A/N: This certainly took a while to write. I had to deal with quite a bit while I was writing this, but I pulled through thanks to my friends in LJ. Thank you, dears, for the comfort.
Hooray, dad!!!!
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter rating: R
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Chapter Forty-second: Beginning
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When Harry went back to the Ministry dragging a stunned Severus Snape-a.k.a. (to Harry, at least) as Peter Pettigrew-he made the front page of the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler, yet again. Really, the question was, when did Harry not make the front page of the daily papers.
Peter was left unconscious the entire time he was in the Auror Department's custody and Harry refused to answer reporter questions. The subsequent physical examination of the detainee followed, and Harry was quite amazed that the disguise passed all magical tests, especially since the tests were designed specifically to check for Polyjuiced substitutes. Snape had told him it would hold in the testing, but Harry still thought it was amazing.
Harry's official statement was that he had received a tip that Snape was back in his home at Spinner's End, and because Harry was Harry, he went by himself. A struggle ensued, Snape was stunned, and Harry brought him back to the Ministry.
Shacklebolt chewed him out for going alone, of course, and the Daily Prophet's Rita Skeeter was more than happy to say that, "Not content at being proclaimed the savior of the Wizarding World for defeating the Dark Lord, Harry Potter plays the hero once again by apprehending Albus Dumbledore's murderer and Death Eater Lieutenant, Severus Snape, without calling for standard regulation back-up from his colleagues at the Auror department."
Peter was brought before the Wizengamot that same afternoon after all of Snape's papers were processed. He was enervated just before the proceedings, and just as Snape said, Peter acted befuddled, and then amazed.
When asked if he was Severus Snape, Peter took a moment to think about it and nodded quietly, his silent confusion making him seem more Snape-like than anything, which Harry thought was overly convenient, but nobody seemed to care. It was confirmation enough for everyone, and Harry had to wonder just how many Ministry detainees, innocent or otherwise, got their due.
At the trial, Peter was issued questions about his guilt, to which he gave vaguely confusing replies. The Interrogator assigned to Peter's case adamantly claimed that Severus Snape was a master of intrigue and deceit, as was expected of traitors.
That was good enough for the Wizengamot, which Harry found baffling. A part of him was glad that the Wizengamot wasn't more discerning in this case, but a huge part of him was afraid that for anybody who had to face their future in Azkaban or with Death, that lack of discernment could lead to a life they didn't deserve to live, one way or the other. Until now, Harry believed that he'd gotten out of his sticky legal situation in fifth year only because Dumbledore was there to bail him out. What if-
Stop it. Peter's going to die. Snape is free. Everything's been put to rights… well, almost right…
Remus fidgeted in his seat behind Harry. "Why isn't he defending himself?"
Harry was startled out of his thoughts and he stared at Remus, almost forgetting that Remus would want to know what was really going on. He shot Remus a meaningful stare. "Because it's what he has to do."
Remus looked at him uncertainly, perhaps knowing Harry was trying to say something but Remus couldn't quite get it.
At least Remus didn't ask any more questions
So Remus-with thirty chosen witnesses ranging from Ministry officials, to newspaper reporters, to Aurors and Hitwizards-watched as Peter, in the guise of Severus Snape, was escorted to the Veil.
Harry had put in a request that he be one of the two to escort the accused. Shacklebolt was only surprised for a second, after which a knowing look of sympathy gleamed in his gaze. Harry couldn't look him in the eye. Shacklebolt had probably assumed that Harry was doing it for some sort of closure. He didn't know that Harry was doing it to make sure everything, up to the last minute, would go smoothly, because Harry, being himself, hardly ever had things go his way without a hitch.
And so Harry took the dazed Peter Pettigrew by the arm and walked him to the Veil.
Harry couldn't help but remember a time when he had come so close to the Veil, only to see Sirius fall right through. He wondered if he might catch a glimpse of his Godfather on this day, and unlike the mortals, Sirius wouldn't be fooled. He'd see Peter Pettigrew even through the Polyjuice, and he'd be glad to see that Harry had, yet again, accounted for him.
Seconds before Peter crossed the Veil, he froze, as if suddenly waking up from a dream, and looked around. When he realized where he was, he looked at his dark robes, and then at his hands. He touched his face and gasped.
Peter looked up and his eyes widened when he met Harry's penetrating gaze.
"You," Peter whispered.
Harry felt strangely calm, and stone-faced, he replied. "Yes, me."
Peter winced, his face blanching, first at him, then at the Veil. "S-Severus… he…"
Whatever he was going to say faded on his lips.
"It's over," Harry whispered in a resolute tone. He felt his eyes ring with ferocity; felt his fangs pushing through his gums.
Peter's gaze filled with fear and he began to move away.
Harry reached into Peter's mind and spoke. It's me or the Veil, Wormtail. The choice is yours. The choice is always yours…
The images leapt from Harry's thoughts as he remembered all of what Peter had done to his parents, to Sirius, to Hermione, and to him. The rage that rose in him coagulated in his brain.
Fangs bared and eyes ablaze, Harry leapt, ripping into Peter's throat as Harry snapped his back in two, drowning Peter's scream of agonizing pain and terror into a bloody, gurgling, moan…
Peter's wail shot through the silent room as he collapsed to the ground, arms over his head.
The rippling murmur of the audience followed it, and Peter, gasping and grabbing desperately at his unharmed throat, looked up and met Harry's angry gaze.
"Me or the veil," Harry said, voice hoarse.
Peter trembled, and the other escort looked slightly uneasy, seeing Harry in his strange state but unable to comprehend it.
Completely at a loss, Peter turned his gaze to the Veil desperately.
Harry was suddenly glad that Peter had come back to himself; glad that Peter knew he was paying for the things he'd done; glad that Peter understood that Harry was there to watch him executed.
There was absolutely nothing Peter could do about it all, and he knew it. If he cried out that he was Peter Pettigrew, no one would believe him. And in the off chance that someone did believe-the chance being very minute, he would be executed anyway.
And then there was Harry to deal with.
Peter swallowed, hands shaking as the other guard heaved him back to his feet. There was no apology in Peter's eyes; only hate, but he had never been brave enough on his best day, and he was nothing in the face of a dragon. Harry tried to take his arm and he yelped in terror, flinching away from Harry's touch. He scampered through the Veil.
And then there was utter silence.
When Snape was proclaimed dead, the congregation broke apart, and Harry, making a hasty retreat with Remus, brought him back to Grimmauld Place, and explained to him everything that transpired.
Remus was in shock, but only for a while. When it completely sunk in, Remus looked up with a sad smile and nodded. "Justice served, Harry. Did Snape tell you where he was going?"
Harry shook his head.
"Of course not. It's just as well that you didn't know. At any rate, I'll tell no one about this."
Harry cocked him a sheepish smile. "You can't, anyway. Even if you wanted to."
"Ah, Fidelius."
"Yes."
Remus patted his shoulder and turned to go. "Well then, I'd best get back to work. I've taken enough leaves from the MRI and I really don't want to be fired."
That reminded Harry of something. "Listen, Remus… any chance I'll find out what you and Hermione are researching? I know it isn't just about me…"
Remus gave him a tight-lipped smile. "She'll tell you when she's ready, Harry."
