"Where the bloody hell are we?" Percy was the first to break the silence. The only other sounds came from waves crashing gently on the shore. The beach was clear of any traces of human activity.
"The French Riviera, and unless I'm mistaken, near Marseille, I believe," Hermione stated as she glanced around.
"Precisely," Harry confirmed, looking away from her. "We'll stay long enough to be seen; perhaps an hour, then we'll use another Portkey to go elsewhere. I intend to keep this up to cover our tracks, let him think we're being sloppy. There's a shack just over that hill, we should be able to stay there for a bit."
George and Percy were the only ones grumbling as the group covered the short distance. Hermione knew from their shared class work in Surveillance and Evasion, this was the accepted process. She grabbed his hand and pulled him aside while the others approached the shack.
"Harry, do we have enough time for me to help Fred? He's still too weak for this."
"No, not here; that will have to wait. I won't risk him finding us," Harry said, still refusing to look at her. As they followed the others, she pulled him into a cuddle, tucking her head into his shoulder. Her arm slipped around his waist, but his hung limply at his side, cold and unfeeling. Her eyes were fixed to his face, and she could see his concern for Fred, but she also knew deep down there was more then just his concern of being found.
She shook her head, "I have to do something. His side's stopped bleeding, but there must be some internal trauma for him to still be on the brink of unconsciousness."
"Hermione, I can't allow it, but I will get you the things you need. Blood-Replenishing Potion and Pepperup Potion?" he offered.
"That might do. Is there an apothecary nearby? They may have what we need."
"And that would leave a trail for him to follow," he added sharply.
"Could you wait a moment? I'll draft a list of things I need." She pecked his nose with a kiss and disengaged herself from him to retrieve a sheet of parchment and a quill from the pack, setting to work on her list. She knew exactly what she wanted and quickly slipped the list into his pocket.
"Don't be long, darling. There's a shop near Beauxbatons Academy . You should be able get everything on the list there."
He nodded his silent reply.
"Darling, there are two lists. You'll need to find a Muggle pharmacy, for some additional things." She gave his hand a loving squeeze as he vanished, hurried inside the shack, and proceeded to busy herself with her two patients.
Harry's first stop was at a French version of Diagon Alley, in the village near Beauxbatons. He had been there before in his world on official business, tracking Dark wizards responsible for practicing a spell unknown to modern wizards. Unfortunately, all evidence of that spell had disappeared before he could apprehend them.
He reminisced on that mission during his first year as an Auror, The traces of the ancient magic that led him and his partner to this very same wizard community had vanished, leaving him in a dark alley behind a shop similar to Borgin and Burkes. That day, he had felt that he was being watched. Ron, too, had had that same feeling. Ron had stood shoulder to shoulder with him in those days, sharing every adventure. Hermione and Luna still had an additional year of training as Healers and could not join them in the field.
Harry passed the same alley where that investigation had died without a trace. He had that familiar feeling that he was being watched, and smiled.
When he spied a remote branch of Gringotts, he decided his first stop could wait. A thought crossed his mind to repay his prior host for his kindness. He opened the door, and lowered his hood, fully exposing himself. He paused at the door before walking directly to the counter.
The goblin at the first counter was busying himself with the paperwork from its last transaction, vaguely aware that a new customer stood in front of him.
"S'il vous plait, prend un nombre et vous serez aidé par le commis disponible prochain," the goblin said, still dealing with his documentation. - Please to take a number and you will have help by the next available clerk.
"I'm sorry, but I don't speak French," Harry replied.
The goblin slammed his quill on the table. 'A nother troublesome Englishman,' he thought, but then his grainy eyes focused on the wizard. The scar on his forehead and the snarl on his face could not be a good sign.
"Pardon, Monsieur Potter, how may I help you?"
"I need five, no, let's make it ten thousand Galleons from my personal account. And transfer fifty thousand to St. Mungo's; I'm in a generous mood."
"Sire? Ten thousand is past my limit for this branch, I only have eight thousand on hand."
Harry leaned closer, "Rubbish, I said ten thousand. Wait, do you have Euros?"
"Yes, but I don't see where that…"
"Did I ask your opinion?" he asked in an alarmingly calm tone. The goblin stared at him, familiar with the legendary anger of Harry Potter.
"N-N-no, I have," he paused and looked at the ledger, "eight thousand Galleons, and I have another twenty thousand in Euros."
"Fine, I'll take it all. Put the gold in reduced weight pouches and the currency in a satchel." Harry turned and leaned against the counter, giving off an annoyed air.
