A Love Like No Other

Title: A Love Like No Other

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. or Scholastic Books

Author’s Notes: The idea for this story came from Sherry’s Living With the Consequences from Skywalker Story Board. I merely made changes and adaptations for the Harry Potter universe. This story was originally posted on portkey, but was removed while I worked to make edits, clean up, and create a PG-13 version of the story. Around that time the story was lost. Special thanks to Dupond, who managed to save an original copy of my story and passed it on to my patient readers. If not for him, this story would not be here today.

Chapter 1: Accusations

“Do you understand the charges leveled against you, Miss Granger?”

Hermione hated the sound of Cornelius Fudge’s voice. It was both authoritative and condescending. She knew it carried an air of superiority over her and her mudblood ways. Never mind that pure-blooded wizards and witches had answered the call of the Dark Lord. That didn’t matter. She was a mudblood. And she was responsible for the death of a pureblood wizard – a muggle sympathizer, perhaps, but a pureblood wizard nonetheless.

Or so the magical world thought.

The 18-year-old gave a curt nod, leveling her mahogany eyes on the panel of witches and wizards in front of her chair. Several pairs of angry eyes narrowed at her, and Hermione fought to suppress a shudder. They hated her. They really believed she had done it. Hermione Granger -- Hogwarts valedictorian and hero of the final battle with the dark wizard Voldemort. Murderer. Hermione cringed; silently wishing Albus Dumbledore was up there. She could have used a friend in the courtroom. Her eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, trying to keep the tears at bay.

She was in the basement of the Ministry of Magic, seated on a splintery wooden chair whose chains rattled every time she shifted positions. Though the courtroom was dim, she could make out the slight figures of Professor Lupin and Moody. She was silently glad for their support, especially when many so-called friends had turned their backs on her after he had died.

Try as she might to suppress it, a tear squeezed out of Hermione’s right eye, sliding down her cheek. It was so hard to believe he was gone. It seemed like just yesterday she had been chastising Ronald Weasley when it came to the arduous task of finding a job in something other than professional Quidditch. Absently, she brushed her fingers over her lips. To be accused of breaking her vows as a secret keeper was bad enough … but to betray her boyfriend and his family?

Your dead boyfriend, a sinister voice in the back of her mind taunted her. A stifled sob tried to escape her throat, which Hermione stifled with a ragged hiss and a look from her attorney, who appeared more frazzled as the minutes sailed by.

“Then you do understand that should you be found guilty, the penalty shall be lifetime in Azkaban prison?” Fudge’s voice broke her reverie, forcing Hermione to shove all thoughts of loss out of her mind as she focused on the seriousness of her situation.

Hermione felt an icy ball developing in the pit of her stomach … a lifetime in Azkaban. How long would it take her to go mad? A day … A week? She had enough miserable memories now to haunt her dreams forever. She forced her gaze back to Fudge’s, returning a curt nod.

“Very well. How do you plead?”

Julius Mockridge, her wizard attorney, rose to his feet. Hermione fought back a look of disgust at his intimidated demeanor. Fair trial indeed, she thought.

“The defendant pleads not guilty, your Honor,” Mockridge said.

There was a series of murmurs and hushed voices that erupted around the courtroom. Hermione felt the eyes of a hundred witches and wizards on her, knowing quite well that most of those stares carried malevolent intent. She’d been expected to confess quickly, express her sorrow, and suffer the consequences. Only Cornelius seemed amused at her plea of innocence. A cruel smile crossed his face, but he recovered quickly.

“Very well, Mr. Mockridge,” Fudge’s eyes did not once fall on Hermione’s slightly downtrodden, but still-defiant stare. “Trial will be set in a month. In the meantime I believe Granger will be held at Azkaban.”

“It’s Miss Granger,” Mockridge said evenly, his voice betraying no hint of sarcasm. He seemed to be growing a bit more confident, much to Hermione’s relief. “And I would like to discuss the issue of bail.”

Cornelius’ eyes narrowed. “Preposterous. The defendant would simply skip town and we’d never see her again.”

Mockridge cleared his throat. “I do not think so, Minister. If I recall, her wand was destroyed, leaving the only evidence against her in the testimony of Mr. Potter. You know as well as I that the Ministry has Aurors monitoring her nonstop. She is not a threat to herself or to anyone else in the magical community. She does not deserve to be treated as if she’s already been convicted.”

Fudge blustered, and Hermione could see his face growing red with the anger. She fought to suppress a smile. Serves him right for bringing up these false charges, she thought. An older witch to the side of Fudge leaned over and whispered something into his ear. His color immediately seemed to return to normal.

“Very well. We shall discuss this matter and render our decision in a few moments.”

An impenetrable silencing charm was leveled on the bench and Hermione watched for a moment as the debate ensued and then glanced over to her attorney, who was reviewing a parchment. She allowed her gaze to drift over the courtroom. Her parents were there, chalk-faced and nervous. Hagrid sat next to them, whispering quietly under his breath to Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. She knew that his absence was for her benefit. He had tried to stop the proceedings but Fudge would not hear of it. The Hogwarts Headmaster had resigned his position as Chief Warlock of Wizengamot in protest.

Hermione’s gaze drifted to the corner, where she saw Ginny Weasley sitting in the shadows. She felt a deep pang of regret. She knew that Ginny was the one Weasley who did not hold her responsible on some level for Ron’s death. Hermione wondered if she’d ever be able to look Ginny in the eye again.

“Very well, Miss Granger.”

Hermione’s attention shifted to the front of the room, where Fudge bore a triumphant look on his face.

“Bail is set at 10,000 Galleons.”

A gasp ran throughout the courtroom. Ten thousand Galleons! Hermione’s mind tried to comprehend the number. There was no way she would be able to pay such an amount. No way would her parents be able to pay such an amount.

Hermione’s breath momentarily left her body. She was going to have to go to the rotten stink hole that was Azkaban. She fought a tremble as the fingers of her right hand curled around the arm of the chair. Her lips continually mouthed the word ‘No’ as she shook her head, staring blankly at the bench.

“Do you wish to post bail, Miss Granger?”

Hermione stared blankly at her attorney, whose mouth had been scraping the floor as the number was read aloud. Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she glared at Fudge. She had always regarded herself above truly despising another human being. Even Draco Malfoy, she had reasoned, was not worth the time or effort to hate. But at that moment, she hated Fudge with a passion.

“She will be posting bail.”

The voice came from the back of the room, and all eyes turned as Harry Potter strode into the room, a sack clutched in his hand. Hermione felt her jaw drop in surprise. Harry had been avoiding her since the day Ron died. His absence had left an empty feeling in her heart. That day she had lost both of her best friends, and she was still reeling from Harry’s angry betrayal.

Hermione’s gaze fluttered to the bag Harry held in his left hand. It looked heavy, and for a moment Hermione wondered just what it held.

Cornelius Fudge looked enraged. “How…what…?”

Harry stepped up to the bench. His fingers deftly undid the drawstring at the top of the bag, pouring Galleons on the hard wood. Hermione’s eyes widened, her jaw gaping in stunned silence. Harry handed a scroll to Cornelius Fudge, whose face was turning a deep shade of purple.

“In case you are curious,” Harry’s voice was loud, projecting his words above the furious rumblings of angry wizards and witches, “that letter is signed by the head of Gringotts himself. The money shall be waiting for you, wherever you would like it delivered. I just brought a small portion of it.”

Fudge looked positively furious. Hermione wondered where Harry had found 10,000 galleons. Surely his parents hadn’t left him that much.

And why is he helping me after he accused me of murdering Ron?

Hours seemed to pass before Fudge spoke again. “Fine,” he hissed. “It doesn’t matter anyways.” He waved his hand dismissively, and the hearing was over.

Hermione stared widely at Harry, who looked more disheveled than in the aftermath of his battle with Lord Voldemort. It didn’t seem possible that he, Ron’s best friend and second secret keeper, was paying for Hermione to remain out of prison. He had been furious at her after Ron’s death. Now, he simply looked tired, as if the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders and he was unable to bear the burden.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Julius gave her a silent nod and they slowly exited the courtroom. She’d meet up with her parents later.

Chapter 2: Loopholes

Hogwarts, Two Months Prior, Graduation Day

“Hermione, calm down. You’ll do fine.”

Ron was only marginally successful at assuaging his girlfriend’s nerves. Hermione was pacing back and forth, muttering the words of her commencement speech underneath her breath. Harry and Ron traded amused smirks at the expression of sheer terror that graced her face.

”Easy for you to say,” Hermione sputtered angrily. “You don’t have to address the whole assembly by yourselves!”

Harry grinned. “Don’t forget their families, the Ministry of Magic, the Daily Prophet…”

Hermione’s face turned a pallid green. Ron rolled his eyes, stepping up behind the nervous witch and placing a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. The color in Hermione’s face faded to white and then a light pink as Ron drew her back against his body.

“You’ll do fine,” he murmured as a gagging Harry looked on. Hermione grinned, glancing over her shoulder to her best friend.

“If you two are done snogging, I’d like to get going,” Harry sounded flustered.

”Bugger off,” Ron said with a smirk. “We’re hardly snogging.”

Harry let out a snort as Hermione felt her blush deepen. It was true. She and Ron had been remarkably chaste since they started dating a month ago. Hermione reluctantly pulled away from Ron and straightened the hem of her graduation robes.

“See you at the party tonight?” she looked at Harry. Ron had gotten a flat a month earlier in Ottery St. Catchpole and was holding a housewarming/graduation celebration. It would be small, with a few close friends and family members.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Harry grinned. “Shall I fly or floo?”

Ron smirked. Hermione and Harry were the only two people who knew the location of his flat. It had been a precaution taken before the destruction of Voldemort less than 48 hours prior. Hermione found herself staring wistfully out the window. Hogwarts had been closed temporarily and graduation postponed after a deatheater attack during the Quidditch cup. While she argued vehemently against him moving out of his parent’s home, Ron had been insistent. He said his mom was driving him insane with worry.

That’s when Hermione had made him promise to make her and Harry secret keepers. He’d reluctantly agreed, and since that date no one had visited Ron Weasley’s flat.

Most of the guests would be flooing in. Hermione was going to meet him a few hours before to help him get ready for the party. Now that the dark lord was gone, restrictions had been relaxed, and it was only a matter of time before things were back to normal.

Somewhere in the Gryffindor common room, a clock chimed, drawing the trio’s attention. Hermione’s eyes widened as she grabbed the sleeve of Ron’s dress robes. “We’re late!”

The trio ran towards the Great Hall.

* * *

Hermione apparated in front of Ron’s flat an hour before she was supposed to. She’d decided to surprise him with some alone time before the party began. Their relationship had progressed in baby steps since their first date. Other than a few stolen kisses in the common room when they thought no one was looking, there hadn’t been much of anything … there wasn’t the mood – not with Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the rampage. But now Voldemort was gone.

She felt her face flush as she slowly made her way to the front door, rapping sharply with her left hand. No one answered.

The witch frowned. Ron had said during the graduation reception that he planned to spend all afternoon cleaning for the party. She rolled her eyes. He must have left to make some last minute purchase, she reasoned. It was just like him to procrastinate until the last minute.

She drew her wand and murmured, “Alohamora.”

The house was dark and empty. Hermione grimaced as she began stepping around piles of dirty laundry and dishes. The place looked as if it hadn’t seen a cleaning charm in years. Obviously, Ron had not started cleaning yet. For some reason, that fact brought a chill to Hermione’s stomach.

“Ron?” her voice wavered slightly as she stepped into the kitchen, her wand drawn. Ron was lying face-up on the ground, a look of shock plastered on his face. Hermione immediately rushed to his side, pressing two fingers to his neck.

Nothing.

Her eyes began to water, and she leaned down, cradling his limp body to her chest. Denial echoed in her mind as she patted his pallid cheek, futilely trying to waken him.

“Ron? It’s me, Hermione,” she said, tears streaming down her face as she patted his cheek. “Please wake up. Please? Don’t do this to me. Don’t leave us like this.” The thought that Harry would not take this news well flitted through her mind, but she quickly shoved it aside as she cradled the body of her boyfriend to her chest. A choked sob erupted from her throat as the despair building behind her eyes exploded.

* * *

Hermione blinked back an errant tear as she stared out the window of her attorney’s Diagon Alley office. It was too much … Ron’s murder, Harry’s betrayal, the accusing stares of Ron’s family. Her mind flitted to the permanent ache that had settled in her stomach. That day she had wanted to die.

Eventually those feelings of despair had faded, eroding into a righteous anger at those who had brought up these insane murder charges. The very notion that she would have killed Ron was ludicrous. Ron had been her best friend. She had loved the Weasleys – even Percy when he wasn’t acting like a slimy git. That they believed her capable of such an act of betrayal defied all reasonable expectations. Could they really think so poorly of her? After the anger had faded, the logical portion of her mind struggled to conjure up a probable suspect, but she always hit the same mental block in her investigation.

No one had known where Ron lived. No one but her and Harry.

She looked up as her parents entered with Julius. Her parents looked as if they’d not slept in ages. Her mom’s red eyes had permanent circles underneath them. Hermione simply glanced down in shame, trying to bury the nagging feeling of responsibility for their current state. Her mother and father sat on either side of her while Julius pulled up a seat across the table. Hermione tried to shove all thoughts out of her mind and focus on her attorney’s half-moon spectacles. She tried to suppress the hope that had begun to build after Harry posted her bail. Slowly weaving her fingers around her mother’s hand, she cast a gaze at Julius.

“So can I go home?”

Hermione had been confined to the Ministry of Magic since her arrest. Ministry officials wanted to send her to Azkaban for holding until the trial, but Dumbledore raised such a ruckus that they’d chosen to place her in solitary confinement under constant Auror supervision.

Julius sighed, rubbing his temples. “Maybe. I don’t know. They’re not telling me much.”

Hermione sighed. Julius Mockridge was one of the few wizard attorneys willing to defend her in the controversial trial, but demeanor of the timid wizard had caused her on more than one occasion to contemplate defending herself. Dumbledore had quickly squelched that notion; logically pointing out that she would not be able to conduct her investigation while in solitary confinement.

“You are my attorney,” Hermione stated plainly, regarding Mockridge with a cool stare. “They have to tell you these things.”

Julius sighed. “Hermione…it’s like I told your parents. Things don’t work the same in the wizard world as they do in muggle London. Look how long it took to get your hearing. Or to discover the charges that were leveled against you.”

Hermione gripped the arm of her chair lightly. “So that’s it then? I’m guilty until proven innocent?” She felt the indigent anger seep into her veins.

Julius sighed, his shoulder slumping as he leaned back into his chair. “I’m getting too old for this.”

John Granger looked at his wife, Emma. “We can disappear. Take her somewhere where they can’t find her.”

Julius shook his head. “Won’t work. The Aurors would track you down. You’d spend your entire lives looking over your shoulders.”

Hermione watched as her mom began to cry, helplessness replacing the anger. Her own eyes began to tear up and she wrapped her arms around her despairing mother. Oh mother, I am so sorry, Hermione thought as wet trails snaked down her cheeks.

John glared at Julius, his eyes hinting of rage. “This is ridiculous. They can’t prove anything!”

Her attorney leaned back, inhaling deeply. “There’s the letters…”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Aurors had arrived shortly after Harry. A series of letters were found on the countertop suggesting Ron’s breakup with Hermione.

“Those letters weren’t real,” she said calmly, amazed that she could retain her composure at the tense situation. “They couldn’t have been. Ron and I were fine that morning.”

Julius sighed. “That may be true, but it gives you motive.”

“That’s ridiculous. That’s only one piece of evidence, and a weak one at that!” John was barely maintaining control of his voice. He slammed his hands on the table.

Julius shrank back in his chair, fear flitting across his features. He didn’t relax until Hermione rested an arm on her father’s sleeve, soothing his ire. “There is the fact that she was his secret keeper.”

“Her and Harry,” John said.

“Yes, but Harry Potter is the hero of the Wizard World. And Cornelius Fudge…” Julius’ voice trailed off.

Unspoken was the comment that Cornelius Fudge loved his role as Minister of Magic too much to level charges against Harry Potter.

“Harry…” John said sourly.

“Isn’t he planning on testifying against my daughter?” Emma’s voice wavered.

“No,” another voice called out. “I am not.”

Hermione’s eyes jerked upwards and fell upon the figure of Harry. He was hunched over, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded jeans. He had a dark robe on, as if he was trying to blend in to the shadows of the dark office.

Julius glanced up at Harry, momentarily losing his composure. Then he frowned. “I don’t think you should be...”

Harry interrupted. “I’m helping Hermione whether you like it or not.”

Hermione stared at Harry, her confusion returning. Wasn’t Harry angry with her?

Her attorney frowned. “You can’t escape testifying, Harry.”

“I can lie.”

“They’ll use Veritaserum.”

“What’s ..Veri…?” John interrupted.

Hermione felt a wave of nausea flood her body. “It’s a truth-telling potion,” she responded numbly.

Her father frowned. “So…why don’t you take it and tell them you didn’t do it?”

Julius leaned back in his chair. “It’s…a powerful potion…but it can be broken. Hermione is an accomplished witch…she could take it…but it’d be possible for her to beat it.”

Her dad’s shoulders deflated.

Harry turned to Julius. “What can we do?”

Julius sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid that Minister Fudge seems really intent on putting Hermione away…and it doesn’t help that he has the support of the majority of wizards.”

Emma started crying again. Hermione stared at her mom helplessly, feeling defeated.

I’m going to Azkaban … I’m going to Azka…

“Unless…”

Everyone’s eyes went to Julius. He immediately rushed out of the office, leaving the others there to ponder what he was going to say. There were some loud thumps, a few curses, and then he returned, slamming a musty book on the table. Hermione could barely make out the gold text on the worn cover: Wizard Law and Procedures of the Early 20^th Century.

“I thought I had it here.” He opened the ancient book and began skimming through its tiny print. John opened his mouth several times but was immediately shushed by Hermione’s upraised hand. Her eyes narrowed slightly, wondering what possible loophole her attorney could have found to help her escape this predicament.

“Here it is…Marital Protection Law of 1913 … Any wizard, when called to testify in front of Wizengamot … must testify, unless he/she is the spouse of the defendant/plaintiff. In such a case, he/she must still testify, unless testimony will incriminate his/her spouse. In such cases no wizard/witch may testify, on his/her own accord or under duress.”

Hermione’s face paled as the implication of her attorney’s words registered in her mind. She cast a nervous glance at Harry, who was staring at Julius, his expression frozen in bewilderment.

Julius looked up at the rest of the group. “It’s simple. I wonder why I didn’t think of it before. Harry and Hermione simply need to get married.”

The room was deathly silent.