Harry nodded and took note.
He went back to the Ministry for a bit, just because he wanted to keep his job just for a little while longer. He did avoid all attempts Shacklebolt made to talk to him about getting a new partner. Harry wasn't ready to look for one just yet, in any case, but that was assuming he was going to keep being an Auror.
Harry was already counting the days to when he could submit his application for retirement. It wasn't long, but there were things to tie up; things to talk about with Hermione.
They were going to stay together, of that he was sure, but they had yet to really talk about their living arrangements, whether she was going to stay in London, or whether she would be going back to Albania for a bit; whether she would stay with the Coven or whether she was going to move to the Brotherhood; and whether vampires believed in marriage or didn't.
So maybe I won't be putting that last question so casually, but it'll have to be brought up sooner or later…
It made him a little giddy. All of it made him giddy. These things that needed settling were normal things; things that people without the cares of war and Dark Lords went through.
Things were coming together quite nicely. All he had to do was take it one day at a time.
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That evening, Hermione came to him in the library about an hour after dark, carrying in her hand a vampire newspaper. He'd never seen her buy the paper before.
The questioning look in his eyes was met with a reply.
"Henry told me to buy the paper. Said there was an interesting article on page sixteen," she explained softly.
The paper was already opened and folded to the right page when Hermione put it before him. She pointed to the corner where a tiny article about Severus Snape's execution was printed. There was a brief statement about Harry's part in it, and it took all but ten seconds for Harry to finish reading the entire clip.
He looked up at Hermione, and he saw that she seemed mildly confused.
"You turned him in," she said. There was no judgment in her voice; only a question.
He took her hand, holding it casually over his heart. "Do you really believe I'd do such a thing?"
She shrugged. "I wouldn't, normally. But if you did, I'd trust your reasons, anyway."
He smiled, pushing the chair beside him away from the table so she could sit. Quietly, he explained to her what happened.
She didn't sound shocked at all. "Well," she said as a matter-of-factly. "It's all coming to a close, isn't it?"
"Little by little." He paused. "I asked him. Snape, I mean. I asked him if he knew what I was."
Her eyebrows perked in surprise, immediately alert. "Did he know? Did he tell you?"
Harry nodded. "He called me a Dhampir."
Her eyes widened. "Harry! That's a-"
"Vampire hunter, I know," he muttered. "Born with a consuming, instinctual lust to slay vampires, and a few demons on the side."
Hermione nodded. "And you don't have that urge. Besides that, Dhampirs are a myth!"
"They're not," Harry said quietly. "But Snape says there are misconceptions about them."
She frowned. "How could he possibly know that?" She looked affronted, that Snape would know when she didn't.
Harry almost smirked. "Snape said that the vampires-the really ancient ones, keep a secret library of vampire history which he'd been given access to. It's secret because-well, it can be very powerful knowledge."
Hermione's eyebrow arched. She took a few seconds to seethe, perhaps furious that she'd never been told of this library before, but after a few moments, she seemed to come to terms with it. "I can respect that, I suppose. Vampires like to hoard power when they can. Understandable," she said in a clipped tone, which of course meant she was still angry about the library. "Go on."
Tickled though he was with Hermione's prickliness on the matter, he continued. "While Janus worked for Voldemort, he passed ancient text on to Snape to aid Snape in his research, and the subsequent creation of, Voldemort's immortality potion. Snape made the Soul Harvest potion, and then the Revivisco. It was while he was doing his research for this that he discovered how, long ago, vampires weren't vampires. Vampires were Dhampir."
Hermione frowned. "Well, that doesn't sound like it makes much sense. If Dhampirs are vampires and vampires used to be REAL Dhampirs, why would Dhampirs slay vampires?"
"Think about it, Hermione. If I'm a Dhampir, that means Dhampirs have all the vampire strengths…"
Realization dawned on her. "None of our weaknesses…" she finished in a whisper.
Harry nodded, glad that she was catching on. "Vampires spawned from Dhampirs, and in the eyes of Dhampirs, vampires were imperfect. Cursed. Vampires were consumed by the need for human blood. Vamps couldn't walk under the sun. Maybe it was a disease; perhaps it was a curse. In any case, the Dhampirs likely didn't want them to keep living."
"So Dhampirs did begin to hunt them," said Hermione, getting into it. "They couldn't let the disease-the curse spread. But-But why didn't they succeed, Harry? Dhampirs would be powerful then, wouldn't they? Where did they fail?"
"In sheer number. Dhampirs procreated like humans, and perhaps it's natural that a species that lived such long lives wouldn't be pressed to make children. Or maybe they just knew that they shouldn't overrun the world with their species…"
"The balance."
"Likely. I wouldn't put it past them. According to what Snape read, they weren't beastly. They were intelligent beings. Human… but better."
She nodded. "And so they tried to hunt the vampires into extinction, but vampires are easier to create than Dhampirs."
"Correct. The vampires overrun them until they became 'extinct.' Perhaps one or two of them survived through the ages, but that's wishful thinking. The only 'Dhampir' we've heard of are just humans who are really good at hunting vampires." A mischievous glint sparkled in Harry's eyes. "Very few of us are true Dhampir."
Hermione shrugged, seeming absolutely unbothered. "It makes sense. The genetic imprint is still in vampire blood. I'm assuming Snape's potion was supposed to turn Voldemort into a Dhampir, and when he failed, the potion turned you instead."
Harry shook his head. "No. Voldemort would have been immortal and human. The potion was keyed to Voldemort, our link, and how we got it. It was specific, and it was the only reason Snape got it to work. It wouldn't have worked for anyone else, or in any other circumstance, and it shouldn't have worked for me, either, but my magic did something, then you tried to turn me, and then Fawkes… his tears might have done something, too. Snape said it was like hitting the magical lottery. He didn't know anymore than I did how it happened, exactly, but he seemed to think that whatever I did lead to this 'logical' outcome."
She took his hand, her eyes becoming a little liquid. "So Harry… does that make you immortal, then?"
He smiled a melancholic smile. "Dhampirs aren't immortal, love. Legend says they seem to be, but it's only because they live a very, very long time. Long enough to make it feel like they've live an eternity…"
She nodded. If a tear fell, he didn't see it. "And so here you are… Dhampir. You broke the curse of the vampire and are now wielding an ancient skill..." She looked up, and if she had felt any sort of melancholy just a few seconds ago, it was gone, replaced by a sultry smile. "Are you going to hunt me now?"
The quality of her voice, and the smoky gaze of her eyes, made him smile into instant readiness. He leaned over and bit her earlobe. "Only if you want me to," he breathed.
She shuddered as she sank into his kiss.
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Of late, making love to her had been intensely emotional experiences. It was not surprising, having been so close to losing one another only two weeks ago, but it still left him at awe each time.
They lay staring at one another after their lovemaking. He was panting for breath; she wasn't. Understandable, but she was also covered in sweat.
He ran his finger down her moist back, amazed.
"It only happens with you," she whispered, smiling.
He smirked. "I hope so. Just don't tell your other boyfriends that. It might, you know, hurt their feelings and they'll lose their mojo."
She pinched him to punish him for his cheek.