"But," the goblin added, "for a sum of that size I need proof of…"
"PROOF?" he roared, "I'll give you all the proof you require." He pointed a finger and a green hue enveloped his digit, his emerald eyes also began to glow.
"Please, I meant… signatures…" Two goblin hands were held up, as if that would stop any curse from Harry. "But, in this situation, we can dispense with the formality."
"That's better. Now be quick about it," he shouted, and lowered his arm. The goblin scurried off to fill the required draft, and returned with two bags, both weight-reduced for his convenience.
Harry snorted his approval, turned on his heels, and stormed from the establishment.
Once outside, he removed a handful of gold coins and slid them into his trouser pocket; he managed to stuff a handful of Muggle currency into the other pocket; the rest he slid into his rucksack.
After passing four more shops, he saw the one for which he had been looking, "Apothicaire et Potions," the name of which Hermione had written on the list she had given him. Harry had fortunately worn his ancestor's tunic, as its larger size conveniently hid his hands, and thereby also had enough room to conceal smaller objects. When he opened the door, a tiny bell tinkled, announcing his arrival.
"Bonjour, peux-je vous aider, monsieur?" the clerk greeted Harry. - Hello, can I help you, sir.
"Vous excusez moi, do you.... no, I mean, parlez-vous English?" he stumbled out of his mouth.
"Non, je ne le parle pas. Mais si vous attendez un petit peu, il y a mon associé qui peut comprendre ce que vous disez." he replied. Harry shrugged his shoulders and looked at the first list. Every item had been perfectly written in French, Hermione's having neglected an English translation. - No, I do not speak it. But if you await a moment, there is my associate that can understand what you say.
"Monsieur, may I be of assistance?" an older gentleman emerged from a doorway, covered with a cloth. Harry's first impression was that of a much older version of Snape, with a touch of Lucius Malfoy tossed in for good measure. His demeanour, however, likened more to a Weasley, openly pleasant and friendly, offering Harry his hand.
"Sir, I have a list of items I need, and discretion is necessary." He handed the list to the older wizard, who motioned the younger clerk over, and then carefully read from the list.
"Le premier article, potion de nettoyage des blessures." and the storekeeper nodded to his assistant, who bowed and went to the far wall, scooping out the necessary potion. Then, noticing Harry's mild confusion, the older wizard kindly translated Hermione's words into English. "As I instructed Jean-Claude, the first item is a wound-cleaning potion. Has there been an accident?"
"No, we are, that is my wife and I, are on a walking tour of the countryside. She gave me this list of potions, in case we encounter the need."
"I see, and you anticipate the need for Essence of Murtlap, or this last item?" He did not wait for an answer to his question; this was clearly a list to either prepare for a battle or to recover from one.
He raised a hand before Harry could answer, "Please, I do not care why you require these items, and since nothing on the list requires approvals, I can fill it completely."
Harry watched as he turned to his assistant and read off the rest of the items.
"Jean-Claude, donne-moi la plus grande bouteille de la potion Comfrey que nous y avons." - Jean Claude, get the largest bottle of Comfrey Potion we have on hand.
"Nous en avons seulement un peu, mais nous avons plusieurs de kilos de l'herbe." - We only have a small amount, but we have several kilos of the herb.
"I'm afraid all we have is the raw ingredient for the Comfrey Potion, which would require someone exceptionally skilled at potions to brew it."
"I have just the person; she brewed Polyjuice Potion when she was twelve."
"Good, but I must warn you, it is still in the dry herb form and should only be used in the potion form, and if burned, the side effects of the smoke causes only a temporary memory loss in wizards but is fatal to muggles."
"I'm certain she can handle this. A kilo should suffice," Harry replied.
"Jean-Claude, donne-lui un kilo, et enveloppe-le avec attention." - Jean Claude, give him a kilo, and wrap it carefully.
"Potion pour rétablir le sang, Jean Claude. Non, pas ceux-là, les plus grandes: je crois ils vont les utiliser beaucoup. Bon. La prochaine est la Drogue Sédatif. Bon. Finalement, l'Onction Inconsciente du Docteur Ubbly." Then, he turned to Harry and said, "Monsieur, I have instructed Jean Claude to give you the larger bottles of Blood-Replenishing Potion, Calming Draught, and Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction. Is a member of your group having troubling thoughts?" - Potion to re-establish the blood, John Claude. No, not those, the biggest ones: I believe they will use them a lot. Good. The next one is the Drug Sedative. Good. Finally, Doctor Ubbly's Oblivious Unction.
