The Magic Of Firelight by 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?




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…”

***

Please, review



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…”

***

Please review?



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…

***

Please, review?



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: N**othing 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…

***

Please, review?



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?”

***

Please, review



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…

***

Please, review?



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…

***

Please, review?



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.

***

Please, review?



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.

***

Please review?



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.

***

Please, review?



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.

***

Please, review?