He laughed softly then paused, ponderous. "These last couple of weeks… you've been doing research on what I've become… and now we know, but something happened to you, too, didn't it? The magic did something to you, as well. That's what you've been doing with Remus these past two weeks, isn't it?"
She sniffed and smiled again. "It's a bit complicated. Might be boring for you."
"Try me."
She grinned. "Remus came to me with something completely unrelated to the war, actually. A few weeks ago, he and his team at the MRI stumbled on a groundbreaking discovery: That werewolves may have children with non-werewolf partners. It will require many potions and treatments, and apart from that, there are equations to be considered: It will be three-times as difficult for a she-were to conceive and gestate than a human woman partnered with a he-were would; a human woman would be ten times more likely to birth… normal children; and lastly, the cost of having and keeping a pregnancy would be enormous… but the foundation of the discovery is sound, and can be improved upon. I've been helping him in the research."
Harry stared at her, his emotions warring between mild disappointment and great gladness for his friend. Until then, he never realized that weres couldn't procreate, but it made sense, he supposed. Lycanthropy was a disease of sorts, after all. The natural way of things was for the human body to keep a disease like that from being inherited.
"That's wonderful news," Harry said, meaning it, but still unable to get past the fact that he was disappointed that Hermione and Remus weren't doing research for her.
She chuckled, perhaps seeing right through him. She was gracious enough not to mention it. "It is. Remus and his team are very optimistic that they could come out with a proven and tested fertility regimen in-oh, half a decade. On yet another hand… Remus wasn't going to settle for weres. He wanted to do research on vampire procreation, as well."
Harry's eyebrows perked. "Oh?"
"Yes. It's against the laws of evolution, you understand, to have a species that feeds off humans procreating like humans. It's exactly the kind of thing that tips the balance of life between humans and vampires, so it wasn't an idea I was very glad to entertain, even if… even if I want my own children."
He gave her an empathic smile, running his fingers soothingly through her hair.
She continued. "Remus has been doing experiments to determine vampire fertility, anyway. He couldn't conceive of the fact that we-erm, have the equipment yet it couldn't be used."
"Oh, you certainly know how to use your equipment. Believe me."
Hermione slapped his arm. "For its primary purpose, you pervy bastard. Procreation!"
He laughed quietly and urged her to go on with sweet kisses of apology.
She did after a bit. "Now where was I? Oh, yes. Vamp fertility. The test showed zero fertility from the vamp volunteers. It wasn't going to happen… that way. Yet, recently, Remus performed an experiment that monitored female vamp sleeping patterns. Basically, he discovered that we weren't totally… dead. There have been studies of this done before, usually by vamps who refused to be labeled as undead and wanted to prove that we were alive; just differently. Remus's experiments coincided with the vamp studies, wherein it showed that vamps, in the day, aren't exactly dead. We're more of in stasis, we're… hibernating. Things inside us still function during the day mostly to preserve what we have left from the night and build on it, like our strength, the blood we took to feed, the life-essence that needs replenishing. So…"
Harry was captivated. "So?"
"Remus's research concentrated on-ahem, the equipment. He discovered that the hibernation extended to it as well."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning if a she-vamp were to ever get knocked up, she'd be able to sustain gestation. The ways and means to complete gestation are still unknown, like for example, how is the child going to get sustenance? Will it live on blood, or will it, like any child, have to have normal food? How is it going to get oxygen to live? Will the gestation period take eighteen months instead of nine? And most of all, will the mother survive giving birth to a true vamp? Or a half-human one? There are no answers to these questions unless there is a she-vamp that actually becomes fertile enough to be impregnated. Remus has tried to combine vampire reproductive spells with humans, but the vamp cells never hold. Vamp cells are just generally incapable of reproduction."
"Generally?"
Uncertainty befell her gaze, yet it was mixed with shining hope. "I volunteered to give a sample of my cells and, well, something was different about mine."
Harry's eyes widened, his pulse racing. "You're fertile. You can have children. You can-"
She hushed him, smiling gently. "It's nothing definite like that, Harry. There were things to indicate that my body wasn't completely incapable of… creating life. Remus thinks certain… conditions and my compatibility with my 'partner' might come into play, and then there are hundreds of unknown factors… the odds of me having children are very low, but it's not zero anymore, is it?"
"No, not anymore," he whispered back. This was an extremely fine line of hope. It could be everything and nothing at the same time, and it was so fragile that it could snap at any given moment, but it was hope, and it was a possibility.
He traced the contours of her face with his finger and a smile blossomed from her lips.
"Was it you, Harry?" she asked. "Was it your magic that did this? Did you want me to have your children so badly that you tried to do something about it?"
He stared at her a moment, finding a trace of uncertainty, and he realized what her unspoken words were: Would you love me any less if I couldn't give you any children?
"I don't know if I did it," he replied, lacing his hand through hers. "Maybe I did, but I wasn't exactly thinking of you all knocked-up with Harry junior."
She smirked.
"But I wanted you to be happy," he continued. "That was all that was important to me. I knew we could be happy together, but I wanted more for you. Perhaps the magic knew what I knew, that nothing would make you happier than to have your own children… "
She blinked several times, stifling the liquid quality her eyes had taken. "It would make me so happy… I want to-" She sighed, as if she didn't dare speak it lest she blow the dream away.
"And now you tell me it's possible," he said softly. "But even if doesn't happen, there are quite a bit of children out there who need parents. Adopting isn't a bad idea, is it? It's something that I'd love to do with you, anyway."
Her gaze glistened as she shook her head. "Not a bad idea, at all. Not in the least."
He smiled. "You don't have to worry about a thing."
She was silent, pondering, until she broke out in a smile of her own. "And really, it would be fun to try having children the usual way, yes?"
Leaning over, he pressed his lips to her ear amorously. "Loads of fun."
She shuddered.
He kissed her, and kissed her, until he was smiling, and she was smiling.
He rolled them over the bed, kissing her beneath him, and she giggled when it became clear how ready he was becoming for another go. She wiggled under the blankets as their legs tangled a bit in the sheets.
Her shifting beneath him only aroused him more. She was beautiful. The center of his life. His purpose for living. And he wanted to make mad love to her until she was hoarse from screaming his name.
"Perhaps," she breathed, "We can try different things every time we-oh! Oh, Harry!"
He smirked at that. She always loved the teeth and tongue combo.
She was gasping, already wet from what he'd been doing, but she still insisted on talking.
My little, sexy, Know-It-All… he thought fondly.
"R-Remus will have to get a sample of your-erm, stuff. You know… to test if it would work with my stuff-"
"I'll test it with you for as long as you like," he murmured in a smoky tone, settling between her legs. "As many times as you like. And I'd rather not have Remus around for it, too."
She finally shut up, letting him kiss her while he thrust into her body. He moved instantly. They were both so ready, and their moans mingled in the darkened room.
They were so absorbed in their lovemaking that they hardly noticed the frantic knocking on the door.
Harry, for one, had no inclination to stop what he was doing.
"Someone's at the door," Hermione moaned.
"Who cares? Oh… love, that feels so-"
"Harry? Hermione?" came Ron's voice from beyond the door. "I know you're shagging in there, but you have to come quick-erm, I mean, this is urgent!"
