time to wonder at the contrast of her neatly trimed pubic hair with her extremely bushy hair, when she rested her weight on him, and he had to make a great effort not to lose it right there.

When he regained some control, he realized he had closed his eyes and opened them, to see Hermione smile down at him. Framed against the clear sky of the morning, the white blanket falling down her shoulders and her bushy hair waving softly in the gentle breeze, she looked more beautiful than ever.

But Hermione meant business, and she made it clear by teasingly slidding forwards, trapping him under herself and making his body ache for relief. With a grunt, Harry realized that it was time to regain some control of the situation, so he placed his hands on either side of her hips and held her firmly. He swallowed hard.

"Are you ready for this, Hermione?"

She seemed to consider him for a moment and then smiled and nodded softly. Raising herself on her knees, she took him in her hand, gently stroking him, and maneuvered her body until he was pressed against her entrance. Harry gave her a reassuring nod, and she started to lower herself down, taking him in.

Ever so slowly Harry felt himself sinking into her flesh. It was an undescriptable sensation, and he had to will himself to keep lasting if he didn't want this to end in a second.

Soon enough he reached the barrier he knew was going to be there, and he realized he'd been holding his breath this long. Hermione closed her eyes and, all of the sudden, left herself fall on him, taking in all his length. She just left out a faint, pained moan, and stood there motionless.

"Are you alright?" asked a concerned Harry whilst softly caressing the small of her back. She forced a smile and gave him the smallest of nods, but Harry saw that the movement beneath her bandages had intensified. He didn't have time to worry about this though, as she leaned down, resting her whole body on top of his, her bushy hair tickling his chin. So he just held her tightly, placing soft kisses on the top of her head, and waited for her to make the next move.

After a few minutes spent like this, Hermione leaned back again. Harry held her hands, and as they entwined their fingers, she started to move her hips back and forth, slowly at first but picking up speed with every thrust. She tilted her head back, her eyes closed and a expresion of mixed pain and pleasure on her face.

Harry stared at her as she rode him faster and faster, his own feelings torn between the pleasure of the moment and the desperation caused by her inminent fate. But his own instincts, along with his desire to make this good for her, took over, and soon he found himself moving his hips in rhythm with hers, pulling back when she did and meeting her when she came back down on him, driving himself deeper and deeper into her, the wet sounds of their lovemaking filling the otherwise silent room.

But even giving it his best effort, this was simply too much, too good, and soon he realized it was going to be over for him.

"Her - Hermione," he panted, "I'm - almost there!"

"Don't you dare, Potter!" she snarled. And somehow Harry found the strength to last a little more, suddenly convinced that it wasn't a good idea to fail her now. "I'm - nearly there too!"

And with a final effort, Harry thrusted into her a few more times, until he felt her contracting around him, and they went over the edge at the same time, both moaning each other's name.

Harry remained quite still, coming down from the heights were Hermione had taken him to, as he felt himself emptying into her. When he had finally calmed down enough to be able to talk coherently, he opened his eyes and looked into her lover's face, but what he saw nearly made him scream.

Hermione's bandages had been ripped apart by what was now waving wildly behind her. An enormous mass of indistinctly mixed limbs and what appeared to be animal parts was sticking out from her back, sometimes dissappearing and changing into other things. A deadly-looking scythe-thing shot out of her and lashed at the next bed, which then fell to the floor, cut in pieces.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. Forgetting the wild-looking spare parts coming out of her back and visibly moving under her skin, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. She had thrown back her head, an expresion of terrible pain on her shiny face. "Hermione!" he called again, "Don't leave me! Don't you dare leave me now!"

With obvious effort, she turned her face to look at him, tears falling down her cheeks. "I - I'm sorry, I can't - Harry!" she managed to say before the pain made her unable to speak anymore.

"Hermione!!" he bellowed as he wrapped his arms around her, not caring that some of the misshapen mutated things on her were cutting his skin open. He held onto her as tightly as he could, until her anguished screams ceased and he collapsed limply on top of him, horrible things still molving wildly on her back.

