All Roads Lead Back

Title: All Roads Lead Back

Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. H/Hr, with a whole lot of other ships thrown in. Post-HBP

Summary: Harry Potter always figured that once he had fulfilled his destiny he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell. Set 7 years after the final battle.

Spoilers: All six books.

A/N: I am a Harmony shipper thru and thru. HBP almost sent me into a fit until I realized that I was throwing a tizzy over a book and told myself to get over it. Hee. I then decided to throw my hat in the fanfiction ring and see if I could come up with a realistic (at least to me) story of my favorite couple getting together that adheres to canon. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I have the whole story already plotted out, but would appreciate it if you would tell me if writing the rest is worth it or not.

I am a born and raised Carolina girl who moved to Florida. I'm southern thru and thru. The closest I've ever gotten to England is by watching BBC America. If you see something I've written that doesn't gel right please tell me, I would like to make this as good as possible.

This story features a lot of flashbacks. I've tried to make it obvious when the character is in present time as opposed to thinking back on an event. If it still seems unclear I would love to hear some suggestions.

I write plays and poetry. As a result my writing tends to be dialog heavy and at times abstract. Description isn't my strongest suit, but I hope to get better at it by trying to write fan fiction.

Although this is a H/Hr story it is told thru multiple perspectives.

If you are a fan of Ginny you're girl takes a few hits in this story. I am no Ginny lover, but to be fair I didn't like the character pre-HBP. She's not the villain of this story however and I would like to think that I've been fair in how I portray her. I could be wrong, oh well.

That's it for now.

Disclaimer: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

She was in his bed again. No matter what kind of day he had (good or bad) or what dark or pleasant mood his mind was in when he retired for the night she always ended up in his bed. In the middle of the night. This time clad only in a peach colored towel. He liked it when it was only a towel. Makes things oh so much easier, he thought merrily to himself as he turned over on his side and hooked his right thigh over her left leg. She didn't seem to mind. At least not according to those large doe eyes that stared at him challengingly. What are you going to do, they seemed to say.

He began to trace his fingers down her arm at a sloth like pace. He felt rather then heard her sigh in contentment. He could barely contain his grin. He was definitely up to the challenge. Her skin was warm and damp, as if she had just recently come from the bath before ending up in his arms. His bed would be wet afterwards, but somehow he didn't seem to mind. Wasn't that the whole point, he thought to himself.

As he hovered over her, one hand entangled in russet colored curls while the other still traced patterns on bare heated flesh he noticed a bead of sweat that was slowly making it's way from her hairline down the contour of her cheek. She either didn't notice it or didn't care, but he was enthralled. To be able to glide over creamy skin without any other care in the world and then just disappear into it?!! He was jealous! He wanted to be that little droplet of moisture. So he did the next best thing. As it crested the curve of her left breast he licked it. It tasted of salt, sex, and cotton. It was time to remove that towel. But before he could do that she grabbed on to a handful of his hair as if to hold him in place. He obliged by licking lazy patterns with his tongue over the skin the towel didn't cover.

Her little body began to softly quake under his larger form. As he made his way to the other breast his tongue dipped into the valley between the two. She emitted a petulant little moan as her right hand let go of his hair and drifted down to the middle of his bare back. He could tell that she needed some kind of release soon, but he was having way too much fun toying with her. That is until she snaked her unattended hand into his silken boxers and began stroking his cock at a maddening pace. Faster...faster...then sloooooooow. Faster...faster...then slow. Minx.

Whatever it was she needed he now needed too. He realized this fact as his tongue began to get bolder with it's machinations. It forcefully pushed down the material over her right breast and before he knew it he had taken the little brown bud of her nipple into his mouth. He felt a tiny tingle of pain as her nails dug into the skin of his back and her body arched halfway off the bed. He could almost picture in his mind the half moon imprints he would find in the morning. He smiled to himself. They would be well worth it. Battle trophies. He fully intended on winning this war.

As he took one last languid lick of her nipple he rolled his whole body on top of hers. One arm he used to prop himself up so he didn't put his whole weight on her. The other arm was down at her parted thighs, his hand creeping up the inner wall. His lips were on hers, their tongues frantically dueling with each other for dominance. Almost there, almost there, he thought to himself. His fingers ached to touch her there. His cock felt like it would implode if it wasn't sheathed into her wet core soon. Though the rubbing was nice. The rubbing was very very nice. Almost....almost....the smell of her arousal was damn near drugging him...almost...

“Do you want me Harry?”

It took him nearly two seconds to realize that they were no longer kissing and that the voice he was hearing was not in his head, but coming from the half naked woman underneath him.

“Do you?”

Everything seemed to stop at that moment. His roaming hands. His labored breathing. It felt like he couldn't even blink.

“It's really a simple question Harry,” she said as she placed both her hands on either side of his face and forced him to look her fully in her eyes. Her big brown eyes. Her big brown eyes that he would gladly drown in if he could.

It was a simple question. A simple question that she asked him every time they ended up in bed together, a mass of tangled arms, legs, and other assorted body parts. And the answer was always the same.

“Yes,” he said, looking at her from beneath heavy lidded eyes. If anything his little friend poking at her stomach should have given her that answer. But he didn't mind. He knew from her little sighs and kittenish purrs that she wanted him just as much.

“Do you love me Harry?”