At the word "urgent," Harry did stop, casting the door an irritated look.
Hermione sighed, annoyed.
Harry reached for his wand and undid the insulation charms. "How urgent?"
"Vampire urgent. Yasmin's out there. And Solomon said so are Nekhbet and Kalfani, whoever they are."
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They dressed in record time, and even if nobody noticed, Harry saw the glimmer of panic in Hermione's gaze.
He couldn't blame her in the least. Yasmin was one thing, but to have not one, but two of the Most Ancient waiting for her outside was beyond unnerving.
If it was just Yasmin, Hermione would've bothered to make some sort of show. Hermione would've summoned Remus, and perhaps Draco again, so that she'd look like she had a proper entourage. But there were the Most Ancient Ones out there, too, and she'd rather look unescorted than make them wait an unreasonable amount of time.
"Besides," Hermione said as she hurriedly buttoned up Harry's shirt on their way out the door. "Nekhbet and Kalfani are old enough to know when it's just for show and when it's real. I'd rather not look silly. Ron? Solomon? Are you ready?"
Ron and Solomon nodded.
"Good. Let's go."
Hermione looked quite fashionable in her two-piece dress, but Harry could tell that underneath the designer clothing and expensive footwear, she was anxious to get the entire thing over with.
They walked out of the house, Hermione leading all of them, her nearest and dearest, to meet Yasmin who looked even more stunning than when Harry last saw her.
He couldn't tell exactly what was different about Yasmin now, but she seemed to glow from within, and the lilt of her cinched hip gave her a whole lot more attitude, if that was even possible.
"About fucking time," said Yasmin smugly. "Just because we're immortal, doesn't mean you can take forever to get ready, you know."
"Well, Your Majesty, I'll remember that next time you drop in without prior notice," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Where are Nekhbet and Kalfani?"
Yasmin jerked her head in the direction of the black stretch Hummer taking up most of the curb. "In there. They want to see you."
"Oh, well then that's no problem. It's fairly usual for the most ancient vampires of Europe to drop in and pay me a visit. I can totally go in there without being forewarned of anything. I have absolutely nothing to fear." Hermione said this with exaggerated wide-eyed naiveté.
A smirk tilted Yasmin's lips. "The only reason I ever let you get away with your cheek is because it amuses me. You might catch me in a bad mood one day."
"Yes. One day. Am I expected to go in there alone?"
Yasmin's gaze drifted to Harry. "They want to see Potter, too."
Harry wondered what for, but didn't ask out loud. "Ron, you and Solomon ought to head back inside the house."
Ron frowned. "Like hell."
"They'll be safe out here," said Yasmin. "I promise you that."
Harry looked to Hermione and she nodded.
With that settled, Yasmin led the way to the parked vehicles. Harry and Hermione following close behind. They were flanked by a few more vampires, one of which hastened to open the car door for Yasmin, Hermione, and Harry to pass through.
They stepped into the car and Harry saw that it was magically enlarged inside. The Egyptian influence to the modern design of what looked like a lounge room was overwhelming. The marble-white walls were accented with hieroglyphics in bronze, the décor varied from Egyptian Gods to sacred Canopic jars, the chair in the corner looked like the throne of a Pharaoh, and the interesting table between the two sofa chairs was a sculpture of Anubis, bent on all fours so that his back served as a tabletop. There was a terribly interesting divan, with two lion tails on one end, two lion heads on the other, and lion paws for feet. Everything else seemed quite modern and serviceable.
The room smelled of rose incense, and the candles burned bright on pedestals, tables and floor lamps.
The woman lounging on the divan, however, was overwhelmingly attractive. The man seated on the couch, though relaxed, looked quite regal, too.
Yasmin took a seat in one of the large carved chairs, crossing her fabulous legs and grinning as she set her sword, point down on her seat and held it leaning against her.
The man waved for Harry and Hermione to take the two sofa chairs across from him. "Please sit."
He didn't sound demanding. His voice was soft, almost beguiling, but Harry felt ancient power emanate from him, stronger than the one he felt from the woman.
Hermione sat first and Harry followed.
"I am Kalfani," said the man. "That is Nekhbet." He waved to the woman on the divan. "We make up two of the three Most Ancient Ones."
Harry couldn't help but wonder about the third one. Why wasn't she here?
He saw Hermione's lip pursing. She might have been wondering about the same thing.
Perhaps it was what Kalfani wanted them to think, because he said, "Dendera is currently being detained for all possible reasons a most ancient vampire could incur. In that respect, you need not feel any sort of cocern."
Harry didn't realize until then that they had to concern themselves with any of the most ancient ones. The only ancient vampires Harry had the displeasure of worrying about was Yasmin and Janus. Thankfully, one of them was dead, and the other appeared to be on their side.
Partially, at least. Or until it serves her interests…
"I find Mr. Potter's current state of existence interesting." Kalfani looked to Harry. "You are alive, but you are not human. You exhibit vampire traits; even look like us. You suffer none of our weaknesses-have all of our strengths."
Harry thought about his mortality. Not all of your strengths.
Kalfani continued. "You are what we once were, Mr. Potter."
"Dhampir," Harry said.
Kalfani stopped, his face a stoic mask. If he was surprised Harry knew, he didn't show it. "Alchemists and scholars have tried for two millennia to remove the curses that come with vampirism, with no success. And yet here you are. You broke the curse, and if indeed it was a true curse-break, your children and children's children will bear the genetic imprint of your kind, even breeding with humans."
Harry's eyebrow arched. "There's that possibility, yes."
Kalfani nodded. "By yourself, you are not a threat. Somewhere down the line, perhaps given a few more centuries and those of your kind have… propagated, that might not be the case."
Harry blinked, surprised. "Well… Hermione and I aren't planning to have that many kids, if you know what I mean."
Kalfani's eyebrow arched and he exchanged looks, first with Nekhbet who had her eyebrow arched just as high, then at Yasmin, who shrugged and grinned, as if to say, "I told you so."
He frowned at what it all implied. They didn't know about that slight possibility that Hermione could have children. This did not fall into any of the equations they had in mind. They were thinking he would breed with other women-many of them.
Perhaps it was the sort of thing they'd seen done too many times. Hermione, after all, confessed to have no problem with it when it came to her and Viktor Krum. It was a vamp thing.
"I'm not planning to sleep with other women, either," he added.
Kalfani and Nekhbet made a sound. And if Harry wasn't mistaken, it sounded like snorts of disbelief.
He supposed he could understand that they'd lived more than a thousand years. They've watched truths turn to lies, saw the invincible fall, and they had felt what it was like to be so sure of something and having it all slip away from the edge of one's fingertips.
"Well, in case you do decide to propagate your species, Mr. Potter," Nekhbet said. "It would be wise for you to understand that there are certain ideologies that need maintaining. For creatures like us that feed on life, it is imperative to have a… way of doing things. Something that keeps the balance. Our society has organizations like the Coven, and the Brotherhood. The Blood-Kin used to do their share, but apparently, they have grown weary of things as they are. We have ways of dealing with such issues as well. Where you are concerned… a system would have to be put in place eventually."
"A system?"
"Yes, a system."
"Eventually?"