"No, my wife has had a few bad dreams; I believe that's why she needs them."
He carefully wrapped each bottle and placed them in a canvas sack, winking at Harry as he handed him the bag. Harry reached into his pocket and retrieved a handful of gold, placing a dozen coins on the counter for payment.
"Non. Please, Monsieur Potter, you are known here and it is an honour to serve you," he said, bowing his head slightly.
Harry nodded his reply, but left the gold on the counter and exited the shop. On the way to his second stop, he noticed a wizard's bookshop; a smile crept on his face, and he walked inside.
"Excuse me, do you have an English section?" he asked the first clerk he encountered. The wizard directed Harry to a corner of the shop with a handful of shelves. The volumes were mostly standard fare, with a full collection of Gilderoy Lockhart's works. He quickly found the volume he sought, and brought it to the counter.
The puzzled look on the clerk's face disappeared, replaced with one of fear. He put the book in a sack and handed it to Harry, bowing as he backed away.
Harry shook his head and left the shop. Urgent to leave the wizard community, his pace quickened: he had revealed himself to others, stolen funds from himself, and acquired the items Hermione needed.
He carried the sacks carefully, resisting the urge to shrink them, knowing that that might affect the potency of the potions. Walking hurriedly, he soon passed all the wizarding shops and then several more streets before arriving in a Muggle shopping area.
A sign attracted his attention, its name at the top of his second list. Inside "Pharmacie et Médecines" he again sought out an English-speaking clerk, but unfortunately, this time found none.
So, instead, Harry handed him his sheet. The Frenchman read through the list out loud, then paused at the last item on the list, smirking at Harry. "Votre femme... est-elle en train de vous donner en enfant?" he asked, whose only reply was a shrug. - Your wife…is she going to have a baby?
Les pansements et les robes stériles - Bandages and sterile dressings
La bande hypoallergique de prémiers sécours - Hypoallergenic First Aid Tape
Les nettoyant antiseptique - Antiseptic cleansing wipes
Quelques baumes antibiotiques - Antibiotic ointment packs
Fil rétort - Sutures
Le Test de Grossesse - Early Pregnancy Test
Again, all the items had been placed in a small sack for him, Harry paid with some of the Euros he had acquired earlier.
Then, looking carefully around, Harry spotted a public toilet in the distance, popped in the gents'side, and entered one of the loos. Gently, he waved his free hand in front of his body, silently vanishing without witnesses.
He reappeared on the same beach at where they had earlier arrived, and sprinted to the shack where the others were waiting.
"Here are the things you needed. They recognised me at the shops," he related coldly as Hermione began pulling the potions from the sack. She opened the first bottle and began to prepare a dose for Fred.
"No, not yet, we have to leave now," he demanded and took the bottle from her hand.
"Harry James Potter, this will only take a moment and might speed his recovery." She held her ground, retrieving the bottle from Harry.
He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, letting her take the bottle, "Fine, just this one, but then we must leave."
"Agreed."
She poured a small amount of potion into a glass and held Fred's head up. "Here, it's a Blood-Replenishing Potion. Drink it," she commanded.
Fred took the glass to his lips and drained the solution in one gulp.
"Ok, Harry, I guess the others can wait a bit."
Harry then repeated his spell on the table, his hands once more silently glowing blue. He pressed his hands to the table and it trembled briefly before returning back to normal.
"Quickly, everyone, we have to go, that other ' me' should have picked us up. Fred, as soon as we get to our next location, you'll be fine."
Hermione Granger had stayed closer to her former enemy than anyone else, unwilling to leave him to suffer alone. Feeling safe for the first time in ten years, she had joined this strange group, avoiding another bout of his mistreatments.
The other Hermione examined Fred's wound again, and after a brief check of his vital statistics, nodded to Harry. "He'll be better once we get to the next spot, but he's weak."
"Then quickly, everyone hold the table," he ordered. Everyone followed with immediate compliance, except for Fred's twin.
"No, you're a fool if you think they won't send out spellseekers," George protested. "I'm taking my brothers home, and you can continue your little adventure without us." He pulled Percy by the arm and motioned to Fred.
Before either could lift the injured man, Harry stopped them. "I fully expect them to follow us, for a while at least. Haven't you ever seen a fox hunt where the prey slipped away?"
The grumbling from the Weasley clan continued.
"I understand what Harry's saying," Sirius piped in. "Let him think we're roaming the countryside, and let them follow for a bit, right?"