Author’s Note: Thank you for your reviews. Those of you who have read the story before have probably noticed that I have made slight changes to the plot. This was done after evaluating the character’s reactions to the situation. While I respect the character of Hermione Granger, I do not believe she would have behaved like the victim she was originally portrayed as. She’s 18, and an adult, and I think her reaction to this situation would more cautiously reflect that. This may result in slower updates of these chapters, as I do rewrites to help reflect the altered characterization. Please bear with me during this time.

Chapter 3: Decisions

After her initial shock had worn off, Hermione slowly leveled her gaze on her lawyer. A part of her still registered disbelief at his words. Had he just told her to marry Harry Potter?

"This is ridiculous!" Her father shouted, waving his hands in the air like a referee settling a dispute between two Quidditch players. "You can't expect us to allow our daughter to marry ... him." He pointed a finger at Harry, emphasizing his last word. He then returned to waving his arms in the air. "She's a child...and so is he!"

He would have continued to rant had Harry's small voice not broken through the storm of emotions.

"I'll do it."

All eyes fell on Harry. Hermione felt her stomach flutter. Had Harry just said he would marry her?

John fell silent, his gaze turning to Harry, eyes narrowed. "You will, will you? And what do you know about marriage? Do you even have a career? Where would you live? How would you support my daughter? Where would you two do this ceremony? Who would do the ceremony? It's not like you'd find many wizards willing to let you do this..."

Her father continued to hammer Harry with questions, and while Harry attempted to open his mouth to answer a few of them, he eventually quit trying. It was Hermione whose voice permeated the long-winded inquiry.

"I...need to speak to Harry." Her own voice sounded foreign, as if the shock had altered the pitch of her speech.

Her father looked at her with a curious look, as if saying 'He's right here, so talk.' Hermione closed her eyes, slowly shunting a wave of nervousness that passed through her body. She prided herself in dealing logically with every situation, but the abruptness of her attorney’s revelation had sent her mind reeling. She cleared her throat uncomfortably, looking at her parents, who were staring at her intently with startled expressions.

"Alone,” her voice echoed with more confidence than she felt at the moment. “I need to speak to Harry alone."

Julius frowned, obviously fighting an instinct to interrupt and claim attorney privilege, but he nodded, herding John and Emma Granger out of the room before the flustered parents could muster another sound.

Hermione and Harry sat uncomfortably in silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other. A long time passed before either spoke.

"Hermione, I..."

"Harry, I..."

There was an awkward pause, and then a nervous laugh as the two felt some of the enormous pressure ease off their shoulders. Harry beckoned to Hermione, urging her to continue. Hermione briefly closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts before she spoke.

"Harry...thank you for...posting bail," Hermione said gratefully. Much to her dismay, her eyes began to water again. The loss of her two best friends had hit her harder than she wanted to admit. "But I don't understand why you would help me after Ron...after you said...you said..."

Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair; his green eyes leveled on the tears that were brightening Hermione’s eyes. "I didn't mean it, Hermione. I'm sorry. I was angry ... I was upset I couldn't save him. I was the boy who lived ... who beat Voldemort ... and I couldn't save Ron..."

A tear trickled down the side of Harry's left cheek, and Hermione shunted aside her prior anger at Harry’s accusations as she slid her chair next to his, wrapping her arms around his stomach. They cried together, embracing the anguish of losing one of their own. The memory was as fresh as the day it happened.

Eventually the tears stopped, leaving the two friends in silence. The silence was both comforting and unnerving, allowing their thoughts to dwell on the prospect of marriage. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound of Julius’ words. Could I marry Harry to save my life? The thought almost made her laugh. Marry Harry Potter? The notion was absurd. There was no way they could pull it off. And what would a marriage, even if it was in name only, do to their friendship, so fragile after Ron’s death? She opened her eyes to Harry’s lowered face. The tip of his shoe traced an invisible line across the floor.

"Harry, I don't know if I can do this," Hermione said quietly, her voice wavering slightly.

Harry looked at Hermione, and she found herself knocked off-balance from the intense look in his eyes.

"I will not let you go to Azkaban. I will not lose you like I lost my parents and like I lost Sirius and like I lost Ron. I won't do it."

Hermione’s cheeks reddened in frustration. It was true she didn’t want to go to Azkaban, but marrying someone for the sake of getting out of prison was not the romantic notion she harbored of finding her soul mate.

"But Harry...we're talking about marriage. This is serious."

"Yes, it is serious,” Harry responded. “Do you want to go to Azkaban?"

Hermione frowned. She didn't want to go to Azkaban. The logic behind her refusal was quickly diminishing. But this was the man who had left her alone in the weeks after Ron’s death. He had abandoned her when she needed him most. And the uproar from the impromptu ceremony would be considerable. Harry would go from savior to villain in less than a week. Hermione stared at Harry, whose eyes had never left her features. As if he could read her thoughts, he reached out, taking her hand in his. His expression was stubborn.

"I won't testify, Hermione. I'd disappear first.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You’d go to Azkaban if you disappeared.”

“Please..." Harry whispered, and Hermione could sense the desperation in his voice.

She closed her eyes. Could they pull this fake marriage off? Would they be able to convince the wizard world of their union was real?

They’d have to behave like a married couple.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, her face flushing. Her boyfriend had died two months earlier and she was thinking about marrying his best friend? What kind of person am I? Hermione berated herself. There was no way she and Harry would be able to get married. And if they were married, that brought up the subject of intimacy.

Nonsense, we’re both adults. We can handle this in a mature manner.

Harry flushed, as if sensing her train of thoughts. His gaze drifted to the ground for a moment before pleading emerald eyes met her gaze. “It’s just in name only.”

It’s just in name only.

Hermione saw the look in his eyes and felt a fluttering in her stomach. He doesn’t want to lose you, her mind reasoned. She closed her eyes, trying to sort through her lingering anger and despair. There was no doubt in her mind that if she refused, Harry would disappear. He’d never escape Azkaban if he were caught.

I can’t lose him like I lost Ron. Her anger began to fade, replaced by the deep sense of love and friendship that had grown over the past seven years.

She gave a slight nod, stifling a grin at Harry’s surprised expression. The raven-haired wizard stood abruptly, running his hands through his unruly hair. Suddenly, he dropped to his left knee and took Hermione's hand. She stared at him in shock, wondering precisely what had come over her best friend.

"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

Hermione’s heart jumped at the simple request, her eyes tearing. She knew Harry had offered the proposal for her benefit. He knew her hopes for a romantic courtship and fairytale wedding. Tears welled in her eyes, but she slowly met Harry’s gaze.

“Yes,” she whispered softly, fighting back the emotions that had threatened to overflow. Harry smiled, and drew her into a hug, holding her awkwardly. There was no mistake in either mind that this was a marriage of convenience only. But perhaps that's what these things were intended to be.

The thought did nothing to assuage the fears gnawing in her stomach.

***

The next few weeks seemed to pass by in a rush. Julius was thrilled when Hermione and Harry made the announcement about their engagement. Her parents much less so. But even they gave their begrudging approval after a careful examination of the different alternatives.

Julius arranged for the ceremony to take place the morning of the trial. It would be small, with only her family present, along a few friends and Dumbledore, who'd officiate the ceremony. Against their wishes, Julius had invited a photographer to take pictures, so as to provide some visible proof of this union.

"Now now...don't forget,” the nervous attorney said. “This has to be a real marriage. If Fudge thinks for even a moment you're doing this to get out of testifying..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "We know, Julius." He stared at Hermione, who returned his look with a pair of rolled eyes. They’d received the admonition at least a dozen times already.

The nerves had been building in Hermione’s stomach steadily for the past week. She tried to avoid Harry’s curious stares, convincing herself that this was a marriage of convenience only. But why did that thought send icy tendrils of nervousness through her body?

Julius Mockridge was more nervous than even Hermione, having spent all his waking hours pouring over scrolls as if to reassure himself that he could not be indicted because of this. He kept glancing over the marriage license, which Remus had "convinced" a good friend at the Ministry of Magic to procure.

An hour before the trial, Hermione and Harry stood nervously in front of Albus Dumbledore. They were both in dress robes, and Harry had to admit that Hermione looked absolutely gorgeous. Of course they couldn’t have a full wedding … no use alerting everyone to their plot.

Hermione closed her eyes. In her mind’s eye, she shelved her romantic illusions, resigning herself to the grim reality of the situation. Julius had said the two would have to remain married for several years before they’d be able to file for a divorce. Eventually she opened her gaze, allowing her eyes to settle on Harry. She knew Harry wanted a family. She didn’t blame him, knowing how the Dursley’s had treated him. What kind of dreams was he giving up for the sake of her freedom?

Well, not giving up, necessarily. But postponing for a long while.

With a nervous chuckle she shelved her reservations and buried the negative thoughts in the back of her mind, focusing her gaze on Harry. She admired how Harry had cleaned up. At least he was trying to make this special. She knew, deep down, that they could never love each other like a real married couple, but he’d at least made the effort to try to make the occasion memorable. And with that thought she quickly averted her gaze. Nothing could erase the fact that this was not how she wanted her wedding day to be. She blinked back an errant tear and felt a slight squeeze at her hands. Harry was looking at her with a curious expression on his face. Whether it was sadness or confusion she couldn’t tell.

She turned and faced Dumbledore, who gave the two a gentle smile.

“I thought I’d see you two here today,” he started. Hermione and Harry gave each other a confused look. “Of course,” Dumbledore continued. “I had hoped it to be under more pleasant of circumstances. Do you have the rings?”

Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew a small gold ring. Almost by instinct, Hermione held out her left hand as Harry slid the ring onto her finger.

“Now Harry, repeat after me…”

Hermione felt the distractions fade away as her mind focused on Harry. She willed away all her worries, all of her fears as she watched him repeat the words. Everything faded away except his sincere expression as he repeated his vows to Hermione. She felt a flush when she realized she had been staring, an odd feeling coursing through her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dumbledore turn to her.

“Hermione Granger, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband…”

Dumbledore’s words tuned out as she contemplated this strange turn of events. Her husband. Harry Potter was going to be her husband. She blinked as she sensed all eyes fall upon her. Blushing furiously, she looked to the ground momentarily before shifting her gaze back to Harry’s. His smile was almost unnerving.

“I do.” Hermione said, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.

Dumbledore smiled. “You might want to put the ring on his finger then, Miss Granger.”

Hermione felt her face flush as she reached into the pocket of her robes, pulling out the gold wedding band that had been sitting there. A slight sniffling was heard in the crowd and Hermione caught Minerva McGonagall wiping her eyes as she slid the ring onto Harry’s hand.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. Mr. Potter, would you like to kiss the bride?”

Kiss…

Hermione felt a momentary flush of panic come over her body, and she glanced at Harry. How could she have forgotten this part of the ceremony? Hermione was relieved to see he was blushing at least as much as she was and she glanced at Julius, who gave them a slight nod. She turned and faced Harry, noticing that her hand was trembling. Or was it his hand? She wasn’t sure. He looked positively terrified. She felt her eyes flutter shut as his lips descended to hers.

And then they touched.

A surge of energy flooded her body, and voice in the back of her mind that sounded distinctively like her attorney’s said, “Make them believe it.”

So she deepened the kiss, her hands sliding around Harry’s waist and drawing him close. She felt his momentary surprise, but was shocked when he reciprocated, as if he instinctively knew how much was riding on this kiss.

Just when Hermione thought the heat might become unbearable, she drew back, her face flushed. There was a smattering of applause in the courtroom.

Hermione glanced back at Dumbledore. Was that a tear in his eye? She couldn’t tell. She felt her mind trying process the fact that she had just kissed her best friend.

Dumbledore’s quiet voice penetrated the courtroom. “I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Harry James Potter…”

Author’s Notes: Some of you have asked where you have read this story before. You read it on Portkey, under this name. It had an NC-17 rating. I was editing it for a PG-13 version of the story when my computer lost the file. I’m currently editing the story, and will be reposting it as I can perform the edits. This is not quite the same story as before. I’ve decided to re-evaluate Hermione and Harry’s emotions and create more realistic characters, while staying as true to cannon as possible.

Chapter 4: Revelations

The ride to the Ministry took forever.

It had been decided – without Harry’s or Hermione’s input – to have them arrive separately, so as not to betray any hint as to their clandestine marriage. At this moment Hermione sat in the back seat of her parents’ car, staring numbly out the window.

She had just married Harry. Not only that, but she had kissed him in a way she’d only kissed one other man.

Hermione blinked a tear out of her eye. She couldn’t help but feel she had betrayed Ron by doing so, even though she knew the notion was ridiculous. Ron would have wanted her to be happy. To move on with her life. But this hardly counted as moving on. This marriage was a sham in every sense of the word.

But the kiss had not felt like a kiss of necessity. Hermione brushed a finger over her lips, her mind absently drifting to the thoughts of the kiss they had shared. Did Harry feel the same electricity when their lips touched?

No, certainly not. Harry was a loyal friend. He married her because it was the only way to keep her out of Azkaban. Shame flooded her body. What kind of person was she for thinking there was something more to that kiss? Her boyfriend had just died.

A small voice intercepted the thought. Don’t worry about that now. Worry later. The trial is now. You need to be ready for the trial.

Hermione inhaled deeply and glanced to her parents. Her father was sitting in the front, silent as death, as Julius drove them to the Ministry of Magic. They had to use the back entrance because her parents couldn’t apparate or use a portkey. Hermione was sure Julius would have rather apparated and avoided the trouble of driving on London streets.

They arrived at the Ministry of Magic and Julius took her father in first. In order to enter the Ministry, one had to dial a certain number on a muggle payphone. Muggles were not allowed in without an escort. Hermione and her mother soon followed, and as soon as they entered the ministry, they were assaulted by a dozen different voices at once.

Bright lights went off as cameras began flashing. Hermione shielded her eyes and could make out the faintest form of Colin Creevey, photographer apprentice for The Daily Prophet. She felt her mother pull her close as reporters assaulted her with questions. A few threw wadded-up pieces of parchment at her. At once, Lupin and Moody stepped up to them, shielding them from the onslaught as they began to make their way down the hallway to the elevator, where two security trolls stood guard.

“Goodness, is it like this everywhere?” Emma’s voice was breathy, as if she’d finished running a marathon. Remus shook his head grimly.

“Downstairs is better. The entire corridor leading to the dun…I mean the courtroom…has been cleared. Julius and John are waiting in the defendant’s holding room,” Remus glanced down, and Hermione could instantly tell he was shielding her from something.

“What is it?” Hermione narrowed her gaze.

Moody rested a hand on her shoulder. “Fudge brought … dementors. They’re not inside the courtroom…but they’re waiting in a separate room.”

Hermione felt her face blanch, and she glanced at her mother, who looked enormously confused. As Remus attempted to explain the purpose of the dementors, Hermione felt her gaze drift to the ground. Dementors…that meant they were planning on having her escorted to Azkaban…fair trial indeed…

Her mother looked positively terrified. Hermione avoided her gaze, focusing on the ball of ice that was forming in the pit of her stomach.

The elevator doors opened and the four made their way down the holiday. Hermione felt more and more nervous as Remus led her into a room with a long table and a few chairs. Julius was sitting at the head of the table, looking grim. Her father simply stood in the corner, rubbing his triceps and muttering something about the cold.

“I’ve got good and bad news for you all…” Julius began.

“We already know about the dementors, so just tell us the good news,” Hermione snapped, patience wearing thin. Julius simply glared at her.

“That wasn’t the bad news.”

“Oh God…it gets worse?” Emma looked on the verge of tears. Hermione leveled her gaze on her attorney, carefully scrutinizing him. He looked positively terrified.

“I just found out…Percy Weasley will be presenting the case for the Ministry.”

“Percy…Weasley?” John sounded confused. “Isn’t that the brother of the boy…?”

Moody interrupted. “It … it means that he’s going to be particularly brutal, because he wants this conviction more than any … He’s … he’s … never lost a case.”

Her mother started crying.

He’s never lost a case.

Hermione remembered the day Ron told her that Percy had started working in the Ministry legal department. They had joked that everyone in the courtroom would fall asleep before he finished opening statements. But he had been surprisingly successful in his career, known for his ruthless interrogation and Machiavellian treatment of defendants.

She stared at her hands. Her throat already felt dry. This day had started out almost normal … well, as normal as it could have been for an impromptu marriage to her best friend. Now she just wanted to go back to bed and never wake up. She clasped her hands together tightly, pressing them against her legs until her knuckles went white.

“And…,” her voice was very soft, trying to conceal the despair she felt, “the good news?”

Julius gave her a weak smile. “Without Mr. Potter’s testimony, they’ll have no case. They’ll have to dismiss it. And under the Wizengamot Court Procedural Act of 1572, Section 3, Subsection 2.1.2.A, that means you can never be arrested on these charges again.”

He didn’t appear convinced that they’d be able to persuade the court to accept this marriage was anything but a sham.

Hermione’s head snapped up. “Wonderful, so all I have to do is ensure that I survive these charges, so I can live my wonderful life ostracized by the wizarding community and hated by the family of my dearly departed boyfriend.” The bitterness in her voice surprised even her, but the emotions were boiling in her body, and she felt the urge to lash out. “And that’s only if they believe that Harry and I didn’t just get married to stop the trial. Otherwise we’ll both be in Azkaban for the rest of our lives.”

“Now, Hermione…” Remus piped up, silencing immediately under a glare from Moody.

“I am tired of being coddled and I’m tired of being in this ridiculous situation!” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the waver out of her voice. Angry tears threatened to explode from her mahogany gaze.

“As well you should be, Miss Granger,” the voice came from behind her. Hermione turned, her jaw dropping as Albus Dumbledore strode into the room. “I assure you, after today, things will begin to improve. Now, if you would give me a moment alone with the others…”

Hermione’s gaze narrowed, but she eventually nodded and entered the courtroom. It was rather empty, but she could see Percy Weasley pacing back and forth on one side of the courtroom. In the seats behind him were the rest of the Weasleys. Ginny was alone at the end, looking rather uncomfortable. Hermione frowned. Ginny looked terrible. Her usually vibrant red-gold hair hung limply around her face, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She looked thin … almost gaunt.

Keep your mind on the trial.

Hermione sighed, taking a seat on the defendant’s side. A few minutes later, Julius joined her. To her surprise, Dumbledore strode in, taking a seat to her other side. He gave her a small, knowing smile, as if he knew the greatest secret in the world.

“Please rise,” a young wizard at the front of the room called out.

The trial had begun.

* * *

Six hours later, Hermione wanted to rip her hair out. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. It seemed as if they were going around in circles. She scanned the members of Wizengamot. They seemed weary, too.

Great job Percy, Hermione shook her head lightly. Bore them to death. Then there will be no one left to sentence me.

Percy looked agitated. So far, Julius had managed to poke holes in every piece of evidence he had brought forth. The Weasley seemed unusually nervous, as if he was out of his element. Hermione wondered if the Ministry had made a mistake letting him prosecute his own brother’s murder trial. His normally zealous nature seemed a bit misrouted, as if he had tried too hard and lost site of his objective.

