The Magic Of Firelight

Stietoe

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 21/06/2004
Last Updated: 27/11/2006
Status: in_progress

AU, 1838, A British gentleman wants an heir his wife can't give him. Miss Hermione Granger is a Muggleborn witch, surviving as a governess... What do these two people have in common?

Chapters

1. Prologue

2. Chapter 1

3. Chapter 2

4. Chapter 3

5. Chapter 4

6. Chapter 5

7. Chapter 6

8. Chapter 7

9. Chapter 8

10. Chapter 9

11. Chapter 10

12. Chapter 11

13. Chapter 12

14. Chapter 13

15. Chapter 14

16. Chapter 15

17. Chapter 16

18. Chapter 17

19. Chapter 18

20. Chapter 19

21. Chapter 20

22. Chapter 21

23. Chapter 22

24. Chapter 23

25. Chapter 24

26. Chapter 25

27. Chapter 26

28. Chapter 27

29. Chapter 28

30. Chapter 29

31. Chapter 30

32. Chapter 31

33. Chapter 32

34. Chapter 33

35. Chapter 34

36. Chapter 35

37. Chapter 36

38. Chapter 37

39. Chapter 38

40. Chapter 39

41. Chapter 40

1. Prologue

AN: This is an AU fic, but a disclaimer is in order for the characters I’m ‘borrowing’ from JK Rowling, and some plot elements from the amazing movie ‘Firelight’… Enjoy!

***

Prologue

The room she was seated in was lit mostly by firelight. A few candles danced from the draft. It was a room like any other room, she supposed. Though the events playing out in it right now, were not as common.

For Hermione this was one of the most humiliating times of her life. Here she was, one of the most brilliant witches ever having graduated from Blueboard, English school for Muggleborn witches, and yet she was pretty much penniless and powerless to do anything about her position in life.

It was the year 1838. Muggleborns were tolerated and educated in the ways of magic, but they didn’t stand that much chance in finding dignified employment within the wizarding world. And being an independent woman didn’t help put bread on the table in the Muggle world either.

Hermione Granger had actually been of the lucky sort. Because of her excellent grades at the magical school, and the goodwill of her old Headmistress, she had found work as a governess for a magical family. But after two years, her first family had ended her position at their house. It hadn’t anything to do with her competences, no, the family had been very kind and given her many letters of high praise and recommendation for future employers… They had just been unable to pay her services anymore. Debts…

Speaking of, her Muggle widower of a father had been incarcerated because of gambling debts…

So she had just turned twenty, was jobless, and had to pay her father’s debt as soon as possible, if she wanted him to survive prison… And that was the reason of her being here, getting examined as cattle, having been asked personal questions…

Forcing herself to concentrate on the happenings around her, she was almost amused by the fact that the man sounded so timid. He was careful to stay in the shadows and whispered to the mid-wife.

From what Hermione could understand, Madam Pomfrey had just finished explaining Hermione’s excellent magical records, and the man had obviously asked how she had landed in a situation as this, because she could hear the mid-wife describing her father’s predicament.

“Why does Sir not ask me myself?” Hermione asked aloud. “Why the need to hide?”

Madam Pomfrey looked quite taken aback from Hermione’s daring.

“The gentleman is a highly respected member of the community! He cannot endanger his position! He has a reputation to uphold, and you would do well to remember that…”

Hermione asked herself how they were supposed to do this when he didn’t want to be exposed… at least to her… But she refrained from speaking her mind. She was surprised, however, when she heard the faceless voice ask her:

“Why?”

Hermione was confused, what did he want to know? Frowning she refrained from answering. Madam Pomfrey, though, had recovered from her little fit, and was back to her gentle, placating self:

“What the gentleman means, my dear, is why not marry and have your husband pay the debts for your father? You’re pretty enough?”

Hermione swallowed to mask the turmoil of feelings inside her:

“And sell myself for life? The gentleman’s proposal is of much shorter duration, if I understand correctly…”

After a moment of silence, the man asked, not unkindly:

“Have you ever done anything like this before?”

The question made Hermione uncomfortable, she wanted to yell at him that she was a respectable girl, and that of course she hadn’t, but she remembered her position, and contended herself with whispering:

“No, sir…”

“And do you understand the full consequences to this bargain? Will you honour all your promises?”

Hermione swallowed, fully knowing the hardship she was setting herself up for, but didn’t show her pain when she said with full conviction:

“Yes, sir…”

There was a slight scuffle inside the shadows, and for a moment she expected to see the man. But than Madam Pomfrey asked him:

“Shall I continue the search?”

All that came from the shadows, was this statement:

“No… She will be the one…”

***

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2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hermione was seated in the little Muggle pension at the shores of France, having a quiet supper alone.

She had just travelled over the Canal and was now waiting. She wasn’t naïve, she knew what men came here to do, and that usually the women staying there were their mistresses… Part of her despised this place for its treacherous clients. But she knew that what she was about to do would probably not be considered any better. Even if she acted to save her father.

She was a right bundle of nerves, expecting a man to come up to her at any moment. Was it going to be that man in the corner of the dining area? He did look quite old, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have been the one in the shadows. After all, he had smiled at her just moments ago.

The truth was, she didn’t know how she was going to recognise the mystery man she was to meet. Well, she was to do a lot more with him then just meet…

But, seriously, how was she to know? She berated herself for not listening more attentively to his voice back at London. All her memory told her was that it had been a soft baritone, but how was she going to base his entire appearance on that?

Was he going to be extremely ugly? Was he going to be ruthless with her? Taking a deep breath, she pushed her anxiety aside, and remembered what Madam Pomfrey had warned her about. It would hurt the first time, but afterwards, it could be more bearable. Was it going to happen tonight? Was he even going to show up tonight?

Resolving herself to be brave about this, she left her dinner table and went up the stairs gingerly. Suddenly the feeling struck her that he had to be in her room. It would make sense really… Drawing a shaky breath, she opened her door, to find a gentleman leaning on the mantelpiece above the hearth.

She couldn’t help but stay frozen in the middle of the doorway. He had looked up at her entrance, and she was struck by his intense green gaze. Unable to do anything but look at him, the silence grew between them. He was quite handsome. His hair looked windswept and just ruffled, and though he wore glasses, it didn’t make him seem any less imposing.

He had an aura around him, an aura of power, despite the rather awkward situation. He must be a powerful wizard, and Hermione didn’t know if that should scare her even more. Finally he spoke:

“I didn’t want anyone to see us enter here together…”

Ah, she was right, that’s why he had waited in her room for her to finish supper. Coming out of her trance, she stepped inside the room and closed the door behind her. Again, the room was illuminated by firelight only, no candles had been lit. It contained a bed and a little table with a few chairs around it.

Both of them moved slowly closer to the chairs around the little table and sat across each other. It was then that she noticed the drink he clutched in his hands. Aha, so he wasn’t as calm as he looked, too.

“I have a reputation to uphold, not only my own, but that of my entourage. Do you understand?”

Hermione said nothing. How could she say she understood? The man was probably married, or there wouldn’t be the need for this much secrecy. And how could she understand this man leaving his wife’s bed to use her?

She could also guess his wife had proven not to be able to conceive, which had lead to this man trying to buy an heir from a woman that wasn’t his wife. If her father hadn’t been in the situation he was in, she would’ve disapproved of these happenings with burning passion. However, she was a Muggleborn witch, she didn’t have much other choices.

So yes, she understood the need for secrecy. It wasn’t like she would be proud to confess to the world what she was about to do for money. And yes, she understood a man didn’t want his indiscretions blemishing his reputation. All the same, she remained stoic.

The man, however seemed to find it important she understood: “I don’t want them to suffer… You do understand…”

However, when Hermione stayed silent, returning his questing gaze unblinkingly, the man seemed to accept it and moved on. He swirled the rest of his Firewhiskey in his glass and downed it in one go.

“We will meet each other here every day after supper. You understand the requirements of our bargain?”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat and the nervousness she had managed to push away until then came back full force. Instead if answering him, she asked:

“Will we… meet… tonight?”

The man didn’t look at her:

“Yes, I only have three days before I have to return to London. I just wanted you to get comfortable with the idea first this night… To be ready…”

While saying this he had poured some more Firewhiskey in his glass from a flask he carried with him. Hermione was quick to answer, before she lost all nerve:

“I’m ready…”

If this quick confirmation fazed the man, she couldn’t really tell, but he did stop swirling his Firewhiskey around and again downed his glass, before setting it on the table with a soft ‘thunk’.

Hermione’s controlled her breathing, when he got up and reached inside his robes to pull out his wand. After casting a locking spell on the door and a silencing spell around the room, he looked down at her, but she diverted her gaze elsewhere, feeling a furious blush coming to her cheeks.

The man just faced the hearth, and waited silently. Slowly Hermione stood from her chair and started unbuttoning the outer layers of her dress.

The silence was broken momentarily, when the man remarked, still not facing her:

“The fire illuminates more then one would believe…”

Hermione didn’t know what to think of this sentence. Did he want to put out the fire so they could do this in the blackness of the night? As tempting as it sounded to pretend this wasn’t really happening by doing this in total darkness, she didn’t fancy having to do this in a stone cold room either.

Finishing the buttons of her dress, she slipped it off, working on her skirts next. After they fell in a pool at her feet, she was dressed in only her undergarments and her corset. Unlacing the latter, she was reluctant to shed the rest of her clothing. Her breasts, stomach, and thighs were still covered, but really, this was the most undressed she had ever been before anyone already. And from what she gathered, her underpants would leave enough uncovered for him to… well, plant his seed within her.

Not really sure what to do with her hands, she let them drop alongside her body, fighting the urge to wrap them around her.

“Will this do?”

She asked softly, to which the man turned, and racked his eyes over her figure. It was the first time he let his own nervousness show in his gaze, too.

***

(an: 19th century underpants leave the area at the juncture of the legs open!)

Please review…

3. Chapter 2

AN: uhm, prue1912, will you be alright?

***

Chapter 2

Harry Potter was a private man, as much as he could possibly be, of course. It wasn’t easy with his fame and well-known story. He took comfort in the fact that even though everyone seemed to know his story, at least they didn’t all recognise the face to go with it. He already had the problem of getting mobbed every time he set foot in London and word about his identity got out.

Well, the story that ran through London was famous, but sometimes he wondered if that Harry Potter was the same as himself… In any event, he liked living outside the spotlights. And the only place he could do that was in his country house. He rarely invited any company over there, except for his closest friends he considered family.

As a two year old lad, Potter’s parents had been eliminated by dark wizards, together with the whole Potter family on a Halloween celebration. To this day, nobody knew how, as a baby, he had survived the poison that had been laced through the food of every plate at Godric’s Hollow, neither did they know who was really responsible for his family’s death. It wasn’t even known why they had been killed.

The Potters had been peace loving wizards and witches, but rumours went that exactly these tolerant beliefs would have been the cause to the attack. Muggleborns were not highly regarded among wizarding folk, but the Potter family had never bothered with prejudice. So when Harry Potter’s father had wanted to marry the Muggleborn Miss Lily Evans, no objections were made from the side of the family.

That was all before that fateful Halloween. Of course, the elimination of a whole family at once, such a powerful and highly regarded wizarding family too, had made many waves through the magical world. As such, the name of Harry Potter had become famous.

As an orphan, Harry had been entrusted to the care of his godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius Black was a colourful gentleman, and much could be said about him. Unfortunately, as much as that man had loved his godson, he had become obsessed with finding the ones responsible for the deaths of the Potters. In the meantime Harry had practically been raised only by Dobby, the House-Elf.

Solitary years passed, before he was admitted to Hogwarts, as any magical child of a respectable wizarding family. There he met his best friend to date Ronald Weasley, and through him the whole Weasley family who had come to love him as one of their own.

As a growing boy, Harry came to understand why his guardian was away so much, and he learned to accept the same goals for his own life. When he lost his beloved godfather at the age of sixteen, he had been devastated, he had vowed that he would finish the search for his parents’ murderers, as well as investigate the mysterious circumstances in which his godfather had died.

He had spent a year at the Dursley’s trying to recover from his godfather’s death. They had been the only living family at his mother’s side, Muggles. Awful as they were, they taught Harry a valuable lesson before he turned of age: Muggleborns should be treated with more respect, since they got to deal with prejudices from both sides.

After his graduation he was invited to stay with the Weasleys, but he had not imposed long on them, for two reasons.

The first was simple politeness. The family already had numerous members to house in the Burrow, and Potter wanted to move into the Godric’s Hollow as soon as possible. The second reason was more of a complicated reason. Cho Chang had been staying there too.

She had lost her parents as well, but in an awful splinching accident, and since her family had been friends with the Weasleys, they had taken her in to avoid Cho getting sent back to Japan. The reason why Mr. Potter hadn’t wanted to stay in the same house as her at that moment in time was complicated.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy her company, quite the contrary… She had been his Hogwarts’ crush. But she had been engaged to be married to another man. And what was worse was that that other man was his partner in the Auror training he had started his two last years at Hogwarts. Cedric Diggory.

Not a year out of Hogwarts, tragedy struck Harry Potter again. He had managed to put aside his lingering feelings for the foreign beauty Cho Chang, as well as the slight jealousy he had felt for his partner. He had become quite close to them both, also considering them as family.

But fate had never really smiled upon Potter, and Cedric had been stabbed in the back at night. Guilt had overwhelmed Harry. He should’ve been there too, that evening, but he’d received a lead on his family’s murder case, and Cedric had assured him he would do fine alone… The murderer had been quickly identified and put away by Harry himself.

From there on, his life had taken an unsuspected turn. A month after Cedric’s death, Cho had come to visit him. She was with child… Hysterical about the scandal it would arise, Cho had pleaded for help. Harry’s honour had guided him to make a proposal he would regret to some extent later.

He had proposed to marry her, and raise Cedric’s child as his own, so the child wouldn’t grow up to be called a bastard. Cho had accepted and the hurried formalities so close after the death of her fiancé had raised more than one eyebrow in the wizarding community.

But to the outside world, it was clear when the announcements of their marriage and the pregnancy followed so closely after each other, that it wasn’t just a question of Harry Potter finally getting the girls of his Hogwarts’ dreams.

Privately, though, in those few months of marriage during Cho’s pregnancy, they had manage to find a delicate new balance for their friendship. They hadn’t discussed the future too much, since they were both still mourning respectively their friend and fiancé.

Cho may not have been the love of his life, but what happened next hurt Harry Potter deeply.

During the childbirth many complications arose. The painful consequences were that at the age of nineteen, Harry Potter found himself in tears cradling the dead born heir of his deceased friend, over the unconscious body of his wife.

Harry Potter had used every resource available to cure his wife from her ailment, but she remained unconscious. He felt as if death surrounded him sometimes. Recently, more then ever… He was slipping into a life without hope, and the only thing keeping him going was his revenge that still needed satisfaction.

Now, two years later, the need for an heir rose. His job was still dangerous, and he wanted to live for someone. He needed to be needed, to be given hope. But he refused to dishonour his wife by having a ‘public-secret’-affair with some witch and conceive an illegitimate child. Besides, he wanted to be a real father to his child, not having to pretend it wasn’t really his while paying for his education.

And he absolutely refused to give up on Cho by letting her go. Besides the damage it would cause to his reputation when he’d let her die, and that of his friends by association, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he consciously caused Cho’s death.

Harry Potter still talked to his wife. He had made the choice of believing she could hear him, and discussed everything important in his life with her, hoping against hope she would one day respond.

He had formed a plan, a plan he had informed his wife of, and a plan to get his heir to raise and love without having his reputation tarnished…

***

Please review?

4. Chapter 3

AN: I want to thank all the reviewers for their wonderful feedback, it’s really appreciated. But don’t think too badly about Harry. He doesn’t really ‘abuse’ of Hermione. They don’t even really know each other! She will get a small fortune for what she’s about to do, and he isn’t that proud of how he’s achieving a dream of his… It shows in the way he really wants Hermione to understand why he’s doing this… He’s a very noble and righteous man, who wants an heir to love, and love him… That’s all. As for Hermione, she could’ve married to come to the money needed, but she chose this fate, as much as Harry presented an opportunity for her not to lose her relative freedom and get the money she needed… But it will all be clearer with time…

Just a few answers to the questions:

Slytherin_Angel, thanks for warning me about the error in Cedric’s name!

Austenlover, magic is keeping her alive! Magical Healing has always been much more advanced than the Muggle science!

krazyriceball718, I didn’t think it was that important as long as she had to return to an Asian country, but I’m aware it could be important to others, so I apologise if anyone’s offended…

AliaWest, I only meant to have Harry as a known person in the London circles, because Harry wouldn’t be Harry, if he didn’t have to deal with unwanted ‘fame’. Also, I’m only using it as a London-society-gossip kind of fame. It’s only at the ‘pureblood’ (including halfbloods of good reputation) society parties that he gets bothered by witches… Maybe I should’ve been more specific about that, but I was saving it for later… His family being wiped out, and the infant surviving that poison, it would make the whole ‘pureblood’ community go in shock. Sirius being a ‘colourful’ fellow, and mysteriously die… It just all adds to the mystery surrounding Harry Potter, and bored people who have nothing more to do than organise parties and inventing stories will milk the mystery to its juiciest… As for the Harry-Cho-thing. Harry is two things: loyal and noble. Translate these two characteristics to the 19th century and you have those two qualities with great amount. Harry made a promise to Cho to save her from scandal and to care for her in sickness and in health. He has his own reputation of nobility, and his friends’ reputation, especially the ones he considers family, are also dependant on the association. He won’t put his friends in a situation where they’d have to put their friendship before their reputation (or betray the friendship in favour of their reputation…)

Forest, no I do mean a little pension, like a kind of hotel/B&B thingie… You know, a house with rooms to rent out and a little restaurant… A place where mistresses can stay for the time their married lovers are in town… Or, more traditional, for travellers to spend the night…

***

Chapter 3

Harry watched the beauty in front of him. She could easily be mistaken as plain with just brown eyes, and brown hair tied in a severe knot. She wasn’t at all like the exotic beauty Cho was, or the blindingly attractive Fleur, or rather Mrs. William Weasley; she didn’t even have the fresh prettiness Miss Virginia Weasley seemed to posses…

But she radiated something else. Something that had him intrigued. Her gaze spoke of rare wisdom. Her posture was dignified, even in this situation. Though she seemed calm and utterly composed, there was a little spark of defiance in her eyes. Something that promised never to be beaten down. This was a woman who did not want to lose her independence, she would not surrender…

Again, Harry thought about the injustice in treatment of the Muggelborns. Pureblood witches in the wizarding world were much more respected then in the Muggle one. They could even become Minister of Magic if they had the competence and the drive to accomplish that… This witch was discriminated against in the Muggle world because she was a woman, and in the wizarding one because she was Muggleborn.

But in all fairness, he had to admit he was abusing that injustice for his own goals… When he first thought about this charade, he had thought he’d feel disdain for the woman who, for all intense and purposes, would sell her own child for money. Despite the fact that he sympathised with Muggleborns’ position in life. But it wasn’t the case. Despite the circumstances he couldn’t help admiring her.

Harry shook his head to clear away his wandering thoughts. This was a business transaction, he shouldn’t think about this woman too hard. They would meet but they could never be intimate in the real sense of the word. It wouldn’t do to attach himself to her, no matter her beauty and brilliance.

Shaking himself he concentrated on her female curves, and allowed him to think only about what was to happen the next moments. Avoiding her eyes, he started divesting himself, while she laid herself stiffly on the bed. In a matter of moments he crawled under the covers, next to her.

He knew what he really wanted to do with her, but he pushed the desire-driven thoughts out of his mind. This was business, nothing else. This wasn’t for his pleasure, nor for hers. This was simply to create life. Rolling on top of her, he ignored her facing away from him.

He carefully, but firmly pushed her legs more apart, before settling between them. It wasn’t that hard to get aroused at the feel of the swell of her breasts pressed against him, even with the cloth between. Using one hand to guide himself, when the other carried a part of his weight, as not to crush her completely, he was making his way inside her.

She was so tight and at her wince, guilt crashed upon him. How ever much he didn’t want this to be pleasurable for him, since this was only part of a bargain to create a child, he couldn’t help the delicious feelings overwhelming him. He felt guilty for enjoying this, while this woman was in pain, this woman who wasn’t even his wife; while his wife was miles away, unconscious in a bed at his house, unable to do anything about the betrayal her husband was committing…

Harry continued to thrust softly, not wanting to cause any more pain then necessary, and tried to get himself to lose his seed as quickly as possible. When he felt her passage getting a little slicker, he allowed himself to speed up and with a groan against her neck, he came.

Catching his breath, he rolled off her. Half expecting her to bolt away, he was relieved and nervous to notice she just rolled on her side, facing away from him. When she didn’t say anything, and for all he knew, she was sleeping, he continued to stare at the ceiling willing himself to fall asleep as well.

He pushed away his conflicting emotions, and it wasn’t long after that he succeeded in drifting away to the land of dreams.

*

Hermione was staring at the wall in the room seemingly fascinated with the moving figures the firelight was creating. She tried to reason with herself that she should consider herself lucky. The man wasn’t ugly, nor old. And though it had hurt, she felt like he could’ve made it much more painful if he had wanted her to suffer. Of course she felt violated, but somehow, it hadn’t been as bad as she had feared.

One tear slowly slid down her cheek. Only two more nights, and then nine months…

No, better not think too much about that. It would only weaken her, and she had given her word about this deal, she would not back down…

Little sleep came to her that night, but she must have dozed off at the end of the night since she’d missed the departure of the man early in the morning…

Preparing herself quickly before breakfast, Hermione started wondering about the identity of the man. He was obviously a very wealthy wizard, he looked to be older than her, but that didn’t have to mean anything. He was quite handsome, and very serious looking. It was strange in a way. If she didn’t know this sordid secret about him, the situation she had with him now, she would’ve thought of him as a very respectable young gentleman.

Catching herself, she tried to push her curiosity aside. It would probably just complicate things if she knew who he was.

Descending the stairs, she felt a twinge in her lower abdomen. She hoped the dull pain would go away before this night. Sitting gingerly in her chair, she started breakfast, noticing the old man she had thought the day before could be her man. Now he was assisted by a giggling young beauty, and Hermione didn’t have the energy to feel disapproving.

After a while the couple made its way to the exit of the pension, laughing all the while, and Hermione almost jumped out of her skin, when her man suddenly appeared beside her. Glancing around quickly to make sure nobody was there, she focused on him. He wasn’t looking in her direction, and he didn’t join her at the table. All to make sure no one would guess he knew her, should anyone come upon them…

“You must think me no better than that man?”

Hermione looked away from him. Were they back to that topic? Why was he so concerned about what she thought of him? Why was he worried she would think of him as a cheating husband? This was a bargain, and it didn’t matter if she thought him the lowest of low… After a short pause, she answered:

“I do not have any judgement about the matter…”

She could not sort out herself what it was she felt about his standing in this unusual situation, she had enough with dealing with her own feelings… So if she didn’t know for sure what her thoughts were on the matter, how could she make him understand? And why would she have to reassure his conscious?

After a prolonged silence, during which they still didn’t look at one another, the man strode away, and she didn’t see him until the evening…

***

Please, review?

5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hermione had filled her day with studying her favourite Transfiguration book. She had always been fascinated with Animagus transformation. She knew there weren’t that much of witches or wizards capable of the transformation, and even those who did try had encountered some dangerous accidents.

In fact, she’d read in the Daily Prophet that the Ministry of Magic was trying to pass a law to restrict the training for becoming an Animagus. And there was talk about having to register your ability… But for now, it was still a discussion point at the Ministry.

She had memorised the book during her years at the magical school. The adventurous part of her wanted to try the theories as soon as she’d graduated. But then she got that job with the Bojard family, and she’d barely had time to get her Apparition techniques down.

Now, though, she had all the time of the world, and the old familiar tome comforted her, in a way. It kept her mind from wandering and wondering where her man was at this moment, and what he was thinking.

It hit her today, that as much as he seemed to worry about her judgement of him, she worried about his of her, too… Did he think of her as a mistress out for money alone, out for pleasure perhaps? The more she mulled the question over in her mind, the more she became convinced of her conclusion:

Neither of them two were here for their pleasure. They both were in this situation out of a sense of duty… more or less. So if neither was in it for the fulfilment of sinful desire, they must not be doing anything really wrong?

Though she was aware of her distorted vision that created this version of the truth, it was like a safety net. They both were ashamed about the disrespectful thing they were doing, but the results of their bargain would make everyone happy… Well, maybe not her, per se… but she would save her father, and even though she was going to lose a child of hers, she’d know it would at least be taken well care of, if the amount the man was paying was anything to go by…

Besides, the child wouldn’t really be hers… it was decided before it was created that it wouldn’t be. She was just carrying it for someone who wanted a child, but couldn’t have one… And really, if the man’s wife couldn’t have any children, than maybe it had been her idea to do this?

That would explain why the man was so nervous about the bargain… He didn’t really want this situation to exist, but his wife couldn’t bear his heir. And they both wanted a child… If he wanted to raise this child, she would help create, as their own, his wife had to know about this.

Hermione couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this earlier. It made perfect sense! And that would mean the child she was going to bring into this world was going to end up in a loving home. The home of a pureblood family, a well-off family. The child would have all the possibilities it could want for… Everything she couldn’t give…

This lightened her heart considerately. She was contributing to a family’s happiness. And no matter how much it might be disapproved by the outside world, she would meet her end of the bargain.

With this newfound feeling on her situation, she went up the stairs after a quick supper. He was there, again leaning in front of the fire. Hermione closed the door behind her and locked it magically, as well as putting the silencing spell in place. If he was surprised that she took charge of this, he didn’t show it…

The room was dark, except for the firelight. It struck her now, what he meant the other night. The firelight was giving an almost out of this world glow to the room. It felt like they were temporarily out of reality, between light and dark…

The man didn’t look up yet in her direction, but started taking out his vest. Hermione quickly followed by working on the numerous buttons and knots of her clothes. Hesitating just a moment, she glanced at him once she had taken off her corset. He was only wearing trousers and was still facing the fire.

He really did make for a beautiful scene. He was lean and muscular, but not bulky. Shadows caused by the dancing firelight shifted over his handsome face and upper body. Without analysing her actions too much, she quickly slipped out of her undergarments and under the sheets. He hadn’t seen, but she was still watching him when his hands went to the front of his trousers.

From her position, she couldn’t really see anything but his bare back. The firelight in front of him made it difficult for her to see anything in detail. When he stepped out of his trousers, she couldn’t help but continue staring at him. The firelight was dancing around he contours of his body and she was breathless by the unexpected beauty it presented.

When he turned however, her modesty won out again, and she looked away, sensing him nearing the bed.

*

Harry had been trying but failing all day to get Miss Granger out of his thoughts. He tried to chalk his preoccupation with her up to the fact that it had been a while since he had enjoyed the company of a woman, well ever since his wedding night with Cho, now more then two years ago… But that still didn’t give him the right to be counting the hours before he could feel this witch’s body again.

He had trouble finishing his business at Paris, losing his concentration every so often, anxious to get back to the little Muggle pension at the shore. The business at Paris was but an alibi to place him out of Great-Britain. Today he had to visit the French Ministry, the Department of Law Enforcement to drop of some files about dark wizardry, and follow up on yet another lead he had been given about his family’s murderers…

Sighing to himself he remembered the too many bogus leads he’d followed up on. But he never would ignore any hint, and so he had found himself more than once in situations that bordered on ridiculous…

This time, though, he really didn’t know what to think about the situation. The lead had involved the Lestranges. A rather well-respected family here in France, but it was whispered they had a dodgy past back in Great Britain… Harry Potter had decided to look into it further, but had yet to find something in the theory that would make him believe the lead was actually leading somewhere…

Harry Potter heard Miss Granger come into the room, and was about to turn and secure the spells to insure privacy, when he heard her take care of those… A bit impressed, he decided not to turn around, and to start stripping. From the rustling noise behind him, he could guess she was following his lead.

He fought the urge to watch her strip. He knew he would enjoy seeing her uncover the multitude of layers that she was wearing, but he also thought it would make her uncomfortable. He didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward then it had to be…

When he heard her slip into the bed, he took of his last remaining piece of clothing, and turned around, approaching the bed. He allowed his gaze to wander over her. Starting at the bulge her feet made under the sheets, he travelled upwards, watching the curves that were barely hidden.

Flicking his eyes over her bare shoulders, he watched her face, and wasn’t that surprised to see her look away. Suddenly it registered that her shoulders had been completely bare: no strap in sight. His body reacted accordingly, and he quickly made his way under the sheets beside her.

Reaching up, he tried but failed to repress the urge cup her cheek. She was startled enough to look back at him. In the light from the fire, everything seemed so different, Harry mused. Her eyes were the softest and the hardest he’d ever seen. Such a paradox of a woman. Forgetting his place, he brought her to sit upright. Not minding the way she held the sheets tightly to cover her chest, he reached back and untied her hair from the severe bun she insisted on wearing, as was Muggle custom…

Her hair cascaded down in a wild mess of frizzy curls. She seemed quite self-conscious, the way she was patting her long wild hair. But the firelight was playing in it with delight, much to Harry’s admiration…

Pushing gently on one of her shoulders he made her lie down again…

***

Please, review?

6. Chapter 5

AN: all reviewers who want the two primary characters in this story to talk about their feelings: I suggest you check out the primary genre of this fic, and then the year in which this story is happening, and then think…

All the ones who’ve seen the movie… well, you already can guess what the ‘Angst’ stands for…

***

Chapter 5

Hermione didn’t know what to think. Furiously fluttering butterflies in her stomach were wrecking her nervous system, and she was drowning in his green gaze… His eyes really were that much prettier without the glasses…

Her hair was tickling her back and shoulders, and she didn’t really know what to think about the change in reality. She didn’t really think at all…

Lying back against the pillows, she watched how he rolled on top of her. The skin against skin contact took her by surprise. It felt strangely more intimate and the way their gazes stayed locked together was making her forget the impersonal nature of this meeting…

Her legs had parted of their own accord, and the man guided himself inside her. A slight twitched of pain made Hermione close her eyes tightly, but it was gone almost immediately. Opening her eyes, she felt the man’s breath just under her ear shell, making her shiver with the feelings that caused.

She barely registered her disappointment of losing the eye contact, when he started to redraw slowly. No real discomfort was felt, and she relaxed completely. Feeling the skin of his chest caressing hers through his movements was strangely pleasant, and it caused a strange prickling in her breasts, she didn’t know could be experienced.

It still felt strange to have someone inside her like that, but the feeling of violation was forgotten for now. Hermione was looking at the ceiling watching the firelight play with the shadows, while the man was moving above her in a careful pace.

Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she could barely stop the gasp that escaped her lips. Biting her lower lip she wondered about the strange feelings that were invading her body. Every time the man pushed back in there was this strange kind of… need… that was awakened. She couldn’t help but gasp with every thrust of his, despite almost tearing her own lower lip with her teeth.

Her head snapped to the side, away from him, and she tried to keep her breathing normal. It was scary, and at the same time exhilarating, but she still was unsure about what it was she was feeling and if this was how she was supposed to feel. She felt a certain want, but she didn’t know what to do about that feeling, so she just laid there, trying to control her body’s responses…

The feeling only rose when the man quickened his pace, and she started panting slightly, snapping her head back. She barely noticed she was pressing her face in the man’s hair. Still feeling a bit scared, she was surprised at her own disappointment when she felt him shoot his seed within her.

She was still blinking at the ceiling, when the man carefully pulled away from her and rolled on his back next to her.

A feeling of loss crushed her when she felt the warmth of his body leave her. Trying to make sense of what just happened, she felt her heartbeat return to a slower pace but a strange need was still burning softly at the place where they had been joined.

After a while of confusing thoughts, she turned to her side carefully and watched the black-haired man sleep. He looked so handsome, and so much younger in this careless state, that she was mesmerised about him. Reaching out, she touched his bare chest carefully, feeling strangely excited about touching him so.

Tracing the pattern of the shadow that was dancing on his smooth skin, she lost herself without thought. Coming back to her senses, she snapped her hand away from him as if she got burned…

Tears clouded her vision when she understood her position fully… turning on her side, she whispered:

“I don’t want to know… I don’t want to know your name…”

She assumed he was asleep, and didn’t see his green eyes snap open.

*

Harry had been slightly tired after that last encounter, but he’d heard her breaking voice utter those whispers… It wasn’t supposed to be like that, he should stop this…

He should stop this before it was too late… But he couldn’t make himself leave the bed last night. Contradicting feelings overwhelmed him. This witch’s company was making him feel good, like a potion to his soul. He knew it couldn’t last, but he’d been dutiful and respectable his whole life. Was it that horrible of him to want just one more night with her? He knew the potions Madam Pomfrey had given her would ensure easier conception, and so there was a great chance she was pregnant already…

Walking along the beach, back to the little pension he was startled to see her standing there, looking towards the ocean. Strong wind was playing with her coat, and he found himself wishing she would let her hair loose from that blasted bun.

Deciding to go up to her, he carefully approached her. Once she had noticed him, she quickly looked around her, as if to make sure no one was there to see them together.

Answering her unasked question, he spoke first: “There’s no one around…”

She lifted her brow almost sarcastically, and just with her look she seemed to be mocking him a bit. He felt attracted by those eyes… Diverting his gaze quickly to the sea, there was still three feet of distance between them. Standing there, both looking at the sea, she spoke suddenly:

“Sometimes, I’d like to be able to just scream…”

As absurd as that sudden statement could’ve sounded, it somehow made perfect sense to Harry. The feeling of being restrained by life’s destiny… Wanting to break from fate’s bonds…

“Why don’t you then?”

Harry dared a challenging look towards her. She seemed so surprised by his dare, she actually let her guard down and smiled. It wasn’t a big one, actually, it was just a quick upturn of the corners of her mouth, no teeth to see, but it was a smile none the less.

Opening her mouth, she tried to meet the challenge. She ended up sounding like she was in the middle of a medical examination and the doctor had asked to say ‘Ah!’ so he could look down the patient’s throat. Obviously, she knew how ridiculous she was behaving, because she started chuckling.

Her laughter was contagious, and he felt his expression turn into a smile also. She looked at him, and he felt caught at being seen smiling. But in her own eyes the laughter sparkles had been lingering, and the brilliance of her happy gaze left him breathless for a moment.