"Exactly. We won't be able to conjure a glass of water without their finding us. This also gives Hermione the chance she needs to help your brother, George. Plus, I've allowed myself to be seen enough to give them a decent trail to follow. Now, if you want to remain, then I can't stop you, but as long as you remain here, I can't protect you."
"The same way you protected Fred?"
Harry hung his head low, "I underestimated my other self. It won't happen again. Stay now and face him alone, or leave with us so we stand a chance to end this." He finished by placing his hand to the table, followed by both witches and Sirius. George looked to his twin, and received a nod.
Reluctantly, the two remaining Weasley's joined the others as the table once more vanished.
This time, the group reappeared at the summit of a mountain instead of a beach. The table had landed cocked to one side, and Fred, who had been laid on its top for the journey, began to slide off. Hermione Granger held onto him tightly with all her strength before Harry succeeded in leveling the table. To their added misfortune the group had landed on this mountain in the brief interval of a brewing storm. The vividness of the lightning in the Black Forest and the crashing, rolling, and booming of the terrible and majestic battery of heaven was astounding.
To one side of the summit, a road wound through the thick forest and past its peak. It lay only a few hundred metres away and from their vantage point was currently empty. Harry waved them all forward, abandoning the table from the Burrow and following a path away from the road. George carried his brother through the thick woods, unwilling to let anyone assist.
The worn path led them through the thickest part of the Black Forest , down to a simple bridge crossing a small stream. A chain-link fence separated the forest from a well-manicured garden with a natural stone-paved footpath. The path then passed through a trellised opening and down a simple set of steps to a wooded patio of a cottage. Old trees neatly covered the surrounding area from view, obscuring their next resting place.
A small fountain sat on one end of the patio, nestled in the flowering shrubs. Simple benches provided a sanctuary for personal meditation, and looked out to a small grass-covered yard. A simple child's swing set constructed of thick timbers revealed that this was not just a house but someone's home.
"Inside, everyone. Quickly, and try to keep quiet," Harry ordered.
He led the procession through a glass door into an enclosed conservatory. Potted wintergreen plants of various types, mostly bamboo, ivy, laurels, and rhododendron, stood in neat rows along the glass wall, silent guardians. The abundance of plants inside the room accompanied with the glass walls also helped to hide the house from view.
The door from the conservatory into the house opened to a terracotta floor that covered the hallway into the main living room and attached rooms. In one corner a cozy arrangement of matching leather sofas surrounded a tiled, wood-burning fireplace, which proved too small to accommodate access via the Floo Network but was just the right size for quiet romantic evenings. A dining area adjacent to the glass walls of the conservatory gave a breathtaking view of the edge of the Black Forest . A large kitchen opened opposite the conservatory, with several closed doors down the hallway that obviously led to the bedrooms.
Exhausted, the refugees filed into the cottage. George took his twin directly to one of the bedrooms, with both Hermiones following, Hermione Potter carried a satchel filled with the potions and Muggle medical supplies Harry had procured. Her skill in Healing and the concern of her counterpart for Fred kept the three isolated in the room for several hours. The rest adjourned to separate bedrooms, for much needed rest.
Hermione measured a number of potions, ready to administer to both her patients. "Here, Fred, this one is another Blood-Replenishing Potion, and another to help calm your thoughts."
She poured an amount of another potion into a clean, folded cloth, and applied the purple fluid to his wound.
"Bugger that," he yelped. A whiff of smoke drifted from his side.
"It's a wound-cleaning potion, to avoid infections," she stated in a calming tone.
"You could have warned a bloke before you tried that."
"Sorry, it's necessary."
She took a clean bandage from the Muggle supplies and poured a measured amount of the thick, yellow Murtlap Essence on it, securing the bandage to his side with some adhesive tape.
"There. Give this a day or so and there won't even be a scar to show."
She ran her fingers through his thick red hair, and smiled with thoughts of Ron and Luna waiting in her reality. "Hermione, I'd like to see you in the adjacent room. I need to inspect those welts on your back, and deal with that ankle."
The two nearly identical women left the room to allow the wizard to sleep, Hermione Granger still walking with a slight limp. Harry stood at the end of the hall, waiting, but his wife waved him off, closing the door. Once in the room, she motioned for her counterpart to sit.
"The ankle still tender?" she asked as she gently felt the swollen knot on her leg.
The other Hermione sucked in a mouthful of air at the touch.
"A bit, thanks," she replied, and sat quietly for a few moments holding her ankle. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.