Beads of sweat were starting to form on Percy’s eyebrow. He was a man running out of options, and it was painfully obvious in his stance.

“One more witness, your honors. I would like to call Harry Potter to the stand.”

Hushed whispers rang throughout the crowd. The doors to the back of the courtroom opened and Harry strode in with a grim, yet determined look on his face. He took a seat at the witness stand. Percy glanced at Hermione, a sadistic grin on his face. Hermione tried to stifle a grin, but couldn’t help but smile back. Percy frowned and looked to Harry.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, Mr. Potter?”

Harry nodded. “I do.”

“Please state your name for the record.”

”My name is Harry James Potter.”

“And you were friends with the defendant?”

“Yes.”

“And you were friends with the victim, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“Describe the nature of your relationship with the victim.”

“We were best friends.”

“And with the defendant?”

Harry glanced down. He looked at Hermione and then cleared his throat.

“We...were friends…”

Percy Weasley smiled. Hermione could almost sense the triumph in his demeanor. He thought he had her.

”You were Ron’s secret keeper, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“And Ron had another secret keeper, did he not?”

“I guess.”

Percy frowned. “Hermione was his secret keeper also, wasn’t she?”

Harry smiled nervously. “I can’t answer that.”

A collective gasp sounded throughout the courtroom. Harry was willing to defy Wizengamot? Cornelius Fudge looked positively enraged. The previously despondent court had perked up, and all eyes were on the wizard in the witness seat. Percy’s eyes narrowed.

“Answer the question, Mr. Potter.”

“I can’t.”

Percy threw up his hands into the air, exasperated. “And why not?”

There was a hush in the courtroom. Harry continued staring straight at Percy. Hermione could see from his rigid posture that he was incredibly nervous. He right hand kept reaching up absently to touch his scar, restrained only at the last moment by some modicum of self-control. It was a nervous habit of his, she’d come to recognize.

Hermione glanced at her foot, which was tapping quickly on the ground. Harry was not the only one who was nervous about the court’s reaction.

Please let this work, Hermione breathed silently.

“Because Hermione is my wife.”

Chapter 5: Escape

The next few moments were of silence.

Then chaos ensued.

Hermione was glad that the ministry had decided to confiscate the wands of everyone who entered the courtroom. If they hadn’t, she mused, after Harry’s confession she might have ended up as a turnip.

Cameras immediately started going off as reporters from various wizard newspapers began shouting questions in the courtroom. Molly Weasley erupted in tears and Fred and George’s faces turned an angry shade of red. Most amusing was Percy’s expression, Hermione thought. He was staring at Harry, slack-jawed. Cornelius Fudge pounded both hands on the table in front of him and roared a loud “WHAT?!?”

Harry met Hermione’s gaze and they continued to stare at each other in silence, shunting out the uproar at his revelation. She took comfort in his reassuring nod. Even if they lost every friend they had after this trial was over, at least they’d have each other.

At this rate, Hermione thought. That might be all we have left.

It took several minutes before Tiberius Ogden, Chief Warlock, could call the courtroom back to order.

“Order! Or I’ll dismiss the lot of you!” He had to compete with Fudge’s screaming, Molly’s crying and the howls of several angry witches and wizards. Dumbledore was watching the entire scene, a rather amused expression on his face. Hermione secretly wondered if her former headmaster was taking sadistic pleasure in having tricked the court.

Tiberius Ogden dismissed The Daily Prophet entourage and a few witches and wizards who wouldn’t quit screaming. Arthur Weasley escorted Molly out of the courtroom, casting angry glances over his shoulder at Harry. Fudge blustered until Ogden gave him a warning glance, then sat with his arms crossed, giving Harry the evil eye.

Ogden looked at Harry for a moment before speaking. “You and the defendant are married?”

Harry gave a curt nod, and Tiberius looked around the courtroom incredulously. His gaze finally settled on Hermione. She forced herself to meet the older wizard’s scrutinizing stare.

“When did this happen?”

Julius jumped to his feet with renewed confidence and presented the marriage license to Tiberius, who pulled out a pair of half-moon spectacles and studied it carefully. Cornelius Fudge stole a quick glance over his shoulder, scanning the document before turning beet red and looking at Dumbledore.

“Dumble…you married them?!? You…”

Dumbledore raised a hand, silencing Fudge’s angry tirade. “Yes, I did perform the ceremony. And I would be more than happy to answer any questions regarding the nature of my involvement.”

Tiberius stared narrowly at Dumbledore. “You expect us to take this seriously?”

“It is legitimate.”

“It’s a conspiracy!” Fudge yelled.

“It is not a conspiracy,” Harry shouted. “I love her.”

It took all the self-control Hermione could muster to keep her jaw dropping at this revelation. Did he just say he loved me?

Of course not. He’s saying that to convince the court, Hermione reassured herself privately. Isn’t he?

Tiberius Ogden stared at Harry. “Mr. Potter, you do understand that this looks as if you married Hermione to get out of testifying…”

Harry nodded. “I know what it looks like. But I do love Hermione and that’s why I married her.”

He said he loved me.

This time Hermione could not keep the heated flush from spreading across her face. The impromptu wedding ceremony had been one thing, but she had not been prepared to hear Harry publicly announce his love in the courtroom.

It’s all part of the act.

Tiberious Ogden leveled his gaze on Hermione, and she mentally cursed her body for its lack of control. Then, his features seemed to soften, seemingly deciding her pink cheeks were nothing more than embarrassment at having such a private declaration made in a public place.

“Ridiculous! He’s lying through his teeth. Get me some Veritaserum and I’ll prove it,” Fudge was shouting, banging his hands on the bench again.

“You cannot give Veritaserum to the husband of the defendant,” Julius interrupted quickly. Herminoe cringed at the panic in her attorney’s voice. “The Marital P…”

“Don’t tell me about some damnable law in my own courtroom! I’ll change the law!”

“Cornelius, do not make me dismiss you,” Tiberius interrupted, his voice carrying a bit of strain. Fudge glared at Tiberius.

“You would…wouldn’t you? I am the Minister of Magic!” Fudge looked enraged.

“And you of all people should know that even the Minister is not above the law…” Tiberius’ voice retained its calm demeanor. Fudge promptly sat down, glaring at Dumbledore.

Tiberius examined the marriage scroll, and then glanced at Harry and Hermione. “We will be investigating this matter further. For now, I’m going to postpone the trial pending possible dismissal of the case. But if I find out that this is a farce, I’ll take you to Azkaban myself and throw away the key. Do I make myself clear?”

It worked.

“Yes sir.” Harry and Hermione spoke in perfect unison.

“Dismissed.”

Hermione stared at the ground in stunned silence. She couldn’t believe they had gotten away with it. She had been mentally preparing herself for the inevitability of Azkaban prison, only to be given a joyous reprieve. Slowly rising to her feet, she turned, glancing at her parents. They were smiling, hugging each other. Her mother had tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. She looked at the remaining Weasleys, who looked positively furious. Her gaze met Ginny’s for a fraction of a second before the youngest Weasley shifted in her seat uncomfortably, refusing to look at her former friend.

Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder, and she glanced up at Dumbledore controlled expression.

“We should journey to the back room. There are a few things I’m sure we’ll need to discuss with you and Harry.”

Hermione nodded and waited as Harry walked towards her. He rested a hand on her elbow, sending a little jolt of electricity coursing through her skin. Hermione ignored it, joining her family as they walked out of the courtroom. The group reunited in a private room, followed with a few members of the Order who’d attended. Julius looked elated that he had not been caught, bouncing on his feet like an anxious toddler.

“You’ll have to pretend this is real for a little while, but the case will get dismissed,” he looked delighted.

Harry simply stared at the ground. Hermione flushed, looking down. They would have to fool everyone into believing that this was a real marriage.

Can we do it?

Her mind mulled over the alternatives. She felt as if she were waking up from a bad dream, and any moment her mother would shake her awake and remind her to get up for school.

No…I don’t go to school anymore. I graduated.

Hermione glanced between her parents, who were now glancing at her and Harry, concerned. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Why would they be concerned?

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Harry, Hermione, after discussing the matter with your parents it’s been agreed that the two of you should get away for a little while, while the dust settles.”

Hermione and Harry looked at him. It made sense, but at the same time the whole scenario seemed surreal. Dumbledore reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew two tickets.

“Reservations have been made at a hotel on Waikiki Beach. I believe you’ll find the accommodations…appropriate.”

“Hotel…?” Hermione felt her throat dry. She glanced at Harry, who was blushing furiously.

“Most wizard couples who get married have a honeymoon,” Julius stated quickly, ignoring the withering look Hermione gave him. “If we want to make them believe, then you need to take one.” He paused, adding almost as an afterthought, “Of course, if you had children…”

“Now wait just a moment…” Hermione’s father protested.

“They’ve just gotten married!” Emma Granger interjected.

“That’s none of your business,” Hermione retorted, glaring at Julius. She felt her face reddening. She clenched her right fist, trying to control her rising ire. “Or do you make the decisions for my life now too?”

Julius raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I get your point. But you must admit…”

“I think that is a decision best left to Harry and Hermione,” Dumbledore interrupted. Harry gave him a grateful look, still not looking at Hermione.

Dumbledore turned and held the tickets out to Harry and Hermione. “I believe it’s time for the two of you to get going.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. It couldn’t hurt anything, Hermione thought to herself. She gave a light nod, and they grabbed the tickets.

Immediately Hermione felt a tug around her navel. She was being pulled by an unseen force. She felt Harry’s hand instinctively close around her own as they fell onto a sandy covered beach.

“Ooph.” Harry groaned, rolling onto his back. “He didn’t tell us it was a portkey.”

Hermione glanced around. It was late at night, but she could make out flaming torches along the street. On the other side people were mulling about. No one seemed to have notice the two wizards who suddenly appeared on the beach.

Hermione rose to her feet shakily, brushing some sand off her pants. At any other time, she would have been fascinated by the opportunity to travel to an exotic location. But the circumstances had left her somewhat off-kilter. She blushed as she realized she and Harry were still in their dress robes. That would not go well with the locals.

She felt a tug on her hand as Harry pulled himself to his feet. He glanced around, his hair disheveled, bits of sand pouring out of the dark tendrils. He glanced down at the tickets and then at the street.

“There it is,” he said quietly. “Aston Waikiki Beach.”

Hermione glanced at the tickets, verifying that it was the right location.

“Um…I guess…we should go check in?” She suddenly felt very self-conscious. What kind of accommodations would Dumbledore have chosen for them?

“Um…yeah. Let’s do that.”

Harry took her hand and she stiffened slightly, but Julius’ words kept playing over in her head.

Make them believe…

She gave his hand a light squeeze and he gave her a slight smile as they made their way across the street and to the hotel. They approached the front desk, where a clerk was chatting on the telephone.

“Um…excuse me.” Harry’s voice rang out nervously. The woman gave him a rather spiteful look, eyeing their attire with interest, and set the phone down. “Can I help you?”

“Um…I’ve got…um…reservations?”

The woman rolled her eyes, and began tapping on the keyboard of a computer. “Name?”

“Potter, Harry Potter.”

“Honeymoon suite. Shall I call the bellhop for your luggage? Perhaps you’d like to get your … robes cleaned?”

Honeymoon suite? Hermione made a mental note to hex Dumbledore the moment she returned to England. Heat began rising to her cheeks. She didn’t dare look at Harry. Instead, she focused on the clerk.

“That won’t be necessary,” Hermione answered curtly, trying to alleviate her nerves. The woman smiled sweetly and handed her a cardkey.

“Room 1034.” And she picked up the phone again.

Hermione rolled her eyes and tugged Harry’s hand. The two made their way to the elevator, and after a few moments, they found themselves staring at their door.

“We should go in…” Hermione found herself struggling to get the words out.

“We should…” Harry said quietly, as if asking permission.

She inhaled deeply and unlocked the door, stepping into the darkened room. They stepped into the room. Hermione gave a small gasp when Harry turned on the lights.

The suite was elaborate, with a couch, table, a small refrigerator, and enclosed patio. A huge television rested in the corner and the large, king-sized bed had curtains tied at the bed posts.

A single bed…

Hermione felt her face flush, and she glanced at Harry, who seemed to be staring at the room incredulously. Hermione briefly wondered if he’d ever seen such elaborate accommodations outside of Hogwarts. His gaze met hers and then followed it to the bed. His cheeks reddened considerably and he promptly dropped her hand, shoving his fists deeply into his trouser pockets.

“Um…well…I can sleep on the couch…it’s…not a big deal…”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as the awkward silence settled over them. Hermione forced herself to look at Harry, who was staring uncomfortably at the carpeted floor. She might have laughed at the irony had the circumstances been different, but their situation was far too unusual to be looked at in a humorous nature by its participants.

He said he loved me.

Part of Hermione vehemently wanted to protest that statement. How could he love her? He’d never shown the faintest bit of interest in her as anything more than a friend. But more disturbingly, part of Hermione’s mind searched her own feelings, trying to determine if she felt anything more for the raven-headed man standing beside her.

Nonsense, her mind screamed. You loved Ron, not Harry.

“Um, Harry?” Hermione’s voice was quiet, the question weighing heavily on the back of her mind. He looked at her, and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

Did he really mean it?

“Did…you really mean what you said…in the courtroom?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly for comfort. “I mean…I was just trying to make sure they believed it…you know? I mean…I didn’t want to lose you too…you’re all I’ve got left…with Sirius gone…and now Ron…”

Hermione couldn’t help but notice he was blushing even harder. But she shoved the memory in the back of her mind. They stood for a few moments in uncomfortable silence.

“I think…I’m going to go to bed.” Hermione eventually said, finally finding her voice.

“Yeah…bed would be good.” Harry glanced at her for a moment and then down. “Um…I think I’ll sleep in my robes.”

Hermione felt her face redden. She didn’t even a nightgown to change into, and she wasn’t about to sleep naked. She willed the color out of her cheeks and nodded. “I think I will too. Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight ‘Mione.”

Hermione crawled into the bed, hesitating for only a brief moment before drawing the curtains around the four posters. She stared at the closed fabric for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart.

The light turned off and she slowly crawled beneath the covers, staring at the darkened ceiling. She tried to quell the questions racing through her mind with little success.

It was a long time before she fell asleep.

Chapter 6: Foundations

The next morning, Hermione awoke to the sound of knocking on the door. It took her moments to process where she was, and then she slid out of the giant bed and began to stumble to the door, rubbing her eyes as she went. Her body felt stiff from sleeping in the confining dress robes, and she made a mental note to try to find something more presentable to wear. A quick glance out of the corner of her right eye revealed Harry, sprawled face down on the couch, his arm lazily falling over the side. His glasses had been pushed against his forehead, and he appeared to be drooling. Hermione smiled slightly, turning to the door and peeking through the eyehole. A bellhop stood there, and behind him, a cart with two large trunks. Frowning, she opened the door just a crack.

“Yes?” She tried to keep her voice low, so as not to disturb Harry.

“I’ve got a letter and two trunks for a Mr. and Mrs. Potter?” The bellhop spoke rather loudly, and Hermione cringed, hearing Harry shift behind her.

“Yes yes, That’s us. Bring them in.” Hermione kept trying to whisper, even though she could hear Harry stirring behind her.

The bellhop pushed the cart with the trunks in, pulling them off. Hermione cringed, looking at Harry, who was now sitting, running a hand through his rather messy hair, which was standing pretty much straight up. The bellhop handed Hermione the letter, and then stared at her, expectantly. She glanced at him, confused.

“Um…is that all?” Hermione asked, curiously. The bellhop frowned angrily.

“No, thank you, Ma’am.” He grumbled, turning and stepping out of the room. Hermione stared at him, confused.

“Uh, ‘Mione. You were supposed to tip him.”

Hermione smacked her forehead. “Merlin, I completely forgot.”

Harry grinned, and immediately opened his trunk.

“My clothes … they’re all here!” Harry’s eyes opened wide as he pulled out a pair of swimming trunks. Hermione sat down on the other trunk and opened the letter. Her eyes widened as she pulled out a set of traveler’s checks. Her breath momentarily left her body when she counted the amount.

“Harry…there must be…two thousand…dollars worth…”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the booklet out of Hermione’s hand. His jaw dropped as he poured over the money. Hermione pulled out the letter, reading it over.

Dear Harry and Hermione,

I hope you get these before too long. Dumbledore said he’d take care of them getting there. I just hope he doesn’t draw too much attention.

The money is yours to spend on your honeymoon. Please be careful. Your father and I are …worried about you two.

Julius said you’d be able to return in a week’s time. He wants to secure the documents dismissing the case before you return.

Be safe,

Your mother

Hermione handed the letter to Harry as she slid off her trunk. She immediately opened it and began scanning the contents. Her mother had thought of everything, once again. When she looked up, Harry’s face was turning a bright red.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione’s eyes betrayed her confusion.

“They didn’t have to do that. I mean…I could have managed it…” Harry’s face was roughly the color of a tomato.

Hermione frowned. “They’re just giving us some spending money Harry, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want them thinking I can’t take care of you…”

Take care of me? Great, has Harry been hiding a sexist streak this entire time?

Hermione arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms across her chest and regarding Harry with a cool glance. “Take care of me? I can take care of myself.”

Harry frowned. “Yes, but now that we’re married…I mean…um…what I’m trying to say is…”

Her frown deepened. But this marriage isn’t real… Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but bit back the comment. Instead, she stifled the surge of anger, dismissing her earlier absurd notions. Harry, sexist? Not a chance. This had more to do with his pride. She inhaled deeply, smiling genuinely as she tried to calm his nervous stammers.

“It’s a wedding gift. That’s all, Harry.”

Harry’s features seemed to lighten. “A wedding gift? Yeah…You should write them and tell them thanks.”

“I’ll do it later this afternoon.” She glanced through the trunk, and slowly pulled out her bathing suit. The inquisitive side of her began to surface. I’m here in Hawaii for the first time in my life. I’m going to enjoy this vacation and forget about what happened these past few months.

“I guess we should enjoy the time here.” She smiled broadly as Harry’s demeanor brightened, the nervous tension from earlier fading into the cool breeze.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” Harry was looking more cheerful.

Hermione grinned. “You read my mind.”

* * *

Thirty minutes and several blushes later, Harry and Hermione were heading towards the beach, walking hand in hand with towels around their necks.

Hermione glanced out of the corner of her eye at Harry, flushing lightly. She had known him when he was a knobby-kneed 11-year-old. She was not used to seeing him so scantily clad, and was rather surprised. He was still thin, but puberty had given him some muscles, and while he’d probably never catch up to other wizards his age, he looked remarkably good.

They reached the sandy shore and Harry’s eyes went wide.