Snapping his eyes back to the ocean, he spoke again: “It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

He heard her clear voice: “How was it supposed to be, then?”

It was her turn to challenge him, and he couldn’t say anything in return for a while. Concentrating his gaze on the horizon, he tried to ask what had been on his mind ever since he’d heard her gasp for the first time when she had laid under him the night before:

“Last night… when we…” he ventured a look at her, but she returned it so calmly and unwavering that he couldn’t hold her gaze, “When we… you…”

Interrupting him, she said boldly: “You were wondering if I liked it, weren’t you?”

A bit intimidated he managed to respond after a moment of hesitation: “Did you?”

“No,” her answer was swift and uttered in a no-nonsense tone, but before he could process what he felt about her blunt admission, she added, “But I could…”

Glancing at her in surprise, she met his eyes shyly. And again he was struck by her paradox-like character… After the boldness she expressed just moments before, her shy smile now made him that more intrigued…

***

Please, review?

7. Chapter 6

AN: sorry for the long delay, but I’ve been quite ill, and I wasn’t in the mood for writing… thanks for all the wonderful reviews, as for the chapter length… I made a choice for this fic to try and update more often… that’s only possible with shorter chapters… as my other stories mostly have quite long chapters, they take more time… It’s just a choice for this fic, it’s short chapters and quick updates, or longer chapters and notoriously long updates…

bluestocking: I was going to explain that one later, but since you’ve already picked up on it… To ‘cement’ a wizarding marriage there needs to be intercourse… But Cho was pregnant and still grieving Cedric at that time… So Harry respected her space after their wedding night, and the topic wasn’t going to be brought up until after she fully recovered from her childbirth… I hope that answers your question…

***

Chapter 6

For Hermione the rest of the day had flown by. After the conversation at the beach, she had tried in vain to suppress her giddiness when she thought about her man. She had been struck as by lightning when she had caught his smile.

He had given her a swift glimpse of another part of him. A carefree part, no worry wrinkles, but wrinkles caused by laughter… She even fancied having caught a twinkle in his eyes…

But the logical part of her debated that it could’ve easily been wishful thinking, since it all happened during mere seconds. And really, what was it with her obsession at having caught him seeming happy…

She also didn’t know how to feel about his comment. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be this way’ or something to that effect. Did he start to feel something more than just obligation towards someone else? Or was she again practising wishful thinking?

Did she want him to feel something for her? She didn’t want to be the cause of making a man’s heart betray his wife. She wasn’t like that. It was bad enough to be keeping him from his wife’s bed, but that had been for a good reason, a sort of greater good… Stealing the loyalty of a man’s heart, though…

Objectively Hermione knew she didn’t want to be like that. Her heart, though, as much as her conscious and her logic was battling against it, was harbouring a strange kind of hope.

Shaking herself free from the pesky thoughts, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom… Tonight would be the last night and she would have to forget about him afterwards… She knew she would never be able to really forget these past few days, but she was going to have to put it out of her mind if she wanted to function normally ever again.

Entering the room, she saw him in his usual place. Proceeding much like the previous night, she magically ensured the privacy charms and started stripping. Not paying attention, she was dropping her corset on a chair, when she brought her hands to her hair hesitantly.

That’s when she threw a glance at her man, while internally debating if she should loosen her hair out of the bun or not. Startled, though, she noticed the man had been and still was looking at her intensely, the burning green gaze causing her cheeks to flame. Caught up in the magical moment with the dancing shadows surrounding her, she carefully removed the pins from her hair, one by one, all the while staring in his eyes.

It was only when she shook her head to make her hair flow down her back that their gaze unlocked. Feeling strangely unashamed, to some extent, she finished undressing to her Eve’s costume, despite feeling his gaze on her. She didn’t dare look him in the eye though, and climbed into the bed as soon as she had dropped the last of her garments on the chair.

Sensing him shedding the last of his clothing also, she felt the mattress dip when he climbed in, too. She watched him positioning himself above her while holding the covers so they wouldn’t slide off. He didn’t see her breaking the habit of looking away, though, since he was staring at her body rather then at her face.

She felt herself flush under his watchful gaze, especially when she dared looking between the two of them at last. Her eyes widened briefly when she saw what had been fitting inside her the two previous nights… Was she glad she hadn’t conquered her modesty before now, since now she could reassure herself with the knowledge that it could fit without hurting… Had she seen him the first night, she would’ve been much more afraid!

Not getting the time to mull over her thoughts much, she saw him grasp between their bodies, and she diverted her gaze when she felt her insides being stretched again, while he invaded her. His body was again resting mostly on hers, and that skin contact was still a bit of a shock to her system. It took a little while of his careful thrusting, before she felt that foreign want forming inside her like the night before.

She tried to reign in her gasps by biting on her lower lip, but the more she fought the feeling and tried to relax through it, the more anticipation she started to feel. It seemed to last a lot longer than the previous nights, or maybe it was because of those torturous feelings coursing through her, but she really wanted something unknown to… finish…

And yet, when the man finished inside her, she realised she didn’t want to have it come to an end yet, and that was confusing her as much as it frustrated her.

Feeling the man roll from her, she could still feel him lying on his side beside her. His breath was making a few locks of her hair rise and fall, tickling her cheek. Turning her head towards him, their gaze looked again, and her heart was beating like mad.

In the firelight, she considered things seemed out of this world. Her actions would be forgotten in the morning, once the sun came up for another day. Taking his hand, she brought his fingertips to her mouth and kissed them, before guiding his hand to her chest.

Forgetting herself, she surrendered to the want inside her. His hand on her body felt so good, and though she wouldn’t have minded his fingers on her breasts, she felt another part of her burning intolerably… The green in his eyes appeared to be burning with something, which in turn stimulated her breathing to continue its rapid pace.

Breaking the gaze once she’d guided his hand below her navel, she closed her eyes in a strange kind of relief when his hand cupped the most private part of her body. Forgetting about shame, and honour, she let go of his hand in the hope that he’d know where to go from there.

*

Harry didn’t need any more incentive than her guiding him there to give her what she craved…

His fingers started moving, and by the way she started moaning softly, he guessed he was doing at least something right. Letting her little gasps and the swivelling of her head from one side to the other guide him, he continued to feel around the most desirable, but most intimidating part of a woman.

Gazing down upon her, bare for him to see, and offered to him to touch, he followed the shadows dancing over her skin to her breasts. He’d stopped fighting temptation the minute she’d guided his hand over her body, so he really didn’t see why he should deny himself a taste.

Bending his head he kissed one of her nipples. Her hand flew to his hair, and for a moment he thought she was going to push him away. Her fingers just fisted in his hair, though, and he allowed himself to redraw and tease her by blowing softly against her skin.

This had very interesting results on her. Her back arched towards his mouth, as if begging for more touches, while his busy hand got much more moist. Dragging his upper body closer, he reached for the other breast with his mouth, while soothing the teased one with his fingers.

The way she was losing control of her breathing and the trashing of her body made him hard again. But enjoying the way she was reacting to his touches, he chose to continue this way while denying himself for that moment.

All of the sudden she went rigid, and very quiet, as if holding her breath. Taking his mouth from her breast, he looked at her, half-concerned, but his hands couldn’t have stopped the rhythmic touch on her, even if he’d wanted to. Just as he looked at her face, her eyes flew open, and she started shaking.

Her brown eyes seemed to be directed in his direction, but the unfocused wet look she had made him wonder if she was really seeing him. Realising what was happening, he couldn’t restrain himself and he repositioned himself again, above her, and entered her with one swift stroke.

His eyes closed in silent bliss, when he felt her being much slicker then ever before. Starting a steady pace he grunted against her ear when he felt her nails digging in his shoulders. It was the first time she had really touched him back, and feeling her push him closer to her was making him forget everything but this instant.

When she started trembling again, in that special sort of way, he had to clutch the pillow beside her head and bite his lower lip to reign over the last shreds of his control. But he lost that control soon, and for the second time that night, he released inside her.

***

Please, review?

8. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks for all the incredibly nice reviews: sometimes it’s bordering on amusing when I read them. First of all, this has plot elements of the movie ‘Firelight’ with Sophie Marceau (the one who played the queen in ‘Braveheart’ and the evil woman in one of the James Bond movies, one of the greatest French actresses ever!), but I only have the French spoken copy at home, so exact quotes in English will probably be missing in this fic... Secondly, we’re not even halfway the story, so there’s lots of angst coming, and I never said there would be a sad ending! Though I won’t promise any happy endings either… you’ll just have to wait and see ;-p

***

Chapter 7

The night didn’t end with that second encounter. Exploring their newfound pleasure in each other, they joined together a third time that third night. There were still boundaries upon them, and it became quite clear when Hermione murmured something just before pleasure crashed through her system again.

“I wish,” she gasped, “I wish I’d be able to scream…”

The man didn’t respond to this, but they looked in each other’s eyes, knowing… She knew he understood that the silencing spells alone wouldn’t allow her to be able to let go vocally, just as she hadn’t been able to yell at the see before, even though nobody but him had been there to witness it…

The intense gaze that didn’t break between them while they were moving in a most primal fashion, also replaced another form of line not to be crossed: they never kissed…

And even though Hermione wanted to, so much, she would not take that from him, neither would she give that last part of hers to him…

And even as the pleasure was blurring their vision, they continued to gaze at each other, as for the last time, as it was bittersweet goodbye…

He left almost immediately that night, leaving her to forget.

She had risen very early that morning, taking great care in washing up and dressing. Though she couldn’t stand to be in the room were his smell lingered along with hers, she reigned in her emotions and illuminated all the candles she could find, while she let the fire in the hearth die out.

The cold that followed did her a strange kind of good, confirming her resolve not to succumb to the melancholy of the firelight…

She bundled up her few possessions and went aboard the ship that would bring her back to her Great-Britain. Gazing upon the retreating sight of the French shore, she was startled when the man suddenly appeared next to her on the deck.

Keeping her eyes on the land, she felt her heart skip a beat when he spoke:

“You remember the bargain? You will follow the arrangements?”

Hermione felt tears sting her eyes, and she told herself it was just the strong, cold wind. Controlling her voice but barely, she stated:

“I gave my word, I will keep my word…”

The man stood next to her for a few moments, keeping the usual respected distance between them, staring ahead fixedly. For those few moments, Hermione held her breath, her heart constricting with the realisation in the misty morning. They were strangers, never supposed to have met before, and destined never to meet again.

Only when he decided to leave her standing there, did she release the breath she’d been holding, and with it came the sobs she tried to conceal as best as she could.

After debarking from the ferry, she contacted Madam Pomfrey. Over the next weeks the magical nurse quickly determined that she was indeed with child, as if it could have been any different what with the potions and the amount of seed planted inside her.

Hermione felt extremely conflicted about being pregnant. Aside from the fear of the unknown development of her body, she also had to deal with the fact that this wouldn’t be her child.

She also felt a slight disappointment mixed with relief when she heard of her condition… Because this cemented the fact that she wouldn’t see the man that fathered the life growing inside her ever again. Disappointment because of a reason she didn’t want to analyse, nor explore, and relief because she didn’t think she would be able to hold on to herself if she were to experience another night like her last night in France…

Weeks followed themselves in a monotone. For now, she could still wander outside, but in a few months, she would be confined inside, as not to raise suspicion about her condition.

She was staying in a Muggle pension just outside of London. She received a weekly amount of money via Madam Pomfrey, just enough to live comfortably, but not enough to save up as a means to escape…

Hermione had entertained that path a few times. Periods in between her morning illness, she was suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety of losing the child growing inside her. Vague fleeting plans formed inside her mind on how she would be able to survive alone with a child, all the while hiding from its father…

But she had given her word, and she wasn’t going to lose the last piece of her dignity by breaking it. Besides, she would not be able to provide for her child, and she kept the fantasy alive of the loving, rich, pureblood family her child would grow up in. She clung to that belief, and she steeled her heart.

The little bit of money she had been able to economise, went straight to the prison her father was held in. She bribed the guards to make sure her father survived while waiting for the money to pay of his debts.

The months crept by, and once Hermione started showing and was confined inside, Madam Pomfrey provided her with books and texts of all sorts of magical topics. Hermione clung to her studies, learning and cramming information as a means to keep any overwhelming emotions at bay.

Buying potion ingredients on credit, she accomplished an impressive amount of storage. When Madam Pomfrey recognised her skills, she even helped Hermione to sell some of her quality potions, which gave Hermione a temporary income to pay back her debts for the ingredients and a task to concentrate on.

Too soon, the pain started.

After an excruciating seven hours, Hermione heard the first cry of her child.

Through the hazes of her mind, she could hear the Madam Pomfrey whispering to the other nurses.

“It’s a girl!”

“Is she normal?”

“Get her out of here…”

Hermione didn’t even try to look at the child, and didn’t protest when they carried the screaming little bundle away. Tears streamed from her eyes unchecked, and she barely remembered much about what happened after.

The only thing she knew was that she had never felt so empty as in that moment…

***

Please, review?

9. Chapter 8

AN: I know it’s difficult, but you have to imagine the time this sets in. I know lots of you don’t get why you can put yourself into so much of emotional pain, but it really was impossible for Hermione to keep that child. Hermione from this period has a very specific mentality linked to that era. You know: all the Jane Austen books, and the angst based on a sense of honour? That’s how you have to see Hermione’s story here. She’s a woman in a unique position, and she doesn’t want to be submitted into marriage, she wants to stay independent. The situation she got herself in when she decided to help her dad, was an opportunity for her. An opportunity to harvest a lot of money without losing her independence, and her good reputation, since it was all done in secret…

Forest: I know the film got bad reviews. I, on the other hand, like the lack of dialogue, because it’s replaced with powerful glances and emotions displayed so clearly on Sophie Marceau’s face. She really is a brilliant actress, but it’s true the good stuff in the film is basically all her work. I didn’t think the man playing Goodwin (Harry, here) was that bad, since really, a gentleman is supposed to hide as many emotions as possible, and the rare puppy dog stares he displayed only made those moments more powerful. The scenes in the firelight are perfect, and again, Sophie Marceau is brilliant in her portraying of angsty character…

EmilyPotter & Hilary: nothing’s wrong with the baby, the nurses were just checking! Don’t worry too much!

October: I like to think I’m blending the characteristics of both worlds, while not betraying the soul of what makes the HP characters come alive. I’m trying to stay true to JK’s characters, but the actions of those fictional persons would be different during the 19th century, during different circumstances… So I’m using some elements of the movie’s characters to complete the picture of our favourite fictional persons acting during a different era…

Austenlover: The fact that it’s a girl is of no consequence. If you read the reasons Harry wants an heir carefully, you realise he doesn’t want an heir in the meaning of having someone to carry the Potter name after him, he couldn’t care less about that. He just wants someone of his on this planet, he wants someone to call his own family, someone to love and be loved in return (watched Moulin Rouge too many times)…

***

Chapter 8

It was the year 1846 when Harry Potter found himself guiding Neville Longbottom to a London party of so-called society wizards.

He himself detested this sort of gatherings, because it was guaranteed that at least one of the women present was going to make a pass at him. His marital status held no meaning to these kind of women, since they more often than not were married themselves…

If Mrs. Weasley knew the depth of the traitorous affairs going on during her beloved parties in the rented ballrooms of Diagon Alley, she would be mortified. Mrs. Weasley, a plump but dignified red-haired woman of class, was his best friend’s mother, mistress of the Burrow. She was like a surrogate mother if Harry needed one, and she certainly acted the part whenever he came through London.

It was for her, mostly, that he even bothered to attend these social gatherings. He had been called from his house in the country to lead an old Housemate from Hogwarts through the workings of the British Ministry of Magic.

Even though Harry Potter had jeopardised his position as Auror somewhat by ‘prying into businesses that weren’t his concern’, and he had been given leave for a few months to ‘cool down’, he had been called back to ‘help’ Neville Longbottom. Harry knew the Ministry had meant it to be an insult.

Neville Longbottom was one of the few wizards that followed the same migration Muggles had been doing for many years now, by travelling to the Americas and seeking his path through life there. Now he had been sent by the limited ‘civilised’ wizarding community there (the natives were considered wild) to observe the British magical government, and to rapport useful proceedings as to reform their own.

The British Ministry faked their pleasure at being considered a roll model but didn’t dare offend the attaché openly. Thinking they could humiliate Harry by shoving the ungraceful task upon him, they were gloating like the hypocrites they were.

Harry, though, didn’t mind at all. He was still furious about the reprimand he got from the corrupt ministry members. After all, he had been following up on yet another rare lead on his godfather’s death. He had just discovered a link between the Lestranges and the Malfoy family: their wives had been sisters, who coincidentally turned out to be related to Sirius.

It had been long since he had found any information about the Lestranges here in Great-Britain, and he had jumped on the possibility of inquiring after Narcissa Malfoy. After much insistence that he’d speak to her, however, he was accused of harassing a respected member of society and forced to take a leave from work…

Now when he was first called back, he did experience some fury at their self-righteous and innocently concerned expressions when they told him what was expected from him. But he refused to let them have the pleasure of even seeing him scowl. So acting honoured and pleasantly surprised, he welcomed his old school acquaintance and set to his task with enthusiasm.

The expressions of pure disappointment of the Ministry’s hypocrites and the easy company of Neville made it so that it wasn’t an act anymore. He genuinely found pleasure in talking with the American Brit and even invited him to his home in the country once they concluded their business here in London.

Of course with his stay in the city, he had promised Mrs. Weasley to come to one of the balls organized by her. She had ordered him to bring the mysterious ‘American’ with him, and though Harry loved her dearly, he knew the main reason he had to bring Neville was to have something ‘exciting’ happen at her gathering.

Sure enough, the minute he set foot in the music filled large room, Mrs. Weasley dragged her husband with her when she hurried towards the two men.

“Harry! My boy! Oh, you must do something about that hair of yours!”

Half amused, half wary she was going to try and flatten it like she used to do before he grew up, he smiled at the predictability of the woman’s greeting. He felt fortunate, though, that he had warned Neville beforehand of the woman’s… enthusiasm.

Ignoring her exaggerated, disapproving peering at his dark locks, he laid his hand on Neville’s shoulder: “Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, may I introduce to you… Neville Longbottom. Mr. Longbottom, these kind people are Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley…”

Neville bowed his head slightly: “Enchanted to meet you, Madam, Sir…”

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, and sporting a genuine smile he greeted the younger wizard accordingly. A polite conversation ensued on explaining the reasons of Neville’s visit from the Americas, and his past in Gryffindor with the Weasleys’ youngest son.

Speaking of which, had just arrived. Hurrying his wife with him he walked towards his parents and arriving there, he totally ignored them in favour of Harry and Neville. Clapping both of them hard on the back as a show of affectionate camaraderie, he started a conversation about Quidditch and how the good old baskets at Hogwarts had really been the most perfect sized goals ever.

This was a much debated topic everywhere around the country, and honestly Harry loved the game as much as the next wizard, but he couldn’t bring up the passion his best friend had for the obsession about the baskets’ width… (*AN* below)

Harry’s attention drifted and he saw Luna placating her mother-in-law who was steaming about the blunt behaviour of her son, and the lack of greeting to his parents. The evening wore on without much more incidents, they drifted apart and mingled with other guests…

Harry was approached by more then one woman who wanted to dance, and Neville was looked at, but not spoken to often. Harry answered all offers with ‘I don’t dance’, and discussed the hypocrisy with Neville about the curiosity of some of the guests, and the disdainfulness against the ‘traitor of his home country’ from others.

After several hours of watching Ron dance with the blushing Luna, and hearing him debate more Quidditch related business with anyone who would take the challenge, the original group joined for conversation. Talk turned to the Weasley grandchildren. Once there wasn’t anything to be told about Ron and Luna’s offspring, which took a while, Mrs. Weasley asked Harry how Lily had been lately.

Harry never liked speaking about Lily too much in front of strangers, but he considered that Neville would visit his house shortly anyway, so there was no harm about speaking freely.

“She’s doing quite well, Mrs. Weasley. She chased away her most recent governess again, though…”

“Again!” Mrs. Weasley sounded horrified, but she also knew that pushing Harry at being more strict with the girl was a sure way to make him furious, and she didn’t seem to want to spoil the mood. The thin line her lips formed, though, conveyed her sentiments on the matter, however.

Harry was relieved when she dropped the matter after that short outburst. The tension between the group started to get palpable, and Mr. Weasley, bless his soul, tried to change the course of topic.

“So, how is our Ginny doing?” after he uttered those words, though, he himself along with Harry and Ron visibly cringed. Luna had her indifferent air about her, though she, too, knew which box of Pandora had been opened. Neville really was oblivious, though.

Harry replied tightly: “She’s doing as well as can be expected. She’s been a tremendous source of help around the house…”

Neville, who had no idea on how things had evolved after his graduation from Hogwarts, asked innocently:

“Oh, has little Ginny Weasley become Mrs. Harry Potter? Congratulations, Harry! Why didn’t you tell me before she gave you a daughter? How old is she anyway?”

This was too much for Mrs. Weasley, who took off in a huff, demanding to go home, even though she was one of the hostesses of the party. Mr. Weasley tilted his head apologetically to the party of friends and family and took off after his wife.

A bewildered Neville stared and asked: “Is it something I said?”

Ron barked a laugh at that and clapped the confused wizard hard on the back: “You really put your foot in it, old mate!”

***

Please, review?

*AN*: if you have no idea what I’m talking about, you should purchase ‘Quidditch through the Ages’, the profits of these sails go directly to good causes…

They used to play Quidditch with baskets instead of loops, for the Quaffle to be thrown at, but because here wasn’t any possibility of regulating baskets’ diameter, there were a great variation of goal sizes. There was always much debate on what the perfect basket would be, and teams across the country debated and quarrelled about the size. At last, the Ministry decided to switch to loops with a certain width… to great aggravation of some of the hard-core Quidditch fans…

10. Chapter 9

AN: Hey, guys! Don’t worry so much! Mrs. Weasley was mostly just overreacting. The Ginny situation is explained in this chapter, and it may sound contradictory to the era, since an unmarried girl shouldn’t just move in with a single man. But first of all, Harry is still very much married, at least in his eyes, though the world sees him more like a widower… And secondly: it’s the wizarding world! They aren’t that uptight about a woman making career on her own as the Muggle world during those times…

***

Chapter 9

Hermione sat in front of the fire letting the glow warm her skin.

It had become a ritual of hers, over the years. Every night, if she wasn’t too tired, she reserved a little bit of time just like this. Sitting in her bedroom with only the firelight illuminating the room, she allowed herself to remember…

Occasionally she wrote in her diary, of sorts, she started the day of her daughter’s first birthday. She wrote to her daughter about everything: how she missed her, how she imagined her growing up. Her hopes that she felt loved, wherever she was, and the hopes of one day being able to see her and take her in her arms at last…

Over the years the journal had become substantial, more then six years of writings now.

The first year after she had given birth to her daughter had been hell. She had taken the money to get her father out of prison, but had always felt guilty about the gold she had accepted. There had been so much, that there had been a substantial amount left she could use for her own purposes.

That year, she hadn’t been able to find the strength to go back to being a governess, which meant working with children… She had often wished she could be stronger then that, but she had wallowed for several months in self-pity, living away on the dirty money she had left.

A tragedy had threatened to make her lose her grip on reality entirely. Five months after his release from prison, her father had gotten involved in a fatal fight at a seedy bar somewhere in the questionable parts of London. For a month she had mourned her father by hating him. Having gone to sell a part of herself to get him out of prison, he had rendered all her painful efforts meaningless by getting himself killed.

Slowly, she got back on her feet, though. A wake-up call in the form of a visit from her old Headmistress had shaken her back to reality. The woman believed her depression stemmed from not being able to find work, and having to deal with her father’s death. Hermione, however, did nothing to rectify that belief.

Realising she still had her health, and her skills, and her good reputation, she got back up from her melancholy and went to work as a governess again. At first she had been wary, but when her Headmistress had told her the family had three boys between the age of seven and ten, she had been able to relax more.

It was with that second family that she had started the habit of lingering a few minutes in front of the firelight before climbing into bed. The experience had made her stronger in some sense, but the longing to see her daughter kept being a weakness she had to fight daily, in order to keep from falling apart.

This was her last night here with the fourth family she had been governess at. It was never getting any easier to say goodbye to the children she taught daily, but she had become used to the goodbyes in her life.

The only constant she had was herself, and her learning of magical theories. Long since an Animagus in the form of a longhaired brown furball of a cat, she had expanded her horizon and even developed a few of her own spells. Even her potions were getting better every day. Were she not a Muggleborn, she could have opened a magical Apothecary. As it was now, she was able to sell her potions for a minimum profit to Apothecaries selling it as their own.

Driven by an inexplicable need, she saved as much as possible. Her books and most of her clothes were second-handed, but even then it was obvious that the salary of a governess, who was mainly compensated by living under the family’s roof, was so limited that it would take a lifetime before she could have enough to stand on her own.

There was another twisted reason she wanted to save her money: it gave her the vague illusion that she would one day be able to pay the right to have her daughter back.

*

After Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had left the party, Harry quickly made his goodbye to Ron and Luna, and left with Neville in tow. Neville had been tactful enough not to pry, but Harry had decided to explain the situation anyway.

Giving few details he recounted a story about how he and Cho Chang had married after Cedric had been murdered. How complications during childbirth had rendered her unconscious for the last decade almost, and how he had been blessed with Lily, his adopted daughter he considered as his own.

Leaving the explanations that few, Harry mused on the truth of the matter, the whole truth.

Harry had never elaborated on how he had come to adopt the little girl as a baby, which only increased the mystery surrounding his persona. Many rumours had been flying around, but Harry didn’t care. He loved his daughter who was his own, very much, and more times then he could count, she had been the only thing getting him going.

Ron Weasley was the only one, besides the unconscious Cho, who knew Lily’s real parentage. The rest of the Weasleys had accepted Harry wouldn’t tell them where he had found the little Miss Lily and knowing Harry loved her was enough for them.

Harry shook his wandering thoughts back in order, and during the ride out of London the morning following the party, he explained shortly why mentioning the name of her only daughter in front of Mrs. Weasley, could be a bad idea at times.

Though Ginevra Weasley still was on semi-good terms with her mother, there was one thing in her life that Mrs. Weasley could not accept. And that was the fact that she had remained unmarried and had moved in with Harry when her mother had been out to pressure her into marriage.

Now, Harry knew Mrs. Weasley had to know deep down in her heart that the rumours were just that: rumours… But ever since Ginny moved in with him, speculations had been made about the two of them. Now Harry saw Ginny as a little sister, and he was sure she saw him as a brother also, and he was still married for Merlin’s sake! He would never put her reputation on the line like that!

He had tried to make Ginny see reason, but he cared for her and when she pleaded to let her stay, he had given his word he wouldn’t pressure her into marriage with anyone to get rid of her.

And it wasn’t like she was an inconvenience, really… She had loved Cho as a sister, and with her nursing training, she was of a lot of help in caring for his wife. And even though there were House-Elves keeping his house in order, she had a keener eye on what had to be done than him.

She did have her own life though: she volunteered her services to the Muggle poorhouses, and she worked as a nurse in a magical facility who healed the disastrous results of duelling and Quidditch. As such she couldn’t take care of Lily as well…

That’s why there was a need for a governess to teach Lily how to read and such. If her little outbursts of accidental magic were anything to go by, she would be allowed to Hogwarts in a few years, carrying the Potter name.

Most governesses were far too strict, though, and he had sacked quite a few of them. The others, Lily had taken care of by making it so difficult on them to teach her anything, that they’d packed and left without turning back. But Harry couldn’t blame his daughter, and he wouldn’t deny her the carefree childhood, before she would be acquainted with the harsh reality of the world they were living in.

He wanted her to know she was loved by him, and he basked in her unconditional love in return. She was the source of his happiness really, saving his mental sanity from despair more then once. Ginny used to try and discipline her occasionally, but Lily fought valiantly against the woman’s affections claiming she wasn’t her mother. Harry was just selfish for Lily’s adoration when she turned to him, and he never did give Ginny the right to meddle in Lily’s education, so the red-haired woman had given up long before now.

Engaged in mindless chatter about the Ministry, Neville and his host finally came upon Harry’s house. Mansion would be more accurate…

***

Please, review?

11. Chapter 10

AN: nothing’s pre-written, everything gets posted as soon as it’s written… Which is why the updating rate is highly dependant of my lack of inspiration, or other things happening in my life in the mean time…

Chapter 10

Hermione stepped out of the carriage looking at her new place of work through the fog. She was feeling slightly nervous and excited.

Just last night, the family she had left had asked about her new position. Since it had again been her old Headmistress who had arranged for the position at the new family, Hermione only knew what the witch had told her. The Potters had only one child, who had already gone through five governesses in one year.

Now Hermione liked a challenge, and she had pride too, so she had become to want to prove to be the one to stick.

When she had mentioned the Potter family name, though, her previous family had been able to inform her of gossip. Hermione wasn’t one for such unreliable facts, but it would’ve been rude to leave the table last night even if she wouldn’t be there anymore in the morning. After all, the Browns had always been quite nice to her, and they had arranged the small feast as a farewell present…

All the Brown relatives had been present yesterday evening, as well as some acquaintances who had come to know Hermione over the years she had worked there. They weren’t all as friendly to her joining the family table because of her ancestry, but most of them were beyond care of propriety or etiquette, so she had always been treated quite normally, despite her being Muggleborn…

What Hermione had understood as being more or less true, was that Mr. Potter was the only living member of his family, and that his wife was not a very sociable woman. According to the rumour mill, no one in London had seen the wife for years. It was a fact that the rest of the Potter family had died when the currently alive Harry Potter had been only a few years old.

Hermione didn’t believe the tales on how the whole Potter family had been attacked by dragons, or Thestrals and had all been killed in one evening, except for the little toddler Harry. Nor did she believe it was dangerous for her to work there in case there was some curse on the family that was still very much active…

Many theories were offered for the lack of Mrs. Potter’s presence in London society, too… The Browns had been arguing all night about which accident had disfigured the beautiful witch where, and how she was hiding in shame… Or maybe she had been caught by the Potter curse and was now doomed to stay locked in at that mansion… They seemed to have had a great time inventing horrible things to have possibly befallen their subject of conversation.

The existence of the child had been less thoroughly discussed. Apparently, despite of the name Harry Potter being quite known in the wizarding society for some reason, there was little known about his heir. There wasn’t even consensus over the child’s gender… And a few of the Browns hadn’t even known about it’s existence. Therefore the discussion was rapidly closed due to not being interesting enough.

Hermione, however had been trying to squash a burning feeling inside her for so long, it was threatening to surface, now that she was so nervous.

She had always been nervous travelling to a new family. This time, though, was different. Even though she didn’t know for certain it would be a girl she would be teaching, the child was seven. She had taught a lot of seven year olds in her short life now, but this was the first time it would coincide with the age of her own child. Her daughter…

It was difficult to keep her feelings so well hidden as she always did now that she was standing in front of the mansion in the icy weather. Anticipation and unsuccessfully squashed hope soared through her heart. Walking up to the door she let her presence be known, trying to ignore the slight tremor in her hand.

Hermione didn’t get the time to collect any more thoughts about anything, since the door opened almost immediately. A little green creature with floppy ears was peering at her from his lower position due to him being very short and bowing to her. Hermione had limited experience with House Elves, she had only once met one who had travelled with a guest wizard to one of the families she had taught at.

She had seen how badly the wizard had treated the creature, but had equally remembered the insults thrown at her by the green little bugger when she had tried to talk to the little thing, asking why it thought he had to stay enslaved. So she swallowed the remark of not needing him to bow to her… for now… she wanted to make a good first impression, at least…

This House Elf, though, seemed enthusiastic, if nothing else.

“Miss Granger, Dobby presumes! Miss Granger wants to come in, yes?”

Following Dobby’s lead, Hermione followed the little creature inside the hall. The House Elf called Dobby took her to a room and asked her to sit on one of the chairs against the wall. Once she was seated, he just disappeared with a ‘pop’.

Not knowing what to do, Hermione stayed put, trying to find more warmth from her clothes in the glacial room. There wasn’t any fire lit in the hearth, and she didn’t dare to take her wand out to create a fire. After a few minutes of waiting alone, she contemplated standing up to see if any one was in the corridors. Before she could decide to act on that thought, though, another House Elf popped in.

This time it was a she, and she didn’t seem half as friendly as Dobby had been.

“New governess follows Winky!”

Hermione had to scramble out of her seat quickly to be able to catch up with the Elf who was already out in the corridor. She hadn’t much time to contemplate the fortune this family must posses to be able to have two House Elves… Of course, it wouldn’t cost anything to have them work for the family, since they were enslaved, but it was common knowledge, that only very well-off and important families had the presence of House Elves in their houses.

She wasn’t one to think highly of people who had slaves in their house, but she wasn’t really in the position to start protesting about it… Besides, when the green little creature started mumbling, Hermione had to fight her intense dislike for Winky…

“Miss will be teaching the little Mistress? Winky thinks not allow Mugleborn do that. But little Mistress not good…”

The disdain dripping from the House Elf’s voice was unmistaken. Ignoring the jolt when she heard the child was a little girl, Hermione replied holding her voice very calm:

“I thought Elves weren’t allowed to speak ill of their family?”

Winky turned her green head and her eyes were glittering almost maliciously:

“The Muggleborn thinks Winky should punish herself over lost brat?”

Hermione hadn’t the chance to ask Winky what she meant by that statement, because they had just arrived at a door on the first floor of the mansion. Winky opened it to reveal a superb teaching room. There was a big hearth, a large table and a few chairs standing along the wall. Multiple bookcases were present, mostly filled with books, but some were empty for her to place her own books she wished to teach from…

Not getting the time to inspect it more closely, Winky said in a piercing voice:

“This for teaching! Now show sleeping place…”

Again, Hermione had trouble to keep up with the little Elf. On the second floor, the second door on the right, Winky opened a door to reveal a rather modest room compared to the rest of the house. It was still very large when she thought about the other rooms she’d had at the previous families she had taught at.

A large four-poster bed was decorated with drapes of deep red embroiled with golden threads. It almost seemed fit for a queen, but she had read those were the colours of one of the departments at the magic school in Britain for the none-Muggleborns, so it was probably that that inspired the choice of colours. A modest bookcase had already been filled with the books she had brought with her, and when she crossed the room to the closet, she saw her clothing neatly stored there, too.