"This isn't the way it was supposed to be, I can't believe you allowed yourself to be abused like this. I mean, I know you as well as I know myself. I know how you felt about him, but that was ten years ago."
"How would you know? You have no idea what happened."
"That's where you're wrong. As best as I can tell, we shared identical backgrounds, up to the confrontation with Voldemort. My Harry defeated him, as yours did here, but there was a deviation that affected the both of you. I can help you, but I don't know if I can help the Harry of this reality."
"How would you have dealt with the situation?" Hermione Granger asked.
"That day something horrible occurred and I'm certain you did what could be done. The power you unleashed was beyond your ability to control, then and now. I've spent years trying to understand it myself. The difference between the two of us is Harry was there for me and I drew his soul to mine, while you reached out to the closest available: Ron and Ginny. My only guess is Harry's power is stronger than Ron and Ginny combined."
"Then why didn't he die, like Ron and Ginny?"
"I don't have an answer for that," she confessed. "Now, drink these and try to rest." She handed her several vials and watched her drain them both.
"Good. They should help. I need some sleep too. We'll have plenty of time to talk soon."
She stood and left her counterpart, who lay her head on the pillow and fell into a deep, restful, and dreamless sleep.
Hermione smiled as she left the room, finding that Harry had remained, still waiting for her. She quickened her pace towards him. For the first time since they had left the confines of Hogwarts, they were alone. Her first instinct was to throw her arms around his neck and find an enjoyable way to prevent him from drawing a breath.
As she approached him though, in those few steps she watched his features turn hard and cold. He wore his Auror's mask. He held the door to the smaller room open. It seemed to be a nursery, with a crib in one corner and a small bed to the side.
"Please sit," he commanded, his tone sending a deep message that something was deeply disturbing him, and that she was at the core of the issue.
"Darling?" she asked, puzzled. Since they had escaped from Hogwarts, she had felt a light, constant sting on her palm. Now that sting began to hurt; he was angry. She had not felt this much anger from him since before he defeated Voldemort; this was worse then his anger at Pettigrew.
"Wait." He snapped his fingers, and a wave engulfed the room. "There, now we can have a private discussion." He stood just out of reach, his hands firmly held behind his back.
Hermione sat and watched, and was about to ask what was on his mind when he spoke.
"I have to know, is it true?" His glance to her stomach instinctively sent her hand there.
"Yes, I believe so. That's why I had you buy the test kit from the pharmacy."
She leaned forward, trying to lighten the mood, but he stepped back.
"So you thought you could fool me into purchasing that test kit." He paced in front of her, as he would during an interrogation.
"No, Harry. I needed to confirm my suspicions first. And after the past few mornings, I really don't believe it's necessary."
She moved to stand, but remained sitting when he motioned her to stay.
"Who's the father?" That one question cut deeper then the blade that pierced her chest. This sliced into her heart.
"Harry, there's been no one else. How could you doubt me?" her face contorted as she tried to understand his question.
"The curse… I know how badly you want a child. And that one clause meant you could have someone else's child, but not mine. So tell me, who is the father?"
She shook her head in disbelief and stood to face him, but before she could reply, his next question cut her again.
"I know you spent time alone with James in that first nightmare. Did you sleep with my ' father'?"
"You can't honestly believe that, could you?" she asked with a near chuckle in her voice.
"I… I don't know what to believe. Ginny had told me you spent time alone with James, and when the other Harry said you were dead, he said you admitted there was another older man." He remained stone-like and distant.
"You, Harry Potter, you're the father," she said as she reached for his hands. "You of all people should know how much I love you. Read my thoughts, if you must."
He felt her fingers try to intertwine with his but managed to pull his hands away. The look of frustration on her face that he would believe anyone else over her had done more to allay his fears than her responses had.
"The curse, I believe, is gone. That night with my ghost. Remember?"
"Yes, that was several weeks ago."
"Three weeks and four days, to be exact. And if I calculated correctly, I'm one and a half weeks late. When we arrived in that reality, I can assure you I could not have been pregnant. The last thing the ghost said of that night was 'Enjoy the gift.'"
She pulled him to the bed and forced him to sit. "Harry, I believe she stripped the curse from me and that now, she's carrying that burden."
"Why did you keep this from me?" he asked quietly.
"I didn't. I only figured it out the other day, when I was trapped in the other Hermione's prison. I worked out the dates three times, but then he read those notes and used them against you. He knows you because he is you." She pulled his face to hers and looked deep into his eyes. The constant sting dissolved into a different sensation, and she smiled.
"You're going to be a father, Harry," were the last words he let her say that night.