“Wow…the water…it’s so blue…”

Hermione nodded, marveling at the crystal clear reef. Hermione had traveled to a lot of exotic places, but never had she seen water this particular shade of blue. She released his hand as she stepped into the water, smiling as the waves brushed over her feet. She turned and regarded Harry with a warm smile. “It’s warm. Come on in, Harry.”

Harry joined her, cringing lightly as he stepped into the water, as if he were expecting it to be as cold as the Hogwart’s lake in the middle of January. As the water lapped against his feet, he relaxed noticeably. “Yeah…you’re right.”

She grinned, and sunk the rest of her torso down beneath the waters, enjoying the sound of the waves hitting the beach. Harry grinned, playfully sending a splash of water her way, hitting her directly in the face.

“Argh! Harry! Stop that, I didn’t want to get my hair wet!”

Harry grinned. “Why, afraid it’ll become bushier.”

Hermione’s gaze narrowed, and she made a menacing fist towards Harry, who nearly fell over with laughter. He sent another torrent of water towards her, hitting her directly on her face. Hermione stood up, an expression of mock fury crossing her features.

“Ooooh. That’s it.” Hermione grinned evilly as she lunged for Harry. The two splashed at each other, playing like a couple of children in the water. Occasionally, one of them would manage a tackle, bringing the other under the water.

Hermione rose out of the water some time later, rubbing at her eyes furiously. “Harry Potter, that wasn’t fair.”

Harry grinned, shaking the water off his glasses and sporting a mischievous look. “I don’t think it was fair when you tickled me, either.”

“Yes, but you have longer arms.”

“You have longer fingers.”

“Harry Potter, you…you….”

Harry grinned, stepping close to Hermione. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt his arms slide around her. His lips descended to hers, brushing hers lightly.

“What was that, Mrs. Potter?”

Hermione’s blinked. . Did he just kiss me? Her mahogany gaze drifted towards his, locked in his emerald stare. She wanted to ask him why he was kissing her, but her mind had lost its ability to form a coherent sentence.

“Harry, I…”

Harry Potter stared at her intently, lifting a finger to her lips. “Just playing a part, Hermione.”

Of course…

Hermione smiled, the pounding of her heart slowing to normal levels. “Of course we are. And I just wanted to remind you that I never said I’d take your name.” At Harry’s shocked expression, she grinned. “I am a modern witch, after all.”

Harry chortled, and Hermione took his hands in hers, backing deeper into the ocean. Harry followed her for a moment, but quickly froze, fear etched on his features.

“’Mione…I’m…not a good swimmer.”

Hermione frowned, her mind flicking back to her fourth year at Hogwarts. “You did it during the Triwizard tournament.”

“I also had gillyweed. It’s a little hard to be scared of the water when you can’t breathe outside of it. The Dursleys never taught me to swim.”

Of course, Hermione thought. Why would they have taught Harry to swim when they loathed him? Her gaze flickered to his features. He seemed embarrassed about having to admit this to her, and she mentally chastised him.

Harry Potter, when will you realize that I don’t think less of you for your past?

Hermione grinned lightly. “Well then, perhaps I’ll have to show you how it’s done.”

Harry’s features relaxed. With that, she took his hands in hers and led him deeper into the water.

Honeymoon, Day 2

Harry groaned, rolling over onto his back. Although the awkward nature of their situation had not diminished, Hermione had encouraged him to sleep in the bed the following night. We’re adults, after all, she had reasoned. Harry had offered a weak protest, but eventually acquiesced in the face of logic. Hermione’s eyes fluttered open as she turned and regarded her best friend. He cringed as a shot of pain lanced through his body.

“Harry, what is it?”

He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but was unsuccessful. As her focus began to sharpen, Hermione noticed how red Harry’s face was. She rolled out of bed, wincing slightly. Sunscreen. Why didn’t I think of sunscreen?

She was scared to look at herself in a mirror, but she did anyways. A small gasp escaped her throat.

They’d only spent a few hours outside, but she looked the color of a ripened tomato. She cringed, silently reviewing spells that might be able to alleviate the discomfort.

“Ugh…Hermione, you too?”

Hermione glanced down at Harry. His face was a bright red, and he was sitting up straight, as if he were trying to avoid touching anything. She could see the red peeking through his white undershirt.

“Oh dear…that bad?”

Harry nodded, cringing slightly. “We only spent a few hours outside, but I guess that was enough.”

Hermione knelt down, steeling herself against the pain. She fished through her trunk. Surely her mother had thought of something like sunscreen. Nothing. She moved to Harry’s trunk and began searching through his shirts. Her hand closed over something that felt like a tube of toothpaste. She pulled it out, turning it over and scanning the label. Sleekeasy’s Magical Sunburn Remover.

Sunburn remover?

“I guess Dumbledore must have sent it. Your parents don’t have any access to this stuff, do they?”

Hermione frowned. “I’m not sure.” She turned the tube over and read the instructions.

Apply liberally to affected area. Works instantaneously to relieve redness and pain.

“Okay…so we just need to apply this to ourselves and the pain will go away.”

Harry immediately held out his hand, and Hermione squirted some of the gel into his hand, cringing immediately at the pungent odor it emitted. She hoped the smell would fade after they applied it.

“Ugh. This smells like rotting fish,” Harry pinched his nose shut, a look of disgust on his face. Hermione grimaced. It did have a rather strong smell.

“I suppose you could take a shower afterwards,” she stated as she squirted some of the green glop into her hand. She grimaced and slowly touched the mixture to her leg. Immediately, the pain began to dissipate. She let out a small sigh of relief.

“It works, Harry, put it on.” Hermione began to spread the mixture over her legs, her face incredulous as she felt the pain disappeared instantly. Okay, so maybe I won’t hex Dumbledore. Maybe a minor jinx instead.

Harry seemed to be applying the potion liberally to his legs. He looked at Hermione, his cheeks reddening.

“Um … Hermione? Can you help me with my shirt. I don’t want to get this stuff on it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Honestly, it was just a shirt. Why was he behaving so childish about it? “Of course, Harry,” Hermione said as she reached for the edge of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Argh,” Harry yelped, cringing as the fabric brushed his tender skin. “Be careful. That hurts.”

“Oh quit being a baby,” Hermione muttered. “Turn around, let me get your back.”

Harry muttered under his breath, turning around. Hermione ignored him, rubbing some of the remaining mixture on his back, watching as the burn disappeared.

“Much better,” she said, grinning a bit as she smoothed some of the remaining mixture on her face and neck. She frowned. She wasn’t going to be able to reach her back.

“Harry, could you get my back?”

Harry flushed but nodded. Hermione handed him the tube of sunburn remover. “Hang on a second,” she muttered, turning her back to Harry and drawing the back of her shirt over her shoulders. She flushed for a moment before chastising herself.

It’s a bra, Hermione. Nothing worse than a bikini.

Then again, she had never really been one to wear a bikini, either. She closed her eyes, shoving the momentary modesty out the window. She was acting ridiculous. “Okay Harry.”

Harry was an interesting shade of bright red as began to gently rub her back with the soothing gel. She opened her eyes, allowing her body to relax. It felt rather nice, actually, almost like a massage.

She looked at Harry, who looked as if he’d not put any of the gel on his face, shifted uncomfortably from her view.

“Um…I need to run to the bathroom,” Harry abruptly turned and sprinted into the room. Hermione frowned. What was wrong with Harry?

She closed her eyes, mentally scanning through the immediately preceding moments. Harry had shifted, hiding the …

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open. Her face went beet red as she hurriedly adjusted her shirt.

He got turned on by giving me a backrub? Hermione’s mind was swimming. She sank onto the couch, her mind swimming as she tried to justify his reaction. But…we’re just friends. That’s all we are. We’re just friends…

Are we?

Chapter 7: Iterations

Harry emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, clad in his swimming trunks and looking rather embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and he promptly began fishing through his trunk. Hermione watched him for a few moments, at a loss for what to say. The tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. The logical part of her mind was chiding her, ordering her to say something to Harry. They’d have to talk about it sometime. But every time Hermione’s mouth opened, nothing came out.

A few minutes later, Harry stood, traveler’s checks in hand, mumbled something about sunscreen, and left.

Hermione sat on the bed, hands folded in her lap. She should have said something to him. But again she had found herself speechless. She tried to block the earlier image of his excitement out of her mind. For the most part, she was unsuccessful.

A sigh escaped her lips. She’d have to talk to Harry about this. Part of her was dreading the conversation. Had Harry been telling her the truth about his feelings? She supposed it could have been a typical male reaction. And even though she really wanted to believe that, she instinctively knew that Harry’s reaction spoke of something much deeper.

It explained a lot, actually. His nervousness around her. The frequent glances out of the corner of his eye. The fact that he spent 10,000 galleons on her bail.

She’d harbored feelings for the great Harry Potter throughout most of her fourth, fifth, and sixth years at Hogwarts. That was part of the reason, she mused, that she’d had so few serious relationships during those years. Sure, she’d dated. Even had a few innocent kisses. But nothing serious, save her brief time with Ron.

She sighed. She’d have to talk to Harry now, for sure.

The door opened and Hermione looked up. Harry stepped inside, a silly smirk on his face. Hermione instantly rose to her feet, mentally rehearsing what she would say to Harry. At the cheerful look on his face, she frowned, her forehead wrinkling in question.

“Come with me,” Harry said, his face like a two-year-old on Christmas.

* * *

“I’m not doing this Harry. I refuse.”

“Oh come on Hermione, it will be fun.”

“I’m not doing this. No.”

“Oh come on. It won’t hurt.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Miss, Sir, will you make up your minds?”

Harry and Hermione glanced at the man, who stood in a tank top and swimming trunks. The tour guide rested his hand lazily on the steering wheel of his speedboat.

Harry looked at Hermione, his eyes pleading. “Please?”

Hermione sighed, glancing down at the dual harness. Harry had signed the two of them up for parasailing while he’d been buying sunscreen. Hermione glanced at the ropes.

“How high are we talking?”

The guide grinned. “Pretty high.”

Hermione sighed, muttering under her breath. Her mind came up with a dozen excuses as to why she should not do this, but the second she stared at Harry’s emerald gaze, so intent on making her happy, those reasons faded away.

“Harry Potter, I’m going to kill you.”

Harry just grinned and sat down. Hermione sat across from him on the other side of the speedboat, giving nasty glares as the captain steered the boat towards the open ocean. A few minutes later they came to a stop. The guide helped the two of them get the harness on.

Hermione forced her mind of the fact that in a few minutes she’d be dozens of feet in the air, and instead focused on the foamy wake left behind the motorboat. Eventually, the speedboat came to a stop, and their guide helped them into their harness. Hermione was in front, Harry behind her. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the dread beginning to build as the boat took off, pulling Hermione and Harry up into the air. Hermione clenched her eyes tightly shut as the solid surface of the boat disappeared beneath her feet. Harry’s arms tighten around her, his breath felt hot on the back of her neck. She really was going to kill him for doing this.

“Hermione, open your eyes.”

She shook her head furiously. She felt his hands close around hers, slowly pulling them apart.

“Harry, I’m warning you. I don’t like heights.”

“I’ve got you,” his voice was scarcely a whisper to her ear, Hermione felt his fingertips glide along the length of her arm, slowly wrapping around her middle. “Hermione, look at the view.”

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, a small gasp emitting from her throat as she looked over the water. Brilliant turquoise water stretched as far as the eye could see. A seagull stretched over the water, about ten feet below their feet.

“Oh, Harry, look at that.” She pointed at the bird, and felt Harry’s cheek press against her own.

“See, it’s not so bad up here,” he murmured in her ear. A small smile spread across her features as she and Harry traced the outline of the coral reef. They marveled at the tiny specks that made up the people on the beach. Too quickly it seemed that the time passed and soon both of their feet were on dry land.

They passed that afternoon by snorkeling. Harry was quick to point out a fish that looked a lot like Delores Umbridge, and Hermione pointed out one whose markings reminded her of the Wimbourne Wasps uniform.

They lay on the beach about an hour later, holding hands and staring at the baby blue sky. Hermione allowed her eyes to drift briefly closed for a moment. For once she had been able to forget about the troubles and focus on having fun. Her eyes drifted open again, and she turned her head slightly. Harry was laying in the sand beside her, his right arm curled underneath his head. Small droplets of water dotted his forearms, and his gaze seemed leveled on the clouds that drifted by.

Hermione smiled weakly, lightly caressing his hand with her thumb. It felt almost natural to be laying here like this, staring at the sky. It felt right. She closed her eyes, trying to shunt aside the dread that thought brought her. Was she beginning to like Harry?

“Harry?”

“Yes, ‘Mione?”

“Where will we live?”

Mentally, she cursed herself for the question. It had not been the one she’d really wanted to ask, about what had happened in the hotel room. But it had been the only one her mind had been able to muster. Harry rolled onto his side, propping his head on his left hand and quietly observing Hermione. His glasses tilted slightly.

“Well…I’ve got a flat in muggle London. Might be better if we live away from other witches and wizards.”

Hermione frowned, mulling it over. She remembered encouraging Harry to get that flat. It had been in the aftermath of the battle with Voldemort, when he had never been able to get a moment’s peace. “I agree. We don’t want our home to be well known to anyone. We’ve too many enemies now.” Her gaze seemed to move of its own accord down his chest.

Harry nodded, his gaze intent on Hermione. She felt her face redden as she realized her gaze had drifted dangerously low on his body.

What am I doing?

She felt Harry pull close to her, and she swallowed, her eyes locking with his.

What is he doing?

“Harry, I don’t know if we should be doing this.” Her throat felt dry. They were drifting dangerously close to the line prohibited by friendship. Nervous butterflies flapped in her stomach, enticing her to lose what remaining lunch she had. But she couldn’t break his intense gaze.

“Doing what?” His face was almost touching hers, emerald green eyes staring straight to her soul. Hermione inhaled sharply. The logical voice in her head began to dim to a quiet whisper. Her face began to burn under his intense stare.

“Harry…this isn’t right. We’re friends. It’d ruin…”

She was cut off by the pressing of his lips against hers. To her own surprise however, she felt herself reciprocating. Her own lips slowly parted, deepening the kiss, her tongue beginning to explore the warmth of his mouth.

Harry let out a slight groan and pulled back, his face flushed. Hermione glanced at him, her eyes drifting down to the front of his swimming trunks. Hermione felt the heat rise to her face.

“Harry…”

Harry sighed, shifting his weight slightly so he was lying on his stomach. “I’m sorry, Hermione. Just…it’ll go away soon.”

Hermione frowned. She had to ask, even if she already thought she knew the answer. “Harry, are you attracted to me?” Harry flushed, and Hermione could instinctively see the indecision on his face. She let out a breath, feeling deflated.

Well, what did you expect, a voice chided her.

“Harry, why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry blushed, tracing a line in the white sand with the tip of his index finger.

"I don't know, Hermione," he said finally, his voice low. His messy ebony hair had bits of sand in it, and looked even more unruly than before. Hermione frowned, rolling onto her back, trying to gather her thoughts. Her efforts remained largely unsuccessful. How was it that in just a matter of moments that which had seemed so simple had become so complicated?

She mused over the irony of the situation, of all the times she'd secretly wished for more and had her hopes shattered, and now of what she had, and was unsure of her feelings towards.

It was all very illogical.

It was Harry's voice that broke the quiet. "I-I guess I never said anything because of r-Ron."

Hermione rolled onto her side, "Because of Ron? But Harry, Ron and I only started dating at the end of our seventh year. How long have you liked me?"

Harry sighed, resting his forehead on his arm. "Hermione, Ron liked you ever since second year...I couldn’t do that to him."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly, and she frowned, but then shook her head lightly. "I knew...something was up. But I didn't think about that...no..."

Harry looked up, his gaze meeting hers as a trickle of sand poured from his hair. They sat in silence for a long time.

"So...where do we go from here?" Hermione felt compelled to ask to ask the question. In truth, she was positive he had about as good an idea as she did, which wasn't reassuring.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and the uncomfortable silence remained.

* * *

The remainder of the week passed by in a blur. Harry and Hermione eventually recovered from some of the awkwardness that seems to plague friends in the unenviable position of possibly being more.

Julius had sent an owl about midweek with the dismissal documents. Tiberius Ogden had dismissed the case, pending a careful investigation of Harry and Hermione's marriage. Apparently, many of the members from the Order of the Phoenix and from Hogwarts vouched for their "marriage," leaving the ministry no choice but to acknowledge it. They still remained at risk, however, of charges stemming from trying to get out of testifying. That threat wouldn’t disappear for a long time, Hermione felt.

For the moment that didn’t matter. Harry and Hermione had celebrated that evening, spending over 100 dollars on their dinner. They registered for a sunset dinner cruise their last day.

Hermione was surprised with the ease she settled into her new routine with Harry. There will still awkward moments, like the hidden glances stolen when one thought the other wasn’t looking. Or the time he had mistakenly walked in the bathroom when she’d been changing. But ever more it was becoming replaced by a sense of deep familiarity. They discussed no more of their feelings for each other, but something had changed.

She had spent much time trying to analyze the nature of her feelings, but the conclusions of those reflections had frightened her.

She was falling for Harry Potter.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, she thought, as she spent some time getting ready for the cruise

But maybe these things were rarely supposed to work out that way. Love wasn’t something she could plan, like schoolwork or study schedules. That’s what made it truly frightening.

Hermione paused, staring at the bottle of Sleekeasy’s in her hand. Frightened. Was she frightened of these feelings she had for Harry? What would happen to their friendship if she were to give in to these strange emotions she had for her best friend? Would she ever be able to tell him she loved him?

Shaking off the disparate thoughts, she slipped into her satin evening gown, momentarily astonished at the transformation she had made. She hoped Harry would like it.

Harry had disappeared earlier that day, giving her no explanation except for a quick smile and his promise that he would be back to pick her up for the cruise. Hermione had taken advantage of the time along to take a long shower and prepare for the formal dinner tonight.

There was a knock at the door, and Hermione gave herself a quick look-over. She rather liked the emerald color of her evening gown. It reminded her of Harry's eyes.

Another knock.

She closed her eyes, momentarily composing herself.

You’re a Gryffindor. You can do this. It’s just a harmless date.

No. Harmless date this was not. This was the beginning of something much more.

Hermione inhaled deeply, shaking off some last minute nerves as she went to the door. They had been together the entire week, but yet she was as nervous as if it were their first time meeting each other. She opened the door.

Harry was standing there, clad in a tuxedo with an emerald bowtie. His unruly hair had been trimmed and partially tamed, and he had a dozen red roses in his right arm. Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Oh Harry," she murmured as he placed the roses in her arms, giving her a light peck on the cheek.

"Shall we go, Mrs. Potter?"

After securing the roses on the bed, the two made their way down the steps and into the warm yet comfortable late-afternoon air. Hermione's arm was looped through Harry's as they walked towards the pier where the ship would depart. When they arrived at the ship, they made their way up a long red carpet and the hostess sat them down at their secluded table close to the dance floor. The view was perfect.