Her suitcase had been arranged in a corner of the room, and Hermione suspected Dobby had brought it up and done all the work. Turning around to thank the other House Elf for taking her here, simply out of politeness, she saw Winky had already disappeared. Deciding to ignore the rudeness of the green little thing, she allowed herself a moment to sag on her bed and think over the new information she had received about this place.

She was going to teach a child who could very well be her daughter…

Hermione pushed the feeling of hope and fear and anticipation and elation harshly away. It wouldn’t do to lose her composure. But she couldn’t help but wondering about the mystery hanging around the Potter family.

She still hadn’t met Mr. or Mrs. Potter. They hadn’t met up with her when she arrived and there was no indication as of yet that they would summon her, which was quite strange. There were two House Elves, which ordinarily meant this family had richness beyond anybody she had ever met… With the exception of… No, it wouldn’t do to think about him.

The house was magnificent, and the teaching room alone held a small library. Something inside her was already itching to get her hands on those books, and to go explore for a possibility of a real library in this place…

Hermione’s mind, though, was soon invaded by thoughts of her young charge. Since everything had been set in order for her already in her room, and nobody had left her with any specific instructions, she reasoned it was perfectly fine to go searching for the child.

Ignoring the thought that she just wanted to see her daughter, and that the girl could be her, she stood from the bed.

***

Please, review?

12. Chapter 11

AN: Ok, just getting something straight… The previous chapter obviously didn’t send its point across… Harry Potter isn’t world-famous! It’s just a very well known name for gossip in London society! There is just too many tragedy and mystery surrounding the name to let the gossipers give it a rest… The fact that he’s also loaded gives his story a melodramatic fairy-tale side… I just wanted to point out that he wasn’t famous in the way that there were books written about him, because then, Hermione would have known who Harry Potter was! Bear in mind that Hermione is accepted as a governess to teach magical children to read and write, and to prepare for Hogwarts. Otherwise, she isn’t really involved in wizarding society… If you will Harry’s more like ‘fertile ground’ for gossip around British wizarding society, so Hermione only hears these rumours now, because she’s going to move to the Potters to work there. Otherwise, she has no idea whatsoever! I’m sorry I didn’t get all the readers to understand that from my previous chapter. I wanted to emphasize Hermione’s feelings and her character and it’s not because it’s obvious to the readers who she will be teaching, that it’s obvious to her, and I wanted to remind the readers of that!

Also, for the anonymous reviewer, and this is the last time I explain this again, Cho was pregnant of Cedric’s child, with whom she was engaged to be married. Cedric was Harry’s Auror partner and got killed one night when Harry was checking out a clue about his family’s murderer, leaving Cedric alone. Harry had become good friends with Cedric and Cho and had grown out of his crush for her, but out of guilt for Cedric’s death, and loyalty to protect Cho’s good reputation, he married her, so she wouldn’t be an unwed mother. They consummated the marriage on their wedding night to finalize the magical wedding contract, and had delayed any further plans for their life as a couple for after the birth of the baby, giving them both time to mourn Cedric. During childbirth, however, something went terribly bad, which caused the baby to be born lifeless and Cho to slip into a coma she hasn’t risen from since. Harry made the choice (for himself) to believe Cho could still hear him and understand, and he talks to her about everything. This is his way to assure himself that he isn’t doing anything behind her back, that he is completely honest with her, as he promised to always be… There is no way to know if Cho really hears, or that she really knows what Harry did to ensure an heir, but Harry did tell her the truth…

Alorkin, thanks for your remark… It’s difficult for someone who hasn’t been raised in English to distinguish the more frequently used terms in Britain from the terms we hear most at tv… So I thank you for taking the time to explain it, without criticizing me!

Green eyes, I never got around to read Jane Eyre, so any parallels would be coincidence, or, more probable, the movie was influenced by the book…

Danielerin, Hermione doesn’t want to feel those hopes, she tries very hard to push it all away… But some things are just felt too strongly to be repressed that easily. And her means to survive is not to forget, but to ‘talk’ to her daughter through a diary…

Mannequin, harlots? I don’t think it had anything to do with those activities… It’s more of a practicality that we would now find majorly gross: I think they didn’t really have lavatories in those days, and if you’re wearing as many skirts as was custom back then, I think it had to do with something about being able to ‘do their business’ upright, or something, but I’m not sure…

***

Chapter 11

Hermione had judged the corridors she explored of the mansion to be too silent to contain a young girl in them, so she had ventured outside. The grounds were as impressive as the house. They were larger than she had ever visited, and beautifully kept. She could imagine the sight if the weather would be less foggy, and the sunlight should be amazing on those bushes over there.

Clutching her cloak tighter to her, she tried to look further. There was something of a greenhouse there. Setting out to explore it further, she walked up to the little house and saw that it indeed held several magical plants. It was larger then she had first thought, and there was a beautifully built corridor along the greenhouse, leading to what Hermione guessed to be a dock at a lake.

The water was reflecting the light in such a manner that the pale shadows were moving in a calm manner on the walls of the building. Walking down it while admiring the simple elegance of the building, she couldn’t help but noticing, though it wasn’t flaunted in an exaggerated manner, it all screamed wealth…

Coming up to the shore, Hermione was confirmed in her belief that the water was indeed from a lake… Right in the middle of it, there was a charming little glass building. The windows had been fogged up so many times over the years, that they weren’t as see-true as they used to be. But Hermione could detect a moving person inside, a rather small person.

Hermione’s heart ached, it was torn in a quite a few directions at once, which was really quite ridiculous. She tried hard to get her mind to retrieve control again, but there just was this feeling, this foreboding in a way, that kept her from reasoning away the fact that this could possibly be her daughter…

When she saw a glass door open, she slinked back in a corner, as to not be seen by the child. From her position, Hermione couldn’t really look at the child as she liked to. The girl was rowing a little boat towards where Hermione stood, and Hermione couldn’t help but reading loneliness and sadness from the child’s posture.

It suddenly hit Hermione, that it must be hard for the girl, despite the obvious wealth of her family, to grow up as an only child in a huge mansion like this. There weren’t even the children of servants available to play with, since there were House Elves taking care of the mansion, and the nearest village was miles away. Hermione didn’t know how the family situation of neighbours here was, but if there really was no one else for her to play with…

A sudden overwhelming feeling washed over her when she thought again about the absence of her parents at the mansion… She hadn’t any more time to analyse the child’s body language, because the girl had just arrived at the shore, climbing out of the little boat.

Up close Hermione saw the girl’s hair was brownish, but with a hint of red in it; it hadn’t been pulled up, and the loose strands were dancing away with her every movement. Hermione decided to let her presence known, and came out of her ‘hiding’ place. When the child turned from her boat, she didn’t give much indication of being startled by the presence of the stranger.

For a split second, Hermione thought to have seen proof in the girl’s eyes of the sadness she had glimpsed before, but it was quickly replaced by a cold look. The girl looked her up and down with clear disdain, and finally spoke:

“You are the new governess? You haven’t gone to Hogwarts?”

Hermione smiled gently at the little girl, she had noticed the girl’s green eyes. And though they weren’t as vibrant as she remembered his being, she couldn’t help but feel… something powerful. With difficulty she pushed away what she called irrational hope - many children had green eyes - and answered the girl tenderly:

“No, I have attended Blueboard…”

This only served to make the girl scrunch up her nose as if disgusted:

“I don’t need a governess, least of all a Muggleborn to tell me what to do!”

With that, the girl slipped past a stunned Hermione, who seemed to finally have come down from her high of meeting the girl and entertaining hope.

It took Hermione a while to collect her bearings and start for the mansion again. She stayed in her room while warming herself in front of the fire. After jotting down a few quick words in the diary to her daughter to calm herself down, she took control of her emotions again, and started a lesson plan on how to start on Miss Potter’s education.

At lunch time, a plate with food had magically appeared in the teaching room, and still Hermione hadn’t heard anything from the masters of this house.

Since she had no idea how far the girl had already progressed in her teachings, Hermione was limited in her plan makings. So after browsing all the books available for her work, she took one of the few tomes she wasn’t already familiar with and decided to take a chance.

The book under her arm she strode from the room and went downstairs looking for human company. Barely in the hall wherefrom she was planning to look for a receiving room, a witch suddenly popped in.

Hermione had a few seconds time to take in the red hair and pretty face of the relatively young witch standing there, before the witch in question jumped by surprise seeing Hermione.

Placing her hand on her heart, she smiled a brilliant smile: “Good heavens, you gave me a fright! Miss Granger, I presume?” not waiting for Hermione to confirm this, the energetic woman continued while taking of her cloak and giving it to Dobby who had just popped into the hall, also.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here this morning when you arrived, but I assume Dobby took good care of you?” again, not waiting for an answer, she chatted on happily while dragging Hermione into the receiving room, “Would you be a dear and make us a fire, Dobby?”

The beaming House Elf seemed to blush, which resulted in an interesting skin colour for the bashful creature, and set to work immediately with a large smile.

The red haired witch sat down with a deep sigh, gesturing for Hermione to do the same: “Sit down, sit down, Miss Granger. Oh, I’m really quite knackered!” Hermione repressed the urge to comment on the abundance of energy the witch was showing, “I was called for an emergency at my work, you see, otherwise I would’ve arranged to be the one to receive you…”

While the red-haired witch went on and on about her nursing work, Hermione couldn’t help but feel slight disappointment seeping in her bones… This witch must’ve been Mrs. Potter, and the reason why the London gossipers didn’t get to see much of her was probably, because she worked so much. But it seemed very possible that the young girl she would be working with, could be the daughter of this red-haired witch… Which meant she wasn’t hers…

Changing the subject inside her mind, she tried to follow the tale the witch was telling animatedly. Hermione still had to get used to the idea that it was perfectly fine for women in the wizarding world to have a career on their own. It was generally more acceptable to wait until your children were at Hogwarts to start working as a woman - witches did live long lives - but nevertheless, it wasn’t inconceivable as it was in the Muggle world.

“… So have you met Lily?” It was the first time Hermione had heard the first name of Miss Potter, but again, she had no time to have any thoughts on it, “If you did, I bet you found her at her lake house,” the slight nod Hermione gave was enough for Mrs. Potter.

“Well, yes, she’s there a lot, it’s been kind of her refuge to play. She’s there all the time, doing Merlin knows what!”

Sensing another unstoppable stream of sentences coming on, Hermione tried to interrupt her politely: “Mrs. Potter…”

“Oh, no! Oh, my!” the woman sat straighter in her chair, a look of honest surprise on her face, “My dear Miss Granger! What a misunderstanding… this is of course my doing! I should’ve introduced myself properly!”

Hermione was confused, to say the least, but waited for the witch to continue.

“I am not Mrs. Potter, though, I admit, at one time in my life I wouldn’t have minded to be! But I digress!” shaking her head, the witch gave her an amused smile, “Anyway, I am Miss Ginevra Weasley! Mr. Potter is just a very close friend of my family, and was kind enough to let me live here!”

Hermione didn’t really know what to feel about this sudden turn of events. Why would a friend of the family receive her in a house where she is a guest herself? Seeing the confusion, Miss Weasley’s expression saddened a bit.

“I’ve lived here quite a few years, and I take care of Mrs. Potter. She was like a sister to me. You see, there’s quite a long and tragic story to this, but it comes down to the fact that Cho has been in an unconscious slumber for almost a decade now…”

Miss Weasley paused, as if pondering to tell more. Regarding Hermione shrewdly, she started again: “No doubt… No doubt, you have heard some stories about Mr. Potter’s life?”

Not bothering to wait for a verbal reply, the witch filled Hermione in on a few facts about the family she would be working with. Harry Potter’s entire family had indeed been murdered in one night, poisoned. The Weasley family seemed to have been supporting him through his education with his godfather, and he had become an Auror and married Miss Cho Chang after graduating from Hogwarts.

After a pregnant pause, Miss Waesley perked up again:

“Life goes on, does it not, Miss Granger?” Hermione stayed stoic at that remark, not wanting to think about it too deeply, “As for our dear Mr. Potter… I received an owl early this morning. He will be arriving just in time for supper! And he’s bringing a guest! Neville Longbottom! I haven’t seen him since he graduated the same year my youngest brother, Ron and Harry…”

With that Miss Weasley filled the afternoon with tales about her brothers, Hogwarts and her own little adventures at the great magical school, allowing Hermione to speak only to answer questions about Blueboard.

Meanwhile, Hermione resigned in her fate not to be able to study the book she had taken with her, and tried to sort out her thoughts and feelings on all this new information about the Potters. Over the course of the hours, though, a strange kind of apprehensive anxiety was looming in her chest, constricting her ability to breath comfortably…

What was so special about meeting this Mr. Potter, anyway? She wasn’t going to let a bit of gossip influence her on acting like a ditz…

***

Please, review?

13. Chapter 12

AN: Hey, everyone, sorry for the long wait… I’ve been working at a warehouse (summer job) for the last two weeks, and every bone in my body’s aching from all the restocking and lifting, and to top it all off, we just suffered a serious heat wave during the last two weeks… I’ve been feeling brain-dead for most of the time… Now it’s raining like buckets of water are being poured from the heavens, and it doesn’t seem to be ending in the near future… Ideal weather to have some writing done! I know normal people aren’t supposed to like the rain, but I never pretended to be normal…

***

Chapter 12

It had been an hour ago since Hermione had finally been able to escape Miss Weasley to go freshen up before supper. The witch was certainly full of energy, and full of stories, despite her complaints of being tired from work. Hermione hadn’t been in a state to give her all the attention needed to remember all the details, but she had gotten the essentials.

Hogwarts sounded much more interesting than Blueboard had been, and Miss Weasley certainly held Mr. Potter in high regard. It made Hermione wonder. With Mrs. Potter unconscious for all that time, and Miss Weasley living here… was there something more between them?

Hermione didn’t like where her thoughts were leading her. She wasn’t one to judge people without facts, and even then, despite the principles she had clung to all her life, she could understand the loneliness all to well.

She herself had had times where she could have used someone to take comfort in… There were several reasons why she’d never acted upon those needs. And she would be lying if it was only her honour stopping her, besides, there wasn’t much honour left for her… The main reason, actually, was because of her desire to find her daughter one day being even stronger than the need for companionship… Or maybe she had already given her heart away…

The sudden constricting feeling overtook her body again, and she fled her room for more air. Pausing at a window overlooking the front of the grounds, the frosty weather caused the glass to give a distorted vision. It was with sudden irrational dread that she noticed a carriage arrive.

Glued to the window to watch blurry figures descending from the vehicle to enter the house her heart hammered in her chest. She heard the front door open downstairs and a little girl’s voice squeal for her daddy, before she saw Lily’s form rushing from the house to jump in one of the man’s waiting arms.

Hermione’s heart warmed a little by seeing the evidence of the obvious affection Miss Lily got from her father and the sweet abandon to joy Lily displayed at seeing her father. The girl obviously craved her father’s attention…

While the figures approached the house, Hermione could hear the voice of one of the men walking inside. Her blood circulation was doing some pretty irregular things at hearing that voice welcoming his guest in his home. Shaking her head she tried to will the feeling away… The feeling of certainty that the man downstairs… the father of Lily… master of this mansion… was… him.

Gathering all her strength around her she steeled herself when she heard Miss Weasley asking Winky to let the governess know Mr Potter had arrived.

Bringing her hands to her hair, her fingers checking if her hair-do was neatly in place, Hermione’d just brought her hands down to smooth her skirts when Winky popped up in front of her.

“Master needs to see new governess! Miss Granger follows Winky!”

Taking a deep breath Hermione walked down the stairs, repeating to herself that even if by some miracle she had landed in his home, she would show no indication that she had ever knew him… He had always insisted on keeping his name unblemished, and she would not be the one to disgrace him.

Oh, why was she behaving this silly, it probably wasn’t him anyway…

***

Harry caught the red bundle of joy that catapulted his way and twirled her around. Her laughter always made him feel alive. Unashamed on how Neville might think of the greeting he allowed his daughter, Harry saw Ginny already in the doorway, waiting with a great smile.

Though Harry liked respectability and reserve in behaviour around adults, he only indulged Lily in her unrestrained energy, he wasn’t quick enough to present the acquaintances to each other properly… Ginny was already pumping Neville’s hand energetically and welcoming him before Harry could introduce them to each other.

Nevermind Ginny knew Neville from her Hogwarts years: proper decorum dictated that he’d introduce his guests, but Harry had long since stopped in trying to influence Ginny’s strong willpower. She just ended up doing exactly as she pleased anyway…

Introducing Neville to his beloved home, he heard Ginny call for the new governess. They entered the receiving room, quickly warming themselves in front of the happily cracking fire. After having rubbed their limbs back to life, the two men sat down in opposite couches, Lily curling her body immediately into her father’s side.

Turning to Neville, Harry smiled:

“Can you understand this, dear friend? You see this innocent angelic face,” cupping Lily’s chin to indicate who he was talking about, “Though, don’t be fooled: she managed to scare away five governesses already…”

Harry never knew what Neville would’ve chosen to answer to that, because Winky interrupted them with her announcement.

Even before Harry could place the name “Miss Granger” he had seen the woman he’d feared for years. Time seemed to freeze, as well as his arms around his daughter. All he could see was the woman before him, the woman who showed no emotion whatsoever… After what seemed eternities, but he hoped it were mere seconds, he realised he was holding his breath.

Barely suppressing the panic, it was in a daze that he saw the vision in front of him, holding his gaze very stoically. Fear making place for anger, he managed to reign his composure. This was his home, he was not about to be intimidated in his own house!

Collecting all his reserve, he managed to sound oddly composed when he invited the new governess into his work chamber for a private chat.

How he managed to get there solemnly, and politely leave his other guests in the receiving room, he had no idea. How he managed to reign in his fear and rage until the door of his study closed behind the woman, he would never know. But once he knew she was the only one who could witness his behaviour, he started pacing furiously.

Rounding on her suddenly, he saw her composure was crumbling too. She was obviously scared but trying hard not to show it.

“What in bloody Merlin’s name are you doing here! You have to leave!” Without pausing to hear her answer, he started pacing again, not able to bear facing her: “We had a bargain! I just wanted an heir! Is that so wrong? I just wanted something of mine…” Turning toward her again, he had calmed a bit, but he spoke accusatory: “You promised… You gave her! I paid you!”

The woman seemed to have trouble breathing after he said that, but he didn’t allow himself to feel for her… She had too much power to destroy him…

With an unsteady voice, she took a desperate step towards him:

“I’ll pay you back! I just needed the money for my father…”

“I don’t want to know!” Harry brought his arms up, as if defending himself from her plea. He could not look into her face when he made his decision, filled with a cold dread he could only think of sending her away. “You can’t stay…”

“I won’t tell her! I’ll just be her governess!” The mother of his child was becoming more and more desperate, tears flowing from her eyes now.

“You can’t… You’re her mother: you couldn’t live with a secret like that!” Harry interrupted her.

“I could! I’ll teach her, she needs me! Please, don’t send me away, I’ve waited seven years to finally see her! There’s nothing I wanted more ever since I heard her first cries! Please…”

Harry was thorn, but the fear of losing Lily was too strong, barely louder then a whisper, he repeated: “You can’t stay…”

***

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14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Harry watched with pain in his heart how Hermione Granger pulled herself together again. He felt like the greatest villain, when she quickly erased the proof of her tears from her cheeks smoothened down her skirts and walked out of his study with great restraint. She was the model of propriety, even though he couldn’t even begin to imagine what she must be feeling right now.

Well, he could try to imagine, but just the thought of losing Lily filled him with paralysing fear, and he didn’t like feeling that way.

Pushing his guilt away, he took a deep breath and walked determined in the direction of the receiving room. To his relief, Miss Granger hadn’t arrived there yet. Standing near the fire to try and warm his cold body, in vain it seemed, he addressed Ginny:

“Miss Granger will not be staying with us…”

Ginny seemed very surprised: “Why ever not?”

Harry shrugged, aloof: “Lily doesn’t like her…”

Ginny laughed out loud: “My dear Harry! Lily has never liked any of her governesses!”

Annoyed he replied: “Can’t a father indulge his child, for the few years they’re free of worries about the seriousness of life!”

Normally, this would not be enough to shut up Ginny, but only be the beginning of an argument. Luckily for Harry, Ginny seemed to have at least a bit of respect for the presence of Neville, and just sighed:

“I’ll have to inquire for someone new then. You do realise you have to give her at least one month’s notice, don’t you, Harry?”

“Notice?” Harry felt the dread billed up inside himself again.

Ginny looked at him as if she had trouble believing he was that stupid: “Well, like it or not, she is a Muggleborn. Being governess is her profession, she doesn’t have a home of her own: the place where she does her teaching is her temporary home! Surely you know this, Harry! It wouldn’t be proper to send her out to live on the street! You have to give her a minimum of time to apply for a new family to find work at… Mind you, this will not reflect well on her résumé, only a day here and being send away… So it could even take longer than the one month you’re obligated to give her!”

Harry felt ashamed, but at the same time terrified… One month? Why not an eternity?

*

Hermione was trying her best to walk slowly and dignified on her way to her room. Knowing that she was expected to go to dinner with the other houseguests, as Ginny had asked her, she wanted to clear her head briefly before facing that ordeal.

Seeing him had affected her more then she could have ever suspected… She had been paralysed, and struggling to keep all of the different emotions in check once he had laid his green gaze upon her.

His anger, she had expected, but she hadn’t been able to keep her strong demeanour once they had been alone in his study. She knew his belief that a mother couldn’t keep such a secret from her daughter while working closely with her, was righteous. But she still hated him for sending her away.

Arriving in the confinements of her room, she fled to her window and flung it open. Letting the freezing air cool her heated cheeks, she inhaled deeply. Then a thought just hit her.

He couldn’t throw her on the street tomorrow! She had a contract! And wasn’t he the oh-so-noble gentleman? He would never do something dishonourable, would he? So that gave her a month…

An evil little emotion called hope was creeping its way into her heart. It was evil, because it would serve to make the disappointment that much harsher after the month had come to its end… But Lily… She was spoilt, she needed to be taught, though.

Her daughter desperately needed education! In a few years she would be off to Hogwarts, and carrying the Potter name wasn’t going to replace a prepared mind!

A month…

Maybe… If she proved she could keep her true identity secret for that time, while educating Lily well… Maybe…

No!

A month! Nothing more, but also nothing less! It won’t do to let her heart go through that again. She should be grateful: she’d found her daughter, she would be spending a whole month with her daughter, every day… Lily was spoiled and lonely, but Hermione would teach her… for a month…

Taking one last breath of cold air, she closed her window and went downstairs to dinner.

She met the other house-occupants, minus Lily, who had eaten before, and was now sent to bed, in the hall. Being led to the dining room, she watched the imposing table. Luckily, they weren’t expected to each eat at opposite ends.

Harry Potter’s seat was at the head of the table, with Miss Weasley at his right side. Mr. Longbottom was presented the place at his left side, while Hermione sat next to Miss Weasley.

It was apparent by the awkward start of the conversation that everyone knew of her less then privileged status in society. Without malice, Miss Weasley had commented about a few things she had heard from Miss Granger about Blueboard, making it clear the latter was Muggleborn.

Luckily for Hermione, Miss Weasley was as talkative as ever, and was extremely interested in what Neville could tell her about America.

Hermione thanked the heavens for the lack of attention she received, and dared to look up a few times at Mr. Potter… him. It started to sink in now, that ‘her man’ was indeed a reality in her immediate presence. He had been a vision in dreams so often, and had remained unnamed until this day… It felt surreal…

Mr. Harry Potter, a mysterious man… A wife, not present, but she still very much existed… Lily… Her daughter…

The girl indeed had nothing to want for. She had the unconditional love of her father, had grown up with nothing to want for. But still… Hermione knew there was something very important missing in Lily’s life. And though she never could fill her proper role as her mother in the girl’s life, she could try and fill a bit of that void… even if she had to accomplish this in only a few weeks…

She was interrupted from her reverie by Mr. Longbottom who addressed her a question:

“What do governesses become later in life? If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Granger?”

“I beg your pardon, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand your inquiry?” Hermione frowned, where was this going?

Mr. Longbottom blushed a bit: “Well, I imagine there aren’t always families wanting for a governess? What will you do once you’re not… asked for anymore?”

Hermione smiled at his tact: “I’m afraid Divination was never my best class, in fact, I had the worst scores for that course…”

“I see,” Mr. Longbottom cleared his throat.

Ginny smiled and turned to her: “I think what Mr. Longbottom’s really trying to ask you, but is afraid to ask in front of me, is if you couldn’t marry and leave your husband to worry over you…” Miss Weasley carried a glint of mischievousness in her eyes while she continued:

“You see, my dear Miss Granger, you’ve heard that the magical community is supposed to be women-friendly… But don’t be fooled, married women who still have a chance to think for themselves are maybe not as rare as in the Muggle world, but male domination is everywhere, my dear! You know I told you about Hogwarts? Well, I used to scare poor Mr. Longbottom with my very feminist’s ideas… And apparently I haven’t lost my touch!”

Hermione was thorn between being indignant or amused about Miss Weasley’s impertinent teasing, and feeling sorry for the madly blushing Mr. Longbottom. He had seemed so confident when she first met him, but Miss Weasley with her teasing seemed to bring him back to his adolescence…

Mr. Potter, however, reprimanded Miss Weasley with a sharp: “Ginevra!” and for a second Hermione was sure the witch was going to poke her tongue at the master of the house in retribution…

***

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15. Chapter 14

AN: wow, this is the third chapter I’m starting today… I’m on a roll, people!

***

Chapter 14

Harry had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Sure there were many awkward periods in his life, but this was topping the list by far. He was scared that her being here meant that his world was on the brink of being destroyed…

The careful walls he’d built around him… the fragile equilibrium he was living in could be shattered in a mere flash of a moment. He was conscious of this every second dinner wore on. How could he make her understand the gravity of the situation?

Could he trust her?

Making up his mind, he gave into the need to fully explain himself, like he’d always wanted to do, ever since he’d met her. He had always been afraid that too much information about why he was involved in such an dishonourable act, would lead to give away his identity… Now, she already knew his name.

After dinner, Harry excused himself to his guests and asked Miss Granger to follow him. He admired her composure. She could shield her emotions better than any witch he’d met. She always could, but, now that they were alone in the hallway, he allowed himself to look a little better and he saw her face had aged a bit, her expression… hardened…

Shaking himself from those thoughts, he strode to the room his wife resided in.

Leading Miss Granger into the room, he saw her passive expression change into one of confusion. He could understand it was eerie to watch Cho like that. He had become accustomed to it, though. She hadn’t lost any of her exotic beauty that had attracted him as an adolescent.

He waited until he’d closed the door behind them to speak:

“You made a promise some time ago… This is my wife… She… she had a miscarriage and we lost her child…”

Harry moved to the bed, seating himself next to his immobile wife.

“She knows everything. She knows Lily is mine…”

“Can she hear us?” It was little more then a whisper.

“I made the choice long ago, that she could understand what I was saying. But I also promised her that I would never put her through a public scandal. I promised her I would protect her from that, and I refuse to let her name be tarnished…”

The silence in which Miss Granger was studying him and Cho pressured him too much… He felt almost like she could see through his words, that she was… reading him.

As kindly as possible he ushered her out of the room:

“Please… Leave us…”

***

Hermione descended the stairs from the highest floor of the mansion. It had been very strange to see Mrs. Potter… She seemed so… broken.

Despite the many years she must’ve been like that, one could easily see the witch had been a true beauty. She still was, in a… porcelain doll sort of way.

Hermione hadn’t counted on the unconscious woman looking that beautiful… She didn’t know why… It wasn’t that rational, but she felt… plain and totally out of her league. Even with the woman being unconscious for nearly a decade, she made Hermione feel everything she lacked: status, beauty, serenity stemming from being high society.

She knew why he’d shown her the poor woman. He wanted her to fully understand why he had done the things he’d done. All this insecurity about her judging him an adulterous man like any other, had stemmed from his fear of ruining his wife’s reputation.

He had shown her, to give her a motive to shut up. He was counting on her sense of respect to aid him in covering up what he saw as a -necessary- indiscretion… All the while, she understood more than he’d wanted to tell her. He had set the whole thing up because he wanted someone to love him, too… Not just an heir… A child and its unconditional love.

Hermione put those thoughts out of her head, and changed for bed. Crawling in, she dragged her diary with her in bed. There was too much she needed to write down, to actually try and start tonight. Clutching the journal to her chest, she stared into the dying embers, knowing she was finally sleeping under the same roof as her daughter…

*

Rising early, Hermione dressed for the day. Knowing the rest of the house occupants must still be asleep, she wandered down in the garden to try and organise her thoughts more before she had to face the reality of her situation.

Seeing the greenhouse from afar, she decided to try and get a better look at the house in the middle of the lake. The house where Lily had played in the day before.

Feeling refreshed from the brisk morning air, and cuddling her cloak warmly about her, she felt considerably less burdened with worries. Stepping into the hallway next to the greenhouse, leading to the lake, she heard splashing. Curious, but not wanting to be seen, she proceeded carefully, clutching her wand unconsciously.

Through the foggy windows she had watched her daughter row towards her, she saw something that shocked her being in an entirely different way.

A man was swimming inside the lake, and considering the temperature of the air, she hated to think about how cold the water would be. Wondering who would punish himself in such a way, she had an inkling on who her mystery man could be. She heard the man grunt while doing his lapses, and was startled when he suddenly heaved himself out of the water.

Even if she saw not much more then shadowy figures through the windows, she could tell it was him, and very much bare as the day he was born. Transfixed, she watched his shape while he furiously towelled himself with drapes that lay waiting for him.

She didn’t even consciously do so, but while she was longingly watching him, she had brought her hand to the back of her neck, to rub the skin there, while her other hand rested on her stomach. Feelings long buried resurfaced with a vengeance. Her breathing was irregular, and it was barely in time that she saw him throw his cloak around his shoulders.

Congratulating herself for her quick and silent disillusionment charm, she slinked into the shadows of a corner just to be sure. It had been but a mere second later when he briskly strode through the hall, not noticing her…

It took Hermione a few minutes to regain her composure, to steady her breathing and to thank the heavens that the walk to the mansion was a lengthy and cold one…

***

please, review?

16. Chapter 15

AN: Ok, people… I know it had been long, but I got you three updates in one row! So please, be gentle with the new-found inspiration to write what I wanted to write since some time… I guess I did suffer from a bit of a writer’s block…

Anyway, the smut isn’t quite there yet… Sorry, but if you can’t take the angst, you should pay attention into which category this fic is filed ;-p

***

Chapter 15

Hermione had been working several hours in the classroom, when Lily finally decided to make an appearance. Sauntering in, the girl looked with hidden curiosity at the changes her governess had made to the room.

Since Hermione had no idea how much progress had been done in only a year with five different governesses, she’d been putting energy in making cards stick to every piece of furniture and accessory in the room. The cards showed the words of the names of the objects, written with colour-changing ink. Nothing too flashy, as that wasn’t her style, but Hermione knew from experience it helped to hold a child’s attention.

By the way Lily merely glanced at the cards in badly hidden confusion and didn’t scoff at them at all, Hermione began to dread that the child, like manners, had not learned anything remotely academically yet…

“Do you know your alphabet?” Hermione asked the girl when Lily approached the desk she was sitting at.

“Do you know your alphabet?” Lily repeated in an annoying voice.

Hermione hadn’t been governess for all these years, without experiencing the childish games at least once. And she wouldn’t have been good at her job without having a good load of patience. So ignoring the disrespect Lily was showing her, she continued working. She was making additional cards, drawing pictures of the words Lily would need to learn to read.

Lily continued her observations until she was standing behind her governess, watching over her shoulder. Trying to work with the girl’s curiosity, Hermione showed the card’s writing and asked:

“Do you know what’s written here?”

Unrelenting in her disrespect, Lily spoke: “Do you know what’s written here?”

Still, Hermione ignored the girl’s impertinence and bowed over the card again, quill in hand.

Lily had made a full circle around the desk Hermione was writing on, and was once again in front of it. Probably growing tired of her governess’ lack of response, Lily heaved a sigh and asked in her snottiest voice:

“Are you poor? I bet you are…”

Hermione looked up at her, looking her square in the eye: “I’m not wealthy…”

Lily looked frostily down her nose when she answered in malice:

“Then I don’t have to listen to you, I don’t have to obey poor people!”

With that, she sauntered right out of the class room, without turning back.

Hermione was left at the desk, contemplating her next move. It wouldn’t help anything if she tried to drag Lily back to the classroom. She wouldn’t listen to her in any event, and Hermione loathed using physical measures. Putting the parchments she had been drawing away in an orderly fashion, she stood from her chair.

Taking a deep breath, she unconsciously smoothened her skirts and quickly checked her fingers for ink spots, before she strode purposefully out of the classroom.

*

Harry hadn’t had a restful night. Sleep had been hard to come by, and his mood wasn’t the best before he’d performed his morning ritual. As a time honoured habit, he swam a few lapses in the lake of his mansion’s grounds. Though Aurors were encouraged to stay physically fit, many wizards frowned upon ‘Muggle’ exercises… And even inside his department, many would not be found continuing their outdoor swimming so close to freezing temperatures.

Harry in fact found this all very mind-clearing, and really, when one did this every day, the body wasn’t too shocked by the bitingly cold temperature…

He knew that in a matter of days, the weather would most probably change from almost-freezing, to freezing. And once the lake had been covered by ice, he’d have to find another way to calm his nerves.

It really wasn’t healthy for him to have Miss Granger in the house. It could’ve been easy to avoid her by going back to the office once Neville would’ve gone back to his America. He was sure he could convince them to get him out of the forced vacation, if he promised not to bother any snob friends of the Minister again.

But that meant he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her… If he was totally honest with himself, he would’ve known he could trust her not to take Lily away and hide her from him. But on the other hand… He couldn’t trust she would be able to keep her feelings that well buried while educating her own daughter…

She was Lily’s mother! How long could she hold on before she let something slip? Harry could only hope she’d keep her word and silence until the month was over.

Harry shook himself out of his worrying thoughts. He’d promised himself this morning to quit it, since it wasn’t going to do him any good.