This however was new. Usually after his declaration there would be no more conversation exchanged between them. That is unless you counted groans and pants and screams of “harder...harder...” as they both joyously fucked each other into incoherence. But love? Love was never mentioned between them. It was almost as if the subject was taboo. Did he love her? He knew that he loved his parents and Sirius. He loved Remus and the Weasleys. He had loved his old headmaster Dumbledore, a fact that he hadn't fully realized till the wizened old man had left him. But did he love her? Was he in love with her? The way her question fully implied?

“Yes,” he replied adoringly, his voice cracking from the emotion of it. His answer was just as plainly spoken as the last.

“I love you more then anything in this world Hermione.”

And he did. He felt the truth of those words within every fiber of his being. He looked into her eyes intently. He hoped she could hear the earnest honesty in his voice, see the near worship in his eyes.

She did. She smiled at him with such a child-like happiness that he half expected her to clap her hands and coo.

“Good,” she half whispered as she dropped a chaste kiss on his lips, a kiss so achingly sweet he nearly felt his heart rendered into pieces from the sheer innocence of it all.

“Time to wake up then Harry.”

What?

~~**~~ ~~**~~ ~~**~~ ~~**~~

“I said it was time to wake up Harry,” he heard a voice say as he felt the weight of a pillow thrown at the back of his head. He scrambled up into a sitting position on the bed, draping the powder blue sheets around his waist. As he turned bleary eyed towards the direction of the irritated voice he tried to gain some semblance of wakefulness.

“Sweet Circe! You are going to be late again if you don't hurry up. Hanes just might actually try to fire you this time!”

He watched the red blur go back and forth across the field of his vision a few times before he reached over and plucked his glasses from the night stand next to his bed. He slipped them on and Ginny suddenly came into focus. She was not a happy camper, if the purple color her face was becoming was any indicator. He placed the glasses back where they had been. He'd rather not 'see' this.

“That's probably been your intention all long hasn't it Harry? To get thrown out of the department. Well I won't allow it,” she said, stomping her foot down in an amazing display of anger. She would have made a very imposing figure too, hair all blown back from her face like a Fury, arms akimbo, legs spread far apart. That is if she wasn't all of 5ft4, Harry sniggered to himself.

“Don't you dare laugh at me Harry James Potter,” Ginny shouted.

Harry swallowed what ever remnants was left of his amusement. This was after all Molly Weasley's girl.

“Gin...”

“And don't call me Gin,” she growled. Harry briefly pondered if maybe he should call for her an Exorcist.

“You know damned well that I hate it when you call me Gin! And if you've made a mess of your sheets again don't expect me to wash them!”

The way her eyes looked disdainfully at the bed Harry was almost afraid to take a peek down. He did feel a certain dampness surrounding him, but he was sure that it was just sweat. Please just be sweat, he thought.

“And if you even think your going to get to use THAT this morning you best think again!”

This time Harry did take a gander down and was greeted by his rock hard erection poking thru the sheets. He discreetly placed a pillow over his lap too tired to even feign embarrassment.

“I wouldn't think of it Ginny,” he muttered under his breath.

If she heard him she didn't give any indication other then a roll of her eyes and a rather pissed sounding harrumph.

Harry watched her stalk to the bedroom door. Before she exited she turned around, reached into the pocket of her pink house robe and pulled out her wand. With a deft flick of her wrists she pointed it towards the walk-in wardrobe. One of Harry's scarlet Auror robes floated gingerly out and placed it's self on the pale green settee against the bedroom's far wall.

“I had Dobby press your uniform. I think you should at least look like you want to be there,” she sniffed in that irritatingly superior tone she had recently began to address him in. As she turned her back and exited he heard her mention something about his breakfast getting cold.

“Finally,” he exclaimed as he heard her footsteps on the stairs.

He jumped out of bed and bolted for his shower. He was still feeling the after effects of his dream and he needed to get rid of the evidence. Badly!

As he felt the first drops of cold water touch his skin he closed his eyes and tried to recapture the lingering pictures in his head. Soft skin, wide open legs, lovely brown eyes...that was all it took. He came hard with a shudder into his hands.

As he maneuvered his self fully under the shower tap, the water sending the proof of his mornings frustration down the drain, he pondered what it all meant. The dream changed, he thought to himself. The dream changed, what does that mean? He turned his face up as if he would get an answer from the heavens and was met with a spray of water to the face. That woke him up. He grabbed a hold of the soap in the dish and began to lather his body with it. It didn't matter. It didn't matter after all. It was just some stupid dream. That's all! Besides, it wasn't like anything would ever come of it. Right?

As if answer to his question he heard a pounding on the bathroom door.

“Get the bloody hell out of there before I throw away the bacon,” he heard Ginny's muffled voice shout thru the wall.

“I'm coming Gin,” he yelled back as he quickly rinsed himself from front to back.

“Don't call me Gin,” she shrieked as she slammed the bedroom door on her way out.

As Harry stepped out of the shower and began to towel dry his body he half suspected that he would have to do a quick spell to repair said door. His suspicions were confirmed when he strode back into his bedroom, the peach colored towel wrapped securely around his hips.

Harry took a quick glance at the clock next to the mirror of his bureau and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't going to be that late. Besides, Wednesdays tended to be slow at the office.

As he reached inside his drawer to pull out a fresh pair of briefs and a singlet he caught his reflection in the mirror. He had just been about to tug off the towel when he noticed the color of the cotton fabric. Instantly his dream came hurtling back at him. The smells, the sounds, the friction. At this thought his dick practically stood at attention. Damn.