"Damn it, Hermione!," Harry screamed into her ear, his eyes closed tightly, tears streaming down his face. "You can't leave now... don't you know what you mean to me?" he said, sobbing uncontrollably. But she remained still on his arms.

"Damn it, Hermione...," he said again, in a soft voice. "Don't you know that I love you? That I always have?"

But even the things sticking out of her back had quieted down now, and Harry just kept crying with his face buried into Hermione's neck, her lifeless body lighter than ever on top of him. So light in fact that she didn't seem to have weight at all. Her last word, his name, kept ringing into his ears.

"Harry... Harry!"

It took him a few seconds to realize that he was hearing her voice for real. And when he opened his eyes again, it was to see her pale, tired but smiling face hovering not an inch from his.

He watched, open-mouthed, as she leaned back as in slow motion, and the torn blanket fell down from her shoulders to reveal something white and huge. And then, as she entwined her fingers with his again, two enormous, feathery wings spread out to either side of her and waved slightly, lifting her just a few inches before letting her come back down, suddenly reminding Harry that he was still inside of her.

It was then when the first beams of the morning sun came in through the window opposite them, bathing her in light, and for a moment Harry thought that there she was an angel, but the warmth of her skin against his own reassured him it was for real.

And then it hit him: she wasn't dead, she wasn't going to die; she had out-willed Bellatrix and managed to turn the effects of the spell into something that far from killing her only made her more wonderful, more beautiful, and quite possibly even gave her some added advantages.

But he didn't have time to think about this, as she once again leaned forwards, wrapping her arms around his waist, her bare breasts pressing against his chest for the first time. Her fresh new wings folded themselves and covered them both in a feathery canopy, shielding them from the world outside.

They kissed lovingly for some time, until she broke apart to whisper on his ear; "I love you too, Harry Potter. Now... are you ready for round two?" And, smiling wildly, they started kissing again.

...

Neither of them ever noticed that they hadn't been alone for quite some time now, as the people waiting outside of the hospital wing had rushed back in when Hermione had started screaming in agony a while ago. So they didn't get to see a madly twinkling Headmaster steering out a very shocked Madam Pomfrey, and Professor McGonagall, whose jaw seemed to be about to part ways with her skull. Once he got them out, he closed the door quietly behind him, and then casted a silence charm on it so that no sounds would get in or out. Then, turning on his heels and still twinkling mad, he addressed the stunned women.

"Well, Poppy, I'm sure whatever tests you want to run Miss Granger through can wait for... another half an hour, I daresay. Kindly head to the kitchens and look for a house-elf named Dobby, who I'm sure will be very happy to hear the good news. No need to tell him the details though - and please warn him not to come visit either of them right now. And Minerva - I think that even though they have broken quite a few rules in the last hour, we can turn a blind eye just for this time? As their Head of House, I suppose you'll be having 'the talk' with them later on, but I'm sure that can wait as well." He was positively beaming now.

"You knew, didn't you?" half-shouted Professor McGonagall. "You knew they'd do this and - and she'd defeat the curse!" Now that she seemed to have taken in the fact that her best student would survive, she was behaving like her usual self again, and questioning everything.

"Well, I wasn't sure, but I guess our new Head Boy and Girl were up to the challenge."

Professor McGonagall's lips were as thin as ever.

"See, Minerva, if anyone could find a way to defeat this horrible curse, it was them. I can't wait to see the look on Bellatrix's face when she finds out how it backfired. I daresay our Miss Granger will put her new assets to good use."

"But Headmaster, how is she going to live like that?," she asked.

"Harry, er, nailed it," he said, smirking. "Miss Granger will be able to become a Metamorphmagus soon enough, and in the meantime she can stay at Hogwarts. And as for the both of them, well, I'm guessing that for the time being they should be okay, as long as they limit themselves to the appropiate, hum, positions - "

"Albus!" cried out Professor McGonagall indignantly, but her lip was oddly curled up.

"Just one last thing before I go and inform her parents of the, er, recovery, Minerva. I believe there was a little ongoing bet about those two ending up together? Ten galleons, if I remember correctly?"

And as she payed him, Professor McGonagall couldn't stop herself from smiling.

I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it :)