He’d just walked the mandatory steps away from Neville, and he turned, whipping his wand in front of his face, bowing for the wizard who doing the same.

Neville had begged him to indulge in a bit of duelling. Despite Harry’s reluctance to do so, Neville had assured him he had very much improved since practising with an American friend. Deciding he’d go easy on his once clumsy classmate, Harry took a defensive mode, waiting for Neville to cast the first spell.

They hadn’t exchanged more than five curses before Harry understood Neville had quite certainly improved. He’d found himself paying careful attention to some foreign tricks Neville tried to use on him, and as such he hadn’t heard the door to the practise room opening. But Neville’s sudden change in behaviour made Harry look behind him…

There she stood. After he’d finally found a moment in which his mind could focus solely on something different than her, she had to come and disturb him!

He heard Neville greet the woman politely, to which she returned a civil nod, before addressing Harry:

“Am I to understand that I’m Miss Lily’s educator during the month I’ll be staying here?”

Harry was slightly confused, she was the governess wasn’t she?

“As her governess you are to teach her, of course…”

The woman ignored his irritated attitude and continued valiantly: “Am I permitted to introduce discipline to have Miss Lily attend her classes?”

Harry’s heart gave a jolt: “No! She will not be disciplined! For the few years she’s living under my roof, I want her to be happy and carefree!”

Miss Granger didn’t betray anything by her posture, casting her eyes down, she nodded her goodbye: “Very well… Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, if you’ll excuse me…”

With that Harry watched her part from their company. With a sudden unease, he noticed Neville had been watching her retreat also.

Despite their continuance with the duelling, Harry couldn’t manage to shake her completely from his mind…

***

Please, review?

17. Chapter 16

AN: Thank you all so much for the great and lengthy reviews… It really is nice to have that kind of feedback!

Oh, and for the readers who are following Walking, Alive too: I am working on it… So please stop sending me angry mails!

***

Chapter 16

Harry Potter opened the door to let his guest enter the mansion. They had moved their duelling practise outside, despite the cold weather… It had been quite refreshing to duel for fun, while encountering some spells and techniques he hadn’t been introduced to before.

Though he could honestly say he could handle Neville Longbottom any day, if the man ever decided to switch to the Dark Side, his conscious didn’t permit him to deny he’d had a few unexpected sweats when he’d been fighting his way out of a few strategies Neville had put him through.

His companion seemed tired enough, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a new-found respect for the man who had been such a hopeless student in his adolescence… Windswept and contently tired, he stepped inside after his guest.

His ears were assailed by angry echoes that rang through the house. Frowning Harry handed his wand to Winky so that he could disrobe, and asked the Elf what in the world was causing that much racket?

With a bright smile Winky answered:

“Miss Lily, Master, she been educated properly!”

Harry forgot proper decorum and ran up the stairs taking two steps a time. Nearing the classroom, he could hear his daughter’s cries more distinctly:

“Let me out, I want out! I want my father! Let me out, I want out! I want my father! Let me out, I want out! I want my…”

She was repeating the same plea time and time again, while apparently slamming her little fists on the inside of the wooden door. Harry came to the door and started rattling the handle, only to find it locked. Inside he could hear Lily had understood he was there and she started pleading for him.

Not having his wand with him, anger and despair were warring inside him. She had disobeyed his order not to discipline Lily! With as much restraint as he could muster, he called out:

“Miss Granger! Open this door, immediately!”

At this, Lily finally silenced, and the door opened a little to reveal Miss Granger, who promptly closed and locked the door again. Harry watched as she faced him with absolute countenance, not showing fear, or regret at all, while his daughter was being locked up in a classroom.

Not knowing how to feel, Harry again growled out: “Open this door…”

Defiantly, the witch watched him with an uphold face, answering calmly:

“No…”

Harry stared at her incredulously: she was defying him in his own home? Holding out his hand, he spoke through gritted teeth:

“Give me the key…”

At her non-response to his order, Harry forgot reason. Advancing on her he tried to grab her hands to pry the keys out of them. The witch had reacted quickly enough, though, and brought her hands behind her back.

Harry cursed himself for not having his wand with him, and dashed after her, making her back into the door. He brought both arms around her, gripping her wrists. She wasn’t giving up though, and squirmed out of his grip. She tried to escape from the corner he had her in, but he kept blocking her with his body.

He heard her gasp, when once again he tried to grasp her hands behind her back. It was only now that he noticed their bodies nearness, and the way she was rubbing up against him because of her efforts to keep him from getting the keys.

She was squirming against him in a way that made him acutely remember other occasions… Finding himself reluctant to let her go, his mind suddenly jolted him back to reality.

Letting her go as if he’d touched fire, he kept a considerate amount of space between them. Watching her flustered, while she tried to catch her breath, he struggled to keep his conscious thoughts to the situation on hand.

Grateful that she was the one to break the tense silence first, he heard her voice was still unsteady:

“She doesn’t even know how to read! She needs to be taught, but for that she needs to respect and obey me first!”

Harry found his voice again: “If you ever dare lay a hand on her!”

Her stance changed brusquely at that threat: “You suggest I’d be able to have such gestures toward my own…” Cutting of what she was going to say, she took a trembling breath and brought her gaze back to his. The expression was much less fierce, and her voice sounded invitingly soft: “I’ll make you a promise. Everything I put Lily through, I’ll do to myself also…”

Harry watched her uncertainly, knowing she was breaking down his walls, and he didn’t like it one bit. Frowning he listened to her soft, guiding reasoning.

“I know you want her to love you, but I want everybody to love her! In a few years she will go to Hogwarts, and she’ll be on her own there. Your name will not protect her from everything. People will find out she’s adopted, and they will think of her as inferior. I want her to be strong, to be independent, to show the world she’s worth something. I want to give her that chance. But she has to learn!”

The governess’ speech hurt him more then she could ever know… Or maybe she did know. She seemed to have a clear grasp on what he was feeling for Lily.

Maybe she was right. Loving Lily wasn’t enough… He had grown up swearing he would do a better job if he’d ever have children of his own. He’d promised himself he would be the best father to Lily… Was this what was best for her?

In a daze, he walked to the locked door, kneeling in front of the keyhole and called for Lily.

“Lily? Lily… I’ll see you after your lessons, alright?”

Defeated when Lily didn’t answer him, he stood up, feeling older then ever.

Hanging his head, he walked away from the door with mixed feelings. Was he betraying his daughter, or was he doing what was best for her?

All the way down the stairs, until he was out of sight of Miss Granger, he felt her eyes upon him…

***

Please, review?

18. Chapter 17

AN: Nothing really to say, except: thanks for the reviews… Oh, and one other thing: Harry can’t see Lily as a spoiled child, because she never acts it in his presence. As you may or may not know, it’s a classic case of attention seeking. Lily really isn’t that bad: she just wants her father’s undivided attention and she chases away everybody… She’s just scared of losing the love of the only parent she has left…

***

Chapter 17

It was in a strange mood that Harry had rejoined his guest, Neville Longbottom. Though he had been famished when they’d decided to stop ‘gallivanting’ outside to warm up in front of the fire with any delicious bits of food the House Elves would whip up for them, now he found himself forced to keep up the pretence he was enjoying the late lunch.

Neville didn’t seem to mind the silence, in fact Harry’s guest seemed to be in deep thought himself. After sharing a bit of brandy, a Muggle custom Harry as well as Neville was quite fond of, they decided to entertain themselves with a bit of wizard’s chess.

Having played Ron numerous times, Harry should’ve been able to win the game against Neville, but the unsettling happenings from before kept repeating themselves inside his mind. After his third loss to Neville, Harry’s guest seemed to gain more and more confidence, and smiled broadly at his host.

“You shouldn’t look so glum, you know? You’re quite lucky to have someone like her as a governess!”

Harry looked at him quizzically: “Whatever do you mean?”

Neville was undeterred in his happy mood: “Well, she’s very proud, and she knows what she’s doing, not backing down. And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed she’s quite lovely to look at too?”

“Are we still talking about good characteristics for a governess here?” Harry teased, while trying to keep his mind from remembering said governess’ real beauty…

Neville blushed slightly, but nothing else betrayed the wavering of his confidence:

“Well, she is beautiful, and quite a talented witch, from what I gathered. And you know I’m not bothered about her being Muggleborn… Well, I could end up much worse…”

Harry tried to ignore the strange feeling of panic growing inside him and asked him:

“You’re thinking marriage?”

Neville looked a bit uncertain all of the sudden and asked carefully:

“You think she’ll have me?”

As if someone else spoke for him, he answered automatically: “He who doesn’t dare will never know…”

All the while, he was left with a deep feeling of unease…

***

Hermione hadn’t had much time to ponder the encounter with him outside the classroom… Putting her own patience as well as Lily’s to test, they had stayed locked into the room for what seemed forever, Hermione drawing up new cards, and Lily staring stubbornly into the fire.

At intervals, Lily would sigh, and walk towards the room’s window, overlooking the grounds longingly.

It was starting to get darker outside, when Lily stood before her governess’ desk and said deliberately: “I hate you” as if making sure the older witch would believe she meant the hurtful words.

Hermione, however didn’t even look up from her work, and replied calmly: “You may hate me all you want, but you will learn how to respect and obey me…”

Putting down her quill, she looked up to see Lily glare at her. The girl directed her glares toward the cards and asked as if it actually was the last thing she really wanted to know:

“What is this you’re working on anyway?”

Hermione took one of the cards and laid them in front of Lily. On it was a picture of a dark haired gentleman, with the word father written under it. Laying two more similar cards before the first, one with a heart, the other with a little girl, she showed Lily:

“‘Lily loves father’. That’s what’s written,” taking the ‘father’ card away, she put one with in its place showing the drawing of a brownies, “‘Lily loves brownies’,” then replacing the heart with a drawing of a man opening his mouth widely to shove food on it, “‘Lily eats brownies’…”

Hermione stood from her chair, discreetly stretching her limbs. Trying not to show too much interest, she saw Lily take the cards and lay them in a certain order. Coming up behind Lily, she looked over the girl’s shoulder to see what she had done.

Reading out loud the sentence Lily had made Hermione smiled to herself:

“‘Father loves Lily’. That’s right. That’s how words are used to form a sentence…”

Leaning forward she put out the few candles lighting the room, resulting in only firelight dancing around the room. Enjoying the feeling this gave her, she let her gaze linger on Lily who was still staring at the cards. Hermione moved to the door, opening it and letting Lily go to the kitchens…

Tired from the constant tension in the room all afternoon, Hermione pinched her nose, only to be surprised by Dobby the House Elf asking her to come down for dinner. She really was uncomfortable with their sudden pops, while she couldn’t Apparate inside the house due to the wards surrounding it.

Dinner was quite the affair. First Miss Ginevra had congratulated her on her victory over Lily.

Hermione had only answered softly, after a quick glance at Mr. Potter’s sour expression: “Please, Miss Weasley, do not speak of victory, yet. Miss Potter is much too young to be conquered already…”

The witch had continued merrily while sipping her butterbeer:

“Be that as it may, Miss Granger, but you did manage to teach her a valuable lesson today, and not only her, either…” Miss Weasley looked pointedly at Mr. Potter, “Who would’ve ever guessed that the way to discipline Lily would be to reprimand her father first!”

To Hermione’s unease, Mr. Longbottom joined in at that moment: “Ah, so that is the reason of your ingratitude, dear friend!”

Hermione had silently continued eating, while Mr. Potter was trying his best to pretend he wasn’t irritated by the chatter and merriness of Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom. Needless to say she was quite uncomfortable throughout dinner.

Fleeing the company, she wanted to see if Lily was already asleep. But her plans were foiled by Mr. Longbottom, who requested an audience with her.

Not sure where this would be leading, she followed the man to Mr. Potter’s study.

***

Please, review?

19. Chapter 18

AN: Hey, if you don’t believe me when I say I am working on Walking, Alive, then check out the ‘Special Features’ File at the yahoo-group where I’m moderating…

Oh, and thanks for the reviews!!!

BTW, I’m only using some major plot elements from the movie… I realise some of you went to get the movie, and it’s a great movie… But I won’t follow it to the letter, especially the ending (I didn’t really like the ending there, and now that I have the ability to change it, I won’t let it pass by) For those of you who’ve already seen the movie, you know that there are more things then only magic different in the story, like the reason of the wife’s coma, the relationship with the wife before that, the ‘sister-in-law’s character (BIG difference there), the ‘family’ situation in total, even the associate (Neville) is of a totally different calibre. I don’t make Dobby wear a wig, and I didn’t take over Mr. Goodwin’s job (please!), so don’t expect to find all the answers of my story’s development in the movie. But you ought to see it for different reasons anyway: because of its beauty and it being very inspiring…

***

Chapter 18

Hermione sat herself down on one of the couches available, while Mr. Longbottom took a deep breath. Patiently, she crossed her hands in her lap and looked expectantly at the man who’d asked to speak with her.

“Miss Granger. I may not be the most powerful wizard alive, but I do dispose of an inherited family fortune, as well as a mansion oversees. With this, I have the ample means to secure the living of a family. I am so bold as to ask you… if you’d be willing to move to America… will you consider marriage… with me?”

Schooling her features carefully to reveal nothing of her feelings, Hermione looked closely at Mr. Longbottom. He actually was quite handsome… And though Miss Weasley kept teasing him about being clumsy, she had yet to see real evidence of that. And it was true he didn’t seem as powerful a wizard as some she’d met, but he was still above average. Last but not least, he was a pureblooded wizard, and even if he lived the ‘disgrace’ of having left the ‘motherland’ for his America, his proposal was still quite an honour for her…

The poor man had grown quite nervous, during her silent reflection… She almost felt sorry for what had to happen:

“I’m very flattered by your proposal, and I’m aware of the honour you bestow upon me…”

Hermione showed nothing but politeness. Mr. Longbottom, though, had understood:

“But the answer is ‘no’?”

With the tiniest of nods, Hermione inclined her head, confirming: “The answer is ‘no’…”

Mr. Longbottom exhaled the breath he had been holding. And Hermione asked:

“You don’t seem too disappointed?”

The man laughed nervously:

“I have enjoyed your company for a total of maybe a few hours… Thus, I should be able to survive without you… But it is strange, how soon a man starts dreaming…”

Mr. Longbottom looked rather dreamy just then, and Hermione thought it a good time to leave. Getting up from the chair, she inclined her head:

“If that’ll be all? …”

Ready to depart to her chambers, Mr. Longbottom hastily asked:

“One last matter, if you please?” Hermione turned her attention back to him, “It may well be that I’ll have to make such a proposal again in the future… Should I take note of some faults? Maybe the way I hold myself? Or the wording of the proposal itself?”

Hermione smiled a little, the man really was quite insecure:

“No, I wouldn’t change a thing, sir, any woman would love to have a man as yourself courting her…”

It wasn’t a lie. Mr. Longbottom wasn’t ugly, and still quite young. He may not be anything extraordinary, but he wasn’t unimportant, either… He was a safe bet for a nice and comfortable marriage…

Mr. Longbottom’s response to her reassurance was:

“Any woman… but you?”

Hermione only inclined her head again and took her leave, heading for the stairs. Suddenly, she realised, she didn’t know where Lily’s bedroom was. Determined to find out first thing in the morning, she retreated to her bedroom, and took out her journal.

It was until late in the night that she tried to commit all events and feelings of the past two days to paper…

***

Harry Potter was very violent in his strokes against the water during his morning swim. Last night Mr. Longbottom had asked to speak with Miss Granger… As was his right, Harry supposed…

The night had plagued him with torturous thoughts… feelings he couldn’t place… His head kept telling him it would be for the best if they got married. She could leave sooner then, and he wouldn’t be so close to her anymore…

She wouldn’t distract him every minute of the day. She wouldn’t be a threat to the careful balance he had built his entire life on… She wouldn’t make his heart stop every time she entered the room. His stomach wouldn’t make any strange movements every time she opened her mouth to speak…

It was torture to have her here… But on the other hand…

Well, he had been thinking about what she said about Lily… And she could have an important point, there…

He hadn’t really been thinking all that much about Lily’s future. He had just assumed it would be dreary like his, and he wanted her to at least enjoy her childhood as much as possible. It had always been the only thing he concerned himself with: keeping Lily happy in the present…

Because the future would tear them apart anyway. Not only was his job dangerous, but she’d be gone to Hogwarts, and then, who knew when he’d see her again? The present was the time he still could hold her with him, and this precious time would be happy, at any cost.

He was still having his doubts about what Miss Granger had told him so boldly, and he hadn’t really liked what he’d heard… and especially not how he heard…

Heaving himself out of the glacial water, he hurried to towel his cold body and quickly covered himself enough to sprint towards the house.

The weather was turning, and soon, he wouldn’t be able to go swimming in the mornings anymore. Which method he’d have to use then to clear his mind, he’d have to think about that… But first, he had to be able to meet his houseguests with dignity, thus dress appropriately…

***

He still hadn’t seen her…

Hermione had again woken very early, and remembering what she had witnessed the day before, she had been unable to stop her body walking towards the greenhouse. Torturing herself with watching the fuzzy outlines of her employer’s body, she tried not to think about the impropriety of what she was doing.

Desire flared in her, flushing her cheeks, making her burn in the most peculiar way… And all she could think about was that third night… That magical night…

Hermione had felt like she had already conceived by then… Despite her mind’s reservations, that third night had held a special place in her past. It was undeniably a sinful evening… Like she had once, a long time ago, reasoned that neither of them had been there for their pleasure, and they were both doing this out of obligation for someone else… and so she had concluded that it meant they were doing nothing wrong.

Already this reasoning was questionable. If she had only done this for her father, she could’ve married into money. But then she would’ve been imprisoned for life…

Well, in retrospect; her feelings had been in a tight cage all this time, too, but that wasn’t the point.

And now that she knew of his situation, too… He wanted a child for his happiness only. It wasn’t because he needed a male heir, or to make his wife happier… He wanted someone to love him…

Both their motives had never been all that altruistic… Not that it made them bad… They were only human, after all…

But despite all this, the third night, all barriers had been brought down…

And now, being so close… after seven years… Hermione wanted to feel like that again…

***

Please, review?

20. Chapter 19

jmsoftball9: I think people will always beat around the bush with their feelings, and much more often then you’d think… First of all, it’s already very hard to determine your own feelings, there’s just never a guarantee or a clear answer to what it is you’re feeling, or for how long you’ll feel that way… Adding the uncertainty of what the other person must be feeling, if he or she feels the same… or not… It’s just so easy to get hurt, and people sometimes prefer to suffer in silence instead of making a potential fool out of themselves… afraid of losing their self-respect in addition to have their heart broken… But then again, these comments don’t really have anything to do with the story, but I was intrigued by your review, so I annoyingly decided to give my opinion…

Ravenclaw’s heir: In the first chapters, they were both around twenty… So now, more then seven years later, I’d say they’re both around 28…

down2earthangl85: Check ‘Prologue’, it’s Firelight, starring one of the greatest actresses all time: Sophie Marceau

Muirnin: Oops, I did it again… Sorry!

***

Chapter 19

Later that morning, Hermione arrived at the classroom carrying a tray with tea… The spectacle she encountered there aggravated her.

Lily was clinging to her father’s neck. She didn’t want to let go, while he was pleading to her: “Lily, you promised… Please, don’t…” Seeing Hermione, he turned to her: “It’s too hard… This isn’t working…”

Hermione showed no mercy for his weakness: “She’s just taking advantage of the situation, that’s all…”

Mr. Potter straightened at that, lifting Lily, who still was hanging on tightly, even more form the ground: “Can’t a father care for his child as he wishes?”

Hermione showed no exasperation, but said firmly: “Care for her all you wish, sir, but try to avoid pitying her…”

The remark made him turn away from her, and he addressed his daughter again, his voice soft but firm: “Lily! Please?”

Lily didn’t say anything when she slowly let her arms loosen the grip on her father. After helping her to the ground, Mr. Potter hesitantly headed for the door: “You’ll be alright, then?”

Lily just spat out bitterly: “You don’t care either way… Go ahead and go then! You don’t care…”

A pained expression came over Mr. Potter’s face, but to Hermione’s relief, he strode from the room, not turning back anymore. Closing and locking the door behind him, Hermione turned towards Lily, who had stubbornly again taken her place at the fireplace, her arms crossed.

“Now it’s just you and me again…”

Ignoring the look of rage that passed on Lily’s face, Hermione resigned herself to another test of wills like the one yesterday afternoon… Appearing unperturbed, she again set to making more cards… It seemed to be a good method to pique Lily’s curiosity…

*

Harry wasn’t in the mood to entertain guests, so he was glad Ginny had invited Neville to come visit her at work. He knew Ginny was very proud of her work, and he couldn’t blame her for being enthusiastic about helping people. Though he was thorn between wanting to know what had happened last night between Neville and Miss Granger, he tried to tell himself it wasn’t any of his business.

But excuses kept flying through his head: he had to know what was going on! He had a right to know if he was going to have courtship happening under his roof! And what about when they’d leave for America? Who was going to teach Lily? And why would Neville want to marry her anyway? He had only met her for a few moments? How could he possibly have lost his heart during that time? And she, why would she want to marry, when…

Shaking his head, he walked around his study, aggravated. Picking up a random book, he thought about flinging it through the room, like he had seen other wizards and witches do in a moment of frustration. Gazing at the object in his hands, though, he couldn’t help but feel foolish even contemplating throwing a childish tantrum…

At the precise moment he put down the book sheepishly, an owl pecked the window of his study. Recognising the Weasley family owl, Harry hurried to let the animal in, receiving a grateful peck from the bird. Taking the letter, Harry dismissed the owl, sending it to his kitchens for a snack.

Opening the folded parchment, he recognised Luna’s delicate handwriting.

Dear Harry,

Before you worry yourself, Ronald and I are in excellent health, and so are our children, bless The Goddess. We do find ourselves hoping you and Lily are too, although from Ginevra’s most recent writings, we can deduct you both are.

Coming Thursday is Halloween as you should very well know. And Ronald and I agree that it would be best not to leave you alone in that big mansion of yours. Consequently, you can expect us and the children coming over Wednesday night. As you probably receive this note Friday, I apologise for the short notice, but it couldn’t be helped.

Just so you know, Mama Molly is plotting to invite herself as well, and you do know what this means?

Consider yourself a warned man, Harry Potter!

With great affection,

Mrs. Ronald Weasley

Harry shook his head at the strange letter. Not that he wasn’t used to this change of casual greetings, to formal endings, from Luna. And Ron inviting himself wasn’t unusual either. Harry wasn’t as smooth of a host as he sometimes wished, and he never remembered to renew the standing invitation to his home for his best friend… Ron was always welcome, and the House Eves loved the Weasleys and the extra work their visits caused.

The fact that Mrs. Weasley was almost certainly coming over too, meant the world to him. Even though he’d be subjected to a few days under Molly’s watchful eye and constant hints about her unmarried daughter living there with him, couldn’t erase the fact that he knew Molly coming for Halloween signified for certain that she considered him as one of her own.

Halloween would be a real family affair this year…

At this thought Harry’s heart skipped a beat: a family affair! Miss Granger was going to be there, too!

This caused him more distress than the knowledge that Molly was probably going to take advantage of the situation and plan an All Saints ball at his mansion, the first of November…

Searching his mind frantically, he calculated the risk of having his secret bond to Miss Granger being exposed. Only Ron knew… Well, hopefully he had long since forgotten the name of Lily’s real mother, Harry had only mentioned it in passing…

And if Ginny hadn’t noticed anything strange yet, surly Molly wouldn’t either?

And Miss Granger would never do anything to compromise him, so that left him safe, wouldn’t it?

Before his worrying mind could remind him of the possibility that Miss Granger could’ve accepted Neville’s offer, another owl asked its way into Harry’s study. Well, for the two minute warning he got… This time it was indeed from Molly…

***

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21. Chapter 20

Hikaru: Harry knew Hermione’s name very well… He just didn’t know the name of the new governess, because for once, Ginny had arranged it with Hermione’s old Headmistress… When he came home with Neville, he recognised the name at the same time as the woman herself…

By the way: this speaks volumes about his unconscious desire to meet her again! He knew she was a governess, so if he wanted to be sure ‘chance’ would never have her path cross with his anymore, then he would’ve stayed more actively involved with picking Lily’s governesses…

***

Chapter 20

Molly’s letter was much more subtle in inviting herself over. At least, she was expecting an official invitation from Harry also.

After quickly sending of a reply to his best friend’s mother, he informed an ecstatic Dobby about the plans for next week. Although there hadn’t been any confirmation about his doubts in Molly’s letter, Dobby had also assumed next Friday there would certainly be the All Saints Ball…

While Harry didn’t really look forward into organising a social gathering like that at his home - he shuddered to invite all those witches and wizards he’d rather not see - he was amused with Dobby’s excited frenzy at the short notice. Normally, it would be madness to start inviting people for such a date with only a week’s notice, but he was Harry Potter, after all… And once word spread that Mrs. Weasley was going to be there, too - her reputation as hostess was quite formidable - he had no doubts the place would be full Friday night…

Still worrying over the ball’s preparation and invitation list, he barely noticed the knock on his door. Absentmindedly inviting them into his study, he looked up to see Neville. Confused Harry asked:

“I thought you were visiting Ginny’s work today? You can’t possibly have seen all of it already?”

Neville smiled: “Indeed not… Ginny’s quite passionate about what she’s doing, and I’m afraid she forgot all about me the minute she arrived. There had been an accident with little kids having used their parents’ wands, you see… I grew a bit bored after seeing Ginny fuss over the little wizards, while scolding the parents…”

Shrugging, Neville admitted: “I didn’t really want to go with her… Hospitals and all that always make me feel a bit uncomfortable. But if there’s one thing I learned to be dangerous, it is to refuse a Weasley, especially Ginny… Remember our last Yule Ball at Hogwarts?”

Wincing in sympathy at the memory Neville revoked, Harry didn’t dwell on it, and before he could speak up anyway, Neville sat down, looking a little more serious.

“I guess it was a good thing I got back early today…” before Harry could ponder what he meant by that, Neville held up a letter: “I got this the moment I arrived here. It’s from my government. They wish for me to return as soon as possible, in order to attend an All Hallows Eve ball there. I would have to make a speech about what I learned on my journey here…”

Neville looked a bit queasy at the prospect of having to speak in front of that gathering… But Harry was more concerned with the fact that it meant Neville was going to have to leave soon, after all, he only had less than a week to cross the ocean. While wizards had more effective means to complete this travel than Muggles, it was still a bit time-consuming…

Apparition and Portkeying wasn’t regarded as safe enough, and Flooing couldn’t be done over water. Harry knew Neville had come over in the flying carriage of the British Ministry as an important guest, but wasn’t sure that courtesy would be allowed twice:

“We will miss you… When will you have to depart?”

Neville frowned: “I apologise for the short notice, Harry, but I can not stay longer than dinner tonight. Already I will have to hasten myself as it is, so I thought at least I’d be able to bid everyone goodbye tonight… My colleague who attended the French Ministry will pick me up with the American underwater traveller, Gillysweeper…”

Harry nodded absentmindedly wondering about the magical engine those Americans must’ve built… But his foremost though was the desperate want of clarification if that meant he was leaving Miss Granger behind, but he didn’t want to pry…

“Indeed, so tonight will have to be the last night of our enjoying your company… It is indeed unfortunate of your government to demand your presence this suddenly…”

Neville nodded gravely and grumbled under his breath: “Bloody politics…” just not silently enough for Harry not to have heard…

*

Hermione’s patience was beginning to wear thin. Lily was being extraordinarily stubborn. By the time Winky popped in briefly, leaving lunch for two on a tray, Lily had yet to show any reaction.

Setting the plates filled with food on each side of the table, Hermione rejoiced when her daughter straightened and walked to one of the chairs. However the girl didn’t sit down, but grabbed one of the plates. Looking deliberately at Hermione, she threw the food with considerable force towards the locked door. Soon the cup of pumpkin juice followed.

For the first time in her career as a governess, Hermione was forced to restrain herself from tearing at her hair and screaming at the top of her lungs out of sheer frustration. Instead of this, however, she took a deep and deliberate breath, and set her plate on the tray again, true to her promises to Mr. Potter.

“I guess that means I won’t eat either…”

While she was cleaning up the mess Lily made with a few well-placed spells, she also send the tray back to the kitchens. Lily was watching her with crossed arms and a very angry expression. But Hermione noted, she was trying hard not to show her exhaustion.

All the stubbornness was tiring her out, and if Hermione was right, the little witch was starting to regret throwing her food away. Taking advantage of Lily’s wavering strength, Hermione asked her:

“Will you be ready to learn now?”

Lily however clung to her arrogance as a lifeline: “You’re but a servant! You’re poor and a Muggleborn! I don’t have anything to learn from you!”

Hermione’s patience cracked. Standing straight, she towered over the defiant little witch.

Her voice firm, but not too loud, she set the girl straight: “I may not be rich, and my parents may not have been wizards, but I am not a servant. While I’m here, you are placed under my authority and tutelage, and you will obey me!”

Lily didn’t seem impressed at all about this, though… Indeed she seemed victorious to have made the governess lose her calm demeanour. With a malicious gleam in her eyes she taunted: “Servant, servant, servant…”

Hermione’s fingers clenched around her wand. All the stress from meeting her daughter at last, and discovering her to be a spoiled brat bubbled inside her, making her lose her rationality. Sending a hex towards the girl, she registered her own shock as well as the girl’s.

The spell was rather harmless, making the girl’s hair stand straight upward. While she saw the girl touching her hair gingerly, Hermione quickly hexed herself to the same fate.

Before Lily could recover from the shock, Hermione quickly knelt before the girl, grabbing her upperarms desperately. Searching the girl’s eyes, Hermione lost all calm when she tried to break through to the girl:

“I am no more a servant than you will be! The grown-up world is a difficult one to live in, and you are going to need more than arrogance and a good family name to survive in it. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to marry, because if you do, you won’t have anything of yours, everything will be your husband’s! And even if you don’t marry, you’ll still be dependant on others, unless you learn a skill, like Miss Weasley, but that takes years of study and to study, you need to know how to read first! You’ll never be completely free, body and soul can be bound, and there’s only one thing about you nobody can stake a claim on. Your mind Lily! They can posses everything else, but not your mind! That’s why I want you to be able to read, Lily! It’s the only way you can truly acquire some freedom! But in order for you to learn, you will have to listen to me first!”

Out of breath, Hermione didn’t let go of Lily’s arms, shaking the girl slightly as if to make her words sink in more thoroughly.

Lily seemed to have abandoned all arrogance, and though her expression still showed more shock and confusion than real understanding, the girl whispered carefully:

“Are you going to make our hair go down again if I promise to look at those cards?”

***

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22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Shortly after Neville had excused himself to go pack his belongings, Harry received an owl, again, from Mrs. Weasley. It carried the conformation that she was indeed organising the supposed event… He was glad he had already assumed the Ball, because otherwise it would’ve ruined his already gloomy day further.

So there would be an All Saints Ball at his mansion, come Friday, and while Ron was coming over Wednesday with his family, she would arrive early, the day of Halloween, Thursday. Molly was going to take care of everything, from the guest list and the invitation to the music and the food. There was already a list included for Dobby…

Harry didn’t know to be relieved, or annoyed… While he didn’t like tending to such matters, he certainly wasn’t unable to do so… But then again, this was probably for the best. Well, there would be quite a few matters to announce at dinner tonight…

Time flew by while Harry took care of other matters, and it wasn’t until about five in the afternoon that he started to miss Lily. Normally she would spend the time before she had her dinner in the kitchens with him, and then after his dinner he would go and tuck her in.

Now, he was left waiting until her lessons had ended… and wait he did…

*

Hermione knew very well that it was more the shock of what had happened than her actual speech that galvanised Lily into cooperating. The poor girl probably couldn’t understand the seriousness of growing up, and Hermione could only imagine how scary she looked with her hair pointing to the skies… But at least she was ready to be taught now.

After a long afternoon of explaining the cards to Lily, and teaching her more words, Hermione saw that the darkening sky outsight meant that it really wasn’t fair for Lily to keep her from food any longer. But before she ended the lesson, she put out all candles illuminating the room.

In the relative darkness, she joined Lily at the fireplace. In a soft voice, Hermione wanted to keep the restful atmosphere intact:

“Did you know firelight holds its own magic?” At Lily’s questioning gaze, Hermione continued: “It’s not the kind of magic that’s held within a spell or any enchantment, it’s magic from time itself… When the sun sets, and only the fire warms you, its light holds the magic to stop time of sorts. In the firelight, you can do what you want, say what you want, and, if you want to, it will all be forgotten in the morning…”

Lily whispered, as if frightened to break the peaceful spell: “I can do what I want?”

At Hermione’s nod, Lily looked at her governess pleadingly: “I want to leave…”

Hermione answered gently: “Then leave…”

Lily threw a look at the door, before watching her governess with tired impatient… Hermione smiled, a bit amused:

“The door hasn’t been locked since you were ready to be taught… which was around noon…”

Lily’s eyes widened slightly, before she scrambled up and walked towards the door, finding it indeed open. Once she was out the door, she broke into a run.

Hermione followed her downstairs, and was met with an almost heart wrenching sight. Mr. Potter had obviously been waiting for his daughter, and she had thrown herself in his arms.

Hermione longed to be a part of it… Her heart aching she saw how Mr. Potter let his guard down, and buried his face in his daughter’s hair, while Lily clutched at her father with arms and legs. Now more then ever, she felt like an outsider… Lily wasn’t supposed to be her daughter, and Mr. Potter…

With a sudden clarity she realised she envied both with the same amount. Mr. Potter for having the love of her daughter, and being able to hold her like that… But in this moment she’d like to be Lily also. Being held by him like that… being able to embrace him with such abandon…

With a resolute shake of her head, she went back to the classroom to clean up…

*

Harry had a distinctly odd feeling. It wasn’t as if he had been feeling anything remotely normal ever since Miss Granger come into his life again… But it was really starting to get more… odd…

Just hours ago, when he had cuddled Lily after she had jumped into his arms, being released from Miss Granger’s lessons, he had caught a glimpse of the governess’ retreating back. There had been such a sad expression on her face… And extraordinarily enough, it had made her look so beautiful, his heart had stopped for but a moment.