He walked back defeatedly to his bed and reached for the wand that was still under his pillow. After he cast a quick “reparo” at it he threw a locking and silencing charm on the door as well.

As he laid his body on the bed, nude as the day he was born, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he was in fact going to be late. And Hanes? Well, Hanes might just bloody well try to fire him. Harry didn't care.

The last cohesive thought he had before he placed his hand on his shaft and succumbed to mindless bliss was that he hoped Ginny was just joking about throwing the bacon away. He had to have something to look forward to as he sat across the breakfast table from her, his wife.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.

Title: All Roads Lead Back

Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. H/Hr, with a whole lot of other ships thrown in. Post-HBP

Summary: Harry Potter always figured that once he had fulfilled his destiny he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell. Set 7 years after the final battle.

Spoilers: All six books.

A/N: I am a Harmony shipper thru and thru. HBP almost sent me into a fit until I realized that I was throwing a tizzy over a book and told myself to get over it. Hee. I then decided to throw my hat in the fanfiction ring and see if I could come up with a realistic (at least to me) story of my favorite couple getting together that adheres to canon. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I have the whole story already plotted out, but would appreciate it if you would tell me if writing the rest is worth it or not.

Disclaimer: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Ginny Potter liked to fool herself. Those extra five pounds she put on from this past winter? Merely baby fat. The brand new pastel pink dress robes that Lavender talked her into buying just two weeks ago? They went well with her dark blue eyes. The suspicion that her husband didn't love her anymore? Nonsense! They would soon be coming up on their 6 year anniversary next spring.

Never mind the fact that she was a 23 year old woman so any trace of baby fat was simply a figment of her imagination. Never mind the fact that she was a redhead whose skin tended to turn a thankless shade of gray whenever she deigned to wear anything resembling pink. And never mind the fact that for the last few months she and her husband had been sleeping in different beds, Ginny Potter liked to fool herself. How else could she explain the fact that her marriage, that appeared so strong and fruitful in it's inception, was now dry and barren only a few years later.

Her husband was unhappy and Ginny simply felt at a loss of what to do to remedy the situation. She mulled over these dark thoughts as she sipped her cup of tea, her breakfast remaining untouched on the table before her. What do you do when your husband is unhappy and you're the cause, she thought murkily.

It was times like these that Ginny desperately wanted someone she could talk to. Confide in. Her mother was simply not an option. Ginny got cold chills down her back at the thought of having to tell her beloved mother that the Dazzling Duo, or so Witch Weekly had dubbed the Potters, were on rocky ground.

No one could have been happier for Ginny and Harry when they got married then Molly Weasley. Her daughter had landed the prime catch of the wizarding world and she was now finally able to claim the little boy she had loved before she had even laid eyes on him as one of her own bulging brood. No, Ginny could not go to her mother with her problems. Besides her mother would probably not understand the question.

“Um mum, my husband doesn't seem to want to touch me anymore. What can I do?”

Molly would probably look at her daughter as if she were mad.

“Unhappy husband? What's that dear? Is it something like jumbo shrimp?”

Ginny had a strong suspicion that any woman who had born her husband seven children would not be able to understand the concept.

It was a wash thinking she could talk to any of the male members of her family. Her dad, though sweet as could be, would probably go running screaming into the night if she brought up the matter of her sex life to him.

Her two oldest brothers wouldn't react much differently. She was nearly a decade younger then both of them. To Bill and Charlie Ginny was as much their own child as she was their sister. Even though she considered herself a grown sophisticated woman of means to them she would always be the too skinny baby of the family.

Then there was Percy. Percy was no where near the list of possible outlets. The last time Ginny had seen him was when their mother had thrown a party at the Burrow to celebrate the birth of his triplets. By the end of the night Molly was in tears, Ron's ears were a frightening shade of magenta, and the twins had threatened to forcefully remove Perce's upturned nose from his face and stick it up his arse. At that threat Penelope Weasley quickly gathered up her three young babies as well as their older sibling, grabbed her husband by the collar, and nervously made her goodbyes as she headed towards the door. Luckily they had come by portkey, a darling paisley parasol, so their exit was speedy. Penelope had after all been a student at Hogwarts when the Weasley twins were there. She knew not to take any threat from them lightly.

Ginny smiled as her thoughts turned to her twin brothers. In school they had both played the position of beater on their house Quidditch team. She always found that so appropriate since she saw the two of them as synchronized bludgers crashing their way thru life. A pair of redheaded, freckle faced, mischief making bludgers. If she could compare herself to any of her siblings she was most like Fred and George. So it would be simple to talk to one of them right?

Unfortunately for Ginny George was too busy living the free and single life of a bachelor these days. He shared a flat in Diagon Alley with her other brother Ron and Ginny barely got to see him much. George came by the Burrow sparingly and asking him to visit her in the Potter's palatial home in Wiltshire was like pulling teeth. From a doxy. A doxy hopped up on crystal meth. And no matter how important her own troubles seemed to her she knew she couldn't be so insensitive to bother Fred with them. Fred. Her heart seemed to sigh heavily at the mere thought of Fred. Her knavishly brilliant brother Fred. Her grinning, five jokes a minute brother Fred. Her barrel of laughs Fred. She wouldn't trouble him. The way she saw it a rapidly crumbling marriage in no ways compared to having a sick child.