Hermione's jaw dropped as she eyed the expensive dinnerware. They had been fairly liberal with their money that week, and after realizing they’d run out of cash long before they finished their vacation, they’d made a pact to be frugal from now on.

"Harry," she hissed, as the waiter took their drink orders. She waited until he was gone before finishing her thought. "Can we afford this?"

Harry gave her a mischievous grin. "We leave tomorrow. We'll have enough money. Trust me."

Hermione gave him an uneasy look as the server returned with their drink orders. A short while later they had departed and the band had begun playing some soft music, setting a romantic background. Hermione had to admit she was impressed. She didn't know Harry could come up with such a wonderful evening.

She was just finishing her pineapple cheesecake when Harry abruptly stood, extending his hand to her. "Would you care to dance?"

Hermione smiled, rising to her feet and taking his hand. She couldn’t help but let out a teasing remark as he led her to the dance floor. “You can dance now?”

Harry flushed lightly, but said nothing as he walked with her She felt like she was floating as they made their way to the dance floor and began to dance to the slow music. Then music faded away and the crowd disappeared as she became entrenched in the emerald green gaze of Harry Potter. She could not remember a moment in many months when she had felt this happy.

This was their night.

Her arms slid around his neck, and Harry lowered his forehead to hers, resting it against them as they moved around the dance floor. The orange sun set a cornucopia of colors against the darkening sky as the two newlyweds danced in the light of the setting sun.

This is our night.

Hermione leaned up, her lips brushing against his, the electricity coursing through her body as if it were their first kiss. She felt everything fade as her lips worked effortlessly against his, completely entranced by the sweet taste of his lips against hers.

The kiss deepened, and Hermione felt herself being carried off into a world far away, a world where it was only her and Harry and they could not be disturbed.

Then a bump.

Hermione stumbled against Harry, who had a confused expression on his face, the kiss abruptly breaking as she glanced over her shoulder sharply.

Rita Skeeter was standing there, adjusting her glasses. "Oh, I'm so sorry...oh Harry, Hermione ... fancy seeing you here. Enjoying your vacation? Perhaps you'd like to give me a few quotes."

Hermione could see her pulling a long quill out of her parcel and she glanced helplessly at Harry. Without another word, Harry wrapped his arm around her, muttered a few angry phrases to Rita and then guided Hermione to the upper deck.

The two watched the sunset in silence, a sinister question tugging at the back of their minds.

What was Rita Skeeter doing there?

Chapter Eight: Changes

“What was SHE doing there?!?”

Harry cringed as Hermione’s shrill voice pierced through the otherwise quiet hotel room. Hermione didn’t seem to notice. All she could focus on at the moment was how furious she was at having their evening interrupted by the obnoxious Rita Skeeter.

Hermione was positively fuming. Was this how the rest of their married life destined to be? Reporters popping up in the most private of places to try to spy on the wizarding world’s most famous couple?

The angry witch spun around, her narrowed gaze falling upon Harry’s. He sat there, a serious expression on his face, silent against her angry tirade.

"And what do YOU find so funny, Mr. Potter?" Hermione snapped. Harry’s eyes widened at the angry attention that had been directed his way.

Harry's expression grew serious. "Nothing, Hermione. Nothing at all."

Hermione huffed, landing on the bed back first, staring at the ceiling. It’s not his fault. She sighed softly, knowing that she shouldn’t be taking the anger out on Harry. But every instinct in her body wanted to lash out at someone. Or at something. She closed her eyes, letting the anger drift out of her body. Moments later, after she seemed to have gathered her composure, she turned on her side, turning and regarding Harry with a cold look. "You could have said something, you know."

Harry frowned, caught off guard from Hermione’s sudden mood swings. "If I said something, you know Rita would have just turned it around to make me look bad. She's had it in for you ever since you caught her in that glass jar."

Hermione sighed, dropping her head on the mattress. She traced an invisible line across the ceiling, not saying another word. The tension-filled atmosphere drifted into an uncomfortable silence. Eventually, Harry dutifully sprawled out beside her, propped his head up on his right hand as Hermione reluctantly met his gaze. His eyes were bright and for a moment, Hermione wondered if he was going to cry.

"I'm sorry the night is ruined, Hermione," Harry whispered seriously. Guilt tugged at Hermione’s heart. He had done all he could to make this an evening to be remembered. Her gaze softened, slowly rotating on her side to face Harry. She reached out her right hand, brushing the back of her fingertips across his cheeks.

"It's not ruined, Harry," Hermione murmured, as Harry’s eyes drifted shut for a fraction of a moment. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as her fingers traced the light stubble on his chin. Her pulse was absolutely racing. She wondered if Harry could hear her heart pounding.

“Mione,” Harry’s voice was scarcely a whisper. Hermione brought her index finger up, pressing it across his mouth, silencing him.

“Don’t talk,” she whispered quietly, her face drawing closer to his. She paused a fraction of an inch away from his mouth, her mahogany gaze meeting emerald eyes. She was so close she could see the tiny cracks in his slightly parted lips. His breath quickened as his eyes searched her.

“Show,” she whispered quietly, her lips closing the distance to meet his.

This was not the chaste, almost reverent kiss they’d shared throughout their honeymoon. This wasn't even the passionate kiss shared between two young lovers in the middle of the dance floor. This was a kiss of desire, of longing, of a hunger that bespoke of instincts long-suppressed.

Hermione allowed her eyes to drift closed, surprised at the initiative she had taken, but strangely pleased with herself, as well. In truth, it was a welcome distraction from the night's events. Her arms slid around Harry's waist, her lips slowly parting. To her shock and almost delight, Harry reciprocated almost instantaneously, his tongue darting in to toy with hers. She grinned in spite of herself, capturing his tongue with her teeth, sucking ever-so-softly as she felt the shudder that spread throughout his body.

Harry’s hands drifted up her arms, sending little chills down her spine as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. Moments later, the back of her mind registered the sound of a zipper being pulled.

“Harry!” Hermione drew back instantly, her eyes widening. Harry flushed, his hands snapping away from his wife like he’d touched hot coals.

“I…,” Harry flushed, his face turning a deep shade of red. Hermione felt the heat rising to her face. Did she really want him to stop? How far over the line was she willing to go?

Was there even a line anymore?

Hermione’s gaze met his, searching his eyes to the question. In his eyes twinkled the light of a thousand stars, but there was something deeper in there.

There was love.

The blush slowly faded from Harry’s face and his expression turned to one of utmost seriousness and understanding. "We can stop right now,” he stammered, “if you want."

Hermione closed her eyes. Where was the line that had seemed so clear when this relationship began? She felt her face burning with embarrassment. “Well,” she stammered in a very un-Gryffindor-like fashion. “...maybe not right now. But are you sure this is such a good thing? I mean... I'm ... a ... well, you know..."

The blush had returned, and Harry’s cheeks were even redder than before. He quickly averted his gaze, quickly sitting up and turning away from her. She stared at the back of his dress shirt, pondering his reaction.

"Are you?" Hermione asked quietly.

Harry turned an even brighter shade of red, looking at the ground. He gave a slight tilt of his chin, indicating a positive response.

"Oh Harry..." It was her turn to blush, as she stared at the ground. Harry refused to meet her gaze, and he looked as if he were seriously pondering the quickest way to escape. Hermione frowned, wondering for a second what had him so frightened.

She had never stopped to consider the fact that perhaps Harry hadn’t been with anyone else. The young wizard had an endless supply of admirers at Hogwarts. But then again, Hermione couldn’t remember a time when he was serious with a single one of them. Harry had always kept people at arm’s length, scared that Voldemort’s next attack would end the life of someone he cared about.

Maybe he doesn’t think he deserves it.

The thought struck Hermione as funny, almost ironic. Harry, more than anyone she knew, deserved the type of unconditional love he’d always been so willing to give. Had the Dursley’s really convinced him he was unworthy of such affections?

At that moment Hermione made a decision. Closing the distance between them, she slowly slipped her hand underneath Harry’s chin, forcing his gaze to meet hers. He stared at her with an uncertain expression. Hermione slowly drew her lips to his, closing the distance, breaking apart only to whisper a solitary word.

“Nox.”

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione lay quietly, snuggled against Harry’s side. She relished the warmth of his body, the smooth touch of his bare skin. Her eyes squinted against the moonlight as she watched the deep rise and fall of his chest. He looked so peaceful, sleeping there beside her. Hermione’s eyes drifted shut, her mind ringing with the last words with Harry spoke before he had gone to sleep.

I love you.

Harry Potter loved her. The words caused the corners of her mouth to curl upwards. The effect was only momentary, however, quickly replaced by a deep frown. Harry Potter loved her.

But did she love him?

Hermione knew that deep down she’d always care for Harry. He had been a true friend, risking his life for hers on many occasions.

But love?

It was not easy to bar all thoughts of her last relationship out of her head, but Hermione forced herself to focus on the present. Less than a week ago she had married Harry. Before that had she ever thought of Harry in that manner?

A childhood crush, perhaps. But she had given up on those illusions long ago. Love? They’d been together for less than a week. There was no way she could love him. Love was something that took months, even years sometimes, to build. It was not logically possible for her to have fallen for a man she had been seeing for so short a time.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, panic momentarily flooding her body. She had just slept with her best friend. A man she’d been seeing for less than a week.

What had she done?

Chapter 9: Longings

"Harry James Potter, if I trip over your dirty robes one more time, I'm going to hex you into the next century!"

Harry Potter muttered an apology under his breath as he stepped around the dozens of unpacked boxes in the living room of their new flat, scooping up the robes that had somehow found their way to the center of the floor. Hermione glared at Harry, rubbing the back of her head, which had hit against the coffee table, which was, of course, laden with dozens of boxes yet to be unpacked.

"I'm going to work," Harry muttered under his breath, his face flushed. There was a pop and he disappeared from sight.

Hermione clambered to her feet. She glanced around, sighing softly under her breath. For the normally organized Hermione Granger, the mess was highly unusual. The threat to Harry had been an idle one, considering she had yet to actually purchase a new wand. It was a threat borne out of frustration of a witch who had not left the apartment in weeks.

Of course, Hermione sighed inwardly. That was not Harry's fault, either.

After discussing the matter, they'd decided it would be better for Harry to make a gradual appearance in the wizarding world before Hermione started walking out in public. Initially, it had seemed like a good idea. Harry was supposed to enter Auror's training for the Ministry of Magic, and that would give Hermione some time to let the dust settle before she started trying to find a career on her own.

Ideally, it would have also given her time to get settled into her new home.

But as plans rarely work out the way they are intended, they experienced a torrent of Howlers and other unpleasantries as soon as they returned from vacation. Five times in the past month they had moved, hoping that the torrent of hate mail would stop. Eventually, they had given up unpacking altogether and waited for the next time they'd have to move.

The past week had been quiet, however, and their hopes had finally risen that maybe, just maybe, life would get back to normal.

At least as normal as possible for two friends who'd been thrown into an arranged marriage and become intimate.

Hermione sighed, absently running a hand through her unruly hair. The constant bickering between her and Harry was disconcerting, to say the least. Actually, if she was being honest with herself, it was a source of anguish. It hurt to think that their one night of passion had hurt their friendship.

But that’s exactly what happened, Hermione thought, berating herself once more for the mistake she had made. Neither of them had talked about the last night of their honeymoon; in fact, they'd both pretended it hadn't happened. But it had happened, and now they were caught in the sort of awkward limbo that lies between friendship and intimacy.

Hermione glanced around the mess that comprised her living room, and made a silent vow that she would begin to unpack this mess today.

I'm tired of running. Enough is enough. She lifted her chin slightly as Hedwig soared through the open window, dropping a rolled up newspaper on the table. After seeing there were no Howlers, Hermione released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Hermione unrolled The Daily Prophet, sinking down into a chair as her eyes caught sight of the first headline.

Trouble in store for the Boy-Who-Lived and the Wife-Who-Killed?

by Rita Skeeter

Could Trouble Be Brewing for the Magical Duo? The verdict is still being decided, reports Daily Prophet reporter Rita Skeeter. Sources close to the pair state that the couple may be in jeopardy after only a month of marriage.

"I think Potter's got in over his head with the Muggle-born," said Draco Malfoy, close confidant of the young Harry Potter. (Confidant? Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Would they get nothing right?)

Reports from the Magical Law Enforcement Division of the Ministry of Magic have reported trouble every evening with the young couple, whose sudden marriage shocked the magical community.

Owls to Arthur and Molly Weasley, whose son Mrs. Potter was accused of murdering, went unanswered.

"I think this just goes to show how much of a sham this marriage is," said Cornelius Fudge. "I'm sure Wizengamot will be launching a full investigation into the validity of Mr. and Mrs. Potter's marriage."

Ogden, who forcibly removed Cornelius Fudge from his position on Wizengamot after he refused to dismiss the case against Hermione Granger-Potter, declined further comment on the matter. Obviously, such silence must lead one to ask if Ogden is not under some spell cast by the young pair, whose inability to control themselves led to numerous reprimands at Hogwarts.

"Potter and Granger were always getting in trouble," said Pansy Parkinson, former student at Hogwarts. "They attacked Slytherins several times while I was there."

The Ministry will obviously be investigating these allegations, too.

Hermione tossed the paper on the ground angrily. She momentarily thought about throwing something through the window, but instead let out a low sigh and collapsed onto the couch. She blinked back angry tears, trying to block out the latest reminder of the problems between her and Harry. It was the third article this week calling for an investigation into her marriage.

Really, Hermione thought angrily. Do Harry and I need to have sex in the middle of Diagon Alley to get everyone to shut up?

At the same time, she felt deflated. The marriage had been more difficult than she’d originally anticipated. Yes, they fought. Yes, they had nights where one or the other slept on the couch. She sighed. On more than one occasion she’d wondered if she’d made the right decision

No, she admonished herself. Don’t start playing the what-if game She had to have faith that she and Harry would be able to overcome these problems. Hermione didn’t want to think of the consequences if they couldn’t.

She rose to her feet, a determined look set on her face. It was time to rejoin the world.

* * *

Hermione walked down Diagon Alley, her head held high as she pointedly ignored the stares of curious onlookers. She gripped her bags lightly. Her first stop had been to Ollivanders for a new wand (8 ½ inches, oak, unicorn hair). After stopping at Madame Malkins for some new robes and at the apothecary to replenish her potions supplies, she finally feltshe had made enough of a significant presence to spurn another week’s worth of rumors. She apparated back to her flat and began to attack the accumulating mess with a vengeance.

As she was cleaning, Hermione made a mental note to thank her parents for allowing her to attend Hogwarts. It did make cleaning a lot easier. She finished around 4 p.m.

The accomplishment made her feel good, yet even the momentary happiness was tainted by the cold reality of their situation. Harry had made a habit of coming home at all sorts of odd hours in the evening. It didn’t help improve their marriage any – she’d locked Harry out of the bedroom three times already when he’d come home too late.

Hermione sighed. The logical part of her mind told her that there was a reason Harry was keeping such odd hours, but she was scared to ask. She didn’t want to think that he stayed away because he couldn’t stand coming home.

She really was tired of staying home.

An idea began formulating in the back of her head. She glanced at her watch. If he did come home any time soon, she’d be cutting it close.

* * *

A few minutes later, she stood in the darkened living room of Ron’s empty flat. Most of the furniture was still there, collecting dust. Hermione blinked back a tear, her mind drifting to the thought of Mrs. Weasley and how hard she must be taking Ron’s death if she hadn’t even come to collect his things yet.

Focus, Hermione.

A pungent odor drifted her way and Hermione crinkled her nose, wand extended as she slowly made her way through the dark room.

“Lumos,” she whispered quietly, allowing herself a little bit of light to begin her search.

She was operating on the assumption that Ron’s killer would have left some evidence that would have gone unnoticed by the Ministry investigators. She reached the kitchen, the stale smell of decay clouding her head. She kneeled down next to the spot she found Ron’s body. Briefly, Hermione allowed her eyes to drift shut, the memories of that day drifting back to her mind.

“Hermione, what’s going on? What happened?”

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Harry, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at the lifeless form of his best friend.

“I don’t know. What happened, Harry?”

“Did you tell someone? You had to have told someone. No one knew where he lived. No one. Hermione, who did you tell? Who did you tell?”

“I didn’t tell anyone!”

“Maybe by mistake. Who did you tell?”

“I DIDN’T TELL ANYONE!”

A tear slid down her cheek and Hermione broke out into quiet sobs. Sobs for a friend long gone. Sobs for a life that wasn’t meant to be. Sobs for a friendship whose life hung in the balance.

“Who did it, Ron?” She whispered quietly, the sound of her voice a stark contrast to the deathly silence of the house.

Then the light pad of a footstep on the dusty ground. Hermione’s head jerked up, her sobs instantly silenced as fear flooded her body.

She wasn’t alone.

She rose quickly, her wand extended. A large hand wrapped around her mouth, stifling her scream, while the other plucked her wand out of her hand.

Hermione did the only thing she could. She thrust her left elbow back, catching her attacker in his stomach.

“Ooph.”

There was a thud, and Hermione spun around. Harry was doubled over, wheezing lightly, his invisibility cloak next to him. Hermione wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hug him or kill him.

Deciding on the former, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, willing her racing pulse to slow.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…could…ask…you…same…thing,” Harry panted through wheezes, not quite in control of his lungs.

Hermione instantly knelt beside him, helping her husband to his feet. Harry leaned over, resting his hand on his knees. After several moments he finally spoke.

“Hermione, what are you doing here? It’s dangerous.” He glanced at her, concern etched in his features.

“I was…looking…for something. What about you?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed accusingly.

Harry sighed, rising to his feet. “I’ve been trying to find clues.” He mumbled softly as he scooped his invisibility cloak off the ground. Hermione stared at him, the stern expression on her face finally fading as she realized that this was what Harry had been doing all those long nights. Guilt tugged at her insides as her conscience berated her for not being more understanding.

“You’ve been trying to find Ron’s killer?” She whispered quietly. At Harry’s slight nod, she continued. “Why didn’t you tell me this is why you were coming home late? I could have helped you.”

Why didn’t you trust me with this? Have I really been that bad of a wife? Have I been that bad of a friend?

Harry reddened slightly, looking ashamed as his gaze drifted towards the ground.

“It’s dangerous, Hermione,” he mumbled quietly. “The killer is still out there. And we’re not exactly everyone’s favorite witch and wizard.”

Hermione sighed, stifling the chiding voices in her mind. She wrapped her arm through Harry’s, dusting some of the grime off his robes. Harry simply stared at her, his expression indiscernible.

“Let’s go home,” she murmured.

A few minutes later, Harry was lying on the couch drinking a mug of warm tea while Hermione tried to beat the dust out of his cloak.