"Right now there's only you, but in the distant future, your number will grow. Whether your heirs will be a problem that needs to be taken cared of, or whether they will help the balance from tilting is completely up to you. Do you understand?"
Harry shook his head. "No."
"We've lived long enough to know what to watch out for in the future," explained Kalfani. "You have to understand, Mr. Potter, that being what you are, you now have a share of the responsibility of keeping the balance. We don't know what you're capable of. We don't know what you will do about this power you have. What we do know is that you've become part of our history. How you will affect our future is a different matter. Bear in mind that the only reason we haven't killed you right now is because the Oracle spoke of your creation as if it would do us good. We do not know yet how you will benefit us, but we are willing to wait and see. We-as you mortals say-have all the time in the world, and yes, we shall be watching."
Harry didn't quite know what to say. He wasn't sure what Kalfani expected of him, but he had a feeling that once upon a time, a young woman, declared as the heir of Isis, was asked, "What are you going to do with the Oracle? Are you going to keep it sacred? Are you going to help maintain the balance?" And she probably didn't know what to make of it, either. And now here was Yasmin, maintaining the balance of the Vampire World one beheading at a time.
Kalfani then looked to Hermione. "And you, child. You have done your duty admirably. You were given a task and you accomplished it. Your mission, I dare say, was completed with great success."
Hermione was still for what felt like a long time before she finally spoke. "I don't know if I had much to do with it, Ancient One. I did what I was told, yes, but much if it was… improvised. Many of the things I did to complete this task wasn't taught in training."
Yasmin laughed at her own private joke. Even if Hermione hadn't expected it, Yasmin-in her strange way-had. She couldn't see into the future; she wasn't a seer, but she could definitely tell the boundaries of what could be, much like the Oracle, so she wasn't surprised by the results in the least.
Harry wanted to wipe that smug look off Yasmin's face.
"You defeated Janus," Nekhbet said, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "That in itself is commendable. He was almost five hundred years old."
"I surprised him," said Hermione in a clipped tone.
"Oh? How?"
Hermione didn't look as if she wanted to reply.
"She morphed," said Yasmin with a grin.
Harry tried not to look too surprised. It was embarrassing to be caught not knowing something about Hermione. He tried not to feel too hurt. They'd only been together for a few weeks, and in the chaos of war, it was only natural that she would still have things she'd need to tell him.
Still…
"I had no choice," Hermione said with a decided edge, her eyes flashing in Yasmin's direction. "If I didn't, I'd have gotten broken and he would've taken my head."
"Oh, you never ever have to explain the merits of morphing to me, dear," Yasmin said with a poisonous grin in Harry's direction.
"You did your part well in this conflict," Kalfani interjected, addressing Hermione. "You will receive your due, as Yasmin has received hers. We have given her Dendera's duties, because Dendera shall be indisposed to attend to them very soon."
Harry was mostly certain that involved this Dendera's head getting removed. He didn't know exactly what Dendera did, but it must have been something very naughty to garner Kalfani's and Nekhbet's ire.
Hermione, however, did not take it quite for granted. "You're not going to kill her?"
On hindsight, Harry supposed Vampires didn't do euphemisms. If they were going to chop someone's head off, they would say so. He shouldn't have been surprised when Hermione immediately came to this conclusion.
Kalfani shook his head. "No, we will not."
He could see Hermione warring with the need to ask why. She couldn't, because as a vampire, she was expected to take her betters' word for it, and to go against that expectation could get her in trouble. It became increasingly evident, however, that she was willing to risk it, so before she could say anything, Harry blurted the question out.
"Why? If she's as dangerous as you say she is, why won't you just-kill her?"
"There are ancient laws to follow, young one," Nekhbet said gently. "And besides that, the political implications of destroying her are tremendous. Dendera did not get this far through the centuries without friends and followers. Every vamp nation needs at least three Most Ancient Ones watching over the flock. There are others in Europe just as old as us, of course, but they lack the political strength to hold the position capably. Yasmin cannot begin to replace Dendera officially until she is a thousand years old."
"But that's five hundred years away!"
"Yes. And Yasmin is willing to wait."
This was, at present, inconceivable to Harry, so he just let it pass.
Nekhbet continued. "Right now, Dendera may not be killed. Yasmin has five-hundred years to further strengthen her position as Dendera's replacement. In the meantime, Dendera's imprisonment is a reasonable compromise to everyone. Order is maintained, and quite frankly, we can't make it very easy for just anyone to replace us, now can we? That would be just silly."
Harry began to get the picture. Even Hermione seemed appeased, though he was betting she still preferred Dendera dead.
"And what of the Coven?" Hermione asked. "Who will lead it?"
"Yasmin will still be Coven master until the Oracle reveals the next heir, but in the meantime, she would need a Coven deputy."
Hermione's eyes widened.
Yasmin snorted. "Before your pee in your knickers from excitement, let it be said that it isn't going to be you, Hermione."
Hermione's cheeks reddened as her eyes lost their glitter. "Oh."
"I've selected Keiko for the task," Yasmin continued. "She is dependable, vicious, beautiful, and she has a heart of ice. She's perfect for the job."
"I can be vicious," Hermione muttered, pouting slightly. "And I can be a coldhearted bitch if I choose."
Harry tried not to smirk. It would be just like Hermione to want to be in a position where she could effect certain changes. But the truth was he didn't think Master of the Coven of Isis would be the sort of thing for Hermione. She was a brilliant woman who could be anything she wanted, but contrary to what Hermione claimed, viciousness and ruthlessness were not traits that were natural to her.
Something akin to a real smile played on Yasmin's lips. "Yes, well, I did endeavor to find something more suitable for you, anyhow. I'll need an assistant of sorts. A shadow. The nature of Dendera's duties as liaison to international relations necessitates it. I was hoping you'd be my Shadow, Hermione. You will have access to everything I do, so long as I don't specifically forbid it. Secret libraries and museums; underground haunts and the very important people who wander them; and access to every human-vampire resource imaginable. You will sit at council and you will indeed have a staff of assistants at your beck and call. How does that sound?"
Harry swallowed. Yasmin had Hermione at "secret libraries and museums." He looked apprehensively at Hermione and saw that the stoic mask on her face looked even more impenetrable than ever.
He felt a pang of anxiety. He could tell, without even asking, that it sounded like the kind of opportunity Hermione wouldn't miss for anything. It was the sort of thing that would make him a prick if he asked her to refuse it, and there was really nothing he could do except tell her he was happy for her and that he'd be at home, waiting, because really, it was the kind of job that would take her away-for weeks at a time, even. And for how long was this going to last? Five hundred years at least.
Yasmin was taking on the duties of Dendera as one of the three Most Ancient Ones. She was basically replacing Dendera. In five hundred years, Yasmin's position would be official. But even right now, with the power Yasmin already possessed as master of the Coven, she basically had Europe's vampire world in the palm of her hand. With this new position, she reigned even more supreme. Harry had to wonder if Kalfani and Nekhbet weren't all too aware of this.
Keep your friends close, your enemies closer…
They knew what she was capable of. That was for certain, but they understood that she earned her due. She was a brilliant Coven master; she was just, yet ruthless. Yasmin believed in what she did. She was perfect. To destroy her would be a loss to them as well. They needed her, so they appointed her to a position that would cast her within their reach. If she was going to be Queen, they were going to let her remember who put her there.