So that then left Ron. Her overly protective big brother. Ha! Ginny snorted into her cup. Even though Ron was one whole year, 5 months, 10 days, 16 hours, and 3 minutes older then herself (he irritatingly enough did the math), Ginny always felt like the older sibling in their relationship. Ron never seemed to quite 'get it'. Sometimes Ginny felt like she had to explain things slowly for Ron. Not that he was dumb. Ron by no means was stupid. His learning curb was just a tad...slanted. How else to explain the fact that Lavender Brown had already agreed to be his wife, booked the honeymoon, and sent the wedding announcement to the Evening Prophet by time the poor boy realized he had even proposed.

Ginny had to admit, she admired the woman's moxie if not her actual follow thru.

Ron would not make a good shoulder to cry on. He was too tangled up in The Wedding to even concentrate on her little heartbreaks. She was sure that Lavender probably had every moment of Ron's day planned for the next few weeks till the ceremony in June. Hell, the engagement party was only in 4 days! Ginny would stand a better chance of getting in to the Department of Mysteries again then getting near her own sibling if she knew Lavender well. Besides knowing Ron he would probably defend Harry. That was Ron. Whenever she and Harry had a falling out Ron without fail took Harry's side.

And therein lay another problem for Ginerva Potter. To her parents and brothers Harry couldn't be anymore a member of the family if he dyed his hair the famous Weasley red. Sometimes it sucked having her family love her husband as much (maybe even more) then they loved her. She half suspected that if it came down to it Harry would get the Weasleys, the Burrow, and the whole kit and caboodle in the divorce.

Divorce. Ginny shuddered at the word. In her mind that wasn't an option. Divorces simply were not done. At least not in her family. Once again Ginny wished she had someone she could talk to about her hurts, her suspicions, her fears.

Her closest female friend was a possibility. Luna always seemed to see every situation in an...unusual light. However Ginny hated Luna's "lover" (Luna's wording, not hers) so that cut out any idea of visiting the Lovegood home in Ottery St. Catchpole as the git lived with her.

That only left her brothers various wives and girlfriends. Penelope was sweet, yet useless. Glinda, Fred's wife, seemed to have a good head screwed on her shoulder. However she was a muggle and as such just didn't understand the importance that came along with being the wife of one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Fleur was simply out of the question! Although Ginny long ago decided to get along with the beautiful French woman for the sake of the family, she never warmed to her fully. Even in her expensively tailored robes with her good looking rich husband by her side Ginny always felt like second hand goods when standing next to Mrs. William Weasley. It also didn't help that she and Bill seemed intent on breaking her parents record for most Weasleys under a single roof. After only seven years of marriage they were already on kid number 4 with number 5 on the way. Bill walked around with a serious case of perma-grin all year long. Yeah, Fleur was really going to empathize with her plight.

With Charlie and George being confirmed bachelors that only left Ron's fiancée Lavender Brown. Although in school she and Lav had never been close, despite being in the same House, she had developed a sort of quasi-friendship with the pretty blonde girl ever since she and Ron began to date seriously a few years ago. Ginny had to admit that Lav wasn't half bad once you got to know her. She almost regretted not hanging out with her back when they were teenagers. Of course back then Hermione had been the closest thing she had to a best friend but....

Stop it Ginny, she scolded herself. No use going down that road now is there? You have Lavender. Delightfully air headed Lavender. Sex crazed, potty mouthed Lavender. Who felt that all relationship problems could easily be solved by placing an order in the American lingerie catalog Morgana's Mysteries. Ginny needed to get some new friends! Harrumph! As if sex could solve all problems.

“Arg!” Ginny grumbled to herself in frustration. She pitched herself from her chair at the table and threw her tea cup into the sink. It landed with a loud thunk. One more good piece of china down the drain.

Ginny smiled as she thought of the last tea cup she had broken. She had thrown it at Harry's head as he innocently strode into the kitchen calling her name one evening. They were supposed to meet some old school mates for dinner in Hogsmeade that night. She had even bought herself a new dress in a muggle boutique in London for the occasion. Harry liked it when she wore muggle clothing. She had laid out a pair of khaki pants and a gorgeous navy blue jumper (she loved the color on him, it made his hair look even thicker and damn near blue black) on the bed for him. She had been fit to burst all day over their little date. Ginny relished every single chance she got to show off her handsome, dashing husband. So of course Harry showed up home over half an hour past the time they were supposed to meet the Lee Jordans at The Three Broomsticks. Ginny didn't even bother to hear Harry's explanation as to why he was late. She was sure the names Kingsley, Hanes, and Moody would come up. She didn't want to hear it, she just chucked the cup in his general direction.

“Hey! That was a gift from Minerva,” he shouted as he came up from his crouched position near the floor.

“No it wasn't Harry. That came from my great-aunt Matildhe,” Ginny replied just as normally as if they were having a conversation about the weather. “Minerva gifted us with the crystal wine flutes that always keep your drink chilled.”

“Whatever,” he exclaimed incredulously. “You nearly took my bleeding head off.”

“That my dear husband was the point.”

After that she and Harry began screaming and hurling insults at each other at a frightening pace. The passion that had been ever present at the beginning of their relationship seemed to ignite all around them all of a sudden and Ginny shortly found herself 'making-up' with her husband all over the kitchen table. Ginny blushed at the memory. She replaced the table the very next day and sent a very apologetic note to Angelina by lunch time.

Ginny felt a tug at her waist.

“Missus Harry Potter miss, is you needing Dobby to re-heat the breakfast?”