There was such a tragic serenity about her in that moment, and it touched him to the core…

And then, after he’d taken Lily from the kitchens back to her room, where she could play a bit before going to sleep, he’d descended the stairs to find Miss Granger waiting in the room for supper to be served. Joining her in front of the fire, he noticed they stood there in the dark.

Not knowing what to say, and wanting to break the awkward silence between them, he’d remarked about the firelight illuminating a room more then one would believe.

Miss Granger had looked at him in surprise, while he had been totally clueless about the meaning of her softening stare and slight blush. When she averted her eyes back to the firelight, though, it hit him… He’d said something similar… back then…

Feeling even more odd then before his inane remark, he had never been so relieved to find Ginny burst in and tutting about them being in the dark, and how it was bad for one’s eyesight.

Dinner had been relatively uneventful on the Miss Granger front. Ginny was sad to see Neville leave, but was too excited about the ball next week and her family coming over to mourn for more than a few moments. Harry was to accompany Neville to the magical docks in London, but he wanted to go tuck in his daughter first. After he’d exited Lily’s room and called a last ‘goodnight’ to her, he’d ran into Miss Granger… again… She tried to hide it, but he’d be willing to bet anything she longed to be the one to kiss Lily’s forehead, wishing her a nightmare-free sleep… And again, it made his chest hurt…

The final teardown of the stubborn barriers he kept around him had came during his ride back from London, while he’d pondered the last conversation with Neville…

“Goodbye, my friend, you know you’re always welcome to visit whenever you leave your beloved America?”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Harry, and for your lessons in Defence, of course…”

“Oh, and… did you find time to attend to your… other business?”

“Indeed… She didn’t leave me much of a chance…”

“She didn’t accept?”

“No, it’s obvious she already has someone holding her heart…”

Harry couldn’t shake the feeling of… envy… Who held her heart? Or… Dear sweet hope… Hope made a man so vulnerable, and often led to bitter disappointment. But what if it was him? What if she did remember those nights… The third night…

It was time to stop lying to himself… time to confess… Only then could he handle the situation with Miss Granger with a clear head. And then, he would be able to stay unaffected by her…

This was how he found himself next to Cho… Staring into the fire… Emotions too strong, making his voice crack…

“I don’t know if you want to hear this, but I can’t… I can’t talk to anyone else about this… I have a confession to make, Cho…

I remember… I remember the nights Lily was conceived… I’ve never forgotten… I remember… her… how she felt… How she made me feel…

I couldn’t forget… And ever since… Every time those London harlots propositioned me… I didn’t… I didn’t feel like I’d… Oh, Merlin… Forgive me Cho… My first thought wasn’t that I’d betray your trust… But I felt like… like I was betraying her…

And I know I shouldn’t feel like this… that it should be you I’m thinking about in that way… but I can’t… I can’t even really recall our wedding night… All I remember, was that it was quick, in order not to hurt your baby, and rather businesslike, to complete the wedding contract… It was the way it should’ve been with her…

But it was different with her Cho… And I hope, some day, you can forgive me…”

At this, Harry broke down, like he hadn’t since as long as he could remember… In the privacy of his wife’s room, he rested his undeserving head on her midriff and cried… Like he hadn’t really sobbed when Sirius passed away, nor when Cedric was murdered… It wasn’t the desperate realisation when Cho’s baby died and she was rendered unconscious for a lifetime… It was a cathartic moment, washing away some of the frustration he’d felt for such a long time…

***

Please, review…

23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Harry woke with a splitting head-ache. Disorientated for a moment, he realised with distaste that he’d cried himself to sleep last night…

Disentangling himself from his wife’s bedcovers, a sudden rush of panic hit him. Checking his wife for signs of life, he felt almost overwhelmed by relief… She was still alive…

Irrational as it seemed, Harry felt that if she’d passed away after that confession from last night, it would’ve meant that he had let her down somehow… That his betrayal would’ve been the cause of her death… But the fact that she was still there… still breathing… An odd sense of being forgiven fell over Harry.

After all, Cho must know he didn’t mean for the things that he felt to happen… She knew his loyalty… So she must’ve forgiven him… Tucking his wife in again, he left the room to fulfil his morning rituals.

Passing a window overseeing the grounds, though, he saw the flowers ice had painted on the glass. Now Harry may have been a fanatic morning swimmer in the lake… but he didn’t fancy freezing to catch his death. Turning around to find his bathroom, he set out to talk to Miss Granger that evening after dinner.

*

Hermione had been flustered throughout the duration of day, though nothing betrayed it on the outside.

After Mr. Potter’s offhand comment last night, Hermione was forcefully reminded of the events that had taken place more then seven years ago. Not that those were always very far from her mind, especially when she snuck down in the mornings to steal her cheap look at his body… It was just that hearing him say the very same thing about the firelight, about the atmosphere that had almost become sacred to her…

Even the elation to have come upon Lily’s bedroom the past evening, hadn’t been able to drive away the images in her dreams. She had snuck into her daughter’s room after Mr. Potter and Longbottom had left the mansion. There she had been able to kiss her daughter’s sleeping face for the very first time… Long after she detailed the emotion of having been able to make a loving gesture towards her daughter for the first time in her journal, she had fallen asleep to dream of the night Lily’s father had taken something of Hermione’s she had never been able to win back…

Hermione didn’t like to admit it, but what she told Lily was the bitter truth… The way she saw it, a person had a body, mind, and heart… The body was captured by society, rules of conduct didn’t allow it to be free by any large extent. The heart… Oh, it answered to no free will. The heart could be easily captured and be held prisoner… No, freedom was not something for the heart. The only and true freedom could be achieved inside the mind. It was the one thing others couldn’t control, it was the only thing that couldn’t be imprisoned, save by its own free will…

Hermione had learned this lesson the hard way, many years ago. It was her iron will that had dragged her mind out of the despair her heart was feeling. It was her mind that learned and travelled inside her imagination, thrived to achieve more, that had kept her going. Never her heart… No, her heart hadn’t been completely hers ever since she’d known she conceived. Ever since that third night… And what had been left of it after that, had shattered the moment her daughter had been born… The moment her daughter had left her life like the father had… There had been little left to break when her own father got himself killed, only hollowness…

Her heart and her body had never been free from that moment in time on. Her mind, however… She knew how to be strong, how to achieve her own little victories on life… And thank Merlin for that. Because if she’d left her heart’s as well as her body’s desire to reign her life, that all-consuming desire to have her daughter back… to have one more moment with the man that haunted her dreams… she wouldn’t have survived with her sanity…

So, although the lesson with Lily went quite well, Hermione couldn’t help the constant afterthought plaguing her.

For the first time at Godric’s Hollow, she despaired in her ability to keep her feelings to herself. But she had promised, and she would honour the promise… Mr. Potter’s and hers secret bond would remain just that… secret…

*

Harry hadn’t found his day to go by as smoothly as he’d thought in the morning. Plagued by sudden flashes of awareness, he was more determined then ever to have that talk with Miss Granger.

It had been quite irritating… The sudden belief that the smell of an old book could somehow trigger the memory of the smell of her skin… only she was more sweet and salty… it drove him mad… especially when even the feel of the leather covered armrests of his chair made him remember how he’d enjoyed touching her…

And remember her he did … in the firelight… The way the shadows had played on her skin, and the light had made her wild hair shine like gold… It was all engraved in his mind, and through years of suppression in vain, those memories were showed clearer than ever every time he closed his eyes…

But that wasn’t all… It wasn’t just that night, but also what had led to it. The rare conversations they’d had… especially the one when they had been on the windy beach, overlooking the see, when he had been wondering about her feelings. The first time he’d seen her smile… The way he knew exactly what she’d meant, how she wanted to be able to scream… and how he too, wanted to be able to let go entirely…

After her lesson today, Lily had told him how Miss Granger had told her about the magic of firelight… And he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that.

At dinner that night, Harry had been thankful for Ginny’s unstoppable chatter about the letters she’d received from her eldest brothers Charlie and Bill… By the incessant information Ginny was providing, Miss Granger must feel like she knew the two gentlemen as if she had been the one growing up with them…

*

Hermione had spied Mr. Potter retrieving Lily from her lake house after retiring from dinner that night. The girl was almost asleep in her father’s arms when he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. Bidding her time in the shadows, she waited for Mr. Potter to leave and snuck in to tuck Lily in. Brushing the brown-red hair out of the way, she again let her lips brush the smooth skin of her daughter’s forehead. Reverently, she pulled up the covers a bit more, and whispered a soft goodnight.

After carefully closing Lily’s bedroom door, she hastened her pace towards the classroom. She hadn’t yet been able to clear up all the mess they’d made with the cards today, and she wanted the room to be in impeccable order for the next morning.

Arriving at a brisk pace, she was startled quite a bit to see Mr. Potter seated at the desk she taught at. He was going through the cards, and without looking up he acknowledged her presence by asking her:

“Miss Granger… Is this how you intend my daughter to learn how to write? The images show her what the word is. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t she just interpret the images, rather than really read the word underneath it? She’s just guessing, right?”

After collecting her bearings, and unconsciously smoothening her skirts, she answered clearly: “Yes, of course she’s merely interpreting the pictures… for the moment it is little more than a guessing game to her… After a while, though, she will be able to read, without needing to see the images…”

While her answer was calm, she felt anything but. For the first time, she realised that Mr. Potter really mustn’t have liked her. He tolerated her presence here, but the way he avoided looking at her, the way his voice often sounded harsh when he talked to her, like just a moment before… It was so different from the way his voice had sounded in her memory. Or maybe her memory had just been playing tricks on her…

Unable to just stand there, she started busying herself with gathering the cards on the desk in a neat pile. Relieved when he chose to stand and distance himself from her, she scanned the room for more mess. With a beating heart, she saw him stand in front of the fire lit hearth, in the otherwise dark room. The last cards that needed to be retrieved were laying on the ground… The ones that Lily had brought with her at the fireplace for their silent moment.

Startled out of her inability to join him at the fire, she heard him sigh:

“Lily told me you spoke to her about the magic of firelight? Why?”

Busying her hands idly with the several objects on her desk, Hermione ignored the strange change in tone he used to utter that question. She wasn’t going to break her promise, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell her seven-year old daughter what had happened in the firelight nine months before she was born… So he better not be accusing her of anything.

“I think it is a good thing to end the lesson by ignoring the rules of time for but a moment… It breaks with the studious work and allows the mind to come to rest in a gentle fashion…”

By that time, Hermione had collected the courage to walk towards the fireplace without hesitation. Kneeling to retrieve the last scattered cards, she heard his voice again… This time, it was the tone she remembered, the soft baritone she had yearned to hear once more…

“I need your help, Miss Granger…”

***

Please review?

24. Chapter 23

AN: GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER… NOW!!!

***

Chapter 23

Hermione stayed in her position at the fireplace. Help? What possible help could she provide beside teaching Lily? Or perhaps he had found out about her potion skills, and he wanted her to make some complicated potion?

Her mind was buzzing while her posture remained rigid. Waiting for him to clarify his request, she tried to let the fire warm her to calmness. Finally he spoke again, a bit hesitant:

“There was a time… There was a time we have been… We met before… We were… close… Do you remember that time?”

Hermione’s heart was beating so hard, she was scared the emotions were going to inflict real physical damage. Of course she remembered that time… It were only some of the most life-altering moments of her life! But forever the collected one, she answered, barely above a whisper:

“Yes…”

A sigh escaped his lips, as if he’d been holding his breath for her answer. With hesitant urgency he proceeded:

“Tell me those memories belong to the past… That they will rest in the past forever…”

*

Merlin, he needed her strength right now… He had come here tonight, meaning for him to tell her it would forever be in the past. He had fought so hard to repress everything, had wanted to send her away as soon as possible… But fate, it seemed, had helped to turn his feelings against him…

He knew now, that he was unable to repress any longer what he felt for this woman… So, his only salvation lay in the hope that she did not return his affections. That she was more honourable than him, and that she would reject him with one simple word…

Only… That word never came…

*

Hermione tried… But she could not lie… Not about this… She knew she should agree with him… She should reassure him, that what had happened in the past, would stay in the past. That she not only would promise to never reveal their secret bond, but also promise to renounce entertaining any present or future thoughts about him…

Only, she couldn’t… So she remained silent…

Startled out of her inner struggle, she heard him speak, almost defeated:

“You do not answer?”

Hermione felt sad… for him… for her… They were quite the tragic pair… He wouldn’t want to risk losing what was left of his respectability, and frankly… she didn’t want to lose hers, either… But how were they going to live with the tension between them… Now that he certainly guessed she couldn’t forget him in the way she shouldn’t have remembered him…

Through her silly reverie of self-pity, she heard his gentle voice, and just the sound of it was already making her heart ache:

“What happens… when we ignore the rules of time… in the firelight?”

Looking up, amazed by this question, and what it could mean, she watched him from her place in front of the fireplace. His green gaze was piercing her, as if looking right into her soul. It was pleading with her, only she didn’t know what he was begging her to do or say.

Rising slowly, she answered, while hope grew painfully in her chest: “The firelight makes the moment magical… We can be whoever we want to be, and do or say whatever we desire… And in the morning… once the sun casts her light upon us again… all is erased… Everything that happened during the Magic of Firelight is forgotten… forgiven…”

His gaze became her anchor, while the words rolled from her. What she desired to do in this moment… during the magic of the firelight… was something she could barely fight… But it was getting too painful to fight it any longer… And his expression told her that he felt the same…

And in that moment, she didn’t care anymore. He desired this as much as she did, and in the morning, it would all be forgotten… forgiven…

*

Harry had listened to her… And he believed her.

He wanted to believe her more than anything in the world. He wanted her… And if the magic of firelight was going to give him what he craved for, who was he to argue its power?

His heart hammering, he watched her as she stood aside him. Her eyes… so sad… so full of hope… so everything he was feeling also… Shadows were playing on the skin of her face, and the overwhelming desire to rid her hair from the ridiculously tight bun she was wearing, conquered his demeanour as it had years before.

In a forbidden gesture, he brought his hands to the back of her head, making the pins disappear… Taking the freed hair between his fingers, he helped the locks with their cascade downwards… How her whole appearance lessened in its severity… How much younger and more innocent did she appear… But it barely mattered…

All that mattered was her, and everything about her. Bending his head slowly, he continued to hold her gaze, trying to read it. What he saw was pain, sadness, desire, fear, longing, tenderness, defeat… as he was feeling…

The moment his lips touched hers… he thought he was going to die from the pain it brought him… Exquisite, torturous pain, and it promised equal pleasure once it was survived… Closing his eyes, he savoured the traitorous kiss… It felt like his salvation, but at the same time, it sealed his downfall.

It wasn’t enough… it would never be enough…

Repeating the gesture, brushing his lips tenderly over hers again, realisation crashed into him. They had never kissed before… And she wasn’t in the process of slapping him, or running away in the opposite direction as fast as she could. Quite the contrary… she was a willing accomplice… There was no money, no deal, nothing to bind them together but their desire…

With only the firelight to witness their kiss.

*

Her downfall and salvation, indeed. Her heart soared. Her mind was numb. Having rationalised the moment to be under the influence of the firelight, it had allowed her body and heart to do as they pleased…

She would likely never understand why he freed her impossible hair, but she couldn’t regret what came next.

Merlin help her… And the Muggle Lord forgive her… She could not stop this, even if she’d wanted to.

Despite the pain in her heart, despite her and his position in life… Regret wasn’t on her mind when he kissed her.

This moment didn’t just mean the continuance of something they’d started before… It meant everything, and more… He had kissed her, an act they’d both avoided in the past.

This was the present…

And even the future didn’t matter in this moment…

***

Please, review?

25. Chapter 24

AN: Ok, here it goes:

To all the readers who didn’t think (and write in their reviews) that Harry was asking help with something raging and pulsing beneath his pants… I sincerely apologise for the previous AN … But really! The ones who did… and you know who you are: you should feel ashamed of yourselves… (yeah right… :-D)

But then again: feel free to have your minds reside in the gutter once again… because I think we’ve all earned it now… especially Hermione and Harry in this story ;-p

***

Chapter 24

Harry slowly retreated from the kiss.

He could barely wrap his mind around the fact that this had just occurred… She didn’t just want to stay for Lily… She didn’t only yearn to be with her daughter… She wanted to be with their daughter… She wanted to be with him… He didn’t deserve the emotion that bonded them… But she was his, even though he couldn’t be hers outside of the magic of firelight.

Dazedly, he looked upon her face. Slowly her eyes opened. Shame, honour… reality had stopped being an issue… Engulfed in the essence of the magic of the firelight, the kiss had been too painfully intense to be considered scandalous. It wasn’t a mere meeting of lips… It was a meeting of two people’s desperate love…

What he was feeling felt so hurtfully complete… He felt like crying and laughing all at once. He felt like nothing and everything, like on the brink of insanity, and yet he’d lose his mind if he ever had to let her go…

Looking into her eyes, he knew he wasn’t searching anymore… only finding…

*

Hermione couldn’t take the pain of having their gazes lock… Bringing her head up, she desperately tried to sooth her heart by feeling his lips against hers.

He didn’t push her away, instead answered her frantic behaviour equally.

The meeting of lips rapidly progressed into a desperate pace. His hands were clutching the back of her head firmly, his fingers tangled in her hair, but Hermione could only hold onto his shoulders, afraid of breaking that much anticipated contact. At the same time she was weary of pulling him closer, even as she forgot everything else, she remembered the open door of the room.

This was wrong, but nothing had ever felt so painfully right… And yet, they needed to stop…

At the moment she was trying to collect the few clear thoughts she still possessed to push him away from her, even though every fibre of her being protested about that mere suggestion, he took a step closer to her, bringing one of his arms around her middle to clutch her against him fully, effectively chasing away any intentions of common sense to prevail.

*

The feeling of completeness was slipping, they weren't close enough… they weren’t nearly close enough… they had to be closer…

As frantic as the feeling coursed through him, Harry could never fully forget the threat of exposure… One of the House Elves could be due at any moment, Ginny might come upon them, Lily might wake up…

It was especially the thought of Lily that brought sense back to Harry. Taking the courage he’d seen crumble in her a few moments before, when she had tried to break the embrace, he gently pushed her away, while trying to quell the overwhelming longing to do the opposite…

Looking into those brown eyes… he felt all her pain, but even so, the acceptance… more then acceptance… of him. Despite feeling himself undeserving of such a look, his desire for her was too great, and hers, so expressively shown, was equally answered… and he couldn’t help but continue down the path in the firelight…

*

Hermione fought valiantly against her mind drowning, when she gazed into those green eyes.

When he distanced himself though, he even took a step back, Hermione had to hold on to every ounce of her pride not to fall against him and plead for him to never let her go…

That thought was sobering, since Hermione didn't ever want to become such a dependant creature of weakness, even if this meant lying to herself. Straightening herself she took a deep breath, and levelled her gaze again at him…

Slowly, almost scared of frightening her away, he held out his hand, a proposition…

In the magic of firelight, there was only one possible outcome to this silent question. Taking his hand, she felt herself transported into her own bedroom.

Momentarily stunned - joined apparation was supposed to be theoretically so difficult to the point of being a practical impossibility - all Hermione could do was look at him in stunned silence…

He gave her little time to compose herself. After securing the room, he brought her close again, and chased away all questions about his magical skills by a kiss.

*

Harry let go of everything once the locking and silencing spells were in place. Hungry for her, he tried to see how far she’d let him go, and how fast she would be comfortable in progressing.

To his delight, and almost causing him to believe he was experiencing a delirium, she made no protests when he pinned her to the wall next to the hearth. Fittingly, the room was only illuminated by the dance of flames in the fireplace, and Harry gave himself fully to the influence of its magic.

Desperate to feel her soft skin - everywhere - the next couple of moments were a jumble of unimportant memories of fumbling with the complicated dressrobes, and very important memories of warmth, kisses, impatient passion…

*

Hermione had never felt so detached from her mind before… It was scaring, but at the same time so exhilarating she could only breath through gasps, and with each gulp of air, she was blissfully reminded by his sent, whose body was making hers sing…

The moment the last shreds of underclothes were torn from her body, time slowed down again.

Feeling his nude form pressed up against her, while standing, was a new experience… It felt foreign and familiar and different and anticipated for so long… twining her fingers through his black locks, she wished he’d move them to the bed, before her unsteady knees would make her collapse and she’d embarrass herself.

As if reading her mind, he took her to her four-poster without breaking the contact between their lips…

While he helped her carefully on the bed, it was impossible to avoid his intense stare, that was making her heart burn for him.

*

Harry looked down at the beauty of the woman underneath him… The mother of his child… The woman who held the rights of his unfree heart…

Hesitating but a second, he was surprised about the movement she made. Opening herself to him freely, she hooked her left leg over his thigh, urging him to do what they both needed.

Unable to think of anything else, he complied, and with a simple movement, never forgotten, he was inside her… he was home…

*

Hermione fought the compulsion of rolling her eyes in ecstasy and closing them, when she felt him fill the physical void inside her. Their unsteady gazes were fighting to remain locked, but after just moments, the emotions were too overwhelming, and they found heaven in each others arms…

Spent momentarily by the unravelling of their long suppressed need, she felt safe in his warm embrace. Far from disappointed about the quick conclusion, Hermione knew this wasn’t over yet… They had all night until the sun would cast away the shadows of the firelight, chasing away their happy sin…

***

Please, review?

26. Chapter 25

AN: I’ve shamelessly forgotten to read the reviews for such a long while now… And now that I’ve remembered the shame of it is back, also…

Though many of the questions asked, have already been answered (yes, I’m sorry about the long update, no, I’m not gonna write longer chapters for this story… I like it the way it is now, no, Harry doesn’t admit Lily is his blood-relative, he only ‘appoints’ her to be his heir… she’s ‘adopted’ and by carrying the Potter-name she has all the right as his heir…) but there were some reviews that could merit some explaining I suppose:

greenevans: Cho and Cedric were engaged to be married, and the marriage itself was supposed to be held in a matter of weeks before Cedric was murdered… So yes the child was produced out of wedlock, which is precisely the reason Harry offered to marry Cho. If she had been a proper widow with child, the child wouldn’t have been in danger of being born a bastard… Thus Harry wouldn’t have let his guilt lead him into proposing protection.

ridxwan: very wise!

To all the rest: I’m very sorry about the long update… I have been reassuring people by posting messages at the yahoo-group I moderate. I was asked to post at least an Author’s Note at the fanfictionsites to say I’m not dropping this story. I can’t do this at fanfiction.net without being punished for it, and I generally dislike these ‘chapters’: it only disappoint people… So I avoid this…

Anyway: enjoy!

***

Chapter 25

In his jumbled dreams, he remembered her kisses, her taste… The sin that was heaven…

Hermione, bathing in a golden glow, golden curls circling her face. The light of the fire, casting shadows. Playful figures dancing on her skin, his fingers chasing them… Bringing her pleasure.

His heart healing, achingly so… He had found his home at last… The thing he’d craved for so long, but had always deemed himself undeserving of.

Her lips pressed against him, her image disappearing… Suddenly the dream turned darker, colder like the evening had been over.

He still felt a woman’s lips press against his. Worried about the foreboding feeling, he fought to get back the image of his love. Discerning the contours of a woman’s face, his heart stopped when he recognised the straight long black locks framing the face.

His wife was leaning over him, her face full of love. A tender expression she’d never given him before. Breathless, Harry watched the beauty that shone from Cho’s face. So full of life and love, so foreign to him.

Once he had wanted this, now he feared it. Before his guilt could guide him through actions in his dream, Cho spoke softly:

“I love you so much, my soul mate… Cedric”

*

Harry woke with a start, cold sweat prickling his skin. He was in his own bed, where he had retreated after an evening of exploring love with the mother of his child.

Guilt and confusion were causing his heart to beat harshly within his chest. He had betrayed his wife! But the dream didn’t… It didn’t really accuse him of making love to another woman…

Alone and cold, he hungered for her warm embrace. Lying down again, he pondered what this dream could mean…

What was the meaning of this omen?

***

Hermione was dreaming, she knew she was: it was the only explanation possible for the sight before her… After gaping like a fish out of water she managed to stammer:

“Mrs. Potter!”

The image before her, smiled… The Asian witch was a beauty to behold, not at all like the lifeless body in one of the chambers of this house.

“Please, Miss Granger, don't insult me. I’m no Mrs. Potter… Not anymore…”

Her words crashed through Hermione, weighing on her conscience…

“I'm…”

‘Sorry’ was the word she wanted to utter, but dreams don't permit lies... Or at least, this one didn't… And even so, it was not appropriate at all.

The mirage in front of her spoke again, her words harsher than the actual tone in which they were spoken.

“Do not apologize and dishonour your own integrity any more then you already have…”

Hermione bowed her head in shame. The witch in her dream however soothed her with her voice, bringing her a disturbing message:

“You know there is only one way for you… Only one way to be part of his family, to take your rightful place with your daughter… There is only one way…”

Scared at what this could mean… at what her dream implied… Hermione looked at Mrs. Potter in shock. Her image was not accusing, it was downright threatening…

“And that is the path you must take!”

*

Hermione woke, scared witless.

She was never one to believe in Divination. But maybe it would be wise to read up on the meaning of dreams…

***

A strange pace was developing itself at the Potter manor. To most of the inhabitants, it was only the excitement for the coming festivities… And this was fine by the two people who knew otherwise.

By Tuesday night everything was in order, more or less, to receive the family of Ron and Luna Weasley. Miss Ginevra Weasley was quite excited about having them over, and Mister Potter seemed strangely relaxed, despite everyone knowing he didn’t like parties and great masses of people.

Another quite remarkable change at the house was the regularity Miss Granger had managed to enforce on Miss Lily. The child was still spoiled, but the new governess had been able to teach her at least a little discipline in the very short time she had been there.

The HouseElves also noticed these subtle changes. Dobby, never one to question a good thing, accepted it without worries. Winky, however, could not bear to watch a Muggleborn succeed. She whispered about ‘strange happenings’ and ‘unnatural teaching methods’… But who ever listened to her?

***

Hermione was staring at the glass house in the middle of the lake.

Enveloped in a warm shawl, her breath made little clouds in the freezing air. She was guarding her daughter. Today being Wednesday, Hermione had given Lily leave from her lessons, to prepare herself for welcoming her father’s friends.

Expecting more enthusiasm from the girl, she had followed Lily in concern. From what Hermione could make of the stories Miss Weasley told, the friends that would arrive at the Potter home this afternoon, were more than just friends… They were like family. As such, Hermione had rejoiced for her daughter. She really was lonely here, without other children to play with.

But Lily didn’t seem as excited as Miss Ginevra. She had not been unhappy about having the Weasleys over, but Hermione wondered why the prospect of having playmates around her own age at the house didn’t spark more energy in her daughter.

Watching her daughter pretending in the lake house, made her heart ache… Because she knew now… She knew very well what Lily was pretending there…

Hermione had congratulated herself on giving Lily the opportunity of winding down with the ‘Magic of Firelight’ each night after her lessons. It had allowed the girl to open up to her governess, in a way that was careless, but very informative to Hermione.

The first time Lily had shared a little, Hermione had learned Lily’s ideas about Muggleborns being Mudbloods had been taught to her by Winky… Unintentional of course, because the girl knew very well that the HouseElf didn’t think her any better, but Lily considered herself a real Potter. Thus above the Elf’s mutterings.

It was clear that most of Lily’s arrogance was like a blanket to protect herself. Hermione recognised early on that Lily was most of all confused about her own place in the world. She was the sole heir of the Potters, and it was quite clear she would have her place at Hogwarts as soon as she turned 11, but underneath lay the question that plagued her more than any child her age…

Who was she and where did she come from? Because Lily knew very well she wasn’t Mrs. Potter’s daughter…

Hermione learned Lily was this knowledgeable just last night…

True to the promise that came with the Magic of Firelight, Hermione hadn’t mentioned anything about Winky or discussed Lily’s disdain for Muggleborns the following day.

This apparently soothed Lily into a more trusting mood.

*

Lily was playing with her first cards again. The ones with which she made the sentence ‘Father loves Lily’… It were her favourite, and Hermione let her have them.

They were kneeling in front of the fire, in the otherwise darkened room, when Lily suddenly spoke:

“The woman lying in the bed, she’s not my real mother, you know…”

This innocent but very loaded statement her daughter had just made threw Hermione off. She hadn’t been prepared for Lily to say – let alone know – this. But life had taught Hermione well how to keep one’s composure.

While her heart was thudding wildly, she managed to answer calmly:

“Yes, I know…”

Lily seemed pleased with that answer, so she continued, unaware of the effect her words had on her governess:

“My real mother isn’t ill, you know?”

Carefully Hermione asked:

“You have met your mother before?”

“Of course I have…”

Lily’s nonchalant answer froze Hermione’s heart – she knows! Or someone else is trying to turn Lily’s head with ideas… What? Confusion and fear immobilized her. Over the loud pounding of the blood in her ears, Hermione barely heard Lily continue:

“I see her every day, I meet her in the lake house…”

Hermione forced herself to calm down, even though she remembered Winky’s voice speaking with disdain about how much time Lily spent in the glass house… Miss Ginevra’s voice: “… So have you met Lily? If you did, I bet you found her at her lake house”

Everyone knew Lily spent most of her time there. But Hermione was the first to know what it was she was doing there. She was meeting her mother… her real mother…

“What do the two of you do when you meet there?”

Hermione managed to get the sentence out with a reasonable tone. Lily seemed to relax a little, as if she had been scared her governess would laugh at her for revealing this great secret of hers.

“We just talk… just spend time together… that’s all…”

*

Just remembering the conversation tore at Hermione’s heart. She had wanted to cry from sheer joy and pain at the same time. She had wanted to embrace the child, never letting her go, wanted to tell her that she was here, real – not just a pretend… She had wanted to confess that she spoke to her daily too, in her journals…

Of course she did none of those things. The thought that stopped her most from doing this wasn’t her promise to Harry though… It was the thought of being rejected. The thought of scaring Lily away, or not living up to the imaginary mother Lily had created for herself.

So she stood here. As close as she could without being seen, while she watched her daughter pretending to spend time with her real mother…

***

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27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Harry watched Dobby’s work and tried to look at least a little like he was really inspecting the preparations for the coming festivities…

His mind was elsewhere, though…

Since that first night, when he had confronted Hermione… for she was Hermione now… He couldn’t keep with calling her Miss Granger when all he could think of lately was how good she smelled, and how beautiful she looked with the golden light illuminating her bare figure…

Shaking his head, he caught himself drifting… again. Since that night, he had come to her room every evening, leaving afterwards, as to not fall asleep there and be found out…

He felt very young and carefree throughout those stolen moments… It was all very well to explain it away to the magic of the firelight. It helped to keep their emotions in check during the day… At least it helped him… knowing that as soon as the lights would turn dim, he could be with her again as long as he didn’t break the rules of that particular magic.

He felt the threat of losing her was growing stronger a reason to keep his bond to her secret, it was becoming a greater reason than protecting his honour… to keep pretending…

Thus went the surprisingly few days, acting as ever before, waiting for the dark to set him free.

Only, as much as his exterior complied with this façade, his thoughts didn’t obey as easily. He found himself pining, disinterested in the daily proceedings, annoyed with Ginny’s constant presence, weary of his friends visit… and most of all… afraid of Cho…

He hadn’t had such a disturbing dream since that first night he’d spent with Hermione after all these years. But even though he tried to forget about it, the dream, as well as Cho, was never far from his conscious thoughts. He used to be jealous of the way Cho had loved Cedric, and would be unable to love him.

Now, he found himself less than envious. As much as he loved the feeling Hermione had managed to make alive inside of him, it was linked with weakness, and fear of losing… He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to lose Hermione again.

The first time around, he had succeeded in fooling himself, now he was far past that point. He could never make himself believe she didn’t matter… not anymore…

Was that why he had dreamed of Cho? After all this time, was she to wake? Did his dream warn him that she would heal at last? But why did the dream make him seem Cedric to her? Harry knew she wasn’t in love with him… Cedric was her soul mate, she had never said so out loud, but Harry knew it was so…

Was Hermione his soul mate?

Frustrated with himself and his errant thoughts, Harry complimented Dobby on his work, and fled outside to take a breath of fresh air.

***

Hermione had fled her place in the hall next to the greenhouses, where she had been watching Lily.

Transforming into her Animagus, she ran as hard as she could over the lands. Despite the thick fur her cat form possessed, she felt the cold bite sharply. Cats didn’t cry, and Hermione had wept enough. Emotions were so much more evidently while you were an animal, it softened the sharp edges…

After running a far while, she could see over one of the hills surrounding the Potter lands. Her curiosity was peeked when she sensed magical wards around the mansion she was looking at.

Strange, if Harry had a magical neighbour, why hadn’t she heard about him? More astounding: why hadn’t Miss Weasley even mentioned him? The woman could talk about anything and everyone she had ever met, than why hadn’t there been one word about the wizard neighbours living here?

Her pain momentarily forgotten, Hermione explored the house from afar, careful not to trespass the wards. It was still elegant, but more posh than the Potter home, larger too… There was a pretentious feel about the structure of the house, and the way the gardens surrounding the building were kept.

For an hour, Hermione could set her mind on something uncomplicated and not emotionally exhausting. Yet the mystery about who lived there intrigued her enough to realise quite late that time had not stood still.

Making her way back to the Potter home, Hermione panicked slightly when she saw a carriage pulled further down the road, moving towards her own destination. The Weasleys! Going at it in a sprint, she kept her cat form and raced unnoticed into the house, up the stairs.

Out of breath, she transformed herself back in front of her bedroom door and slipped inside, quickly starting to change in her dressrobes. Being methodical and rationalising herself into calmness served her to be presentable just in time for Winky to appear in the room, summoning her to the parlour.

***

After a refreshing walk around the manor, Harry had felt more able to think clearer. He had even been able to finish some business before the Weaselys arrived. Now standing in the entrance, he couldn’t stop smiling at the redheads invading his home.

Harry greeted his friend with a broad smile. It was always something to have a whole Weasley household barge in to the manor. With every visit, there seemed to be one more to the bunch. Luckily, this time, there weren’t any recent additions to Ron’s brood. Harry had started to worry for Luna after the birth of her fifth son. She’d always looked so fragile…

Ron’s eldest, Harold, was Harry’s godchild, as was the youngest of the bunch, James. The two differed exactly 6 years, one being already 10, the other barely 4. In between there was 9 year-old Billius, then Tristan, who was Lily’s age, and Edgar who was to turn 6 shortly. Those three were loud redheads, genes they had inherited from their father… Harold and James, however, had fairer hair, and a calmer disposition, like their mother’s.