“Seriously, Harry,” she chastised between clouds of dust. “You should have asked me for help. I wasn’t at the top of our class for nothing, you know.”

When Harry didn’t respond, she looked over her shoulder and caught him reading the article from the Daily Prophet. His face was reddening as he read further along.

“Really now, doesn’t Skeeter have anything better to do?” He threw the paper towards the corner, setting his mug down so hard Hermione was sure it’d cracked. She bit back a response and slowly set his cloak down, moving to sit next to him on the couch, facing him. She thought about her own reaction to the article and realized Harry was taking it much better than she had.

Hermione reached out, touching him gently on the arm. He flinched slightly under the touch, but made no motion to move away. His emerald gaze remained leveled on the ground.

“Harry, I would have thought you’d be used to it by now. She’s been writing these things ever since your fourth year.”

Harry clenched his left fist imperceptibly. “At least she could stay out of our marriage,” he spat angrily, crossing his arms in front of him and pressing against the couch.

Hermione flushed, looking to the ground. She wasn’t sure what to say. Things had been terrible, yes, but she wasn’t sure what words could fix the problem. Despair began to creep up her spine. She closed her eyes and fought the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Things aren’t that bad, are they?” Harry’s voice was soft and wavered a bit. Hermione glanced up and caught his bright green gaze filling with tears. At the saddened expression on his face, the tears that had been building finally spilled over.

“I don’t know, Harry, are they?” She whispered and flung herself against him. She felt his arms around her and cradled her tightly to his chest. She began to cry quietly. This was not what she wanted. She was tired of fighting all the time with him. She was tired of feeling like she’d lost her best friend. Harry held her, and Hermione could hear the muffled sobs coming from his throat. Her tear-filled gaze met his, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry.” She whispered, the words coming out choked and broken.

I don’t want to lose you too. Hermione’s heart began to break when she thought of losing the only friend she had left.

“I’m sorry too, Hermione,” Harry’s voice was strained as he struggled to regain his composure.

They sat like that for a long time, simply holding each other, relishing the quiet comfort that the other provided. For the first time in a long time, Hermione allowed herself to cherish the quiet warmth that Harry provided. Hours seemed to pass before her gaze drifted up to find Harry staring at her. They held each other’s gaze for a long time, silent conversations passing through their eyes.

She made the first move, her lips closing the distance to find his as she kissed him hungrily. Hermione felt the shiver of ecstasy shoot through her body as he responded quickly to her, pulling her onto his lap. Harry’s tongue pushed into her mouth, wasting no time as he delved into the warmth. Hermione welcomed the intimacy, her hands moving up to pull away layers of robes as she found what she was searching for.

They stared at each other in silence, an unspoken conversation between them. Hermione brought her finger to his lips, silencing him before he had a chance to speak. She grinned, lightly, strangely pleased that she was able to elicit such a response from Harry. Her tongue trailed down his stomach, pausing just below the bellybutton. She’d heard of people doing this, but she had never tried it before. She flushed slightly, unsure of herself. She looked up to find Harry staring down at her, eyes wide.

Moments later, Harry’s emerald eyes twinkled as he reached underneath her, scooping her onto his shoulder as he carried her to the bedroom. Where their first time had been quick and awkward, two inexperienced lovers joining for the first time; their second time was a marathon of the senses, friends who had finally found completion in each other’s arms.

Later that evening, Hermione lay against Harry, snug in the crook of his arm. A smile slowly spread across her face as she stared at the sleeping wizard next to her. She had a feeling things were going to be alright.

* * *

She didn’t wake up when Harry left for work the next morning. In fact, she didn’t wake up until an incessant rapping on her door disturbed her dreams.

“Ugh. I’m coming, I’m coming.” She muttered, bleary-eyed as she pulled on her bathrobe and began plodding to the door. She opened the door to a very solemn Dumbledore and Remus Lupin.

“Hermione,” Dumbledore said gravely, seemingly nonplussed at her choice at attire. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

* * *

Hermione practically ran to the receptionist at St. Mungo’s.

“Harry Potter’s room,” she whispered breathily, struggling to keep the panic at bay. The elderly witch looked up at her, a look of sympathy crossing her face.

“Fourth floor, dearie.”

Hermione ran up four flights of stairs, not willing to wait for an elevator as she sprinted to spell damage ward. She ran into the room, her eyes scanning back and forth until she found him.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she finally caught sight of him – her lover and her best friend, lying in the bed, his eyes closed. His glasses were folded neatly beside him on the night stand. Healer Augustus Pye was standing next to him.

She rushed to his bedside, taking a hold of Harry’s limp hand. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

His hand is so cold, Hermione thought. She instinctively reached out a hand, lovingly stroking his cheek. Eventually, she looked at Pye, tears brimming in her eyes.

“What happened?” She whispered, tears spilling out onto the white sheets that covered Harry’s lithe form.

Augustus shook her head lightly. “Ambush during a raid. I don’t know much beyond that.”

Hermione blinked, the tears running freely down her cheeks as she squeezed Harry’s hand. She kept her gaze leveled on Harry as she whispered the next words.

“Will he make it?” She stuttered, her heart wrenching in pain.

Augustus sighed, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not sure, dear. Before you came … I would have said no. But maybe now that you’re here … maybe he’ll start fighting it.”

Hermione started sobbing as Augustus left, drawing curtains around Harry’s bed. She crawled into bed beside her husband, drawing his cold body into her arms as she hugged him tightly, kissing him on his ear, his cheek, his mouth, anywhere she could possibly find bare skin.

“You better not leave me, Harry,” Hermione whispered through her tears. “We’re supposed to grow old together … start a family … spend the rest of our lives together …”

She held him, her salty tears mingling with his comatose form as she held him in a death grip. She felt a ripping pain in her heart, as if she were losing a part of herself and would never find it again.

“Please…don’t leave me Harry. I love you…”

Author’s Note: I do not intend on posting the original version on PK. I believe those of you interested in finding a copy can do so on the PK boards.

Chapter 10: Confessions

Hermione opened her eyes, blinking through the puffiness and glanced at the form beside her. For a moment she wondered why her eyes felt sore, but then the weight of the situation came crashing down.

Harry was still unconscious.

Too exhausted to cry anymore, Hermione pressed her lips to his still-cool cheek.

I love you, Harry Potter.

Through her exhaustion she could feel the tears welling behind her eyes, but she forced them back. Hearing the faint rustling of the curtains, she slowly turned her head. Remus was standing at the end of the bed, the strain evident in his tired eyes. He had a smile, but it was a forced smile. The same forced smile that Hermione was quite sure hid a breaking heart.

"Dumbledore would like to speak with you," his voice wavered slightly. Hermione reluctantly slid from her position beside Harry. Casting one last glance at Harry, she followed Remus to the fifth floor where Dumbledore, her parents, and Moody were gathered.

"Oh Hermione," Emma Granger ran to her daughter, throwing her arms around her. Hermione was quite positive she looked terrible. She'd barely managed to haphazardly throw on yesterday's robes before apparating to St. Mungo’s. She looked at her mother, meeting the tearful gaze, but when she opened her mouth to speak nothing came out.

Mom, I love him. Hermione thought inwardly, fighting harder to keep the tears at bay. I can’t lose him.

"Ah, Hermione, it is good to see you're functional," Dumbledore's voice was solemn as he motioned to a seat on the couch. Hermione slumped down between her parents. Her father wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder, and Hermione allowed herself the moment of comfort, memories of her childhood flitting through her mind.

"What happened to Harry?" Hermione fought hard to keep her voice calm and controlled. The question had haunted her mind since yesterday, unvoiced due to the more pressing matter of Harry’s condition. Dumbledore sank into a seat across from her, rubbing the bridge of his long, pointed nose.

"We're not exactly sure," Dumbledore admitted after a long pause. "From what I gathered from my contacts in the Ministry, Harry had been sent to gather some artifacts from the old LeStrange place. You remember the LeStrange's from your fifth year, I believe?" At Hermione's confirming nod, he continued, "Harry was hit in the back with a spell. When he didn't return after an hour, the Ministry sent Kingsley looking for him. He found him on the ground, in the state that you see him now."

Hermione glanced towards the door, mulling over the different alternatives. Anger flashed through her mind at the thought of someone attacking her husband like a coward. She clenched her teeth together, regarding Dumbledore with a steely gaze. "Do they have any idea who did it?"

Moody chimed in, "Unfortunately, his attacker was long gone before he was found, but the Ministry is investigating it."

Hermione rubbed her shoulders, absentmindedly wondering if the attack was in any way related to Ron, or if a Deatheater had decided to get Harry back for the death of Voldemort. The thought of Draco Malfoy passed through her mind, but she instantly dismissed it. Draco might have been cowardly enough to attack Harry when his back was turned, but he was no fool.

"Hermione, dear, why don't you come home with us and get some rest?" Her mother chimed in, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts as she drew her daughter into a hug.

Go home. Leave Harry? She couldn’t, Hermione thought. This marriage was not just a pretense anymore. It was real. The feelings she had for him were real.

Hermione shook her head furiously. She had to make them understand. "I need to stay here, for Harry."

Her father frowned and cleared his throat. "Hermione, you must be exhausted. Surely you can come home for a few days..."

Hermione gritted her teeth. They weren’t getting it. "My home is with Harry,” she watched as her parents flinched, but she didn’t stop. They had to understand. This wasn’t a game anymore. “He is my husband, and I'm not leaving him here alone."

Her parents gave her a curious look -- her father's of utter confusion -- her mother's of deep contemplation. Finally, her mother broke the slence.

"Of course, dear. We understand," She began, as John gave her a confused look. "You're welcome anytime; maybe you and Harry can visit some other weekend." She grabbed her husband's arm, ushering him out despite his protests. Hermione half-listened as her mother reassured her father that she'd explain later. The door closed and Hermione turned, watching Dumbledore, Moody, and Remus rise to their feet.

"Well, Hermione, I will, of course, be keeping in touch. I believe there are some members of the Order still willing to help find who is responsible for Mr. Potter's current state," Dumbledore rested a hand on her shoulder. "And I believe you have to take up your place by his side. I believe that will help him more than any of the Healers."

Hermione nodded, completely devoid of tears. She watched as Dumbledore and Moody left, but Remus hung around, turning around at the door and looking at Hermione. His eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"I'm ... very happy Harry has found happiness," his voice was soft. "I was very worried about him. But today, when he arrived at the Ministry ... he was practically skipping. I'm glad you two have decided to work things out."

And with that, he left.

* * *

Hermione scarcely left Harry's side the following week, save to take the occasional shower and eat. He still hadn't woken, and Hermione was beginning to worry he might never wake up again.

She splashed some water from the fountain at the end of the hall on her face. She patted her face dry with a waiting towel. She had taken to reading Harry chapters from Quidditch throughout the Ages and Hogwarts: A History, in hopes that it would bring him out of his comatose state.

She stretched her legs, feeling the familiar rumble of hunger in her stomach as she made her way back down to the Spell Damage ward. As she approached, she noticed a familiar figure hunched over near the door, as if debating whether to enter.

"Ginny?" Hermione called out uncertainly, not really sure if she was looking at the youngest Weasley. Ginny's usually vibrant red hair hung dull and limp around her face. Her skin looked paler than a Hogwarts ghost. And she looked thin, as if she hadn't eaten in weeks.

That's odd, Hermione thought to herself. Ginny was still a student at Hogwarts, and Hermione was quite certain that students were not allowed to leave the school except specified Hogsmeade trips. Not to mention that Hogwarts students ate relatively well.

Ginny looked at Hermione, and Hermione was struck at just how haunted her eyes looked. Without another word, she drew Ginny into a hug before stepping back. "What's wrong, Ginny?"

Ginny glanced at the door to the ward where Harry was. "I heard he got hurt. Daily Prophet and all."

Hermione frowned inwardly. She hadn’t been talking about Harry, but one more look at Ginny’s face and she nodded. The Daily Prophet had been giving daily updates on Harry's condition. Of course, they also made it sound as if he was already dead.

Ginny continued, "I thought I'd come and see him. I mean, mum and dad are still mad at him, but he was like my brother." Her eyes began to well with tears.

Hermione nodded, sympathy crossing her features as she ushered Ginny into the room and to Harry's bed. Ginny hung back as Hermione announced her arrival to Harry, stepping back and giving Ginny a slight nod. Ginny made her way to Harry's side, tracing a finger lightly over his wrist. She leaned down, whispering something unintelligible in his ear. Hermione watched, warmth filling her body. At least she and Harry still had some friends.

Ginny stepped back, tears pouring down her cheeks as she mumbled her thanks. She was about to depart when Hermione rested a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to a chair outside the ward.

"Ginny, what's going on?" Hermione asked, concern building in her stomach. Ginny looked to the ground, refusing to meet her friend’s gaze. She watched helplessly as Ginny burst into tears, her hands covering her face as she muffled the sobs. Hermione did the only thing she could think of. She wrapped an arm around Ginny, holding her as she sobbed. Her mind raced over scenarios that could have affected her friend so deeply, but she could think of nothing. It was a long time before her crying faded into a soft whimper.

"Ginny, what's wrong? Talk to me, please?" Hermione absently pushed a limp tendril of hair behind Ginny's ear. Ginny shook her head, furiously.

"I ... I can't talk to anyone..."

Hermione lowered her voice, using the calm, soothing tone her mother had used so often when she'd been upset. "Why can't you talk to anyone, Ginny?"

Ginny blinked, and then her head froze, her gaze settling on a lone figure in the distance. Hermione's own mahogany gaze traced Ginny's to fall on a figure coming down the hallway.

Rita Skeeter.

Hermione felt Ginny stiffen. A second later she rose to her feet sharply and hurriedly walked away as Rita reached Hermione.

"Oh, Hermione! Fancy seeing you here. I was just here to get the hospital reports on your husband. Would you like to make a comment?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she focused her gaze on Rita's beady eyes. Anger surged through her body. Why was it that Rita always ruined everything?

"Here's a quote,” Hermione said caustically. “Go away. I've nothing to say to you."

And with that she spun on her heel, heading back into Harry's room. She drew the curtains around his bed and settled restlessly at his side; a new question weighing heavily on the back of her mind.

What happened to Ginny?

* * *

She was awoken some time later by a slight stirring beside her. Her eyes fluttered open and locked with a familiar emerald gaze. Harry gave her a lopsided smile, leaning slightly to place a gentle kiss on her nose.

"'Mione, you're here."

Hermione smiled, tears filling her gaze as she kissed him furiously. "It's about time you woke up, Mr. Potter." She threw her arms around her husband, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.

They lay like that for a long time.

* * *

Two days later Harry was ready to leave and waited impatiently as Hippocrates Smethwyck gave last minute instructions to Hermione for his care.

Hermione nodded intently, writing instructions down in a small book as they were given. Eventually, he finished and gave Hermione a cursory nod.

"Any questions, Mrs. Potter?”

Hermione glanced between the healer and Harry, mulling things over. Harry looked impatient, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Hermione felt her own impatience, eager to get Harry home and give him a more thorough examination than that provided by the healers. With a smile on her face, Hermione looked back at Hippocrates.

"Just one question. Are there any restrictions on his activity?"

The healer frowned. "Well, as we went over, he shouldn't..."

Hermione interrupted. "No...I mean...his activity," she said, grinning as Harry’s face reddened at her emphasis on the word activity.

Hippocrates frowned, still confused. "Don't understand what you're talking about. We already discussed..."

Harry turned a deep shade of rose.

"His physical activity..." Hermione said, silently enjoying watching Harry squirm.

The healer frowned, and then his eyes flashed with a hint of recognition, a blush spreading across his features.

"Well...was he ... active before?" Harry was sinking lower into the bed. Hermione gave her blushing husband a wry grin, and then nodded. Harry returned her grin with a particularly nasty look.

"Well then...I suppose he should be able to now," Hippocrates gave Harry a sly look.

* * *

Two months later, Harry and Hermione had settled into an easy routine. Hermione had decided to wait until after the New Year before getting a job. In the meantime, she had begun pouring over books of curses and countercurses, trying to determine what might have been cast at Harry. Harry was working harder than ever in his training.

He had just come home one evening when there was a knock at the door. It was Dumbledore.

"Greetings, Hermione, Harry, may I come in?"

Hermione nodded, a bit surprised to see her former Headmaster standing at her doorway. They had so few visitors. She ushered Dumbledore to a seat and offered him some warm tea.

"None for me, I'm afraid. The business I've come on is quite pressing," he said, his expression grim. "It's about Ginny Weasley."

Hermione sank down into the couch beside Harry, her face etched with concern. Her mind flashed to the moment two months ago when Ginny had visited Harry. Dread filled in her stomach. Oh no, what's happened to Ginny?

"Is Ginny alrig..."

Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing Harry’s inquiry. "She is still alive, if that's what you asking," he began. "But I'm afraid she is suffering deeply, and all of her teachers are at a loss as to how to help her."

Hermione mentally went over the last time she'd seen the youngest Weasley. Had it really gone on this long? She mentally cursed herself for failing to keep up on Ginny’s condition.

Dumbledore continued, "I'm afraid her parents don't help much ... they have suffered much heartache themselves. And that is why I come here."

Harry sat up a bit straighter.

"I'd like to have Ginny come stay here for Winter Break. I believe the time out of Hogwarts will do her some good. And she could use some good friends to keep her company."

"We'll do it," Hermione said immediately, glancing at Harry afterwards for approval. He gave a slight nod. Dumbledore smiled.

"Very well. She shall be here at the end of the week." And with that, he was gone.

Hermione spent much of the remainder of the week cleaning out the spare bedroom and transfiguring furniture to furnish it. She couldn't help but think of how sickly Ginny looked, and began researching different magical ailments to try to the source of her friend’s discomfort. But nothing seemed to fit, and Hermione began to wonder if the source of her anguish was more mental.

Finally, the day arrived and Ginny stood in their living room, her trunk on the floor.

"Thanks," she mumbled, looking at the ground. Hermione had gasped when she'd originally seen her. She looked even thinner than before, almost anorexic.

"You didn't have to do this,” Ginny continued. Hermione immediately crossed the room and embraced her friend, careful not to squeeze too hard, scared she might break her.

"Nonsense," Harry said as he began lugging her trunk to the room. "Make yourself at home."

And while Ginny did settle into a routine after a few days, she refused all of Harry's and Hermione's attempts to discuss about what was troubling her.

Finally, Christmas came, and Hermione watched Ginny’s expression of shock to see that she had presents underneath the pine tree Harry had managed to get inside their tiny flat.

"Well of course you have presents," Harry said matter-of-factly. "It's not Christmas without presents."

Ginny blushed as she pulled out a new set of dress robes, a new cauldron, several books (courtesy of Hermione), and a set of quills. Hermione smiled lightly as Ginny's eyes lit up as she spun around, holding the dress robes to her.