Ginny looked down into the overly large green eyes that were staring up at her. Ever since Harry and Ginny moved to the new house two years ago Dobby had lived with them. Ginny had wanted more house-elves, but both Harry and Molly felt that Dobby was enough.

“You don't want to get spoiled now dear, do you,” her mother clucked at her.

It took all of Ginny's strength of will not to roll her eyes into the back of her head. Ginny eventually came to agree with Molly. Dobby expertly took care of Harry's every needs and by extension her own.

“No Dobby, thanks. Harry needs to learn to appear at breakfast at a decent hour.”

The poor house-elf looked forlornly at the cooling plate of eggs and rashers. Ginny knew that if she even turned her back for a second Dobby would send a heating charm at the plate so fast it might actually scorch the table. Dobby would rather take a months vacation then give his precious Harry Potter sub-par service.

“Dobby,” Ginny asked, making the house elf turn his attention back unto her. “Is Harry finished up there yet?”

“Missus Harry Potter miss, Master Harry Potter was just finishing his wash when Dobby went to turn down the bed.”

“Just finishing,” she asked, barely hiding the shock in her voice.

“Yes miss.”

Ginny rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as if she could magically see thru it. If she could she would then be able to see what exactly was Harry's fascination with long showers these days. It was a pity that the kitchen wasn't located under the Master bedroom suite. Ginny knew exactly what charm to cast.

“Very well then Dobby. You may go.”

Dobby once again turned to look at Harry's plate.

“You may go Dobby,” Ginny snapped.

The house-elf did not miss the note of steel in her voice. In the blink of an eye he disappeared. Ginny exhaled softly as she turned her back and leaned her body into the corner of the kitchen counter next to the sink. She hadn't meant to be so cool towards poor Dobby, but lately it seemed like she couldn't help herself. Her temper seemed to flare up without the slightest provocation these days. The giddy tingling feeling she had been feeling only a few minutes ago as she remembered the night Harry had her for dinner on the breakfast table? Gone. It was replaced by the the pitiful knowledge that that wonderful moment of time happened almost 4 months ago. Four months! That was the last time Harry had shown any remote interest in her. The last time they had been intimate.

Of course she and her husband still shared long and lingering kisses. Kisses so sweet that she almost felt herself the 15 year old girl again, sitting by a lake, snogging her boyfriend into a goofy stupor. And every now and then he would still hold her hand. If he saw her brown creased in anxiety or sadness he would even give her little fingers a small squeeze and smile down at her reassuringly. It was those moments that she remembered why she had fell in love with this boy...this man when she was still a child.

But if she was being honest with herself she knew that there was something missing from Harry's affection. Even the few scant times they had made love within the last year she could tell that something was just...off. It was almost like Harry was just going through the motions. Doing the things that were expected of him as a dotting husband.

Maybe she could talk to Neville again. Get a male's perspective on the whole situation. As quickly as the idea came into her head she dismissed it. That wouldn't really be fair now would it Ginerva, she ruefully thought.

“Ahem.”

Ginny looked up to see Harry standing in the archway of the kitchen door. He was dressed in his Auror robes, his regulation black dragon hide boots peeking from underneath them. Ginny's breath caught in her chest. Sometimes it almost made her head woozy too look at her husband. That shockingly ebony hair that hung slightly past his collar, those serious clear green eyes. That perfect complexion of his no longer marred by that blasted scar of his youth. Those pouty pink lips that were almost too sexy to be believed. Harry had always been an attractive kid, just slightly on the skinny side. But with maturity Harry truly grew into his looks. At 15 he was a rather cute boy. Now, just a few weeks shy of being 25, he was a ridiculously handsome young man. Ginny trembled to think of the stunning creature he would be at 35. All that Auror training didn't hurt either. He had a slim yet muscular build that went well with his 5 foot 11 inch frame. In a word Harry was simply delicious.

And he's all mine, Ginny sighed contentedly.

“Um...Gin?”

“Don't call me Gin,” she snapped, the dreamy look that had been in her eyes mere seconds ago quickly fading.

Harry looked from his wife to the food on the table then to the fireplace. Ginny could practically read the thought process that was going thru his head. Argument, bacon, escape route. It was almost comical and Ginny would have laughed if she wasn't so sure that she was what Harry wanted to escape from. She sure as hell wasn't the bacon.

“I'm sorry Harry.”

Harry quickly turned his eyes away from the floo access and looked at his wife, surprise working it's self on his face. His eyes look as huge as Dobby's, she amusedly thought. This she did chuckle at. Harry looked at his wife as though she were growing a spare head out the side of her neck. The picture that created in her head sent Ginny into another gale of giggles.

Harry was definitely perturbed by how frighteningly fast her mood seemed to change. “Ginny...you ok?”

“Yes, yes Harry,” she said as she brushed a tear from her eye. “I was only apologizing for being so hateful to you earlier.”

Once again Harry gave her that 'Gee Honey, you have two heads', look.

Ginny just shook her head and drew her wand out. She cast a heating charm on Harry's plate and then dropped the wand back into her pocket.

“Eat your food Harry before it gets cold again,” she said.

Harry ambled over towards the table and set himself before his plate. As Harry began to eat Ginny turned back to the sink and fixed her forgotten tea cup with a "reparo". It was lovely being a witch. Of course the value of the china did go down with each consecutive repair spell that was placed on it, but that didn't matter to Ginny. It was a wedding gift. It was tangible proof that she was Mrs. Harry Potter. That made it special to her.