And now Yasmin was asking Hermione to be the Queen's agent. Harry didn't know what Hermione would do in that respect.
He sat still, betraying nothing in his expression. If she agreed to do this, they would have to talk later, and he would have to know where he fit, if he even fit at all. If she didn't agree… well, they would have to talk anyway. This was a great opportunity she was letting go of…
Hermione's impenetrable eyes softened, and she gave a tightlipped smile. "I am sorry, Yasmin, but I can't. It's a great opportunity, but I'd have to decline."
Harry didn't know what to think. On the one hand he knew he should be happy, yet that nagging sensation of "I kept her back," persisted on muting that joy.
Yasmin looked horribly surprised, and then disappointed. "Is that what you really want? I'll give you plenty of time off if that's what concerns you. Emergency leave of absences, and a shit-load of other perks."
"Tempting, but I can't. This position offers a lot of power. Basically, if I take it, there's practically nothing that I couldn't do if you let me, but power was never my drug." She reddened a bit, but continued. "Helping people and setting things right was always my cause. It was never about the power or the money. What you're offering me right now is a magnificent opportunity, but when it comes down to it, it's politics. It won't make me happy."
"I'll teach you everything I know," said Yasmin.
While it probably wasn't completely true, the fact that it was partly so would have been valuable enough.
Hermione laughed. "I know. That's… the problem. I-I don't want to be like you, Yasmin."
There was a profound silence in the room, and Harry couldn't believe Hermione just said that, even if he could tell Hermione meant every word of it. It was, in fact the entire reason Hermione had refused the appointment.
After an extended silence, Yasmin finally spoke. "Well, fair enough. On the other hand, having another ambitious, power-hoarding bitch would be such a bother, don't you think?"
Nekhbet smiled slightly. "Yes, it would be."
Kalfani nodded.
Harry didn't know how in hell Hermione got away with that in one piece.
"The Brotherhood of Osiris offered me a job," Hermione continued.
Oh, hell. Why did you have to push your luck like that, baby?
"And I'm going to take it."
Harry was sure Yasmin would have Hermione's neck now. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.
Yasmin seemed mildly irritated. "You're leaving the Coven?"
"Yes," Hermione replied. "The Coven is based in Eastern Europe, and I'd eventually have to go back to Albania months at a time. And knowing you, you'd probably assign me to missions in Eastern Europe just to spite me."
"It's fun to do. Can you blame me?"
Hermione had to smile at that. "I couldn't put up with that anymore. The Brotherhood of Osiris's goals and principles are parallel to mine, they're less petty and vindictive, and it's a plus that they are based in England. I'm not going to pretend that this doesn't have anything to do with my personal life, because it does; a lot of it does. Since I've gotten back to my real family, I realized that they're too important for me to give up to the Coven. So it's not you…" She paused and thought better of it. "Well, it is you, come to think of it."
Yasmin took it in stride. She'd heard worse things said about her, Harry wagered.
"That's that, I suppose," Yasmin said. "You were never one to gloss things over. I ought to put you on my shit list."
Hermione rolled her eyes and made a gesture of resignation.
After a few more barbed remarks from Yasmin, Hermione and Harry were dismissed by Kalfani and Nekhbet. Yasmin volunteered to see them out.
Ron and Solomon were waiting, and they seemed relieved to see that nothing terrible had happened to Harry and Hermione.
Hermione looked to her former boss. "I should have my resignation in by tomorrow."
"Email it."
Hermione normally kicked up a fuss about email, but this time, she didn't. "Sure. I don't hate you, you know. I just think you could be so horrible at times… a great and terrible beauty, as they say."
"Flattery. I like it. You always knew just how, Hermione," said Yasmin, eyebrow arching.
Harry cleared his throat. "Congratulations on your appointment. It's really something."
Yasmin gave him a prim nod. "Thank you. At least someone appreciates it."
Hermione's lips opened, then closed, pursing as she bit back whatever comment she was going to make.
Yasmin turned and went back to the Hummer, after which the vampires scampered back into their respective vehicles before rolling out of Grimmauld Place one and all.
"What did they want?" Solomon immediately asked.
"Oh," said Harry. "Nothing very important. Vamp niceties and all that."
Ron looked perplexed.
"I quit the Coven," said Hermione, perhaps to distract them. "I'm going to take the Brotherhood's offer."
Solomon looked surprised, then delighted. "Oh, brilliant! I'm so glad, Hermione! I didn't want to say anything, but the Brotherhood is so much better suited to you. And I personally prefer to have Ambrose and Gabriel as bosses… you are taking me with you, aren't you?"
"Of course, silly. You're my Shadow Kin."
"Fantastic!"
"Yes," Harry said, smiling gently. "Fantastic."
She met eyes with him, and he knew she understood what he meant.
Slipping her arms around his waist, they walked back to the house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"George is awake," Solomon said as soon as she awoke the following night.
Hermione blinked at the news for a few seconds before it sunk in. She rose from her coffin and got ready to go to St. Mungo's with Solomon.
They still had the replacement Jaguar and they would use that to get to the hospital. She didn't know how long before Yasmin took the car back. It would be just like Yasmin to take the car before the usual two-week transition period ended.
It wasn't a big problem. She'd already sent notice to the Brotherhood that she was now ready to seriously consider their offer. Ambrose had replied immediately, setting a meeting for the end of the week.
Now George was awake. Life indeed happened when one was making plans.
Harry was waiting for them at the St. Mungo's lobby when they arrived.
"Is George lucid?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded. "He is. Getting better, in fact. He can't-he can't feel his legs, but didn't think that was a big problem." He said this gravely. It was not something to be completely happy about.
"It hasn't sunk in yet," she concluded.
Harry shrugged. "Maybe. Perhaps he really is optimistic that he'd get his legs back. Time will tell."
"Have they told him about Fred?"
Harry sighed. "They were telling him when I left to meet you here."
She nodded, her heart going out to Fred. "How's Ron? How are the rest of the Weasleys?"
"They're just glad he's awake. They'll puzzle the details out later."
She finally stopped to look at him and she could see the anxiety in his eyes. She reached out to rub his arm. "How are you?"
He seemed surprised for a moment then he smiled wanly. "I'm alright. I'm glad he's awake, too. Come on. I'll show you two to the waiting room."
The waiting room was awash in light, and it was still filled with people. Most of St. Mungo's was still filled with patients, many from the Great Battle, as the papers had dramatically began to call it.
It was difficult to find some privacy for the first few minutes because many of the visitors recognized Harry, even without the scar, and personally offered him their thanks. He was, and forever will be, the Boy Who Lived. Hermione and Solomon tried to slink behind him, hoping to disappear in his shadow.
After a bit, he was finally left alone, and Hermione gathered her bearings. She spotted Dean and Luna seated at the far corner of the waiting room, watching them bemusedly from where they were.
"Still the center of distraction, Potter?" Dean asked, rising to meet them.
Harry and Dean clasped hands and fell to talking.
Luna inched closer to Hermione and Hermione stepped on Solomon's foot when he tried to get away.