Even so, the joyous welcome was enough to make Winky wince from all the noise. But this kind of noise, Harry loved. It was loud, but loving, unintelligible, but caring… It was the Weasleys personified.

Harry looked up to see Hermione come down the stairs, a vision of proper composure as always. Driving the thoughts of how she looked when that composure broke, firmly out of his conscious thinking, he regarded her carelessly and introduced her politely to his guests.

After just a quick greeting to her, Ron rounded back on Harry bombarding him with his rhetorical questions. Ginny was enthusiastically embracing her nephews, all of them fighting for their aunt’s attention.

Even through all the noise and attention-seeking guests, Harry could sense Hermione standing to the side, waiting for someone to approach her. She was out of his line of vision, and still he was aware of her presence in the room like he never had before. It was difficult to pay proper attention when she distracted his whole being…

Eventually, after much twittering and coaxing, the mass of people moved to the dining room, the children for once allowed to join the adults to dinner. Harry saw Lily joining them. She soon bickered with Tristan who was backed by Bilius and Edgar in no time. Little James, though, chose to climb from his aunt Ginny’s lap to favour Lily as a human seat, and offer himself as a buffer for his older brothers’ teasing.

Soon, though, the three terrors were leaving Lily, and Harry smiled while quickly glancing at Hermione to gauge her reaction. She was the perfect embodiment of a polite governess, though, and he had the hardest time to guess how she was assessing the situation. All he could tell for sure was that despite her calm ongoing conversation with Luna, she was keeping a regular eye on Lily.

Something bugged Harry about her constant scrutiny… Though he couldn’t put his finger on it exactly…

Shaking the thought away, he paid full attention to Ginny’s and Ron’s arguments, and offered another point of view, meant as a compromise. However, the two siblings only used it to bicker further as if age had not altered their relationship as brother and sister since adolescence…

***

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28. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Hermione kept her behaviour dignified. It was more than just pride that dictated her to do this: it had become as a cocoon of security over the years. She chatted amiably with Mrs. Ron Weasley, about raising children mostly.

It was nearly impossible to think, when looking at all those boisterous boys, that their frail looking mother was coping with their upbringing… Watching her husband, Hermione felt like he was even more a big child to take care of, instead of being someone dependable. It wasn’t that Mr. Weasley seemed uncaring or unkind to Hermione… just not very responsible…

It didn’t take long to see a very hard core of strength beneath the gentle and delicate Mrs. Weasley, though. Hermione may not have understood all the woman’s stranger beliefs while she explained some of her theories over dinner, but the governess recognised the calm intelligence, and had an instant respect for this lady.

It wasn’t all that Hermione recognised, though… Lily’s behaviour hadn’t escaped her keen attention either… What Hermione saw made her heart twitch. The girl didn’t show until after the welcomes were already over, and that struck Hermione as odd.

Surely Lily was to be excited about having children closer to her own age visit. And as was to be guessed from Miss Ginevra’s tales, the Weasleys were as family… But Hermione had the distinct impression Lily felt even more lonely with the loud and chaotic warmth filling the dining room that night…

Of course, it was to be expected that she bickered with Tristan, Bilius and Edgar… They were about the age for boys and girls to do as much. But Hermione thought it was more than that… It actually seemed Lily’d rather have them pestering her, than ignore her altogether… Even though she was a right brat towards them…

Hermione pondered on Lily’s difficulty of adjusting herself into relating to other people. As far as she had seen, she showed open affection only to her father… Lily was barely civil to Hermione herself, though she was hopeful after the last lessons… Even Miss Ginevra didn’t really reach Lily’s heart.

Hermione saw with tenderness in her heart how Harold clumsily tried to talk to Lily, but was disappointed when she saw Lily’s reaction. For some reason her foul mood resurfaced, and she pushed little James from her lap, ignoring the older timid boy.

The little one started crying, and Mrs Weasley came to see him comforted. Nobody reprimanded Lily though. The red-heads did pay full attention to Lily again, by taunting her, and calling her names softly enough for the adults not to hear them though.

Hermione, with her keen hearing, probably from her Animagus form, heard, but pretended not too. Lily didn’t seem like she needed the help: she gave as good as she got. The adults ignored the behaviour of the children. Even more so, if the behaviour of Miss Ginevra and her brother were anything to go on by, they were just mimicking their elders.

During the whole of dinner, Hermione bit her tongue, unable to comment on anything, as it was not her place. But never before had her patience been worn this thin…

*

Harry knew something didn’t sit right with Hermione, as he had learned to detect even the littlest gestures that varied from her general rigid façade she showed the world. Though his initial fear that Ron would realise who she was had ultimately been unfounded, since the only comment Ron maid about her was later in the evening.

They had retired to Harry’s study, while Luna and Ginny checked on the children, and Hermione retired for the night. Harry had been reluctant to stay behind, for he was dying to question Hermione, as well as… taking care of other business… But he didn’t want Ron to become suspicious, so that was how he found himself loitering with Ron in the study, discussing the invitation list for the All Saints Ball.

“You should see that this governess of yours has something more fitting for the ball. She can’t attend dressed as an old maid!” Before Harry could respond to that, Ron continued obliviously: “Mind, you, she’s not ugly or anything, Merlin, if I had a teacher like her when I was young…”

Harry tried not to glower: he loved Ron as a brother, but sometimes he really wanted to throttle him! So he changed the conversation to something that he knew would demand Ron’s attention away from Hermione.

“Did you see who your mother added to the list,” throwing the piece of paper in his friend’s direction.

He wasn’t disappointed, and rather glad he had permanent silencing charms around his office: “What! She asked the Ferret!”

“Apparently him being my neighbour makes it mandatory to ask him on such occasions happening in my own home…”

“But the Ferret! Surely Mother has lost her marbles. Even decorum wouldn’t ask for you to invite him! He was a right little pest at Hogwarts, and it’s because of him you’re out of graces with the Ministry, you know… It was surely him protecting his precious mother… I wouldn’t be surprised he knows who’s responsible for your family’s murder either…”

Harry was accustomed to the rants from Ron about Draco Malfoy. It was quite unfortunate that the Black and Potter’s estates had been next to each other… Although that had also been the reason his father and Sirius Black had become best friends, and consequently it was the reason Sirius had been his godfather, so Harry couldn’t fully regret it…

But at Hogwarts in his days, Draco Malfoy, a distant cousin from Sirius, had been Ron’s rival, and Harry’s too. Narcissa Malfoy, the woman who he’d wanted to interrogate about the Lestranges was his mother, and thus the reason he’d been forced on leave…

“To be honest, I don’t think he’ll show up, Ron… It’s probably beneath him to attend an All Saints Ball hosted by me and a Weasley…”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, mate. He’ll probably come just to rub it in that your relieved of your duties, no matter how temporary it is…” Ron moaned, “Why those my mother always have to meddle, and do things a certain way that makes the rest of us barmy… Doesn’t she get that she’s just getting in everyone’s nerves?”

“Now, Ron, you know I’m not thrilled about this either, but please, don’t take it out on Molly… It’s Halloween tomorrow, so I’d like some peace and quiet…”

Ron just smirked at his friend: “You invited a bunch of Weasleys to have peace and quiet?” Slapping Harry hard on the back, he barked a laugh: “Ha! That’s the joke of the century mate!”

Groaning, Harry let his head fall in his hands, thinking peace and quiet were two concepts that were going to be totally absent for a while longer…

*

Hermione was still writing in her journal, recording her thoughts, when she heard the small pop behind her. She didn’t need to turn, to know who was standing there. Ignoring him though, she favoured her writings for a little while longer.

Harry was watching her. The rigid posture telling him she was still far from relaxed.

Annoyed, he demanded: “What is wrong with you? I know there’s something wrong…”

“I assure you, nothing’s wrong with me…” Hermione answered curtly.

“Codswallop!” Harry challenged.

Hermione sent a glare at him for the use of such an offending word, slamming her diary shut. She didn’t want to do this. He would take the things she was thinking the wrong way, and she didn’t want to argue. Besides, she was in no position to say anything. She was well aware that her opinion did not have any value, and she didn’t want to lose what she had. She knew she had some strong ideas, and she was passionate about defending them… Too passionate.

It had gotten her in trouble before, and she feared it would get her in trouble now. She couldn’t let that side of her show too much. She had already taken a great chance the day she had locked the door of the teaching room… She couldn’t risk more than that. She could work on it with Lily, without him… Hopefully…

Forcing her unease back, she knew why he had come to her room this night. She didn’t particularly feel in the mood, but knew she wouldn’t refuse him either.

So when he approached her, apparently taking her silence as admitting her defeat. Like he’d always had. When she looked into his longing green gaze, though, she couldn’t help but want him anyway. Probably noticing her relaxing, he smiled and took her face in his hands, kissing her lightly on the lips.

Quickly he took care of the silencing and locking spell, ready to take her into the night.

***

Please review

29. Chapter 28

AN: it’s really been an eternity, hasn’t it? Anyway, enjoy!

Oh, and for the people wanting to review in Dutch (Nederlands) or French (français) go right ahead! I appreciate you trying to leave a note in English, but if you’re not sure of it, just write it in those languages, I’ll understand! I know reading and writing are two completely different things… Any other language is going to be a problem though…

Ok, a little bit of warning: I know the scene following here does not appear in the movie at all. It is maybe a bit questionable about ethics and consensus on certain parties… Especially in our days. The period that this takes place in, though, would never acknowledge this as an assault. I’m taking a leap here, because I don’t consider this rape at all… But experience taught me that some people will take offence in everything, so I come prepared. This is a warning for very sensitive people… Some actions described in this chapter could offend them…

*

Chapter 28

Harry sensed an hesitation on Hermione’s part while they were kissing. He knew something was on her mind, but for some reason she wouldn’t tell him. It irked him, since he didn’t think she’d try to pull this façade of strict and proper woman on him… Maybe he wanted to know what she was thinking, not just because of his curiosity…

As much as he wanted her right now, he felt doubt about taking her to bed… It felt like she didn’t really… She wasn’t really there… It felt odd, and wrong, and painfully irritating.

Groaning, he pushed away. Looking into her startled eyes, he thought he saw fear in her expression. Not really caring at this moment, he frowned:

“There is something on your mind, I don’t know why you won’t admit it…”

Hermione looked away, but stayed silent.

“Very well, I’m gone…” Without a glance back at her, he vanished.

Harry felt tired once he apparated into his room. While he disrobed, he wondered what irked him so much. She seemed distant, and part of him wanted nothing more than to make her feel something. Not physically hurt her of course, more like pounding a part of him into her, making her scream of pleasure, making her unable to think of anything but him, making her lose all of that bloody restraint, once and for all!

Of course, these thoughts did nothing to appease him, making him ache for her all the more. Cursing his luck, he concentrated on probing the magic in the house, realising she still had the locking and silencing spell intact on her room. Apparating back, he took her by surprise.

She was standing in front of the fire, the book on the floor evidence of her startled reaction out of her chair. She had been reading… reading! While he had been going nearly crazy, she had been able to read quietly in front of the bloody hearth!

*

Hermione was startled quite thoroughly when she heard the pop again. She had changed into her nightclothes, sorry about her inability of overcoming her fear. To ease the emotions coursing to her, she had taken a book she had loved to read since she’d started working here. It was ‘Hogwarts, A History’

It lay on the ground now, testifying of her startled response to the second arrival of Harry… A much more uncovered Harry…

Blushing she saw that all he was wearing were his underpants… and his glasses… Well, of course, she had seen more of him, obviously, but never just like this… They were always close and… busy at the time… And more importantly, never outside of the firelight… He must have been in the middle of undressing when he decided to come back… and he didn’t seem very happy to see her…

Ahem, well, to be correct, at least one part did seem eager to be meeting again. Shaking her head, Hermione frowned upon her own thought process: it wouldn’t lead anywhere productive… Rationally speaking of course… Oh, nothing made sense! Like always when she didn’t know the perfect thing to say or ask, she remained silent, waiting for him to explain himself.

This didn’t seem to calm him down though, but he headed on anyway.

“For Merlin sakes, say something! Anything! Be mad for me interrupting your privacy, for example… Blame me for something, but don’t just say there’s nothing bothering you when obviously, there is!”

Hermione couldn’t… She wanted to tell him everything that was on her mind, but she knew… She’d hurt him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do… Besides, everything was just such chaos in her head right now, she couldn’t tell him anything, even if she wanted…

Uttering a sound of frustration, Harry took a step towards her, and involuntarily she took a step back, hitting the wall next to the hearth. He didn’t seem to notice her surprised expression, her eyes wide open in apprehension, or if he did, it only fuelled him more. Crashing his lips on hers, he intoxicated her with a fiery kiss.

At first, Hermione tried to escape, not feeling capable of tolerating such passion. But soon it consumed her, making her melt against him, and letting him control her body as long as the fire in her veins burned continuously. He pressed into her, making her swoon with the hard warmth of his body. Gripping her wrists that had been raised to his chest to push him away, he pulled away.

His hold was firm enough not to let her escape though, and she watched him through warm eyes.

*

Harry couldn’t restrain this burning longing, when he looked down at her deliciously ravished lips. Her whole expression was such a testament of everything she was not to the outside world. There she was a sober Muggelborn witch. With pride and strict decorum. Showing off everything to become a perfectly respectable spinster.

But here in front of him, she was a being of passion, of losing restrains gradually. Her wet gaze, pleading for Merlin knows what, held the definition of desire… Her hair, glittering gold, loose, just like he liked it most: as wild as ever…

With just a glance, he extinguished the few candles still burning, reverting to the safe harbouring magic of Firelight. This show of wandless magic again made her surprised, but he knew now he wouldn’t get anything out of her this evening, not even questions. Obviously, she didn’t want to talk.

Irrationally, Harry wanted to punish her for this. Why, he didn’t know… Hadn’t he hated it when she’d spoken before, out of place… Hadn’t he hated it when she was right, when she showed him his faults in raising Lily the way he was? So it probably was best if she kept silent.

Unable to let his rational thoughts sway his mood, he brought her to her bed, dropping her on it. Insanity… That was what was becoming of him. He had her every night now, in the firelight, since that first encounter. But still it wasn’t enough. Why did she consume him so?

Lowering himself to her also, he watched her breathing a tad more rapidly. If it was from fear or excitement: he couldn’t be sure. Deciding she wouldn’t tell him anyway, if he were to ask, he would use a different way to get his answer. Smiling darkly at her, she saw her eyes widen a bit, but she didn’t move.

Giving her one last kiss on the lips, one she didn’t refuse, he slid of the bed, kneeling in front of the bed. Grabbing her hips, he dragged them to the edge. Still she didn’t say anything… Lying there without reacting to anything he did, except for her breathing speeding up, made Harry’s irritation flare again.

He sat in front of her knees, his hands pushing them slightly apart. She still didn’t resist, nor said anything to make him stop. Grabbing the hem of her night robe, he decided to see once and for all if she was this compliant out of fear, or if her silence was out of sheer stubbornness. Ripping the thin cloth, until he could clearly see what he wanted to, he felt surprise… This wasn’t what he expected. It was much more…

His hands laid on her thighs which were quivering lightly. And it was more than clear now, that they were quivering from desire… For him… Unable to tear his gaze away, he was transfixed by the vision in front of him.

*

Hermione scrunched up her eyes, damning her body. She prayed for the strength not to want him this much, but her heart was supporting her compliance, and there was nothing she could do.

Sparkling feelings had been warming the regions between her hips the moment he had kissed her the first time that evening. The short reprieve from his presence had barely suppressed those feelings until he’d apparated back.

Since then, her body had been as liquid, barely holding everything together. She had felt like little bolts of lightening, pleasurable bolts, had been striking at her private parts, when he attacked her as a starving man would a feast. When he’d made her lie down on her bed, she’d had no idea what he was going to do next.

His actions surprised her, and she laid still, staring up unseeing, as she didn’t know what else to do. When she heard him rip her old night robe, she surprised herself by feeling a very pleasurable shiver run through her. Even the imaginary echo of the tissue ripping made her heart jump, and liquid pool even more between her thighs…

Being exposed to air like this was a slightly different sensation, and made her feel like a bit of a harlot… scarlet woman, but at the same time, it made her want to scream at him to do something, anything, because his halting of actions made her feel torturous pleasure…

*

Please review?

30. Chapter 29

AN: this is for the people who were complaining that there wasn’t enough ‘action’ in the last ‘making love’ scene… Aiming to please, I hope I’ve succeeded…

Oh, and for those who’ve just started reading this story, I’m aware that there are mistakes like Cho being from China instead of Japan, and Ginny being Ginevra instead of Virginia (when I started writing the fic I hadn’t read JK’ confirmation that her full name was indeed Ginevra…) But really, I barely find time as it is to write all this, so please don’t blame me if I can’t be bothered to correct mistakes in the early chapters… I think most of you will agree that I’d rather spend my precious free time writing new stuff, than rewriting what you’ve already read?

Before I forget: THANK YOU so much, all the reviewers! It’s been great to see that you’re still willing to continue reading this story… even though it’s been a long while since I updated. I do want to add the following though: with this story I made an effort to explain some of the things I wrote when there was a question in the reviews. Well, I did so in the past when I knew the issue wouldn’t be explained further down the story, or when I saw that some of the situations were sketched too vaguely. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut these answers short, though… As I’ve said before, I really don’t have the time, so I write this down once, and please don’t think of me rude when I don’t answer all the questions anymore. I will still make the time to read the reviews, I just can’t promise everyone will get a clarification if there was something they didn’t get… I’ll have to trust you understand…

Anyway: enjoy! It’s a bit more daring than anything we’ve had up until now, but what’s life without risks, hmm?

*

Chapter 29

Harry gave in to the compulsion haunting him since he’d witnessed her desire from his position.

His hands, immobile on her thighs up until now, slid towards the only part of her that had been unable to conceal her true emotions. Touching her gently, he triumphed in the way a soft and almost reluctant moan came from her. Realising there had to be so much more he could learn about her body and how he could make her react, he became fascinated in making her reach her pleasure.

Using his fingers to caress her in a way he already knew she found exciting, his own excitement rose when he witnessed her reactions from this point of view. Unable to think any rational thought, he bend closer and softly blew on her sensitive flesh. The reaction was a soft gasp, and a shift of her hips upwards.

Smiling again, Harry tentatively touched his tongue to her inner thigh, curious about the flavour of her desire that glistened there. Another gasp was heard, and gave him an idea.

The flavour wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, he wanted to try more before he made up his mind. Discarding his glasses, he opted for taste instead of vision. Bringing his head closer, he kissed her. She went absolutely rigid. Deciding to take a chance, wanting to know what would happen of it, he let his tongue slip inside, exploring.

Soon he was engrossed in getting to know this new territory he’d found, and her reactions were finally getting to be more then just laying there immobile. After a while, her hips moved, and he had to bring his arms around her thighs to restrain her. He didn’t know if she’d wanted to escape him, but when her hands flew to his head, he was almost certain she was going to push him away.

He continued though, and while the fingers of one hand were curling painfully in his hair, her other hand was most certainly pushing him even closer. Her moans were unlike any he’d heard from her before, and when she started to tremble more forcible, she tasted even better.

*

Hermione was panting from her pleasure. It had never felt like this before. In some ways it was even better, but on the other hand, she craved the feeling of him inside her. Lying there, she thought he’d stop with this new way to make her insanely want him, but her eyes flew open once she felt he was continuing relentlessly.

Her body recovering from her earlier release of energy, recharged amazingly swift, and the fire building just above the spot he was paying attention to, had her moaning again. Releasing his head, her hands flew up to her hair, fisting her locks in a desperate manner to stay anchored to this world.

This pleasure felt even more sinful than the first, and she had to scrunch up her eyes to be able to reign in the stimuli her body was receiving. Releasing her pleasure for the second time that night, she was still trying to comprehend how soon this had been possible…

Relaxing, knowing he must be finished with her now, her heart jumped when still he manipulated her sensitive flesh. Unable to keep up, she felt her body respond without her accord.

“Oh, please… I can’t…” Hermione pleaded, but hadn’t the strength to pull away. Tears started to slip from her closed eyes, and she felt lost because of waves of powerful, unrelenting pleasure crashing into her. It seemed as if she couldn’t release anymore, just build up higher and higher.

Her moans were getting louder unbeknownst to her, while pleading to… what exactly was she begging him to do? Surely not stop?

As if wanting to contradict her thoughts, Harry suddenly stopped, leaving her squirming and unable to do anything else. He lifted his body over hers, and soon she felt relieved when he filled her at last. His lips were closing on her sensitive nipples, still covered by the sleeping robe. The sensation of warm wetness and the roughness of the fabric moving against the hardened skin, while they moved, was stimulating her even more. It was proving to be more than bearable…

Almost screaming her agreement for him completing her, she couldn’t do more than hang on to him while he used a more familiar method to sooth and excite her body. Later she would find she’d wrapped her legs around him, urging him to move stronger against her, but at the time, she was lost in a world of frantic desire. Soon they both couldn’t hold on to any more pleasure so they let go, clinging to each other in a manner too desperate to be beautiful.

*

Harry realised that losing his seed hadn’t made his desire diminish. Astounded he realised he was still filling Hermione. Heart hammering, he watched as her gaze finally focused on this world again, while he felt her legs slowly fall from around him. That slight movement had alerted her to the problem at hand though, and he watched her eyes widen as she watched him disbelievingly.

Though he felt nothing for leaving her, he knew he’d taken too much pleasure from her already. Unable to follow through with his noble plan to leave her, and take care of his problem with a cold bath, he stayed on top of her, still panting in tandem with her.

She pushed at his chest, probably wanting to have more breathing space. Defeated, he rolled over, his hands taking her hips of their own accord. The result was surprising. By some miracle, he managed not to leave her body completely. Both froze, the slight friction teasing.

Carefully, Hermione aided to maintain the connection while moving. While Harry pondered where her inhibitions had fled to, he couldn’t help but close his eyes, when she sat up a little. He was now on his back, and Hermione was moving her legs, the result being her knees were on each side of his hips.

At this point Harry was gripping her hips quite tightly, wondering about how the little change made such a sensory difference. By some marvellous insight, Hermione moved to sit up more, her movements making the friction deliciously new…

Opening his eyes at a moan from her, he watched her wide-eyed. She was trembling all around him, probably from exhaustion, but she’d never seemed so… on top… before.

Harry snorted at this thought, making Hermione scrutinize him. All he could do though was smile sheepishly at this woman. Her hair was a bigger and a more attractive mess than he’d ever witnessed.

Looking into her eyes, he felt mesmerized. If he’d had any brain activity left to analyse her stare, he’d noticed she seemed equally fascinated by the connection they shared. Physically and emotionally, it seemed an almost spiritual moment. It was almost like they got lost looking for each other’s souls. Their eye contact never breaking, nor their physical contact, they were somewhere else for that moment… that eternity…

Slowly, Harry was brought back to earth, just staring in wonder at this woman before him. How was it that they actually barely knew each other, but at the same time, owned each other… Of this, he was certain now. She owned him… he just hoped he could own her as much as he belonged to her now.

*

Hermione felt like she’d just experienced something out of this world, something that was beyond their comprehension.

She knew in the back of her mind, that if she would be thinking of this night’s activities tomorrow, once the Magic of the Firelight had been broken, she would surely blush… The acts of love they engaged in were acts she hadn’t even read about, so she hadn’t been aware this was possible.

From her current position, she felt something she had never felt before. She felt awed, worshipped almost. She had always been the paid one, the servant, and even though her man rarely ever really treated her that way, she was beneath him. In society, she was his inferior on all levels. He was pureblood, a man, had wealth, and had a respectable profession, friends, even real family, as Lily was his, not hers anymore… Even as a witch, she could only hope to master wandless magic as easily as he seemed to do…

But now, in this instant, she felt a rare sort of pride at being a woman. Shame fell away, and without much thought, she discarded her ruined nightrobe, giving him full view of all of her skin. Without breaking the stare, she started to move experimentally, gently up, down and around, shivers running over her body, especially when she saw his eyes roll heavenwards.

He aided her movements with his hands on her hips, but let her decide the pace.

It felt like they were in that blissful state of respect during an eternity. Hermione didn’t, couldn’t know how long it took for them to reach that ultimate peak of pleasure, but before they reached it, everything was calm, soft, reverent… and when it came it came almost unexpected, not at all wild, but more as a spiritual moment.

In the back of her mind, Hermione remembered reading somewhere how the ritual of love-making had been considered sacred in earlier civilisations, primal, primitive ones… The joining of a man and a woman was believed to bring better understanding of what their gods’ splendour meant. She had never understood this until now…

Exhaustion overpowered her senses though, and lying on Harry’s chest, she fell asleep.

***

Please, review?

31. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Hermione woke to a cold bed. Apparently Harry, Mr. Potter, had left during the night.

Rationally, she knew it was for the better. With a full house, they couldn’t risk exposure of their clandestine affairs. Despite that knowledge, though, she felt quite… sad would be the word.

Remembering the past night, she wondered if it had all happened… Of course, it wasn’t in reality, but in the Magic of the Firelight that their joining took place, she knew this fact very well. Still, her body was quite happy to remind her all the unusual exercises from the night before had indeed happened.

Unable to stop the slight smile from coming to her face, she rolled onto her stomach, burying her nose in the flagrances coming from her pillows. She didn’t indulge very long, aware of her duties, as ever. So quickly she pushed every happy emotion from her mind, and went about to wash up.

Deciding she could use the luxurious facilities Miss Weasley had showed her at the start of her employment here, just this once, Hermione pressed the brick next to her hearth.

The reason Hermione had kept to her Spartan ways, and used the bowl of cold water in her room to wash up usually, wasn’t more than habit, and maybe humbleness. The bathroom revealed to her was far too luxurious for her to be accustomed to. Moreover, it was magically connected to every other bedroom where female guests stayed. Hermione didn’t fancy encountering Miss Weasley here, nor Mrs. Ronald Weasley.

Being that it was still very early, Hermione hoped to be quick about it, and avoiding a run-in this way.

So ignoring the splendour, and trying not to pay attention to the many luxurious bath potions, she drew a quick bath, scrubbed her skin clean, and towelled with practical speed. Soon she felt refreshed, and left the bathroom again, to brush her hair into a bun in her own bedroom.

Having indulged in too many forbidden pleasures, she felt positively wicked, but very hungry once she visited the kitchens for a quick breakfast.

The rest of the day rushed by her. Meeting Mrs. Arthur Weasley was an event in itself. Though she had a vague impression that the tension between her and Harry were not imaginary on her behalf. Miss Ginevra didn’t seem bothered though, that she was the apparent cause of bad air between the impressive matron and her host. Merry and boisterous as always, the tension was concealed with happy reunions, and talk of the festivities to come.

Hermione found she quite liked Mr. Arthur Weasley’s calm demeanour. She could understand Lily’s favouritism for that man that filled the grandfather’s role. Whereas Mrs. Weasley got a more cool response from Lily, when the only grandmother she knew gave her a bone-crushing hug.

Though Hermione couldn’t find a fault in Mrs. A. Weasley’s behaviour, she felt somewhat threatened by her. Which was completely ludicrous, since Hermione had to admit the woman had a certain competence in keeping her children and grandchildren in line, at least, as long as they were in her line of vision…

Either way, the day passed mostly in silent observation for her. After answering polite questions of curiosity from the new guests, she was pretty much ignored when the family enjoyed their time together. The last preparations for the ball were quickly taken care off, to Mrs. A. Weasley’s satisfaction.

Soon the day was over and Halloween started. The feast was boisterous, and Hermione began to feel the toll of the day. Avoiding Harry’s gaze at all cost, she knew the importance of not hinting anything about… about what happened outside this reality. The strength that had guided her this morning was failing her by nightfall though, and she made her quick excuse after the exquisite meal.

*

Harry watched Hermione make her excuses and leave the dining room. He longed to follow her, but he was bound to spend more time with the only family he had. Grateful though he was that Molly hadn’t brought up Ginny staying here unmarried, he also felt a strange pleasure when Hermione had somehow persuaded Lily to behave enough, so that Molly didn’t have any comments about the way he indulged his daughter.

To his relief the party didn’t stay up very much longer, and the ladies retired to their rooms. Unfortunately, Arthur wanted to discuss some London news with him.

His mind was quickly railed off the thoughts about Hermione, though, when he heard what Arthur had to say.

“You know the Ministry as well as I know them, Harry, my boy. There’s a lot of… tokens of respect that… influence certain members…”

The older man sighed rubbing his forehead in a tired way. Harry knew Arthur well, and it wasn’t pleasant news he was to bring. What did the old farts come up with now?

“Harry, you’re like a son to me, and you know the rest of the family thinks of you like that too. But I’m very aware that we’re not blood relatives, and so I am all but pleased to be the bearer of this particular news. A warning, my boy… Should you not give up the search for your family’s murderer, you could very well be on absence leave for… an undetermined time…”

Harry exhaled, so it had come to this. The Ministry was actually going to kick him out if he continued the pursuit of justice by truth? Ron, however couldn’t take it as gracefully as Harry could.

“What! Have they lost their marbles? Harry is one of their top-Aurors. Not only that, he’s one of the most brilliant wizards of our time! Who else possesses the skill to do wandless magic as well as he does? I tell you: no one I’ve ever met!”

“Ron! You know I don’t want that fact to be public knowledge!” Harry wasn’t worried about Arthur, the man had too much honour than to blab about private affairs of Harry to the rest of society. But really, Ron needed to learn how to control his impulses!

“Aye, my apologies, mate… But it still doesn’t make any sense. Even without knowing you’re a master at wandless magic, you’re still the best Auror, maybe after Moody, but he’s ready for the looney institution…”

“Ron, that is quite enough,” Arthur interrupted his youngest son, “Harry, you know I would never expect you to give up on your noble cause. Even though it all happened more then two decades ago, I believe you have every right to bring your family’s murderer to justice. I just… do consider this carefully, Harry. I’m aware of the injustice of it all. However, it does not do to dwell in the past. Are you ready to sacrifice your career, and make your daughter’s future uncertain because of this?”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Ron looked quite mutinous, but Harry couldn’t help but doubt. Arthur knew which points to strike to make him think twice. He would never jeopardise Lily, in any way.

Arthur spoke again: “None of this is written in stone, yet, my boy. I merely felt it my duty to inform you on some office gossip. It is better to be prepared for every outcome, ponder situations, look at possible decisions from every angle, and most important of all, take in account any possible consequence in whatever decision you take,” at Ron’s impatient huff, the older wizard smiled, “Yes, I know pondering over decisions and thinking about consequences is still a difficult concept for you, my son, but Merlin help Luna if you end up never learning about it!”

Arthur and Harry shared a chuckle while Ron did his best not to scowl like a teenager.

***

Please, review?

32. Chapter 31

AN: Like I would ever give this story up! It’s giving me the biggest ego-trip ever!!! *evil*

No, seriously. I could never just abandon this story. Alright, I’ll admit it, this story gave me more reviews than I’ve ever seen with any other writings of mine. But that’s not all of it.

I loved the movie, and I loved how Harry and Hermione just… *fit*…

This story developed beyond my own expectations… I mean, I thought it’d be great, but I didn’t have that much knowledge about that period, especially about that time for the wizarding world… so I tried to brush up a few things from ‘Quidditch through the ages’, because there I had read some things about that period, but really, that was it… And somehow it stimulated my own imagination… building all this around the angst-filled couple…

So, I ask of you: why would I abandon a story that’s been so beneficiary to all aspects of my writing’s instincts? And I know I take a long time updating, and you probably don’t like me that much because of it, but be sure that the people at home like it even less when I disappear in my limited free time to write fanfiction…

Anyway, I couldn’t abandon this story any more than I could stop loving H/Hr!

I hope that’s setting all of your worries at ease?

Now, I know I’ve said I wouldn’t be answering everything from the reviews anymore… But I underestimated myself… For the Portkey readers: I finally figured out how to reply directly to the posted reviews, so you’ll best check there… Then for the fanfiction.net readers… Well, I just had to defend myself: so you can read the answers to your reviews at the end of the chapter.

On with the story now!

***

Chapter 31

Hermione woke up the next morning, alone. Slightly disappointed that she’d fallen asleep the moment she crawled into bed, because now she had no way of knowing if Harry had come to visit her or not.

The melancholy served to make her weary, though. It wouldn’t do to let herself be ruled by emotions. Especially not when throngs of people were expected by this afternoon! It hadn’t really been discussed if she was expected to attend the Ball. But even so, the children would be allowed to linger until a certain hour, and she would be expected to keep an eye on them for sure. So in her experience, she wasn’t expected to participate…

Picking out her nicest dress, anyway, she knew it would still be very modest next to the dress robes she expected to see today. It didn’t bother her, it never had, but still, a silly thought questioned her if she would look nice in such beautiful robes.

A bit frustrated at her frivolous thoughts, she went about her morning routine, welcoming the cold water that shook her awake from daydreaming. Startled by a knock on her door, she went swiftly to open, while smoothening down her dress as was her habit.

Not really knowing whom to expect, she was more so surprised at the sight that greeted her. Mrs. A. Weasley stood before her, carrying a large white carton box. Before polite morning greetings could be exchanged though, the lady demanded:

“Is that what you’ll wear to the Ball?”

Hesitantly, Hermione responded: “Why, indeed, Mrs. Weas…”

She was silenced by the tutting from the older witch: “Miss Granger, my dear, you are not going to attend the Ball dressed like this!” Hermione felt somewhat scolded, and rebellious feelings bubbled inside her. Outwardly, she only frowned. The matron bustled into her room without invitation, looking like a busy mother hen, searching for her ducklings…

“I knew I couldn’t trust our dear Mr. Potter to handle this. Dear, dear… Well! Don’t just stand there, girl, close the door!”

Doing as she instructed, Hermione couldn’t help but feel confused as to what the older witch would want from her behind closed doors. An awful thought petrified her for a moment: what if she had somehow found out about… about the Firelight? Feeling suddenly panicked, she wondered if Harry would be popping in this morning! He’d never visited in the morning before, and she was attending to breakfast downstairs at this hour, usually. But one never knew… He never did take notice of her privacy, apparating in whenever he caught the whim…

Outwardly, she remained calm as ever, and confident behind that front, she discreetly inhaled, encouraging herself.