“I just wanted to make sure you got to work on time.”

Harry looked up from his plate, his mouth stuffed to the brim with toast.

“Whaaa?”

Ginny snickered at this. “I said that I just wanted to make sure you got to work on time. That's why I was so impatient with you this morning.”

Ginny walked back over to her chair across from Harry and sat down. “I know you said that Hanes has been on your case as of late. I just didn't want to give him more ammunition against you.”

Harry paused from trying to down his whole breakfast in one gulp. He looked her in her eyes and she noted that he was touched by the gesture.

“Thanks sweetheart,” he softly whispered before returning to the meal at hand.

Ginny felt a soft warmth spread thru out her body. He called her sweetheart! He hadn't done that in ages. At that moment she felt closest to Harry then she had in months. The only sounds that could be heard were the clink of Harry's fork hitting the china as he ate ravenously, Hedwig's merry hoots from his perch in the hall, and Dobby's humming as he started his daily cleaning duties. To Ginny's ears these were the sounds of a content life. So of course she had to go and ruin it.

“What were you dreaming about?”

Clink. Ginny looked down at the fork Harry had just dropped on his plate. She then turned her eyes to his face. Harry looked at her as if she were Dolores Umbridge raised from the dead, playing the piccolo. Starkers.

“W-w-what?”

“This morning, what were you dreaming about? I heard you moaning and groaning halfway down the hall.”

Harry picked his fork up and returned to his meal.

“Nothing. I forget,” he said. But he didn't look at her when he said it.

“Oh.”

She hated it when he lied. Her body felt like an iceberg had just crashed into it.

“Aren't you going to eat Ginny,” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Not hungry.” And as if to prove her point she pushed her plate a few inches away from her.

“You know in a matter of weeks I won't have to worry about Hanes ever again,” Harry began as he gulped down his black coffee in one swallow. “Minerva said that Professor Lermontant definitely would be heading back home to New Orleans after term ended and with...”

“Guess who stopped by the Burrow the other day?”

Harry paused in mid action as he was placing his coffee mug back on the table. He looked at Ginny's face searchingly. She returned his stare with a haughty lift of her chin.. He sighed resignedly.

“Who stopped by the Burrow?”

“Tonks and the baby!”

Harry glanced up from his plate as a genuine smile alighted his face.

“You saw little Wolfie Lupin?”

“Harry,” Ginny chided him, “his name is Wolfgang Romulus Lupin.”

“Heh. Never let it be said that Remus and Dora don't have a sense of humor.”

“You better not let Tonks hear you call her that name.”

“Remus does.”

“Yes. And Remus also rubs her feet and picks up her monthly potion from the apothecary.”

“Ginny!”

Ginny smirked at Harry's reaction. Men could be such babies most times. Sure a bloke could go off and fight evil and fulfill prophesies, but mention a woman's monthly and they fall all to pieces.

“Hey sweetheart, is there any more bacon?”

“Harry don't you think you've had enough? What about your girlish figure,” she scolded him in good humor.

“Awww Ginny, I'm a growing boy!”

She smiled at him good naturedly. “You're going to be late.”

“What will a few minutes hurt?”

Ginny shook her head and gestured towards the oven.

“Let me,” Harry stated as he withdrew his wand from it's holster on the side of his hip. He pointed it at the oven door and made it pop open.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

The plate of bacon began to float across the room and softly landed it's self in front of Harry.

“An oldie, but a goodie,” he affectionately remarked as he tore into a strip of the meat. Ginny had no idea what he found so amusing, but she smiled at him indulgently anyways.

No matter how many ways she dissected it the results always remained the same. She was still madly in love with Harry Potter. But somehow she feared that he wouldn't say the same about her. At the very start of her marriage she had been blissfully sure of his devotion. From the moment Harry proposed to the second she said "I do" there was no question in her mind that they both were happily and deliriously in love. Sure all of that had taken place in the span of one month, but as the newly wedded Potters enjoyed their cruise to Australia and then New Zealand, Harry proved his love every night in their large stateroom. Every morning too. Sometimes in the afternoon as well if they really didn't have anything else planned for the day. When did things change?

Of course when they got back to the Burrow they had had to deal with the whole 'Hermione Drama'. But after the dust had settled from that everything seemed to be alright.

Like in any marriage there had been a few minor squabbles. She wanted a huge house on a hill, Harry wanted to settle down at his parent's old cottage in Godric's Hollow. Thankfully she won that battle. When Harry wanted to leave behind his promising career as Seeker for Puddlemere United and go into Auror training she hadn't thrown that big a fit. Of course she still missed sitting in the stands with all the other player's wives and having her every move tracked by all the tabloids, she soon recognized that being the wife of a highly decorated Auror came with it's own perks and prestige.

The only big issue that stood between them now was when they would start having kids. The first few years after they got married Ginny loved the care free life she and Harry shared. If they wanted to apparate over to Nice for a few days there was never anything standing in their way. Thanks to Dobby's assistance their house was always spotless. Her figure wasn't that much different from when she was a girl. When people would joke and ask when she and Harry would start having some sprogs he would always say that the two of them loved their life as is too much to change it at the moment. Besides, they were much too young. She would always give an agreeing white toothed smile to concur his statement.