Luna's loopy eyes, wide and weird, were made stranger by the eerie smile on her lips. Her bottle-cap necklace hung loose around her neck.
Hermione smiled back awkwardly, reminding herself that it was Luna who made Ron laugh; it was Luna who was there for Ron when Harry couldn't be these past five years. Weirdness wasn't necessarily a bad trait, anyway. Hermione thought herself quite weird, in her own way-apart from the fact that she sucked blood to live, of course.
"So Luna," Hermione asked, straining to start conversation. "You've been keeping George company while he was unconscious."
"Oh, yes."
"Erm… sweet of you. Must have been difficult, just waiting for him to wake up."
"It wasn't difficult at all. I read to him, and he seemed interested."
Hermione didn't bother to mention the fact that George didn't really have a choice about whether he was interested or not, being in a coma and all, but she was so relieved Luna had made mention of a book that Hermione let it pass without comment. A book was something they could talk about. "What's the book about?"
"It's called 'A Day in the Life of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.'"
Hermione stifled a sigh. "Yes. Of course it would be."
It was Solomon's turn to step on Hermione's foot.
"Interesting, those Snorkacks," said Solomon. "Where did this book say they could be found?"
"The author found them high up in the Swedish mountains," Luna said dreamily. "He observed them for weeks in the cold temperatures until his fingers and… other appendages fell off from the cold."
"That's… not nice."
"They made excellent souvenirs, I'm sure."
"I…" Solomon grasped for words before giving up. "Think Harry's calling me."
He made his escape and avoided Hermione's glare of fury.
"Squeamish," breathed Luna. "For a vampire."
"Yes, well…" Hermione replied, quite at a loss. "So George was glad to see you there when he woke up?"
"Oh, yes. Very glad. He's in love with me, you know."
Hermione stared at her. She knew the twins were strange, but not that strange. On the other hand, Ron fancied Luna, too.
What's wrong with these Weasleys? Is it the water in Ottery St. Catchpole?
Then she remembered that once upon a time, Ron fancied her.
"George is in love with you," Hermione repeated, as if to try it on for size.
"Yes."
"Are you in love with him?"
Her loopy smile shrunk a bit. "No."
"That's-that's regrettable."
"It is, to an extent."
Hermione stared at her a moment. There was an answer-a complete answer-somewhere in Luna's batty silver-blue eyes.
"Ron!" Dean said as the tall redhead entered the waiting room.
All of them gathered around him as he ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair.
"How is he?" Harry asked.
"Coping," Ron said with a tired smile. "We told him about Fred and… well, he took it better than we expected. There are other things about his condition, as you know, but I think maybe he's taking it one step at a time… he'll be ready to see everyone else in a bit. He-um, asked for you, Luna." Red splotches blossomed in Ron's cheeks worse than ever, and the more Luna stared, the redder he got.
Luna seemed to be taking her time, anyway, possibly waiting for Ron to explode.
Hermione began exchanging wondering looks with everyone else and Harry actually gave a subtle shrug.
Finally, Luna spoke. "Did he? Well, that's to be expected. Will you escort me back to his room, Ronald?"
"Well, it's not really that far-"
Harry kicked Ron's ankle with the reinforced toe of his boot.
Ron gave a semi-cry but kept speaking through his teeth. "-but I'll be glad to walk you there… " He shot Harry a murderous look before offering Luna his arm.
She took it and smiled up at him as they walked off.
"Daft, I tell you," Harry muttered. "What's he going to do without me?"
"Date barely legal teenagers, that's what," Dean said. "Now that ought to sort itself out, don't you think? Ron's not that stupid, eh?"
"Can someone answer that?" Hermione asked. "Too easy for me. Waste of good snark."
Harry flashed her a mildly scolding, somewhat amused, look.
Solomon draped an arm each over Harry's and Hermione's shoulders. "As if you two didn't do your share of angst. The drama these two cooked up was amazing. Forget soaps. This was a full-blown, extra-bubbly, industrial detergent on spin cycle. You cannot believe-"
"That's quite enough, dear," Hermione said testily. "I think he gets it."
"Ginny fills me in, of course," said Dean as-a-matter-of-factly. "I agree that it's interesting. Too bad Harry and Ron decided to duke it out for Granger after school. Would've been terribly entertained by that one."
Hermione shot Harry a glare.
Harry reddened. "I never told!"
"Ron wouldn't have!" Hermione cried. "Only the three of us knew!"
"Remus knew!"
"Harry Potter! Remus is not a gossip!"
"I-" Something stopped Harry short and he began to redden. Whether it was from embarrassment or anger, Hermione couldn't exactly tell. "I told Malfoy."
Hermione looked immensely irritated. "Great. It's not enough he could've gotten that info himself. You had to go and tell him."
"We were drinking!"
"Oh, well, that makes it all better, doesn't it?"
Harry made a face and looked sardonically at Dean. "And Ginny's been talking to Malfoy too much."
Dean put his hands up. "You try telling her who she should or shouldn't talk to. Last time I did, she threw me out of my flat… in my boxers. Didn't let me in for three hours. Just long enough for me to miss my football game on the telly."
"Whatever," Harry and Hermione muttered.
"Speaking of Malfoy," continued Dean. "What's this I hear about him petitioning for release?"
"He turned in his father," Solomon said. "And he might get out early for good behavior. Justice prevails, etcetera, etcetera."
"But he's a ghoul!"
"A well-behaved ghoul, apparently."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "He'll behave when he's out. If he makes one wrong move, he knows I'll find out where he lives and I'll make him suffer."
Dean shook his head, sighing. "Potter, it's official: You are a thrill junkie. Danger turns you on." He turns to head for the rooms.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Harry said, taking Hermione by the hand as he followed after Dean.
Solomon's eyes lit. "Ever tried snowboarding, Harry? Oh, Merlin, you have to. If we ever head back to Viktor's crib in Bulgaria, we'll definitely-"
Hermione shot Solomon a glare. "And have Harry break his neck? Absolutely not!" she was squeaking again. Never a good sign.
Harry grinned. "Just tell me when."
"Harry!"
Harry pulled her in a closer embrace, grinning that Cheshire grin that had her knickers twisting in and of itself. His eyes twinkled and she could see his mischief coming a mile away. "You promised not to stop me."
She blinked. She didn't quite get it. "What?"
"You made me promise to tell you if I decide to do something that you probably wouldn't want me to do, and for that promise, you swore you weren't going to stop me. Remember?"
Son of a- "But that's for-only if you-" She glared at him. "You limey bastard, you're teasing!"
He laughed, kissing her cheek. "Of course I am. Come on. We have to go see George, eh?"
Sighing, she nodded and chuckled in spite of herself, stepping up her pace so that they walked side by side.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was glorious.
Flying side by side with her, him on his Firebolt and she with her magnificent raven wings, he almost didn't want to reach the isolated highlands of Scotland. He could just watch her fly all night.
But she couldn't fly long, she said. It would weaken her, but unlike before, she wasn't going to collapse from exhaustion.
She'd been in Albania the last two and a half weeks to fix her resignation papers with the Coven. He'd missed her terribly. The press and publicity were small annoyances compared to the emptiness he'd felt with her gone. But she owled almost everyday, which was a great comfort. Ron had teased him about it incessantly.