She was still thin, though she had put on some weight during her stay with them. But the dark circles underneath her eyes hadn’t faded, and Hermione had begun to despair that she would not be able to help the youngest Weasley.

"Oh, it's perfect," Ginny muttered, giving Harry and Hermione each a huge hug. Later that evening, after Christmas dinner, they sat comfortably in front of the fireplace, resting. Hermione thought it was promising that Ginny had eaten everything on her plate, and even went back for seconds. Maybe things were beginning to improve.

But then Ginny excused herself hurriedly, rushing out of the living room and onto the porch. Hermione frowned. It was snowing outside, and Ginny was barefoot. Rising to her feet and pulling the blanket off her sleeping husband, Hermione made her way outside, wrapping the thick fabric around her friend's thin form.

Ginny had her face in her hands, and she was sobbing loudly. Hermione felt her heart breaking. Something was very wrong with her friend, and she felt powerless against it.

"Ginny," she whispered soothingly, drawing the young woman into a hug. She fought back tears of her own. "Please talk about it," she pleaded, aware of the fact that their time was drawing to a close.

Ginny shook her head lightly, but Hermione could tell her resolve was weakening. She rubbed a hand through Ginny's damp hair, whispering softly.

"You'll feel better once you talk about it." Her voice was calm, controlled, all the while inwardly she was pleading for Ginny to trust her enough to allow help.

Ginny sniffled, her gaze drifting over the snow-coated rooftops. For a second, her gaze seemed to harden, as if she were gathering the strength to talk.

"I did it." Her voice barely registered in Hermione's ears.

Hermione frowned, rubbing her friend's back, drawing the thick blanket over her shoulders. What did she do?

"I...I..."

In a voice that was scarcely above a whisper, Hermione encouraged her. "Did what?"

"I-I ki-killed Ron."

Chapter 11: Betrayal

Hermione felt the wind being sucked out of her lungs. Ginny? No. This couldn’t be…

But then why would she have admitted it?

Hermione gripped the rails that outlined her porch, feeling her knuckles turn white from the fury that was coursing through her body. Ginny had let her and her parents go through hell when she knew the entire time that Hermione hadn’t done it?

Calm down, her mind admonished her as she struggled to get control of her emotions. Her eyes fluttered closed. This is Ginny. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Yeah, right. And maybe Snape will don a dress and prance down Diagon Alley.

“You … killed Ron?” Hermione winced inwardly at how terse her voice sounded. Lighten up a bit. Don’t scare her.

Ginny broke out into tears again, burying her face in her hands. As angry as she was, Hermione couldn’t help but feel some pity for the youngest Weasley, and she hurriedly rushed her inside, settling her down in an old armchair. She woke Harry, who jerked wide awake when Hermione relayed what Ginny had said; confusion spreading across his features as he sleepily rubbed his eyes.

“Ginny?” He muttered stupidly. “No…not possible.”

Hermione felt like she was in a daze as she gathered something warm for the three of them to drink. A few moments later, the three were sitting with mugs of warm tea in front of a roaring fire. Ginny was sniffling every few moments, still refusing to meet Hermione’s gaze. Hermione was gripping her mug so tightly she was surprised it hadn’t shattered. It’d taken a lot of her legendary self-control to keep from hexing Ginny there and then. She felt torn between her inner rage and her compassion for her friend.

“I guess…,” Ginny’s voice wavered slightly, “it began when Ron first got his flat in Ottery St. Catchpole.”

Hermione thought back to the day Ron had told them he was getting his flat. It was just after Hogwarts had been closed due to persistent Deatheater attacks.

“But Ron, I really think you should think about this. It’s not safe anywhere now. Wouldn’t you rather be with your family?”

“ ‘Mione, my mum is driving me mad. She barely let me out of the house last summer. I can’t live like that. I’m tired of living like that.”

“Oh … fine, Ron. But then promise me you’ll make Harry and me your secret-keepers.”

“Will you quit worrying if I do?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

The charm had been performed that evening. Hermione and Harry were the only two who knew where Ron lived.

“Ron told me he’d made you his secret keepers,” Ginny continued quietly. “I begged him to let me be one too. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want anyone in his family to know.”

Ginny looked down, ashamed. Harry and Hermione gave each other a cursory look. Hermione couldn’t decipher the look that was in Harry’s eyes.

Ginny continued, her voice scarcely audible. “I asked him … I asked him how he’d feel if mum and dad got hurt, and no one could tell Ron because he was hiding. He didn’t much like that idea either, so he agreed.”

Her head jerked up sharply, panic evident in her features. “You’ve got to believe me, I didn’t tell anyone. I don’t know how someone found out.”

Hermione frowned. If Ginny didn’t tell anyone, then why did she say she killed Ron?

Harry looked seriously distraught. He can’t believe what he’s hearing either, Hermione thought. He must be as angry as I am.

Ginny sniffed again and continued her story. “The day of the graduation party, remember the day you graduated? Anyways, I was supposed to go help Ron clean. He was never very good at the cleaning charms, so …”

“Ginny, just get on with it,” Hermione snapped impatiently. At Ginny’s stricken look, Hermione softened her features. Don’t scare her. She’s suffered too. “Please, we just want to know what happened. It’s important, Ginny.”

Ginny blinked hard, tears welling in her eyes. “I arrived about an hour after the ceremony. Ron was taking a shower. I started cleaning up in the living room.”

She paused for a moment, rubbing her eyes furiously. When she spoke again, it was with a detached voice. “I never saw them come up behind me. All of the sudden, it was like I wasn’t myself. I … I wanted to kill Ron … I … I think it was the Imperius curse … I don’t know … I mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone, right? Most of the Deatheaters were in Azkaban, right? So why would I be under the Imperius curse? I didn’t understand. But I went to Ron. I found him…he was giving me a funny look when I pointed my wand at him. I…”

She said all of this very quickly, her voice breaking at the end. Hermione, her compassion overwhelming her anger, went to Ginny, giving her a tight hug.

“It’s okay, Ginny. It’s okay,” Hermione murmured, conjuring up some tissues and handing them to Ginny. To her utter amazement, Ginny threw her arms around Hermione.

“I’m sorry ‘Mione,” she wailed. “I wasn’t going to let you go to Azkaban. I was going to confess that I did it when Harry announced you two were married. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Hermione was silent, her mind mulling over the revelation. Someone had cast the Imperius curse on Ginny. Ginny claimed she didn’t tell anyone about Ron’s flat.

After getting Ginny to bed, she lay awake next to Harry, staring at the darkened ceiling.

“ ‘Mione?” His whisper was soft, his voice concerned. “Are you mad at what Ginny did?”

Hermione frowned. Of course she was furious about Ginny. How could she allow her to go through that? But imagine what she’s been through, another voice in Hermione’s mind interrupted.

But Hermione couldn’t dismiss the anger that coursed through her veins.

“I’m furious. I mean, after all I went through…”

“She seemed sorry.”

Hermione jerked out of his grip, staring pointedly at him. She could feel his squirm even in the darkness. “Does it make it right, though?”

Harry shook his head furiously, looking at the bed. “No…but I…I feel sorry for her.”

Hermione sighed, drawing close next to Harry, her mind filled with more questions than answers.

* * *

Ginny’s hearing was set for the following afternoon. Hermione felt a deep feeling of foreboding settle in her stomach as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She and Harry were attending to show their support for the youngest Weasley, who would be administered Veritaserum by the council.

Hermione closed her eyes, remembering the look of utter horror that had passed over Mrs. Weasley’s face as Ginny told her story. Dumbledore had been present, as had Kingsley, Moody, and Arthur Weasley. Hermione had thought it best to include some Aurors who had experience in dealing with Dark Wizards.

“’Mione, are you ready to go?”

She glanced over her shoulder. Harry was standing there, his gaze solemn. There was a weariness in his eyes Hermione hadn’t seen for a long time. He must be taking this even harder than I am, she thought. Hermione took one last look in the mirror, and gave a nod.

* * *

A few minutes later, she and Harry were sitting in the courtroom. Julius was representing Ginny, but it was widely expected that if she was telling the truth, she’d be let off.

Of course, that still left the question of who had put her under the curse.

Hermione watched quietly as Ginny relayed her story to the members of Wizengamot in a dull voice. Molly Weasley was sitting next to her, sniffling furiously. Arthur’s eyes were red, as if he’d not slept in days.

Ginny relayed the same story she’d told Harry. Hermione paid close attention to Cornelius Fudge as he listened half-heartedly to her tale, casting ugly glances at Hermione every few seconds, no doubt blaming her for the loss of his position on the court.

Tiberius Ogden cleared his throat after Ginny finished, glancing at the other members of the court.

“Well,” he said wearily. “I guess we can dismiss.”

“Not so fast…”

Fudge’s voice had a sinister air to it as he glanced at the youngest Weasley. “I have a few questions,” he continued. Hermione narrowed her gaze. Fudge was up to something.

Julius cleared his throat. “This is highly unorthodox. The defendant has already been through enough…”

Fudge slammed his hand on the table. “I am the Minister of Magic and it is my prerogative to ask questions if I see fit!”

Hermione clenched her right fist so tightly her knuckles turned white. All eyes fell on Tiberius. The decision would be his.

Ogden sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Do be brief, Minister.”

Fudge grinned, rising to his feet. He paced a few times back and forth across the room before resting his hands on the bench in front of Ginny.

“Did you recognize the voice that cast the curse on you, Miss Weasley?”

Ginny hesitated for a moment, the effects of the Veritaserum still strong on her. “I’m not sure.”

Fudge raised an eyebrow, a triumphant smirk settling across his face. “Was it a female voice?”

There was no hesitation in Ginny’s voice as she answered. “Yes.”

Fudge grinned. “Very well, I am finished.”

Everyone was looking at him very strangely. Fudge pulled out a wand, rapping it on the bench. Two wizards entered the courtroom immediately, and Hermione had barely turned around before she was jerked out of her chair. Her wand clattered to the ground. Hermione’s eyes shot to Harry’s. His eyes were wide as his hand began to make for his wand.

He’d be arrested. Hermione shook her head furiously, struggling as the wizards jerked her away from Harry’s outstretched left hand.

“Harry!” Her protest and Harry’s cry of anger rang out in unison. Molly gasped, and Arthur gave Cornelius a rather disdainful look.

Julius roared. “What is the meaning of this?!?”

Fudge grinned, looking at Hermione. “We had good evidence that Miss Gran…excuse me, Mrs. Potter, had committed the crime. Ginny’s testimony of a female voice just confirmed it.”

“You…you can’t convict her. Her case was dismissed!” Tiberius Ogden’s voice was barely controlled, his anger at being trumped in his own courtroom evident.

“Who said anything about conviction? Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without a trial. Miss Granger can be too.”

“NO!” Harry shouted. Hermione felt panic flood through her body. She stared at her wand, her fear spiking.

Not Azkaban. This can’t be happening. No. I’m not going. Not now.

Fudge grinned at Hermione, his gaze narrowed. “Take her away.”

Harry drew his wand, leveling it on Fudge’s rotund face. “No! You’re not taking her!”

Fear shot through Hermione’s body as she watched Harry’s spiteful expression. “Harry, no! Don’t do this!”

Not for me.

Fudge narrowed his gaze, looking at Harry. Moody and Remus made a move to block the exit so the wizards could not take Hermione through the door. Everyone’s gaze fell on Harry.

“I’m warning you, boy,” Fudge snarled menacingly. “Put your wand down.”

“Harry, don’t do this,” Remus said softly. “She won’t be going to Azkaban.”

If Harry heard his former professor, he made no sound. His gaze, and wand, was still leveled on Fudge.

“She didn’t do it. Now let her go.”

Fudge’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “She was the only other one who knew about the location. Ginny already admitted she didn’t tell anyone. That leaves Hermione as the obvious killer!”

Harry lowered his wand, his emerald gaze drifting to Hermione’s panicked one. She saw a look of anguish, then defeat, in his eyes. His shoulders seemed to slump.

“She didn’t do it, because I…I did.”

Hermione felt her blood run cold. Her stomach seemed to drop through the ground.

…because I did…

Harry looked to the ground, his face filled with shame. Hermione felt her heart sink to the ground, wrenching in two. Everything seemed to disappear except for Harry, and his last words to the courtroom. Harry’s eyes met hers. She sought his gaze hungrily, desperately hoping it wasn’t true.

A tear slid down Harry’s cheek, and at that moment Hermione knew. He wasn’t lying. She felt her heart breaking as Harry uttered the next words.

“I told.”

Chapter 12: Surprises

Absolute silence reigned in the courtroom for a minute. Hermione felt tears cloud her vision as her heart shattered in a million pieces.

Harry had betrayed her.

“What?!?” Arthur and Molly Weasley screamed in unison.

“He’s lying! He’s just trying to keep her out of prison!” Fudge screamed, his face the color of a ripe tomato. Remus and Moody had solemn expressions on their faces, but cast anxious glances at each other.

He lied to me.

“I’ll take Veritaserum,” Harry piped up, drawing silent stares from the others in the courtroom. Tears streamed freely down Hermione’s cheeks, a cry of agony ripping through her body. The hold on her arms slackened and Hermione crumpled to the ground, clasping a hand over her mouth.

Harry’s gaze feel on his wife’s crumpled form and tears sprang to his eyes. He stretched a hand out to Hermione, but at her muffled sob his hand fell by his side.

“That won’t be necessary, Harry,” Tiberius Ogden sighed wearily, motioning to the chair Ginny was seated in. “Ginny, please let Harry sit down. I have a feeling this will be a long story.”

Ginny moved, looking dazed. Harry sat down in the chair, squirming uncomfortably. Hermione clenched her teeth, trying to control the sobs that had taken over her body.

“This is nonsense!” Fudge howled. Ogden turned around and gave Fudge a look that could have melted steel. Fudge promptly sat down, duly silenced.

Tiberius slumped into a chair, rubbing his temples tenderly. Hermione finally managed to to control her tears. Moody made a motion to help her up, but she shrank away from his grip. Her eyes leveled on Harry’s form, angry tears streaming down her cheeks.

Harry’s voice was quiet. “Ginny was right, in a way. It did start the day Ron made me and Hermione his secret keepers.”

He sighed deeply, his gaze leveled on the ground. Not once did he return Hermione’s gaze.

“I kept his address…he gave it to me on paper after we performed the charm. I kept it in my transfiguration book. No one ever looked through someone else’s schoolbooks. I kept it under my bed.”

Harry sighed, continuing. “The day we left Hogwarts, I forgot about the book. By the time I’d remembered it and gotten back to Gryffindor Tower, it was gone.

“Harry,” Remus was frowning deeply. “The only one who could have gotten in Gryffindor tower was a Gryffindor. Are you saying you think one of them did this?”

Harry looked at the ground, then his gaze turned to Hermione. A lone tear slid down his cheek. “I was trying to find out who did it, ‘Mione. That’s why I came home so late all the time.”

He betrayed me.

A muffled sob escaped Hermione’s throat as she clasped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep a grip on her tumultuous emotions.

Finally, something inside of her snapped and she snapped to her feet, evading outstretched hands as she fled the courtroom.

* * *

She had been crying so hard she didn’t hear the door open.

“ ‘Mione? Here you are. Everyone was worried.”

Hermione had apparated back to her flat, where she’d barricaded herself in the bedroom. She collapsed on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably into the pillow until exhaustion took her and she was alone in her despair.

I told.

Harry’s words rang over and over in her ears, taunting her. At Harry’s voice, her entire body stiffened, rage pouring through her body as she turned and glared at Harry.

“How could you have kept this from me?” she screamed, unable to stifle the rage any longer. “When you know all I went through? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry’s eyes began to water as he slowly slumped on the edge of the bed. Hermione shrank away from him, repulsion flowing through her body. She had married him because it was the only way to stay out of Azkaban, and he had been hiding this the entire time?

Was their entire relationship based on a lie?

“ ‘Mione, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, I did. I … I felt responsible for his death. I wanted to find the person responsible. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you…”

“You didn’t want to hurt me? You didn’t want to hurt me! You could have told the ministry this entire time and you didn’t!” Hermione’s voice was quivering with the unrestrained rage. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as the horror of what happened sunk in. Had her best friend kept this a secret to take advantage of her? The thought sent a chill of disgust down Hermione’s spine.

“I…I thought it…those letters…and I wasn’t sure…I mean I knew you didn’t tell…I didn’t think they’d believe me…and then Julius told us about that law…and…I…”

…to take advantage of me…

Bile rose in her throat. Hermione had heard enough. With unrestrained anger she slapped Harry across the face. He stared at her in shock, tears streaming down his cheeks, the physical and emotional pain evident in his features.

Serves him right.

“We wouldn’t have had to get married if you’d told the truth! You married me to get into my pants,” Hermione’s screamed loudly, not bothering to restrain the agony that rolled in waves over her body.

“No…,” Harry whispered, the horror of her accusations hitting him like a thousand bricks. “ ‘Mione, I didn’t want that … I mean…I did…but I … I really did love you…”

“Did you now? Did you really?” Hermione whispered, barely able to speak through the tears. Her throat felt so tight, her lungs burning from the pain.

She showed him her left hand as she fumbled with her wedding band with the other. She pulled it off and slapped it into his open palm. Harry stared at it silently, unable to keep back a sob that erupted from her body.

Hermione rose to her feet, barely able to maintain her composure as she turned towards the door. She paused, giving Harry a pointed stare, her voice surprisingly harsh.

“Then why did you lie?”

* * *

Emma Granger found her daughter curled up on her old bed, sobbing into her pillow. Through her daughter’s sobs, she was vaguely able to make out the gist of what happened. She drew her daughter into her arms.

“Oh Hermione,” she murmured softly. “I’m so sorry.”

* * *

The days seemed to pass in a daze. Hermione felt physically and emotionally broken. She spent her days in bed, staring at the ceiling. Emma repeatedly tried to convince her daughter to eat, but Hermione didn’t feel hungry.

Hermione wished she were dead.

She had no idea how long she lay like that. One day, her mother and father came in, a concerned expression on both of their faces. Hermione stared numbly at them. Were they double-teaming her now?

“Hermione, get ready. We’re going to the doctor.”

Hermione rolled over, hoping her parents would go away. She wanted to be left alone to wallow in her misery.

Her mother grabbed her arm and jerked her upright. “Not a chance, Hermione. You’re going. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Hermione let out a deep sigh. Even though they weren’t wizards, they could be surprisingly forceful, even without magic.

* * *

Two hours later, Hermione felt irritated. She had gone through every test in the book, and still the doctor wouldn’t answer any questions.

Now she waited impatiently with her parents in the waiting room. Her head jerked up when she saw a doctor walking towards them.

“Hermione, we’re ready.”

Hermione sat in the chair, listening to the doctor rattling one about the results of her blood tests.

“So…that looks like it’s normal,” the doctor repeated for the hundredth time. Hermione turned and gave her parents a glare. Maybe now they would be satisfied the only problem she had was with her broken heart.