But as the years went on and Fleur and Penelope began popping out baby Weasleys left and right Ginny had to wonder, was this still true? Did she really not want change? The answer came after Fleur had little Rosemary. As she held her small niece for the first time Ginny suddenly realized the answer to her question. She did want change. She wanted a baby. She wanted Harry's baby. Ginny thought that it was really that simple. She and Harry had been married over two years at this point. Now was the time to get with the baby making. Harry however didn't seem to agree.

“C'mon Gin, don't you love the our life the way it is? Why change it? We have years to have kids.”

This time she couldn't muster up that same smile.

Of course they had accidents. The time after the kitchen table encounter had almost ended up as one. Ginny had been off her contraceptive potion for months and neither of them had their wands handy at the time. Luckily for Harry it turned up as a false alarm. Other then that one time Harry had previously never failed to cast a charm on himself. He really seemed adamant about not being a father at the moment. And of course since then Ginny hadn't really gotten herself in the position to get pregnant. So to speak. During her darker moments Ginny often wondered if Harry just didn't want to be a father to any child she would have.

“Gin, I think I should leave.”

Ginny looked up into Harry's face startled. Was he using Legilemency against her?

“What?”

“I said I think I should leave. You know, go to work.”

Ginny released a sigh of relief. There she was being silly yet again. As Harry stood up from the table she did as well. She noticed that the table was clean of the breakfast dishes. She looked at him questioningly.

“While you were off in lala land I sent them to the sink,” he smirked. “Don't worry about them, Dobby will attend to it. Why don't you go and have a day at the salon or something?”

He walked around the table and gave her a goodbye kiss on the cheek. As he made to walk away towards the grate Ginny caught his hand and pulled him back to her.

“I have an even better idea,” she grinned naughtily. “Why don't I go out and buy us a new kitchen table.”

Ginny snaked both her arms around Harry's neck and pulled him down more to her level so she could whisper in his ear. “That is after we ruin this one first.”

Harry pulled back from her and before he could drop his usual perfect husband mask over his face Ginny caught a quick glimpse of what was in his green eyes. They were full of disinterest.

“You know I'd love to Gin, but I'm late.”

“What will a few minutes hurt,” she asked working hard not to make the question sound like a plea.

If he heard the near begging tone in her voice he ignored it. He simply kissed her demurely on the mouth and unhooked her arms from around her neck. He looked her straight in the eyes.

“Seriously Gin, Hanes will kill me.”

With that he walked towards the fire place while removing a little brown pouch from inside his Auror robes. He reached inside it and gathered up a handful of floo powder. He then shouted his destination and disappeared in a hale of green smoke. His wife watched all this as if detached from her surroundings.

She slowly sank back into her seat, her hands clutched together in a death like grip in her lap. After a few moments she seemed to come back to herself. She realized she was still in her kitchen and that the annoying droning tone she was hearing was just Dobby, perched on a step ladder, humming a little tune as he cleaned up the dishes in the sink.

“Harry is right. I should go to the salon. I wonder if Lav has any plans for the day?”

Although Ginny was speaking to no one in particular Dobby turned from the sink, his cute little KISS the ELF apron streaked with dish water, and smiled at her.

“Why yes Missus Harry Potter miss! A day at the salon sounds like a smashing good idea.”

“Yes it does Dobby,” she concurred as a single tear made it's way down her cheek. “Yes it does.”

Ginny Potter liked to fool herself.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.

Title: All Roads Lead Back

Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. H/Hr, with a whole lot of other ships thrown in. Post-HBP

Summary: Harry Potter always figured that once he had fulfilled his destiny he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell. Set 7 years after the final battle.

Spoilers: All six books.

A/N: I am a Harmony shipper thru and thru. HBP almost sent me into a fit until I realized that I was throwing a tizzy over a book and told myself to get over it. Hee. I then decided to throw my hat in the fanfiction ring and see if I could come up with a realistic (at least to me) story of my favorite couple getting together that adheres to canon. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I have the whole story already plotted out, but would appreciate it if you would tell me if writing the rest is worth it or not.

Disclaimer: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

“You're late Potter!”

Shit. Harry had tried to discreetly enter into his cubicle at the Ministry without his department head noticing, but it looked like his major stealth skills that worked so well for him out in the field were a wash under the bright lights of level 2. Harry aligned his face into a semblance of innocence and turned to face the voice of his hacked off boss.

“Commander Hanes. Good morning sir.”

Chief Auror Armistead Tiberius Hanes III was an imposing figure. He had been hand picked by Rufus Scrimgeour to replace the late Gawain Robards as the Head of the Auror department. Robards had fallen prey to an Imperius curse near the end of the war and had tried to assassinate the Minister in his office. Luckily for Scrimgeour's sake (and Armistead's ambitions) Robard's assistant was there at the time to foil the plot. In later years when asked if it was necessary for him to use an Unforgiveable on his former mentor Hanes would always reply that he just did what had to be done.

At 41 Hanes became the youngest Chief Auror in Great Britain's history. As such he tended to over compensate when it came to showing his authority. He ran his Auror department as if it were a well oiled machine. His Aurors were immaculate in dress, procedure, and attitude. Not a lapel was out of place, not a case file was filed improperly, not an inner office fracas went down in his department without his knowledge. He knew by heart every bullet point in taking down a dark wizard. He expected no less from the young men and women under him.

He himself had become an Auror back in the dark days right when Voldemort was at his highest power. He had witnessed firsthand several of his colleagues cut down in the prime of their life. The fact that he was still fully capable of catching the bad guys (as well as fully limbed) spoke volumes about his skill.