Trembling slightly, she turned away from the closed door, bracing herself for anything, and praying Harry wouldn’t be appearing in her rooms.

What she saw stunned her though. Mrs. A. Weasley had opened the white box she was carrying, and was peering expectantly at the governess.

***

Harry had worried about what to do about his future at the Ministry all night. Was he ready to ignore his past, work blindly for corrupt members of the Ministry? Did he really want to set aside his pride and honour for the well being of his daughter?

He would do anything to protect his daughter… But…

Something Hermione had said when she’d just arrived haunted him. He wouldn’t always be there to protect Lily. And even though he had let Hermione teach Lily the way she wanted, that didn’t mean he accepted that fact. He couldn’t let go of the fact that Lily’s position in this world was… hazardous, at best.

He couldn’t just keep doing as he pleased. He couldn’t just keep jeopardising everything, thinking all would still come around his way, as long as he kept working the righteous cause. The world didn’t work that way… Apparently… And he really should’ve known that already: life had tried to teach him that lesson several times… the hard way… His family… His godfather. Cedric and Cho… Hermione…

The following morning, he felt anything but refreshed, but he also knew he had to concentrate on the ball, and socializing. He could never bring himself to crawl before the so-called important people in society, but it wouldn’t do to be rude to them either. Even unresolved as he was now, he decided not to do anything irrevocably, he might regret later on. On short term’s notice, this meant being the perfect host. He’d worry about long term later.

Pushing the worrying thoughts out of his mind, he went about his business, walking into his best friend on his journey to the kitchens for breakfast. Luckily, Ron didn’t seem in the mood to discuss or even recall the grave matters said between the gentlemen the other night. He was only in the mood for food…

It was just the thing Harry needed. Enjoying the bantering and idle discussions of Quidditch, Harry gradually relaxed. By midday, they joined Arthur and Ron’s kids, all of who were dressed impeccably already, in the parlour. They were under strict orders of Molly to keep an eye on the smaller Weasleys, making sure they kept their fancy robes clean.

And Harry strongly suspected the smaller Weasleys were under the same orders concerning the adults. Molly never trusted them to have grown up…

While the males tried to amuse themselves without wrinkling or otherwise muss up the robes, the females had retreated into Ginny’s room to get ready for the ball.

It was only then that Harry wondered where Hermione had been all morning, normally he’d had to pretend she didn’t exist at one time or another by this time…

***

Hermione’d had quite a morning. Despite the great honour she was given, she couldn’t help but feel undeserving. She felt sorely out of place… Uncomfortable… And she didn’t like that feeling one bit.

She felt safe in her sever hairdo, and sober dark cloths. It helped her… It was her… Now, she was expected to…

Excitement racked her nerves… In a rather unpleasant way…

Normally, she wasn’t even expected to attend a Ball given by the family she worked with! Only the short time the children were allowed to participate at the start of the Ball, she was expected to hover around, making sure they behaved. And even that wasn’t a real presence… There was no participation!

But this morning it had been quite clear that Mrs. Weasley considered her as one of the guests. Even more so, she had made sure to get a beautiful dress for the governess. Nothing too frivolous, but Hermione wouldn’t have liked the trinkets on Mrs. Ronald Weasleys’s dress, nor the vivid colours of Miss Ginevra’s dress, for herself.

Her gown was a modest dark blue, but it was the snit… The design… It was very elegant, and it was plain to see the expensiveness…

The thing she worried about the most was Harry’s reaction… She was sure he hadn’t hinted at her being present at the Ball for a reason. He had always been adamant about her secret bond with him… with Lily… to be kept just that: very much secret. He wouldn’t put that in peril by having her at his Ball, in an expensive dress…

It became more and more clear to Hermione, in the passing hours of the morning, that this wasn’t Harry’s idea at all… It was Mrs. Weasley’s…

After sending the boys, finally readied, off, Hermione summoned her courage and went up to Mrs. Weasley, while Ron’s wife and only sister were fussing over their niece.

“Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione couldn’t help but let her hands glide over her skirts, as if to banish none-existent folds. “Could I have a word?”

The older witch looked up pensively, nodding curtly to her plight.

“It is to say… I am very flattered… The dress… is…” Hermione was a woman of little words, and just as that morning, when she was speechless at the sight of the contents of the white box, she had trouble finding her words now.

“Yes, yes, the dress is gorgeous. You will wear it well, my dear, and do not even pretend you didn’t like it! I saw your face when you first laid eyes on it!”

Hermione’s resolve came back to her at those words. They weren’t unkind, but Hermione didn’t like to be controlled in ways she could be free…

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Weasley. Like I said, I’m very honoured you thought of me in such respect. But I cannot except your offer to attend the Ball, and certainly not dressed this finely. I will not put shame to this family. And when I show myself in that dress, people will draw conclusions. Wrong ones… and I will not stand for this. I will not!”

Hermione had managed to say her piece calmly, without attracting unwanted attention from the other ladies. But for a moment, she feared she had angered the matron… And her anger would certainly invite the curiosity of her relatives…

But the older witch surprised Hermione: her only reaction was a smile…

***

Please, review?

Replies to reviews posted on fanfiction.net:

Wytil: There is no question about Hermione marrying Harry? Where did I write that? First of all, Harry’s still married… as for the getting rid of Cho thing… As much as he wants Hermione, Cho is still his wife! And what you’re referring to about living abroad is all Muggle! You have no idea if there’s even a British wizarding community in Australia… Much less that they used Australia the same way Muggles did… So if Harry were a Muggle, and in a Muggle profession of law-enforcement, you’d have a point, but he really isn’t… And as for him marrying a nanny… It should rather be the fact that she’s Muggleborn that would cause the ‘scandal’ in the wizarding world, not the fact that she’s a home-teacher. As a Muggleborn she’s doomed to such professions: it’s even one of the most respected ones Muggleborn witches can do! As for Cho’s autopsy… First of all: she’s still alive… A plant, but still alive… And secondly, she did have a child, remember: the reason she’s in a coma? After bringing her and Cedric’s baby into the world? Furthermore I’m baffled at your assumption that Malfoy just needs to be killed. There is no proof that Malfoy had anything to do with the Potters’ murder: he was a toddler himself at that time! Where in my story is there any real proof that he is somehow involved in the murder? Even his parents? The only thing that Harry wants is to question Narcissa Malfoy about her sister. Because the Lestranges were a lead to his family’s murderer… And for now, the only reason they’re working against him at the Ministry, is because the unsolved case of the murder so many years ago is a scandal for the Ministry, and if word got out that Narcissa Malfoy, who belongs to the ‘upstanding’ pureblood high society, was questioned in a cold case… it would just put shame and embarrassment on the Ministry… Really, I’d hate to have you on my jury…

arieslily17: You’re a sweetheart, and you made me blush with all your compliments! Thanks!

liliboo: Well, I did put it in the first posts: this follows the plot from the movie ‘Firelight’ – to a certain point, and it puts it in the HP world with Harry and Hermione as main characters… As for me being unimaginative… You might be right… But it hasn’t been easy to recall the movie’s plot, when all you have is a tv-taped French version… And I can also tell you that putting the emotional depth I thought lacked in the movie, into writing, hasn’t been the easiest thing to do either. Also, putting different spins on happenings, making it fit in a totally different world, with different rules, wasn’t easy either. So maybe it’s all very unimaginative, but at least I fancy myself proud of the work involved…

Rayne: Thank you so much for giving me that praise… Your review really makes my above defence obsolete…Thanks, *blush*

33. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Everything was ready… Harry oversaw the last details with Dobby. The kitchen had everything under control. Now, all that was missing were the actual guests… And the women, of course, but Winky had come to inform them they were almost done.

So the gentlemen had come out in the Hall, waiting to watch their ladies come from the stairs. To Harry, this was a casual affair. He barely spent any attention at the way both Arthur’s and Ron’s faces lit up when they saw their wives come down fully dressed. He made the necessary polite compliments to Ginny, once she joined them, but was captivated when he saw the last two people arrive at the top of the stairs.

Hermione… She had on an elegant dress that still hid most of her body’s beauty, but at least hinted at them… More so than her usual attire. Her hair was still up, but it wasn’t the severe knot… Her hairdo, too, hinted at her wildness, though still showed perfect sensibility. He strongly felt the need to run up to her, and carry her back upstairs, indulging in the private pleasure of helping her shed off that marvellous fabric. He was so entranced; he didn’t notice Molly’s gaze directed at him…

He yearned for her to see him, but she wasn’t looking his way. Jealously following her gaze, his eyes fell on their daughter.

It took him an eternity, which in reality was a mere moment, to realise he was staring at the wrong person. Redirecting his mind, he smiled broadly, proud of his little girl walking down with her chin up. She really was a little lady. Her hair had been done in much the same way as her mother’s… her governess’s had…

Fear struck Harry’s heart when he saw the similarity in mother and daughter. Outwardly, his broad grin didn’t leave his face, and to distract anyone who’d think about it he spoke up full of pride:

“You look beautiful, Lily!” Looking at the people surrounding him, “Doesn’t she?”

To his relief, not everyone in the group was paying much attention at all to the last arrivals, and those who did just agreed respectfully with the master of the house.

Pushing Hermione out of his head, he went forth to take Lily’s hand, kissing it with exaggerated reverence.

“My lady, if you please?”

***

With a slight pang in her heart, Hermione looked on when Harry ignored her, favouring his daughter to be gallant to. But this didn’t last long when she reminded herself that she would not act weak, despite how she was dressed.

Mrs. Weasley had proved to be a woman hard to resist. She hadn’t been angered by the servant’s refusal to wear the expensive cloths…

*

“Dear Miss Granger, this tells me all there is to know. I suspected you were an honourable witch, and this only proves it to me more…”

Hermione sagged with relief. But this was shortly lived when the matron invited her to walk with her. Unsure where the matron would lead her, Hermione followed her out of the room, where Mrs. R. Weasley and Miss Ginevra were still fussing over Lily.

With a mysterious smile on her face, the matron hadn’t meant for Hermione to win the argument about the dress: “But you will attend the Ball dressed properly. Now I know you fear the scandal, like any decent person would. But you needn’t worry. If anything, it would cause even more of a stir if the guests found out there was a Muggleborn governess employed here, and she hadn’t been present at the Ball!”

Hermione frowned, she couldn’t make any sense of this: why would it cause uproar?

But the older witch smiled indulgently: “You must understand, my dear. Now I know you’re Muggleborn, but to purebloods like myself, appearance is everything. Arthur, that is Mr. Weasley, my husband, you know, he comes from a rather peculiar lineage of politicians. You see there are some things that aren’t commonly known. For example, Hogwarts: several ages ago, four wizards, all extremely adept at their own magic, founded the school. You’ve maybe heard of the four houses? But only one of them was against accepting Muggleborns as students. The three others were avid promoters of teaching witches and wizards born to Muggle families!”

Hermione was shocked, and couldn’t help but listen with great interest. Indeed, she hadn’t come upon a passage in ‘Hogwarts, A History’, which banned Muggleborns to come to Hogwarts. But she had just assumed it was an unspoken rule…

“Yes, Hogwarts was build to teach magical students, no matter their parentage. But four centuries back… Well, it had been in the making quite a while before that… And maybe that’s where I should start. There was always a category of purebloods that looked down upon people born from other ‘classes’, and it was especially important to keep the magical ‘blood’ pure… Once Hogwarts started teaching Muggleborns, as well as purebloods, the advantage shifted. You see, before, the wizarding families could keep the knowledge, gathered since ages, to themselves, leaving Muggleborns to find their way with magic on their own. Now, though, Muggleborns had been raised with Muggle knowledge, as well as getting full access to magical schooling…”

“So you can look down your nose on Muggle ‘knowledge’ all you want, but there’s no denying the ingenious things they create to fulfil their lack of magic. The success of a large number of Muggleborns in the wizarding world here in Great-Britain evoked the envy of a large part of the more unfortunate pureblood community. And the rich and powerful families only loved to play that to their advantage, since those Muggleborns did pose a threat to their beliefs: that they were inferior to purebloods. It all came to a boiling point when there was so-called proof that Muggleborns hadn’t the same capacity for moral than purebloods. Well, there were huge debacles, but the Ministry was as corrupt as it is now, and the Muggleborns were banned from Hogwarts ‘until further notice’”

“So that is how it started. Now it seems Blueboard is advancement, as well as allowing male Muggleborns whose families have enough money to pay the tuition, to Hogwarts. But in reality, it’s an outrage… Hogwarts was meant to be the bastion of equality between all magical people, not the start of imbalance between purebloods and Muggleborns. Now back to my husband’s family. One of the leading figures in politics that is responsible for the public acknowledgement of Muggle Inferiority – again, this is a poorly known fact – was called Fernadinius Noire. He had a daughter who disagreed with him passionately. She ran off and married an extremely poor wizard, who, despite being pureblood himself, was one of the few protesting alongside the Muggleborns… The first Weasley to make it into political history…”

“Him being pureblood was a blessing for them: because of that, there was nothing Noire could do to disown his only daughter, now a Weasley. That is essentially how the Weasley family became a part of ‘high society’… So, you see, dear girl, every Weasley since has been fighting for equal rights for Muggleborns. It was Arthur’s great-grandfather that passed the law that allowed for Blueboard to be built. The greatest problem however, is because of the prejudice and the unequal chances of schooling, that the Muggleborns have difficulty to prove their worth as much as any other magical person. But now I’m getting off-topic…”

“Now you understand, my dear Miss Granger. Our family history, Arthur still fighting politically, and even Harry’s mother – she was a Muggleborn…The guests, even the more pureblood-minded ones, will simply expect the Muggleborn governess to be treated as an equal. If you show up in that sober robe, and if you disappear once the children are tucked in, it will cause not too kind critique to my husband’s political standpoint. And don’t worry about Harry’s reputation; you’ll just have to keep to my side… Now do not interpret this as only a political game. I do believe you would look magnificent in that dress, and who knows, you might find a nice suitor – forgive me: I’m a matchmaker at heart. I only meant to be upfront with my intentions: they are not purely because of some kind-heartedness from my part. Something tells me you would be even less inclined to wear that dress if it were just kindness? But I wish to look out for my husband’s image, as well as my son’s, because I do feel for Mr. Potter as my son…”

*

That had been the end of the story. There wasn’t much Hermione could bring against it afterwards. She couldn’t bring Mrs. and Mr. Weasley shame by refusing a kind gesture so adamantly.

***

Please, review?

***

Elyse: It’s always a pleasure to be defended by my own readers. So thank you very much!

Wytil: Very interesting background you’ve got there, and thanks for sharing… But I fear you’re still thinking too much like a Muggle… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but there simply is no question about armies in the Wizarding World, at least not my wizarding world… And Muggleborns just don’t get chances… In my story Muggleborn witches are banned from Hogwarts, thus not having any chances of ‘proper’ education early on. And in their Muggle world, they have no other choice than to marry well or become an old maid… And Muggleborn wizards just don’t get the same chances after Hogwarts in their professional life, nor do they get permission to marry the daughters of purebloods. Or at least, they rarely do. They’re just socially not accepted in certain circles, and the Ministry is one of the first examples… Don’t forget, Harry’s father did marry a Muggleborn, and it was accepted in his family… It’s just rare, and you have to battle mountains of prejudice to make it… But besides the ban on Muggleborn witches attending Hogwarts, there are very few other written laws discriminating them… Only very strong bigotry… I at least hope this chapter has brought you some more answers… As for Neville, he already moved to America: he was just an official observer for the new government there. You know: learn from the old homeland how to run things… But it’s just official BS, the new American government will form his own basis, and in time, it will grow its own prejudices…

34. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Harry was feeling overwhelmed, almost. The guests had arrived in throngs, filling the mansion with extraordinary noises. There had almost been a slight mishap when the orchestra didn’t arrive until the hour before the Ball was supposed to commence, but with magic, most was taken care of very rapidly.

Once everything was in motion, everything fell in its place. The guests were there, music was playing, food and drinks were being presented… Harry didn’t have to worry about a thing. All slight glitches were reported to Molly, and she took care of it with her vast experience. For some strange reason, Molly hadn’t left Hermione out of her sight. Parading the Muggleborn witch around, Harry suspected mostly Arthur took pleasure in introducing her to all their stuck-up pureblood friends from high society.

And Hermione was her perfect self: proper and decent in every way. She nodded respectfully to even the people Harry knew were to be most rude to Muggleborns, but she stayed the picture of decorum.

All this Harry saw from afar. He didn’t dare approach her under the watchful eye from all society. So he kept to his circle of friends, and a few of their wives. Ron was talking, with a comrade of theirs from Hogwarts, Oliver Wood. They were debating Quidditch, and the rest of them were just listening, barely getting a word in, for more than an hour. The wives retreated at intervals to their own conversations, as well as some of the men. Most common were other political topics, though always kept light.

Harry overlooked the mass of people standing in his hallway. He was fortunate if he knew them all by name… Malfoy, unfortunately had showed up. The good news was that there hadn’t been said anything between them, except for a brief salute. The Finnigans had come, even though the Thomas’s hadn’t. Harry had made sure they’d been invited, but Dean Thomas was a Muggleborn, married to a Halfblood, so maybe they hadn’t felt at ease coming tonight? And apparently that made all the difference, since the Finnigans were both Halfbloods, at least.

Harry cursed the way people thought not for the first time in his life. It shouldn’t matter who their fathers and mothers had been. If one carried the title of Pureblood, Halfblood or Muggleborn… But then again, maybe Dean was just more sensible, because Harry didn’t exactly considered all this ‘fun’. There were too many intrigues, too much protocol to be followed to have fun.

He saw a few old men with their wives, tasting his wine with thorough attention. Of course, a few Ministers, and their advisers…. Harry controlled his anger, even though it was hard. They were going to put him on a leash, but for now, they seemed to take pleasure in taking advantage of his hospitality without shame.

Turning away, he came face to face with a red-cheeked Ginny.

“Come on, then Harry, you’re the host, mingle!”

She proceeded to drag him to meet several people he had never seen before, but soon she was lost in the crowd, and he found himself bored to tears by a wizard explaining all of the botanic knowledge he possessed. Pity the man specialised in Herbology…

Finding an escape when Dobby ran by carrying several trays, Harry made his excuses to the man.

***

Hermione had a difficult time keeping up. She was not accustomed to meet this many people in one night. Keeping her cool manners as a shield, she nevertheless paid attention to the conversations she was privy to. The way people interacted, didn’t quite correspond to the words they were speaking, and Hermione found herself being strangely fascinated.

The greatest lesson that was taught to her this night, was that appearances were everything, everything but the truth. Something she had always strongly believed, but she had never been witness to it on this large a scale. It was almost laughable how most false words were so easy to recognise. Though there were a few surprisingly interesting and relatively honest witches and wizards she had met too.

Still all the chatter made her head spin. Especially when she was to respond on some idle gossip, she cared nothing for. All the while keeping her mouth shut when it came to the political conversations the men were having.

It wasn’t a moment too soon, when it became time for the children to go up. Surprisingly, even little James had been able to stay up until then, without getting cranky. Even more surprisingly, they went to bed quite without a fuss, even though that could be attributed to the fact that Mrs. R. Weasley and Hermione were aided by Mrs. A. Weasley… It was a welcome reprieve of peace and quiet…

Staying upstairs just a little while longer, Hermione checked on Lily again when the other adults went down to start dinner. The girl was already asleep, and Hermione couldn’t help but move into her room and place a mother’s good-night-kiss on her forehead. She hadn’t been able to spend much time with Lily since the Weasleys had arrived, but she hoped to continue what they’d started when all this was over.

Realising she couldn’t stay up much longer, she hastily retreated from Lily’s room, and went back downstairs. Taking a deep breath, and smoothening down her robes, she prepared to enter the part of the mansion open to the guests.

She was interrupted by a noise, though. Curious, she recognised Miss Ginevra’s voice. Planning to make her presence known, rather than eavesdrop, she reconsidered when she realised the emotional nature of the conversation. Unable to help herself, she quickly checked for anyone else being witness, and then changed into her cat form.

Hearing more accurately, she learned the identity of the person Miss Ginevra was speaking to.

“… go, Malfoy!”

“I want you, Princess, and I always get what I want! Why are you pretending you don’t want me?”

“Because I really don’t, now let go! And don’t make me say it again! Or I will have to resort to more drastic measures!”

A ruffling of clothes told Hermione people were readjusting themselves. At the ready, though, Hermione knew she’d jump in once she heard the situation got beyond Miss Ginevra’s control. Set on staying there until the witch was safely back among a crowd of people, Hermione as cat, had no attention of leaving.

What came next, though, surprised her even more. In much gentler tones, Miss Ginevra spoke.

“Draco, you have to let go… I can’t be with you. You know that… there’s too much standing between us! Just… find yourself a pureblood wife and…”

“I have found a pureblood wife… you!”

Miss Ginevra just snapped: “You know what I mean, Dragon!”

“If it’s your stupid Weasels, Princess, they can’t hurt me! I’ll…”

“Draco! They’re my brothers! And no, it isn’t just that! You have these horrid views… I could never live with that! I don’t think the way you do! I’m a Weasley, and you’re a Malfoy!”

“But I could change! I know I could! And you know that’s not true! Why else are you staying with the Potter Halfblood! To make me jealous? You just needed to be closer to me! Admit it!”

Miss Ginevra’s tone was colder than ever when she responded:

“You’ll never change, Draco! You talk of change and in the same breath you’re calling Harry a Halfblood, like he’s an disgusting creature! Why can’t you see that it isn’t right? That it can’t be?”

There was a tense silence after that, and Hermione’s curiosity got the best of her. Sneaking closer, she poked her cathead around the corner to get a look at what was going on.

Miss Ginevra was quite rumpled in appearance, her cheeks were red, and she looked as if she had already danced all night. Sweaty, she was leaning against the wall, engaged in a tense staring contest. The gentleman before her was quite obviously of great wealth, to look at his appearance. His face was angelically beautiful, though his mouth showed something arrogant. His white hair was held back in a perfectly groomed ponytail.

Hermione could almost feel the tension between those two people shift and reform itself. What started out as a hard, resentful look, for the both of them, shifted in something softer, something full of longing. Hermione was quite surprised to see that look on the gentleman mostly, since she wouldn’t suspect him to let his guard down for anyone, even one he desired.

Before Hermione could look away, the both of them were embracing in a passionate kiss.

The hearth-wrenching scene didn’t last, though. Soon Miss Ginevra was moaning her refusal, and they broke apart reluctantly. Out of breath, their foreheads were still touching, until the witch gathered enough courage to flee the man’s embrace.

Hermione, transfixed, watched the wizard’s face fall. Desperate grief made way soon for other emotions… His expression contorted in anger, making his handsome face ugly to see. With barely suppressed rage, though, he made his way back to the Ball.

***

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35. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Slightly stunned with all these revelations, Hermione got back to her human form. Pensively, she entered the ballroom once again, unaware that sharp blue eyes noticed her.

Joining Mrs. Weasley at the dinner table, she suffered through many more pleasantries and gossip before the end was near. At least, the concentration she had to put in keeping her calm front diverted her thoughts from the scene she’d witnessed between Miss Ginevra and Mr. Malfoy.

The party she was with was seated quite a distance from the real host and his entourage. Hermione had a perfect view, though, of Harry. Next to him, Miss Ginevra was having a calm moment, which seemed so out of character for the boisterous young witch… It didn’t escape Hermione’s eye, though, that she had refilled her glass with Firewhiskey a number of times, though it seemed her fellow table guests were quite oblivious to that.

She felt quite relieved when Mr. Weasley asked her for a spin on the dance floor after dessert. She felt more than ready to leave behind the old witches Mrs. Weasley had introduced her to. Even though she wasn’t sure she was going to hold her own dancing. It had been since fifth year at school when the girls of Bleuboard had enjoyed such a lesson.

She needn’t have worried. The older wizard leading her might be a grandfather; he was still quite strongly guiding their steps. The simple pleasure she felt was ended brutally by the sudden appearance of Miss Ginevra. Almost making Hermione trip, the young witch was uncharacteristically uncaring when she went for her father in an almost desperate manner, asking to cut in.

Hermione was still trying to get her bearings, smoothening down her gown, when she saw a giggly Miss Weasley lead her former dancing partner away from her.

Mindful of her own dignity, she wouldn’t have dreamed of making a scene. So while removing her person from between the twirling couples, she didn’t fail to notice the gentleman, Malfoy, glaring from the side of the dance floor. So the witch was fleeing from that wizard, again… The slight irritation she felt directed at Miss Ginevra made way for confusion. These two were engaged in a serious cat-and-mouse game…

She made her way back to the inviting guest of the party, mindful of the story she was told earlier that evening, and behaved properly for the rest of a rather boring evening. As soon as she got the chance to do so, following perfect decorum, she excused herself and went to leave the Ball.

Really, the only highlight had been her short stretch of legs with Mr. Weasley. She failed to see the appeal to a Ball if most were just standing around gossiping. And since she was clearly too inferior to be asked to dance by anyone else, or to participate in any meaningful conversation, the fancy dress-up had been just that: a dress-up…

***

Harry had been bored out of his mind all evening. He might have escaped strangers and found refuge with friends, but most of them were couples, and the conversation tonight, more often then not turned to good-natured jabs at married life. It wasn’t easy for him to participate in the banter going around, since despite his marital status, he knew nothing about married life…

Hence, he could not find humour in the clichéd retelling of common misunderstandings or quarrels between husband and wife. The men, more often than not turned their conversation to politics or Quidditch, neither topics of which Harry felt like talking about. Politics; considering the recent news he’d gotten from Arthur, nor Quidditch, since Ron had been talking his ear off about that already… Neither could he participate in the conversation between the women about their children, since he had only one daughter. And he started to get this painfully suspicion that he knew very little of Lily… Which was mad, since he knew her best; he’d raised her, hadn’t he?

As a result of his boredom, he was just going through the motions, a little envious when he saw Arthur taking Hermione for a spin. It was too painful to watch her beauty from afar, and not be able to stand up and cut in… take over from Arthur and taking her in his own arms… dancing the night away…

Startled out of his reverie, he turned his back to the dance floor. He never even liked to dance; why ever would he be thinking about ‘dancing the night away’?

Taking a little bit of consolation in the Firewhiskey, he managed to stay polite to the Minister of Law Enforcement, when the conniving man made his compliments on a successful Ball. There was a moment he fought very hard to keep his cool when a cheap jibe about the Weasleys ‘showing off the Muggleborn’ came out of the disgusting, old wizard. But he managed not to show any emotion…

Around the time Harry finally calmed himself from the inner rage that had followed him since, he glanced discreetly in the governess’s direction, only to find her saying her goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley. He noticed the party was entering the last stage. Many old wizards were already intoxicated, and the number of witches infected with uncontrollable giggles was increasing.

Following Hermione with slightly envy eyes, he knew she had the right idea to leave now, before manners were forgotten, and she’d have to endure more rudeness concerning her heritage. His eyes lingered on the doors that had just closed behind her, and he almost missed noticing someone had followed her.

***

Hermione heaved a deep sigh once the doors had closed behind her when she stepped into the hallway. Muffled noises still followed her, but the relative silence was bliss.

Her relief was quickly ended when she heard the Ball’s music again with clarity. The doors had been opened, probably to permit someone else to leave, too. Reigning in her curiosity, she made her way towards the stairs, mindful to keep a dignified pace.

Feeling slightly uneasy, she noticed the sound was muffled once more, and that nothing since had hinted to the identity of the person or persons that was now with her in the hallway. Her unease soon turned to fright when she heard quick footsteps coming her way, nearing her before she could reach the stairs.

Her arm was suddenly yanked back, and she stood face to face with the gentleman she had come to know this night, albeit not officially. Mr. Malfoy, undoubtedly the master of the neighbouring mansion she’d encountered on her walk as Animagus, stood before her. Despite the distinct whiff of alcohol that came from him, she managed to stay quite calm, while he still had a rather painful grab on her arm.

A moment of pity was allowed for this man, though Hermione knew better than anyone that desperation and alcohol weren’t the safest match. And the wizard in front of her was quite desperate, so much was clear to her. But showing fear would only work as a red flag to him… So with the courage she didn’t quite feel, she asked him politely:

“Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?” looking pointedly at his hand squeezing her arm.

This had the effect to jolt him out of some thought process, because his face contorted into almost practised disgust, while he removed his hand from her person in a rapid way.

“Mudblood… So you do know my name? Has little Potty sent you on the mission of spying on me… Making sure I keep away from my Princess?”

Hermione didn’t quite know how to answer the drunken slur of sentences. By the time she’d deciphered the meaning of the words, the wizard had already lost patience:

“Answer me! He wants her for himself, doesn’t he? He’s wants to take her away from me, just to get to me! But you can tell him, little Mudblood whore, I will not let him! You hear me!”

During his crazy rant, the blond wizard had advanced on her, making Hermione quite nervous.

***

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36. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Harry furrowed his brow. Why would Malfoy leave before having put some insult in towards Harry? What was the purpose of coming here tonight, if Malfoy didn’t even come torturing him about how the Ministry was cutting his wings?

Even a remark on the ‘Mudblood servant’ could’ve been expected?

Hermione!

Fear spread inside Harry, when he realised Hermione could be alone in that hallway right now with the bastard Malfoy. Without showing any emotion, though, he excused himself from his party, and made purposefully to the doors leading to the Hallway. It wouldn’t do to create a scene, and Malfoy wouldn’t dare do anything in Harry’s own mansion.

But even so, the thought of Hermione alone with the vile bastard was enough to spur him on.

***

Hermione realised too late she’d made a mistake when she’d taken a step away from the drunken wizard. Taking a step back was as much as declaring defeat: she should’ve stood her ground… Trying to regain some level of control, she tried to reason – a futile effort – with trembling voice:

“Mr. Malfoy, I know not of what you’re accusing me! I am simply…”

He interrupted, almost spitting in her face: “Do not li-… lie to me! You may look all… -ll respectable in that f-fancy dress, but we… we all know what you really a- are! You’re nothing but a Mud… a Mudblood! A…”

Whatever vile thing the blond man was going to throw at her next, she would probably never find out, because at that point, his eyes rolled back and he crumbled at her feet.

Hermione’s control broke momentarily, and she shivered uncontrollably. Bringing her hand to her chest, she belatedly started to massage her arm where Malfoy had abused the flesh before. She felt the pent-up tension of fear resolving, leaving her weak. Vaguely, she noticed Harry standing there, with flaming eyes, and his wand at hand.

This vision, though, jilted her practical side back to the forefront. Kneeling over the fallen wizard, she checked Mr. Malfoy for nasty bruises.

***

Disbelievingly Harry saw how Hermione started acting all maternal on the Slytherin snake that had threatened her just moments ago. How could she even care? Wasn’t she supposed to faint or something?

Apparently not, since she was hovering her wand over the bastard, methodically checking his well-being.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” Harry couldn’t help but hiss out.

He saw the witch looking up sharply. But instead of fear or shame, or anything that could be expected, he saw reproach. Taken aback, he didn’t understand why he was being rebuked: he’d been her hero, hadn’t he? So she was supposed to be grateful! He couldn’t indulge in his feelings of hurt pride for long, since her calm voice reached him, talking sense into him.

“This gentleman was your guest! People will not take this lightly, sir: you assaulting your guests in your own house!”

Harry was about to point out that Malfoy had been the one to attack her, and that the slimy git was anything but a gentleman! The governess didn’t leave him that opportunity, though.

“It won’t do to have people know this, because I’m still just a Mudblood to them, regardless of the pretty dress! However, it will be much more simpler and discreet, if the gentleman here passed out from too much liquor! So if you will help me, that is what happened here!”

As reluctant as he was to admit she was making a good case, he knew this wasn’t the time to argue. It would solve the matter without any scandal…

***

Hermione was up in her room, recovering from the earlier events. Well, the Ball proved to be… exciting… at the least… that is, at least the peripheral happenings…

Staring at the dress Mrs. Weasley had her wear and was now laid out on her bed, she was glad Harry had acted when he had. She wouldn’t have liked Mr. Malfoy witnessing her transform into an animal, which she was ready to do to flee his grip. This way, that little secret was still hers, and hers alone.

Rummaging in her potions supply, she found some belladonna. She wasn’t one to drug herself, but she could use the calming effect right now. Stirring her tea, she went about loosening her curls from the fancy hairdo.

Half-heartedly, she listened to the dying noises downstairs. She wondered how much longer the inebriated people were going to impose on the Potter hospitality. Knowing she had no right to think such a remark, even if it was only in her head, she tried to shrug off her annoyance.

Earlier, Harry had called Dobby to arrange Mr. Malfoy to be taken to his mansion by his own House Elves. But by then Hermione had been instructed to leave for upstairs, so that no suspicion would link the passing out of Mr. Malfoy to Hermione’s presence.

It was a prudent course to be taken, for sure, but even so, Hermione could see Harry was struggling to keep his demeanour calm. She only hoped nothing more would come of it, though, even when that thought of hope was crossing her mind, she knew it was in vain.

Harry wouldn’t leave it at that. He had played his reluctant part now, because of the threat of scandal. However, he would at least demand from her what had happened.

Hermione knew, though, this would never be an option. She knew too much from own experience how much a secret needed to be guarded. She was not about to divulge Miss Weasley’s and Mr. Malfoy’s without good reason.

And there was no good reason to be detected from where she was standing. Surely, she knew too little about the Malfoy family to fully comprehend the implications on their end. But Mrs. Arthur Weasley’s tale had instructed her enough to have at least an inkling of what compromising political situation could be caused by this involvement of the two parties, if it ever were to become public knowledge.

She couldn’t trust Harry to respond reasonably to this secret. He cared deeply for the Weasleys, and after all, Miss Weasley lived with him as a sister. His reaction to Mr. Malfoy in general didn’t make her confidence grow in Harry’s calm.

Moreover, the implications made about an official union between Harry an Miss Weasley had been nagging on her feelings. Indeed they were not brother and sister, even if lately she had managed to forget this. Caution, on occasion, had been thrown away on her part, and doubt began to worm itself in more and more.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she was in deep thought, and didn’t mind the time passing…

****

Thanks to all reviewers, your kind critique is always too much praise!