“There was one test that wasn’t normal,” the doctor admitted. “Your HCG was elevated.”

Emma Granger gasped, looking at her husband. Hermione frowned, her gaze drifting back and forth between her parents. Finally, she looked at the doctor, irritated.

“What does that mean?” she said tartly, irritated that these people wouldn’t say whatever it was they were trying to say.

Hermione felt her heart freeze at the serious look the doctor gave her.

“Well, it means you’re going to have a baby.”

Chapter 13: Discoveries

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

With Harry�s child.

Hermione�s eyes closed as she tried to process the news. She opened them again when she felt the eyes of both of her parents staring at her.

Emma broke the silence, thanking the doctor in a rather forced manner. As soon as they arrived back at the house, Hermione made her way to the bedroom. She wanted to be alone. She needed to think.

What was she going to do now? Of course, she needed to tell Harry. But she wasn�t really eager to talk to her husband at this point. She clenched her teeth together, the anger and intermingled weariness seeping through to her bones.

She heard the door open, and could hear her mother�s gentle footsteps enter the room. The bed shifted as Emma took a seat on the edge of the bed, staring quietly at the wall.

Hermione stared silently at the wall, hoping her mother would go away. She didn�t want to hear any questions right now.

�When I was younger,� Emma�s voice was soft, �I was deeply in love with a man. We had the perfect relationship. Everything was wonderful, and we were going to get married and live the perfect life and have the perfect family and live happily ever after.�

Hermione rolled over, slowly looking at her mother, but her mother was staring at the wall, her expression devoid of any emotion.

�Then one day, the man hurt me. He betrayed me. And all of the dreams I�d had of a perfect life, of a perfect family, of a perfect marriage � they came crashing down.�

Hermione blinked, frowning as she processed her mother�s words. �What�happened then?�

Emma gave a small smile, looking at her daughter. �I cried a good bit. And he and I didn�t speak for a long time. But the entire time we were apart, I felt miserable. Like a piece of myself was missing. Then one day my mother came to me, and sat me down.� She asked me if I loved him.�

Hermione frowned, knowing where this was going. �And?�

Emma gave a slight nod, her eyes filling with tears. �I did. Despite all that had happened. Despite all that we�d been through, I was still very deeply in love with the man. And then my mother told me that no relationship is perfect. No man, or woman for that matter, is perfect. But those relationships that do survive. The ones where true love exists � those are the people who can look beyond the imperfections and forgive their lovers for their faults.�

Hermione blinked, swallowing several times. She rolled on her back, staring at the ceiling.

�Hermione,� Emma continued, �I don�t agree with what Harry did. I was furious when you first told me. And nothing excuses the fact that what he did was deceitful and wrong.�

She paused, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief before continuing. �I�ve seen the way he�s looked at you, and you at him. You have a decision to make, Hermione. And regardless of what you decide, your father and I will always love you.�

She rose to her feet, walking towards the door. Hermione blinked, her gaze slowly falling on her mother.

�Mum?�

Emma turned and looked at her daughter, �Yes, Hermione?�

�What happened to that man?�

Emma Granger gave a weak smile. �I married him, and we had a beautiful daughter, who�s turned into a beautiful young woman that we are both very proud of.�

And with that, she left.

*��������� *��������� *

The days passed, and Hermione slowly got into a normal routine. She stayed at her parents� house, still putting off the inevitable discussion with Harry. After dinner one evening, she made her way to her room, deciding to write the letter she�d been dreading. She reached into her nightstand to pull out a bit of parchment, her hands coming over a card as she slowly pulled it out.

Her gaze drifted over the envelope, as she slowly pulled back the seal and read.

You have been formally invited to a commencement party at the house of Ronald Weasley, on July 15^th, at 8 p.m. Refreshments will be provided.

Hermione frowned, remembering the day Ron had come into the common room, waving the invitations around.

�Here you go, Hermione. I finally finished them.�

Hermione rolled her eyes, setting her book down. �It�s about time, Ronald Weasley. Why did it take you so long?�

Ron grinned. �Well�I wanted to make sure they were perfect.�

Hermione glanced at the invitation, frowning. �This took you two weeks to create?�

Ron grinned, his blue eyes shimmering with secrets untold. �Have you got the party list?�

Hermione nodded, shuffling through her bag as she withdrew a parchment, bearing the names of the guests who�d receive an invitation.

Ron grinned, taking the list and heading back to his room to finish.

Hermione frowned. The invitations contained most of the information, even if they were a bit bland for her taste. But something was missing.

Of course, she thought hurriedly. How would they know how to get there?

�Did you expect them to know where you lived? How would they get there?�

As Hermione muttered the words, the text on the parchment disappeared, and a picture of a roaring lion appeared.

Ron�s flat can be found in Ottery St. Catchpole, 1132 Third Street, Number 4.

Her jaw dropped. Ron had charmed the parchment to give his address to the bearer of the invitation.

That means that Harry might have not given the secret away. Ron might have decided to reveal its location, once Voldemort had disappeared and the war ended.

Hermione hurriedly stuffed the invitation into her bag. She had a lot to do.

*��������� *��������� *

The next day, Hermione stopped by Harry�s flat while he was at work to search her things. It wasn�t that she didn�t want to share her discovery with him. She just wanted to try to figure this out on her own. Plus she wasn�t sure Harry hadn�t given away the location.

She had found the list and had gone through the names one by one, visiting the homes of the guests, most of whom were Gryffindors.

She�d had little success.

So far, only Dean had opened his door to her. Seamus had slammed the door on her the second he�d realized who she was. She hadn�t visited Neville yet, but somehow she�d doubted he was adept enough at the unforgivable curses to use one on Ginny. Parvati Patil had screamed and started throwing her tea cups at Hermione.

There was one Gryffindor she hadn�t visited yet.

Which is why at 6 o�clock on a Friday afternoon, she was inside The Daily Prophet office building, going to meet with Colin Creevey.

She knocked on a door that said Photography Department.

�Mmmph, who is it?� A voice shouted from inside.

Hermione stepped inside. The office was a mess, with stacks of pictures and pieces of camera equipment stacked as high as the ceiling. The desk drawers were bulging from pieces of parchment and rolls of film. Colin�s eyes widened as Hermione stepped in.

�Hermione! Come on in. Take a seat, if you can find one.�

Hermione glanced around. There wasn�t a single chair that didn�t have pictures stacked on it. She smiled weakly at Colin. �I think I�ll stand.�

He shrugged, rummaging through his desk. �What brings you out here?�

Hermione looked around. �Do you always work this late?�

Colin grinned ruefully. �Well�not always this late. I�m still a junior member though, so they send me out at all times to cover stories.�

Hermione nodded. Colin had been among the first photographers to show up at Ron�s flat after he was murdered.

Hermione glanced around. �Do you have your invitation to the party? The one Ron was going to have?�

Colin frowned, giving a thoughtful look before he nodded, rummaging through his desk.

�Sorry �bout the mess. I�ve been meaning to clean it�but I just haven�t had time. Doesn�t help that the door has a gap underneath it. The draft scatters the pictures everywhere.�

He said this while rummaging through a drawer full of photographs.

Hermione took the time to study the wall. There were a few framed pictures from stories that occurred earlier during the year. Her gaze paused on a newspaper clipping of Ron�s murder. It had been the story that ran the day after.

�Did you take this picture?� Hermione asked curiously, her gaze not leaving the photograph. The picture was of Ron�s living room, with Ministry investigators mulling around in the background. A black speck which looked to be ink rested on the lower right hand side of the photo.

Colin glanced up, his mouth full of photos, which he had to remove before he could speak. �Oh�yeah�it was my first big story, you know.� He gave Hermione a sympathetic glance, before going back to his searching.

Hermione turned her gaze to some of the other pictures, but returned to the story of Ron�s murder. Rita Skeeter had covered the news with a particular vengeance.

The speck had moved.

Hermione frowned, lowering her gaze towards the picture. The speck was now on the opposite side of the photograph. She frowned, tapping the picture.

�Colin, did you spill ink on this picture.�

Colin looked up, holding the invitation in his right hand. �I don�t think so�then again�it�s possible. Things were�busy that week.�

He held out the invitation to Hermione, who glanced at the photograph some more, an idea formulating in the back of her head.

�Hermione?�

She glanced at Colin, who was looking at her strangely. She took the invitation, giving him a weak smile.

�Thanks Colin.�

*��������� *��������� *

Hermione apparated straight to Ron�s flat, turning on a light as she looked around. First she went to his room, and began searching through his trunk.

Everything seemed to be in order, except for an extra Transfiguration book.

Hermione frowned, picking up the copy of the book. A piece of parchment fell out.

She picked it up, her gaze flitting over the parchment. It was Ron�s address.

Ron had picked up Harry�s book.

Of course, Ron must have looked under his own bed and noticed Harry had left it. He probably took it with the intentions of returning it to Harry later.

Harry hadn�t told.

Hermione rose quickly, the solution formulating in her mind as she rushed to the living room, looking for the speck that was in Colin�s photograph.

It wasn�t there.

She looked at the other side of the room.

No speck.

Hermione kneeled beside the couch, resting her hand on the upholstery.

�I should have known. Why didn�t I think of it before?�

Hermione felt the poke of a wand on her back.

�It�s too bad no one is ever going to know the answer to that question,� an all-too-familiar voice piped up from behind her.

Chapter 14: Endings

�Hands up where I can see them.�

Hermione slowly lifted her hands above her head, turning around to face her attacker. Sure enough, her suspicions had been dead on.

�I should have known,� Hermione�s eyes narrowed as she glared at her captor.

Rita Skeeter snickered, keeping her wand leveled at Hermione�s chest. �I�m a bit surprised you didn�t think of it sooner. Oh well, we all make mistakes.�

Hermione forced herself to remain calm while searching for various avenues of escape. Rita was blocking the exit, and Hermione�s wand was lying on the ground where she�d dropped it after Rita had first spoken.

Hermione had to find a way to stall.

�How did you know?� Hermione murmured, continuing to search for alternatives out of the corner of her gaze.

Rita snickered.

�Colin talked about nothing but that stupid party for a week,� Rita�s voice was haughty, triumphant. �A shame really. They really should have fixed the door to the Photography Department. It was too easy to get in.�

�For an unregistered animagus?� Hermione could help but dish out a verbal jab. Rita raised the wand to point between her eyes.

�Ah yes, Hermione, one of the three who knows I�m an unregistered animagus. Well, two really. One of you is dead.�

Hermione felt the rolling anger begin to surge in her body. �You did this to keep us quiet?�

�Don�t be na�ve, Miss Granger. Or is it Mrs. Potter now? Which do you prefer?� Rita sniggered, giving her wand a little swipe. �After all, Draco Malfoy is still alive.�

�Draco Malfoy would never have told about someone trying to write lies about Gryffindors,� Hermione�s eyes narrowed.

�True,� Rita admitted. �But this goes beyond what memory charms would have satisfied. This is about getting my revenge on you.�

�Revenge on me?� Hermione�s eyes narrowed. Why would Rita� recognition flashed through her mind.

Hermione kept a straight face, while trying to inch her way slowly to the side. �This is about your career, isn�t it? Hasn�t been the same when you can�t write nasty lies about people?�

Rita waved her wand menacingly at Hermione. �You ruined my career. I was the best��

�You were a fraud,� Hermione interrupted. Rita�s gaze narrowed, and Hermione could almost see her calculating how to best finish her off.

�I wrote what people wanted to read,� Rita spat angrily. �And you will not stop me from reclaiming my former glory.�

If this went on too much longer, Hermione thought to herself, it was bound to end badly. She began looking more frantically for a way out.

�Tut tut, Hermione,� Rita said, a sinister smile creeping across her face. �Looking for your scarred savior to ride in on a white horse to save you? I admit I was a bit shocked when you two got married, but it didn�t matter. I was not going to be deterred by a change in plans. I was shocked when he survived our little encounter at the LeStrange place.�

Hermione felt the anger surge in her body. �That�that was you?� She felt her fists clenching.

Rita smirked triumphantly. �Cornelius could never keep a secret when it came to Ministry raids. He loves the publicity far too much.�

Hermione saw a flash of activity in the window behind Rita, and she forced her gaze onto her would-be attacker. She had to figure out how to postpone her.

�Why didn�t you do it yourself, then?� Hermione asked. �Why use Ginny Weasley?�

Rita smirked. �You�d like to know that, wouldn�t you? Well, I suppose it won�t hurt, since you�ll never leave this place alive.�

She continued, �I wasn�t expecting Ron to have company over so early, but in a way it worked out better that she was. After all, it was her wand that cast the curse. Not mine.�

Hermione was stumbling over questions to ask when Rita finally spoke again.

�Enough questions. It�s time to end this,� she grinned. �Now�how to end this? Shall we start with the Cruciatus curse? Or would you like to skip quickly to your death?�

Hermione felt the panic starting to rise in her body. What would the effects of the Cruciatus curse have on her unborn child? She wasn�t sure she wanted to know.

�Speechless, are we? Well then, I suppose we�ll just skip to the grand finale. Avada��

�STUPEFY!�

The sound came from her side. Hermione jumped backwards and hit the ground as the curse hit Rita in the chest, tossing her head over heels before she came to a stop on the other side of the room, unconscious.

Harry Potter stepped out of the shadows, rushing to Hermione and drawing her into a hug.

�About time, Harry,� Hermione whispered, a flood of emotions hitting her all at once as she hugged him tightly.

�I�m sorry. I ran into Colin and must have gotten there just after you did. When he told me what you asked, I knew where you�d gone. I�m sorry, Hermione, please��

Hermione lifted a finger to his lips, silencing his hurried apology.

�Let�s talk about this later. We need to get the Ministry out here.�

Harry gave a slight nod as they restrained Rita in a full body-bind and left to call the Aurors.

*��������� *��������� *

Later that evening, Harry and Hermione sat on their couch in the living room. Harry had apologized about a dozen times since they�d arrived at the flat.

� �Mione, let me explain,� He managed to interject after they�d settled down onto the couch.

Hermione opened her mouth, about to stop him, but he shook his messy raven hair furiously.

�Please,� he whispered hoarsely. Hermione sighed and gave a slight nod.

� �Mione, you left the courtroom before I could explain the whole story. I didn�t KNOW I�d lost my transfiguration book until after we got back from our honeymoon. It didn�t cross my mind until then. Hermione, I love you. And I would have never married you just to get in your pants,� He paused, tears flowing freely down his face. �I wanted to tell you. But I was scared you�d hate me for what I did. I�m sorry. It was wrong, and I didn�t mean to hurt you, I��

His voice trailed off, replaced by quiet sobs. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, holding him as they cried together. It was a long time before either felt the need to speak.

�Harry, do you still have my ring?� Hermione whispered quietly. Harry sniffed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small gold band.

�I�I kept carrying it. I hoped I�d find you and�� His voice broke. Hermione took the ring from him and slid it onto its rightful place on her finger. She looked at him, her gaze gentle as she kissed his cheek.

�Harry, I love you, and I�m sorry I didn�t stay to listen.� Hermione felt the tears welling again in her eyes.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, giving her a tight hug. �No more apologies, okay?� He whispered softly, the only light in the room now the flickering fire in the fireplace.

�Deal,� Hermione whispered softly, kissing his forehead. She paused, her mind a tumult of thoughts before a realization hit her.

�Harry, is the furniture from Ginny�s stay still in the second room?�

Harry drew back, giving Hermione a curious look. �Yes, why?�

Hermione allowed a grin to cross her features as she leaned against Harry, relishing in the warmth he provided.

�I�m going to need your help transfiguring it,� she continued, nonchalantly.

�Eh�Okay�� His voice sounded uncertain, suspicious, but he wrapped his arms tighter around Hermione.

�Well, you can�t very well expect our child to sleep in a bed, can you?�

She felt Harry stiffen beneath her, and he drew back sharply, his gaze wide as he glanced from her face to her stomach and back to her face again.

�Our�baby?� He whispered softly, his emerald gaze bright.

Hermione gave a slight nod, resting a hand on her stomach.

�I�m�I�m going to have a baby?� Harry repeated, as if unsure of himself. Hermione couldn�t help but give a slight chuckle.

�Well�I think I�m going to have the baby. I don�t think you�re quite equipped to handle that part.�

Harry grinned, drawing her into a tight hug.

�A baby. We�re going to have a baby.� He kept repeating over and over, an air of excitement in his voice.

They stayed like that a long time.

Hermione felt the arms wrap around her waist as she gave a slight grin. A set of lips brushed the back of her neck, a face nuzzling the bun which held her unruly graying hair. She glanced over her shoulder to her husband, who was giving her a mischievous look with his emerald green eyes.

�You, Mr. Potter, are insatiable,� she grinned as she brushed her lips against Harry�s.

�EWWWW! Grandma!�

Hermione broke the kiss, grinning as she shifted her gaze to the young raven-haired boy who was staring at her with a look of shock.

�Evan, go play,� a voice piped up as a brunette took a seat on the bench next to the older couple. The young woman had unruly mahogany gaze accentuated by eyes the color of emeralds. Harry grinned, drawing the woman into a hug as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

�Where�s daddy today?� Harry whispered, as he drew his two favorite women into his arms.

The woman�s shook her head stubbornly. �Probably at work, if he knows what�s good for him,� she said this with an air of menace in her voice.

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, a grin spreading across their features. Hermione reached over, taking her daughters hand.

�Lily, let me tell you a story. It began when I was a young woman, and in love with a very handsome man��

*��������� *��������� *

Rita Skeeter was apprehended by the Ministry Aurors and sentenced to life in Azkaban prison. She remains there to this day.

Cornelius Fudge resigned his position after being investigated on charges of corruption stemming from his handling of the Potter case. He lives with his wife today in the countryside, far from the public eye.

Tiberius Ogden was elected Minister of Magic after Fudge�s resignation. He serves in that position today.

Percy Weasley continued to advance, eventually taking his own position on the Wizengamot council. He and his wife Penelope live in London with their three children.

Ginny Weasley eventually sought treatment at St. Mungo�s and was released a year later. She married Neville Longbottom and lives with him at Hogwarts, where they teach Charms and Herbology, respectively.

Arthur and Molly Weasley made amends with the Potters. They continued to live at the Burrow, and Arthur continued to work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office until he retired a year ago. The Weasleys and the Potters remain friends to this day.

Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson married and had a daughter. They ran into financial troubles a year ago after a Ministry raid uncovered several hundred dark artifacts. Unable to pay the hefty fine, they declared bankruptcy and now live in a small cottage in the country.

Harry and Hermione Potter remained married, having four children � James, Lily, Sirius, and Ronald. They continued to live in London, and Harry remained employed with the Ministry of Magic, where he ran the Auror department until his retirement. Hermione continues in her position as Director of St. Mungo�s.

The End