She'd told him about her morphing abilities before she left for Albania, and she explained why she didn't want anyone to know about it, especially not him. Soothing her fears with respect to how he perceived her wasn't an easy thing, and while she couldn't morph for him then, she promised that when she got back from Albania, she'd show him.
Her idle hours in Albania were apparently spent on practicing her morphing abilities. When Hermione Granger promised to do something, she was going to do it brilliantly.
So he brought her to Hogwarts, and from the lake that was so much a part of their fondest and dreariest memories, he watched her morph and take off in the air for the first time. It was a sight he was never ever going to forget. She was a dark angel, lovely against the moonlight.
They reached the landing point and set themselves down, him with the graceful tilt of his broom and she with a magnificent bow of her wings.
The view from their perch was eerily breathtaking. Hogwarts looked to be so far away, and the night was cloudless. Highlands all around them lay dim, but the moonlight showed them the horizon. There were patches of snow here and there still, but Hermione never felt cold, and Harry didn't feel overly bothered by it, either. He supposed that for a vampire and a Dhampir, it was the perfect night for a romantic, moonlight flight.
He watched her wings flutter lazily as she gathered her bearings and it made him smile. "They're lovely."
She blushed. "Are they? You don't think they're frightening?"
"Never."
She smiled shyly before closing her eyes. The wings folded and began to retract back into her, a gasp escaping her as the last feather disappeared. She wavered on her feet and he caught her before she could fall.
He was a bit alarmed, but her smile eased some of his worry.
"I'm alright," she breathed. "The trainer said the pain recedes in time. Like muscles that haven't been exercised in a long time then suddenly put to weights…"
He smiled at her apologetically. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I have to get used to them some time, right? Come on. Let's sit and talk. I've missed you horribly, love."
He kissed her, tender but brief, before diving into his rucksack and producing a blanket and a picnic basket shrunken to fit.
She placed her hands on her hips, but she was smirking. "Did the elves put that together for you?"
He had the grace to look sheepish. "They offered. If I refused, I'd have broken their little hearts."
"There better be chocolate in there, Potter."
"I swear there is. Now stop playing coy. Come here… I want to snog you senseless." He pulled her to sit with him on the blanket.
"But I want to talk," she teased softly.
"Make-out now, talk later."
She appeared to seem less resistant than she first let on as she engaged him in a most sensual touching of lips and tangling of tongues.
It was immediately intoxicating and everything he dreamed of in the last two and half weeks of her absence. He longed to touch more of her, but if he did, the talking part would be foregone and that just wouldn't do. Not this time, at least.
When she pulled away, he couldn't resist nipping at her earlobe, and she giggled, resisting ever so slightly. "Oh, I did miss that."
He made a sound of agreement. "That and the sex."
"Goodness, there's no glossing over that one, is there?"
"Sorry."
"No you're not."
He smiled lazily. "No, I'm not. But we're here to talk, aren't we? Shag later?"
"Yes and yes. Now… what happened over the last two weeks I've been gone?"
He leaned back, enlarging their picnic basket and pulling chocolates and sandwiches out. "Oh, the usual. Arrests, executions, bad press, good press, big bloody circus…" He brought out a canister and he opened it for her to sniff. The hot, chocolaty vapors floated up into the cold.
She approved and fished out two mugs into which he began to pour the chocolate.
He continued. "Rita Skeeter was in fine form, but so was Luna. A regular cat-fight on print. In the mean time, Ron managed to find the bullocks to ask her out to dinner at Il Encuentro. She said no."
She looked up, surprised. "No?"
"She didn't like the restaurant thing. Too normal for her, so Ron invited her to look for Nargles, and along the way, they'll stumble into a quaint little restaurant somewhere or other that serves Pasta and Chinese food. Perfectly unusual."
"Ah. That ought to suit them both."
"Naturally."
"And your work? Is it going well?"
"As well as could be expected. I haven't quit the force."
"And I'm telling you, take your time. You don't have to make any hurried decisions. I'm not going anywhere." She grinned, cupping her hands around her mug and taking a tiny sip of the chocolate. "Mmm, strong."
He cocked a grin. "Thought you'd like that. And yes, I am taking my time. Perhaps I'll surprise you one day and hand in my resignation."
"Shacklebolt will be far more surprised than I ever will be, love."
"Likely. But I've been wondering… truffles?"
"Just one." She selected one from the box and popped it in her mouth. "And what have you been wondering about?"
"Us. Being together."
She paused warily. "We are together."
"Officially."
"We're wearing matching rings, Harry. How much more official is it going to get?"
His eyebrow arched, wondering if he really had to spell it out. If Hermione was any other kind of woman, he would've gone the entire down-on-his-knees, ring-in-a-box route, but if he did that, being who she was now, he was half-certain she would laugh and say something like, "Get up, silly! What the hell are you doing?"
This way, he thought, would be more to her liking, and frankly, it made him less nervous, as well.
She stared a moment before his wordless answer dawned on her, and her eyes widened while her lips formed that adorably surprised "O."
"Y-You mean… marriage?" she asked, whispering, as if anyone would hear. Never mind that there wasn't a soul for miles around.
He fished a box out of his robe and held it up-like he would a candy bar. "Yes. Do you want to see the ring?"
"Oh, yes please!" She held her hands out.
"Yes to the ring or the marriage?" he teased.
"The ring. Gimme!"
He grinned. "Saucy wench."
He handed her the box and she opened it. It was a princess cut diamond and quite big.
"Oh, it's perfect! You wonderful man!" She kissed his cheek. "Yes. I'll marry you."
He laughed. "You did that on purpose! You were going to say yes, even if the ring looked like rubbish! Admit it!"
"Alright, I admit it, but you were so smug. I had to punish you. Now I get to wear it. It's mine!"
"It was on sale."
"Shut it, you. Betsy and I are perfectly happy with each other."
"Betsy?"
"Rock this size needs a name, for Merlin's sake."
"Right, as usual." He inched closer and kissed her throat. "Marry me?"
She leaned into his kiss and whispered her reply. "I will. I love you."
He smiled, pulling her into his arms for an even more engaging kiss. She tasted like sweet chocolate, her mouth a well of warmth against the biting cold.
When they parted, Harry pulled an envelope out of his pocket.
She looked up at him questioningly and he showed it to her. The back of the envelope said, "To Harry."
Recognition was quick to come.
"The letter," she said. "You still haven't opened it."
"I haven't. I'm going to ask you… do I need to? Is there anything in it that could shape our lives in any way? Good or bad?"
She stared at it a moment before she smiled wanly. "No. It makes no difference. It tells you to move on, because I was never coming back; because I couldn't be with you, and that my leaving was for your own good…"
"All what really matters is now, isn't it? We got to this point. We're better people for it. I don't know how differently it would've turned out if you hadn't left, but there's no point in dwelling on that."
"No point."
"And you're right… about knowing the future, or thinking you know it. Futures aren't meant to be told. But I guess at some point in our lives, we always try to be Oracles of ourselves and those around us."
She nodded.
A gust of wind blew.
He let the letter go, and along the way, it burst into magical flame, its ashes scattering over the Scottish horizon.
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A/N: Just one more to go…