Parcheezie: There will be no kicking Hermione!

thewhiterider91: I’m sorry, I’ve been asked to do this before, but in my experience, if you say ‘yes’ to one person, suddenly everyone wants a personalised warning about updates. I have barely time to consecrate on my writing as it is, so you’ll understand if I have to decline you’re offer… Thanks for the nice things you said about the story, though, that’s always encouraging!

Lalia: Oh, heavens! You counted the time… I’m really sorry, but real life has been commanding my attention – it couldn’t be helped!

Melody: Glad you appreciate this story! And the way my story was going, I couldn’t get Ginny fall for Neville, that would be too easy. This is a story about impossible matches, remember? I’m glad I wrote Mrs. Weasley just so to come across interfering enough, but not too annoying all the same – at least in your opinion! I hope you enjoyed the additional chapters?

37. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Harry didn’t know what to do after he’d taken Hermione’s lead and send Malfoy away under the excuse that he’d drunken himself into stupor. A clattering noise in the Hall made him aware that the Ball was still being held, and he made his way back mechanically.

Using skills of masking emotions to the fullest, he managed to get through the end of the feast, without giving way to any anger. Slowly, the boiling anger made way for a tired insensitivity. By the time the last guest had departed, and the guests staying in his house had left for their rooms, Harry felt strangely empty.

He didn’t visit Hermione that night. He felt he had too much to ponder about, before he could have the energy needed to face her. He had enough presence of mind to want to protect her from being the scapegoat for his frustrations.

With empty eyes, he made his way to his bedchamber, readying himself for bed. Though very peaceful on the outside, the master of the mansion could not find sleep for many hours. Staring at the back of his eyelids, tired thoughts floated in and out of his consciousness, none of them staying long enough to make sense.

It was therefore with a shock that he realised he was watching a body curled up in a corner of a room. On closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a female body, wracking with sobs. With his sense of protectiveness, he felt himself moving closer to the bundle, wanting to caress the beautiful dark hair, flowing long over her shoulders and back.

Before he’d reached the woman, her face turned fully towards him. Accusing dark eyes arrested him. Before he could recover and comprehend what was happening, the eyes softened in a saddened glance. The woman reached out tentatively, and the hope in her voice was heart wrenching when she uttered his name:

“Cedric?”

“Cho!”

Harry awoke with a start. Heart pounding, he tried to gather his thoughts without unnecessary panic. This hadn’t been the first time. The memory of the first dream came back to him. But what did it all mean?

His guilt wasn’t as large as it should’ve been. His regard for Hermione had grown too much to feel guilt about that. At least, he didn’t feel as if he was betraying Cho because of his regard for Hermione.

With that startling realisation, he questioned himself about what was unfair in his treatment of Cho. With a clarity he hadn’t possessed in a long time it struck him. He was keeping Cho in this world. Away from her own love.

And for what reason?

Why had he refused to follow the advice of the Healers all those years ago? Was it realy to avoid a scandal? Why had he fought so hard to keep Cho in this world? It was clear now, that she wouldn’t ever wake up anymore. Or would she? Did he even want her to wake up? It would mean the end of his Hermione. It would mean only Lily’s governess, Miss Granger.

But was he really that selfish?

Or was it time to let Cho go? To let her find peace. To allow himself to find his own peace?

Confusing thoughts about what to do in relation to his future increased when he realised there was also the matter of the Ministry. Nothing felt easy, and he knew there were heavy decisions to be made.

Sooner rather then later…

***

The candle at her vanity had halved by the time Hermione realised Harry wasn’t coming. With that she let her hand fall on the journal that contained her heart.

Without much deliberation, she set out to write. Pages filled themselves with her discoveries, about the people around her, and about herself. As per usual, she lingered on the joy and the pain of having Lily so close to her. Of her selfish desire to want more. More than just teaching Lily, but holding her in her arms. Kissing her forehead, even when she wasn’t asleep. Caressing her hair to calm her down… To let her know she was loved and cared for. That she wasn’t alone in this world, and most of all that she was worthy. Worthy of motherly love…

It broke Hermione’s heart to see Lily suffer, and to see the people around her blind to that pain. Hermione knew the pain of growing up without a mother’s touch. The want of a female embrace without feeling ashamed of receiving it out of pity.

Hermione knew all to well why Lily didn’t allow herself to be close to her aunt Ginny, or her governess. It was pride and an aversion to pity. It was why she rebuffed Harold and even little James on occasion, and fought for attention from the three other Weasley boys…

Hermione also knew why she monopolised the time with her father. He was the only one who she thought really cared for her, and losing him would mean losing everything. Lily clung to her father’s affections, but was never certain of it. Something Hermione could also understand very well indeed.

All thoughts and feelings became more clear when writing it down. Doubts disappeared, but still, a course of action to take eluded her. She was in no position to take any action, aside from guiding Lily through a basic education. Everything more wasn’t up to a governess…

After exhausting the topic of her daughter, her quill commanded attention for her feelings towards the father of her child.

Lately, she felt very unsure about herself, and about him. Their last meeting had been so intense. In that moment, she had been sure she loved him. And that he loved her.

But now… She questioned her own sanity. Was love to be something purely physical? Hermione had always considered love to be a pure emotion. Her desire for being with the man who’d wanted an heir… That desire had always caged her. It wasn’t anything pure, it was sinful and selfish, and it had scratched her soul through the years.

Lately that desire had been fulfilled. But was that enough to constitute a love? Fulfilment of a body’s desire? Soothing of a heart’s whimsical wishes?

He was married. She didn’t even know if he’d ever loved his wife. Did he betray her memory by accepting her? Could she respect him for that?

Or more accurately, could she respect a man who didn’t respect her?

With clarity, she discovered that this was what had hurt her most lately. Moreover because it was her own fault. She let him use her body, because her desire for him was too great. She couldn’t refuse him. Even writing down this truth she felt her body react fiery to the knowledge of the effect caused by his touches.

But she was decidedly underneath him in any way. She knew that already, but now she recognised that he didn’t really do anything to show her that it didn’t matter to him. This brought doubt to her mind. Did he really think her as inferior, only good enough to sooth his needs as a man?

On some level, she didn’t doubt that he felt at least a little more for her than just animalistic attraction. But what did he feel for her? Did he blame her for causing him to break his society’s rules? Did he feel disdain for her on some level?

Was he even interested in anything besides her body?

To that she knew the answer. No… He didn’t talk to her, or ask her anything, he didn’t share his worries or value her opinion. She had to fight to get even this far with disciplining Lily. And she wasn’t in the position to ask him, or to inform him of her opinions. Her thoughts about Lily would only hurt him. But neither could she lay her worries and her questions at his door.

She wasn’t allowed the desire that he’d share his worries with her. Only a wife had that right. And she was even lower then a common mistress…

It was with that realisation that she started. She had allowed herself to forget about the meaning of the magic of Firelight…

Reality came back to her. In less then three weeks, her notice would come to term. Maybe she could get a few more days, maybe even weeks, if the master of this house decided to keep her until she had a new family commission. Hermione knew Miss Weasley had contacted her former Headmistress Madam McGonnagal about a new family. Depending on the successfulness of her search, Hermione would be off.

Her bond with the Potters would simply be that she had been the sixth governess of little Miss Potter. Nothing more.

Her heart couldn’t break again. She refused to let it come to that. Drawing her courage around her as a cloak of protection, she put down her quill.

It was then that Hermione noticed the first rays of sunlight had illuminated her room since more then a few moments. Checking the time she closed her diary with tired resignation.

Looking up into the mirror, the image reflected there was not presentable. Dark circles around her eyes betrayed her body’s exhaustion, that was only rivalled by her heart’s. Indifferently, she noticed a light bruising on her arm also. Mr. Malfoy had left a mark…

Sleeves would hide that, but Hermione got up to find her potions anyway. Selecting a few bottles and flasks she set herself back in front of her vanity. First she took care of her arm and the dark circles around her eyes. Carefully applying different lotions, she saw the colouration vanish. Selecting a few other potions, she mixed dosages and swallowed her brew in one go.

Not revealing her distaste, even in the privacy of her own bedchamber, she set out to replace everything. Doing so, she felt her brew take effect: the tiredness seemed to seep out of her, and by the time she was dressed and ready, no one would ever guess she hadn’t slept all night.

With that, she had her mask again firmly in place, and could bear a day of strict decorum and façades.

Business as usual…

***

Please, review?

38. Chapter 37

AN: Ok, need to clear up a few facts. I’m getting reviews that the story is rushed all of the sudden. Maybe that is true, but it’s with a reason. I hope that with the future chapters you will grow to accept that reason, and if not, I’m sorry, but it’s not because suddenly I want this story to be over with. Please don’t think that.

And keep in mind that Harry (in this story) is not a very introspective person. Maybe that will help when you’re questioning his motives and his ‘forgetfulness’.

*** *** ***

Chapter 37

As long as the Weasleys were at the manor, Hermione couldn’t resume lessons with Lily. First, because Mr. Potter had decreed it still being a holiday. Aside from that, Hermione knew she wouldn’t get the attention needed from Lily while the Weasley boys were still in the house.

Not wanting to mingle any more than necessary, she used the excuse that she didn’t want to intrude on the family gathering. With that safety barrier, she could employ her time as she wished. This left her a day long at her leisure to finally finish the exploration of the Potter library and select a few books to peruse further in her own chamber.

Immersed in a weathered tome of ancient magical rituals, she didn’t notice the time passing. Around the afternoon she wasn’t called to join the guests for tea, but soon after a knock at her door disturbed the concentration she was in.

Confused she stood to see who would want a word with her. Her confusion only grew when again she saw Mrs. A. Weasley in the hallway, carrying the same box she had the previous time. Hermione had asked Winky to return the dress this morning, with a note expressing her gratitude. It was without understanding that Hermione pondered the meaning of Mrs. Weasley’s presence. The woman would not enforce a gift which had been a loan in Hermione’s eyes, would she?

The older witch didn’t stand around waiting for Hermione to recover, though, and again she strode inside the chamber Hermione had use of. It struck Hermione that it was highly improper to entrain guests in a bedchamber. If Mrs. Weasley wanted to have a conference with her, she could’ve requested her to come down in one of the smaller parlours downstairs?

Nevertheless Hermione obeyed the request to close the door.

“Miss Granger, I’m not in the habit to accept the return of a gift. And I’m not at all satisfied with your claim of it being a loan,” Mrs. Weasley started, referring to the note Hermione had sent.

“Now that is settled to my satisfaction,” Hermione wanted to interrupt that nothing had been settled – least of all to her satisfaction – but didn’t get a word in when Mrs. Weasley changed the subject, “I wanted to be the one to inform you that my daughter is going to stay with her parents for a moment.”

Silenced, Hermione didn’t know how to answer that comment, and waited for the woman in front of her to continue. Privately, though, Hermione held her own counsel about the reasons Miss Weasley was to go away from the county for a while.

“Miss Granger, I will not tolerate being toyed with, so I trust you will understand that I expect no advantage is to be taken from this situation?”

Hermione, though, could not – dared not – guess what the formidable witch tried to warn her off.

“Let me be plain, Miss Granger. My daughter’s presence here has been more than an annoyance for me. Mr. Potter may be married, but my daughter is not. It has been very hard for me to accept her living here thusly. However, I entrain the hope that Mr. Potter will one day come to his senses and let his wife go in peace…

“Do not look so shocked, Miss Granger, only Mr. Potter entrains the foolish hope that dear Cho will ever wake up. The rest of us wish she may one day find the peace she so deserves. It is not natural to keep her attached to this world for so long.

“When that day comes, it is expected of him to take my daughter as his wife. She has been all but filling the role of mistress of this house already, so it would only be the honourable thing to do for our Harry to grant her the official position of that station in life. And I trust him to do the honourable thing.

“However, I must warn you. As much as Harry, Mr. Potter, is honourable, he is also a man. I do not say so to shock you my dear. And I know you to be honourable as well. However, with the removal of my daughter in this house, you will be a single female here. And as much as the outside world knows Mr. Potter is a married man, and Mrs. Potter – though ill – is also present in this house, we know better, don’t we Miss Granger?

“Therefore, I must warn you to do everything in your power to protect your reputation and not to give into the temptation of entraining aspiring wishes to one day being Mrs. Potter yourself…”

With that Mrs. Weasley concluded. Much more difficult for Hermione, it was to formulate an answer to this. The words spoken confirmed that much more about what she had been analysing the night before.

However, her pride dictated her to respond with dignity – although she knew very well how much she was lying in that instant.

“Mrs. Weasley, I appreciate your concern for my reputation. But I assure you, you have no reasons of concern. As for Mr. Potter, he has always treated me with the deference proper to my station in this house. As such I see no reason to fear for my reputation now that Miss Weasley will be absent during the night, as well as during the day.

“In conclusion, I hope not to offend you by asking to leave my bedchamber. This is a highly improper conversation, however well meaning.

“Good day, Mrs. Weasley, and thank you for the fine dress!”

With calm resolution, Hermione opened the door.

Mrs. Weasley didn’t show any annoyance, should she have felt it, but nodded her goodbye respectfully.

***

The day had passed quite manageable for Harry. He still felt the weight of responsibility for decisions to be made. But the happy disturbance of the Weasley presence distracted him enough – for the moment.

A short conference with Arthur brought everything to the forefront, however. Little was settled, other than an assurance that Harry still had time to make a decision.

Quite unexpectedly, Ginny expressed her wish to make a short visit back to her parents’ house. It was just for a week, but she claimed she had missed her mother and father’s presence lately. If anyone found it odd that Ginny would feel such, nobody commented about it, at least not in front of Molly.

For the remainder of the day, Harry indulged in the carefree company of his best friend and occasionally a game with the children. Before he knew what had happened, dinner time came around. He noticed the absence of Hermione acutely, but couldn’t do anything about it when Winky informed her Miss Granger had a headache and would take her dinner in her bedchamber.

It was to be the last gathering with the Weasleys, since tomorrow morning, they would pack and leave…

In a way it was reassuring that Hermione was not attending. That way, he didn’t have to put so much energy in fighting the influence of her presence. He could enjoy the Weasleys in peace…

***

Please, review?

***

For the reviewers on Fanfiction.net:

I’m glad to be back, too. And I hope you’ll keep loving the next chapters!

Especially Nymoue: Merci pour tes reviews, ils sont vraiment une joie à lire (est ce que ça se dit comme ça? Mon Françcais, ça fait tellement longtemps que je l’ai utilisé…) En tout cas: merci, et j’ espère sue je continuerais à te faire plaisir avec le reste de l’ histoire!

39. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

After Mrs. Weasley had left her room, Hermione was strangely calm. With an unexplainable urge, she sat down and took her journal out. Continuing her analyses from before, she knew she had been right to make the decision of closing her heart to wishes of love.

All there was between them was desire. Soon, they would again be apart. It was not meant to be. He was destined to hang on to his wife, or to make his honourable choices. Which meant to chose Miss Weasley to be his wife. In that occasion, she knew she couldn’t stay here, even if she had no family to go to.

Her future was thus set – away from her daughter, and away from Mr. Potter – Harry… She had still a few weeks of present time, though.

With Lily, she was to resume her tasks as a governess. That was without question.

But what about Mr. Potter? Was she to continue escaping the reality of it by telling herself their acts were suspended during the Magic of the Firelight? That wasn’t going to protect her feelings much longer…

***

Harry sighed in relief when he could close the door to his bedchamber. Silence was a much needed change when Weasleys visited, even if the loud affection was enjoyable. For a moment, he waited until all sound around the house desisted, before doing a magical sweep to assert everyone was safely ensconced in their own chambers. Satisfied, he let temptation conquer and wished himself in Hermione’s bedchamber.

The room was dark. Something he hadn’t counted on. Thinking “lumos”, a bulb of light appeared in front of him. A slight movement caught his eye, and he moved in the direction of the bed. If he had been worried she’d be cold without the fire, he was surprised to feel warmth coming from the sheets on her bed while he approached.

Surprised and impressed. That charm wasn’t an easy one to master. Not without setting the sheets on fire, anyway.

He didn’t linger on that thought, though, and was contemplating what he should say to her. Are you awake? Because if you are, I could use your company right now? Or he could always try the ‘actions speak louder than words’ approach. Before he could make up his mind, she whispered, though:

“You shouldn’t be here. The house is full of guests…”

Harry wanted to counter that the last time they’d met, the house had been full of people too. But something in the atmosphere of the room didn’t feel right. First, it was dark, and they were whispering. The firelight wasn’t casting its magic, which meant… What did that mean exactly?

Before he could wrap his mind about what exactly was happening, she whispered again:

“I think Mrs. Weasley suspects something…”

Harry startled: “Molly?”

All he got from her was a quiet ‘yes’. With the pale light cast by his lumosbulb, he couldn’t see her expression properly, which annoyed him. But more than that, the mention of Molly made him pause. It wouldn’t be a good idea to try and convince Hermione now. He should ponder on the situation first.

Absentmindedly, he reached for her, kissed her forehead tenderly and whispered back:

“We will talk about it later,” before vanishing to his own bedchamber.

***

Hermione laid stunned. Feeling her resolve wear down fast, she basked in the afterglow of the simple and tender touch Harry… Mr. Potter, had just bestowed on her.

She had put out her firelight on purpose. What she had meant to communicate to him, she wasn’t sure yet, but she knew there had to change something. She wasn’t about to keep putting herself through this. She wasn’t going to keep fulfilling only a part of her desire, if it meant fulfilling his completely.

But… He hadn’t read anything in the absence of Firelight. Or at least, he hadn’t showed it. Wasn’t it the only reason he broke his own rules? Because everything would be forgotten in the morning?

He hadn’t showed hesitation in approaching her. Only when she mentioned Mrs. Weasley, he stopped coming forward. And only for a little while, since in that following instant he’d given her something he’d never done before.

Tenderness.

He was always tender in their… meetings. But this was different. This was outside of those moments, safely in the Magic of Firelight. He’d touched her in amore innocent way, but wildly out of place for a master towards the governess of his daughter.

More like a gesture of a man towards the mother of his child.

But he’d never recognised her in that way. Besides the moment of rage and fear, when he’d lashed out at her. And it was the reason she wasn’t allowed to stay here longer than a few weeks.

A promise that they would talk.

They rarely ever talked. That constituted that he should be open to listening what she had to say. Aside from facts he was then to analyse, not she…

What did those gestures mean? And was this the consequence of refusing to play by the rules of the Magic of Firelight? Was this a risk she was willing to take?

Would she only invite deeper feelings by refusing him? Chances were he would try and convince her to continue accepting him. Would this lead to false promises? To deeper disappointment in the end? Was it safer to continue the fulfilling of desire inside the Magic of Firelight, until the time was there to leave for the next family?

Exhaustion overtook her, and denied her a conclusion.

***

Harry didn’t overanalyse their meeting. He did feel some apprehension about Hermione’s fear Molly might know something. But he’d been very careful, so Molly couldn’t be aware of anything.

Moreover, if she really knew anything, Harry would’ve heard something from her already. Dismissing this potential worry, he dismissed the extinguished hearth, too. Tomorrow he could find the solace he needed, tomorrow, everyone in their way would be gone.

More importantly he pondered about one of the more important decisions in his life. How was he going to proceed about Cho. How was he going to take a final decision?

Ginny could help him there. But she was to leave for a week, tomorrow…

He could talk to Cho. Inform her of his thoughts. Preparing her. Then after a week, he would talk to Ginny. They would consult a Healer to be sure there wasn’t much chance of Cho waking up after all these years. And then they could consult him how to go about letting Cho leave this world with dignity.

He felt a great relief once that decision had been made inside his mind. He could never be sure if this was the right one to make. But nevertheless, he felt it was time to let Cho rejoin Cedric… He had Lily now. And Hermione. And he could protect them. They weren’t going to leave him. Death didn’t surround him… Not anymore…

***

Please, review?

***

Nymoue, Wow, je n’avais que publié le dernier chapitre moins qu’une demi-heur, et déjà un review! C’est plus que fantastique, ça! Et tu ne dois certainement pas écrire en anglais. Parce que, comme ça, au moins je m’efforce un peu d’ exercé mon français!;-p

40. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

With the morning, came the bustle of arranging everything to leave the Potter mansion. Hermione helped Mrs. R. Weasley, though she managed well on her own, to magically set the boys’ possessions in their travelling chests. Before midday, everyone was set in the hallway to take a Portkey back to London.

The affair was a loud goodbye, and trying to get the younger Weasley boys to behave long enough for the Portkey to take hold. Before they disappeared, though, Hermione had been surprised by an honest hug from Miss Ginevra. The witch had always been straightforward with her, but this show of abundant familiarity took Hermione off guard.

When finally the house was empty once more. Mr. Potter decided to have lunch with his daughter, before lessons were to resume. Although he invited her also, she claimed preparation work as an excuse to leave for the classroom. Lily was to join her after having finished with her father.

Hermione hadn’t really come to any decision about the problem stemming from the Magic of Firelight. And with Lily joining her in less than an hour, she couldn’t permit her thoughts to linger on that subject. So preparing everything to revise all Lily had been taught since Hermione had arrived, she was expecting a hard afternoon.

It would be expected that Lily would have experienced a regression of sorts. In what degree remained to be seen, but Hermione sincerely hoped she wouldn’t have to resort to locking the door again.

After rewriting the alphabet on the large chalk board she had to her disposition, she went back to the table. Displaying the cards they’d practised on before, she slyly placed a few cards without pictures but very simple words between them also. It most likely was too soon. After all, she had been teaching Lily just a week and now there had been two days of suspension in the lessons.

Before she could change her mind and take the cards away, Lily made her presence known.

Pleased, Hermione could see her father hadn’t joined her. This meant Lily had come up here by herself. An encouraging fact indeed.

“Miss Granger,” Lily said politely as greeting.

It was all Hermione could do not to show surprise at her civil tone. But not one to squander away chances of progress in the child’s behaviour, Hermione signalled for her to enter further in the room, taking her place in her usual seat at the table.

“Are you ready, Miss Potter, for your lessons to resume?” after a curt nod from the girl in front of her, Hermione proceeded, “We will start with a revision of what we’ve learned already, if that is agreeable to you.”

It wasn’t really a question, since Lily had no choice, but Hermione wanted to test her response to such an opening. Any acerbic remarks remained unspoken though. Which in itself was an event to be glad of.

The alphabet was first. Hermione couldn’t be sure yet that Lily was really reading from the chalkboard, or if she was good at remembering the recitation of the alphabet from the previous lessons. But with no little amount of pride, Hermione was to note that Lily faltered only twice during her abc, and corrected herself during those instances.

Next came the cards. Lily picked them one by one, reciting the word underneath. When she made a mistake, it was clear to Hermione that she still relied a lot on the pictures, and not yet on the words.

Therefore, she stealthily called back the cards without pictures magically.

For one card, it had been too late. Lily picked it up:

“This one hasn’t got a picture on it…” She remarked.

“Indeed not, Miss Potter,” Hermione replied calmly.

With her little nose turned up, Lily answered snottily: “Without pictures I cannot know what it says!”

“Really, now?” Hermione responded in her calm way, every bit the governess.

Lily frowned: “Of course not!” Her voice full of certainty.

She glanced back at the card. Confused and angrily she said: “How am I supposed to guess what this means… It’s… it’s…”

Wonder laced through her voice, and with incredulity Lily said: “It says ‘hat’?”

The expression on Lily’s face was priceless, and Hermione felt privileged that she had been witness of that look. Pride filled her when she saw her daughter realise for the first time what a mind was possible of achieving. A small occurrence, but with the promise of so much more…

Hermione had to check herself when she saw Lily looking up at her, as if expecting assurance from her that everything was all right. It was as if the girl needed an anchor, it was as if she had been shaken quite thoroughly.

Hermione sensing it was very important to give her insurance that she was doing very well, acted without hesitation.

“You may be very proud of yourself today, Miss Potter. In fact I think you’re ready for this…” With that, she took out her wand and summoned a little chalkboard from the chest that sat in a corner of the room.

Placing it in front of Lily, she explained in a clear voice:

“As you’ve been such an exceptional quick student, the choice is yours: which word do you want to be the first you learn to write?”

Hermione made sure to lace enough pride in her voice, so Lily would be sure to accept this as a compliment to her achievements. Normally she didn’t let her students choose. Since the parents were usually expecting the surname the be the first word to be exercised. Family pride and all.

Somehow, Hermione believed ‘Potter’ was to be Lily’s choice anyway, but this way, Lily would have a sense of power in her own learning. And that was suddenly very important to Hermione.

With that playing in her mind, Hermione wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Lily had been contemplative and silent for a while. Finally looking up, locking her green gaze with Hermione’s. She said with only a little bit of hesitance:

“I want to… If I can choose what word I learn to write first. I want… mother…”

Lily’s innocent desire was heart wrenching for her governess. The girl couldn’t know what her request did to her. It was a while before Hermione sorted through her feelings, finding the correct interpretation of Lily’s request. She couldn’t be sure that she had recovered well enough in order not to scare the girl with her peculiar behaviour.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione responded as calmly as possible: “Well ‘mother’ it is. So, do you think you can show the first letter of that word in the alphabet?”

The lesson progressed in spelling the word down in the letters needed. While one letter at a time, Hermione showed Lily how to go about it to draw them on the chalkboard. By the end of the lesson, Lily was trying to string all the letters to form the one word. Hermione had to remind Lily that the lesson was almost over.

The governess saw a hint of disappointment in her pupil, and pride filled her heart. This newfound thirst for achievement was refreshing, and hope grew within her that Lily would hold onto that thirst. Even if her current governess had to leave her in a short while…

They unwound in front of the hearth, in the otherwise dark room, as was their habit. Lily broke the silence with a question:

“Miss Granger?” At the encouraging nod from her governess, Lily continued: “You don’t approve of my choice, do you? It’s not a good word to learn first, is it?”

Hermione wanted to cry. She needed to cry… But not now. Later… Right now, she had to reassure her daughter.

“No, Miss Lily, I think it’s an excellent word,” after a short hesitation, Hermione continued, “I just wished it had been my first word too… You see, my mother died when I was born. So I was alone with my father too when I was little…”

Lily nodded like she understood everything. A look that strangely suited the seven year old.

***

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41. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Dinner was a strange affaire without Ginny present. As such the talk died down after the customary compliments for the food and a remark about the weather that day. After that, silence reigned.

Harry couldn’t mind, though, he was thinking about what he’d done that afternoon, while Lily had been at her lessons. He was preoccupied with his decision. Since informing Cho, it had seemed so real. And it had been particularly surreal talking to her about letting her go…

He was used to discuss everything with her. She hadn’t just been his wife in name, she had been his friend. And it wasn’t easy talking about extinguishing the little life that was still inside her. And now that the words had been spoken to her, the decision became real. When Ginny returned, everything would be put into motion.

It had been the first step to make it real, and suddenly it felt like he was going too fast. Where had the decision come from? For years he’d clung to the promise of not causing a scandal to taint Cho’s name. And now he was letting go of that rule, in order to do what?

She deserved peace. And he was starting to believe she wasn’t at peace here. She would only know the quiet end she deserved if he made the decision to let her go.

He still wasn’t sure if it really was the right course to take, but he couldn’t go back on it now. He’d told Cho.

Now there were other concerns to address. His future as an Auror at the Ministry of Magic.

***

Hermione wasn’t comfortable at all during dinner. Without Miss Weasley there, no conversation flowed easily. On the one hand, she was anxious to discuss Lily’s improvements during the lessons, especially the achievements of today. But she didn’t dare start discussing which word Lily had asked to learn to write.

She was surprised in any event that Mr. Potter didn’t seem to know already. She’d expected Lily to have told him all about it when she departed from the classroom earlier. Perhaps she was not comfortable either telling her father she’d been learning to write the word ‘mother’… In that case, it was their secret…

Heavens know she shared secrets now in one way or another with every member of this household… present and absent…

Before retreating to her own bedchamber, Hermione stopped by Lily’s. Slipping inside, she leaned over the girl, caressing her hair away from her face. It was then that Hermione saw Lily must have slipped back into the classroom to retrieve her little chalkboard. It was clutched loosely in her hand. On it was her last try at writing her first word. It was an almost illegible result. Pressing her lips softly on Lily’s forehead, Hermione felt tears pooling in her eyes.

She fled the chamber in a hurry, and failed to see the sleeping child blinking her eyes, regarding her retreat with confusion while feeling the wet drop on her forehead.

The whole affaire had brought raw emotions to the forefront. Hermione didn’t know how to feel, and now that she was alone, she couldn’t suppress her feelings as well as she had in the classroom while it could be witnessed by Lily.

Hermione needed comfort. And it was in that mindset that she decided not to extinguish the fire in her room that night…

***

Harry was ready to join Hermione. He couldn’t wait to feel her nearness, to warm his soul. He’d felt the separation of only two nights keenly, and was impatient to resume the habit of joining her during the night.

Therefore, he arrived maybe sooner then she expected, because she had yet to change in her night cloths. When he appeared to her, she didn’t seem to mind his early arrival, but sat down to undo her hair from the bun first.

It was one of the most sensual things he’d ever laid eyes on. He loved to witness the escape of her locks from her severe hairdo, but watching her do it in such a natural manner brought even more pleasure to this spectacle. He paused to enjoy her rituals from afar.

For a moment his thoughts strayed to the little room in France, at the sea. He’d watched her ready herself for bed there also. But this time was different, the anxiety and fear were gone, and so was the guilt. His presence also seemed less disturbing to her now, than it had then.

He felt a warmth of being home. A sensation he’d rarely really felt as deeply. Basking in that reassurance of not being alone any longer, of having her here, in his home, and soon, in his arms, soothed him from the recent turbulence in his life.

The weight of all decisions yet to be made, fell away, as Hermione’s clothing did.

***

Hermione felt her defences melt with the intensity of his gaze.

When she’d first come into her room, she made sure to calm down from her emotional fit. Masking the slightly red eyes and nose with a few well-placed potions, she made sure the fire in the hearth was blazing, and no candles were lit.

Waiting to undress, she anticipated his arrival. Thinking her state of dress would help with his wish to speak to her, she refrained to the compelling wish to change in her night clothes. That being thought, she was pondering of removing the pins in her hair.

Just as she reached the decision that she would loosen her hair from the bun, he appeared behind her. Watching him from the looking glass of her vanity, his presence and gaze warmed her. Bringing her hands up to remove her hair from the captivity, she realised that his gaze darkened considerably.

Knowing by now what this meant, the effect’s on her own emotions weren’t lost.

She keenly felt the desire for his touch, more so because of the recent events and the directions her mind had been tossed in, back and forth. As she halted and waited for a moment to give him a chance to start discussing that which he wanted to talk to her about, she realised two matters.

First, that talking must be the last thing on his mind, judging by the intensity of his gaze.

But second, and more importantly, that she didn’t wish for him to talk. She wanted to be in his embrace, and succumb to the Firelight, the magic of them being close. She wanted to forget once more everything that stood between them, and take comfort from the love he would give her, however misplaced it was for her to receive it.

With that in mind, she succumbed to her desire, and set to undress herself.

***

Harry approached her once only her slip was not removed yet. Feeling strongly about her, he took her in his arms and brought his lips towards her face. Brushing them softly over her closed eyes, and nose, he took his time finding her own lips.

He loved the feeling of anticipation. It made the soft kiss that much powerful. He wasn’t in a hurry to take matters further. He had been denied this pleasure and now he was going to linger on each pleasure thoroughly, before indulging the next. He was going to take his sweet time…

***

Hermione felt weak and warm. Safely ensconced in his strong embrace she considered herself selfish for never wanting to surrender this possibility. Her desire for this family ran deeply, and she didn’t want to dwell on considerations about how she would have to survive without their presence.

At first she willingly surrendered to his kiss, letting him dictate her emotions by the movement of his lips. A flare of impatience gave her the stimulation of taking control, though. Her desire and need for comfort was too great for slow lovemaking, least of all teasing.

Returning his kiss urgently, and pressing her body against his, she felt Harry’s gasp of surprise. For a infinite moment, fear that he’d break away from her because of her actions, entered her mind. But stronger emotions rained, and clutching him, she felt his more passionate response.

The kiss could best be described as needy and urgent. As much opportunity there had been to relish and enjoy the kiss when it started, now it only conveyed the desire for more. More love, more contact, and less cloths…

With that last thought in mind, she tried break away a little in order to fulfil that little wish.

***

Surprise wasn’t lingering long after she had made her desire known to Harry. Happily abandoning his plans to take his time, he let her urgency infect him. He was quite ready to ravage her anyway, this incentive was only the flame needed to forego his reservations.

Her hands sliding rapidly over his back, and in his hair made his incessant lips only more eager to explore hers. Excited, he felt the thrill of knowing that the way she wanted him equalled his need. This made him unwilling to let her out of his embrace.

Barely noticing her hands abandoning the massage of his head, he only felt the slightest pang of disappointment. Either way, it didn’t last long, as her hands travelled north, over his buttocks, sending foreign waves of excitement all over his body.

***

Hermione grew impatient when she couldn’t get Harry to step back even the tiniest bit so she could get rid of his clothes. With very little intelligence left to think over a rational solution to this problem at hand, she let her need for him dictate her bold actions.

Sliding her hands down, she tried to feel her way around his trousers, deciding that losing only them would be quite sufficient. Finally receiving some cooperation from Harry, the barrier was soon discarded.

Gasping when she felt Harry push her back, she stumbled a few steps before hitting the wall. The kiss wasn’t interrupted long, since Harry followed her instantly, pressing himself against her, while grabbing her slip, bunching the cloth to lift it. Hermione was trapped, but too impatient for him to be with her to feel anything else. The need was indeed quite painful…

***

Urgently, Harry joined her at last, hearing her squeal. Too impatient himself, he didn’t know of she meant to express her relief, her enjoyment, or if she meant for him to proceed even faster, or maybe slower.

He couldn’t think of anything but completing what he started. Rhythm was everything, and reaching final relief the only result. Ravaging her mouth one last time he felt crackling energy being shared between them, until Hermione turned her head violently away from him to pant erratically. Her sounds growing louder, Harry had to bring his teeth to her shoulder in order to keep sane.

The rhythm lost his beauty and became savage as the energy around them build up. Feeling nothing more than pure excitement and joy, Harry felt the energy around them explode, giving them relief in love.

***

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