As a young man in his late 20's his hair had already begun to turn silver. This led to him being dubbed the Silver Shadow by the Prophet after he helped track down and capture the Lestranges. Hanes didn't mind the nickname. He felt the respect that came with the notoriety was fully due him. Hanes was often heard saying, "I don't care if you don't like me, just respect me". Respect was very important to him. That's why Hanes was hacked off at the young man before him. Harry Potter neither liked, nor respected him it would seem.

“That's it? That's all your going to say to me? Good-bloody-morning?”

Harry chose a spot beyond the older man's shoulder to stare at as he coolly replied, “Yes sir.”

“You do realize Potter that the morning is almost passed?”

“Yes sir.” Harry concentrated very hard not to cross his eyes.

“Do you have a good excuse for your being tardy then?”

“Yes sir.”

Commander Hanes stared at Harry for a good 2 minutes waiting patiently for an answer. That is if you count having every blood vessel in his forehead throb painfully in rhythm patient.

“Well Potter,” he barked irritably when he couldn't take anymore.

“Bacon sir,” Harry clarified with a perfectly straight face. “I had to finish my bacon.”

Hanes stared at the seemingly arrogant young man before him. It was easy to see by the look on his face that he couldn't stand the whelp. The feeling seemed to be mutual. For the first time in his life Hanes felt the need to beat the hell out of a subordinate. This was both a terrifying and thrilling feeling.

Due to his long years at the Ministry Hanes always seemed to be in command of somebody. He flew up the ranks at a scary speed. He had never felt beneath anyone, even though he himself had superiors. With that kind of self awareness Hanes always carried around a sort of detached authority about his person. Since respect of your superiors was part and parcel of your job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement he naturally expected that kind of treatment from everyone. But not with Potter it would seem.

There was something about him that Potter didn't like, didn't respect and as such the young man only acted as if he had his regard. This knowledge bothered the hell out of Hanes. Add that to the fact that Hanes didn't even want Potter in his department. He liked to get his recruits fresh from school. He wanted to mold young minds and break them to his will and ways before they picked up any bad habits. Potter however didn't apply to the department until he was 21. Of course he had had that minor little pit stop of defeating the Dark Lord of all dark lords when he was barely still a kid of 17 years to take in consideration. However the next few years he spent playing Quidditch. Quidditch!

Now Hanes was a Quidditch enthusiast just as much as the next wizard, he was a Falmouth fan himself, however the idea of taking on some lazy playboy who had decided that it would be smashing good fun to be an Auror held no charm for him. Even if the lazy playboy had an Order of Merlin, First class. Hanes sniffed disdainfully at the thought. He himself only had a second class designation.

When Potter first applied to the department Hanes had almost ignored his application until Scrimgeour impressed upon him what a major addition Harry Potter would make at the Ministry. Rufus even convinced him to speed along (wink wink, nudge, nudge) Potter's process in. The usual 3 years of training? Potter did an accelerated program of 1 and a half. All the children who were supposed to have graduated from Hogwarts the year it was unfortunately closed due to the war were granted a special dispensation in regards to their N.E.W.T.s. Their course work for the six years prior to the closing as well as their O.W.L. scores were tabulated together somehow and that formed their N.E.W.T. score. Potter barely got in due to his potions work. Hane's heard tell that there was some young girl in that class who managed to attain the highest N.E.W.T.s in Hogwarts history. Now that girl Hanes would have liked to have had in his command.

That was however neither here nor there. He was 'gifted' with Potter. Potter who despite joining the department under questionable circumstances, was a damned good Auror. That was what Hanes hated most about the kid, the way he seemed to naturally take to his assignments as if defeating the dark forces were all in a normal days work for him. Of course for an Auror that was a normal day, but in his opinion Potter was just too good at what he did. His first week in the field after completing his training Potter single handedly apprehended Bellatrix Lestrange in one of the half dozen polyjuice brothels down Knockturn Alley, The Shrouded Asp. Rufus made Hanes promote Potter to Second Squad Leader the very next month.

Yes, Hanes definitely wanted to make Harry Potter's nose bleed. Although the two of them were roughly the same height, Hanes easily had 50 pounds on him. He could take him! Chosen One be damned....

“Sir?”

Hanes felt as though he was exiting some kind of fog. He shook his head as if to clear it and glanced down at the pretty young woman trying to figure out just when she appeared by his side.

“Yes Miss Vane?”

“That transfer list you wanted for Darthmont has just arrived. I placed it on your desk.”

Hanes glanced at Potter. Harry's eyes were trained on Hane's clenched fist. His eyes slowly traveled to those of his superior officer's and saw with out a doubt the distaste and open hostility in them before Hane's adopted his neutral Auror facade.

“Yes...well...I'll just go take a look at that them. Thank you Rommy,” Hanes said as the young woman placed a steaming mug in his previously balled up hand. He smiled at her, scowled at Harry, and proceeded to make his way to his office.

Hane's final thought before entering his private room was that at least Potter hated his partner. The little star of the department suffered some misery that Hanes was personally responsible for. Hanes smiled. Sometimes you just have to make lemonade.

Harry exhaled the breath he had been holding.

“It looked like you could use a hand there Harry,” the former Gryffindor teased.

“And how! Thanks for saving my arse there Romilda.”

Romilda beamed a saucy little smile at the young man. “Ah, ah, ah. What did we agree on?”

Harry looked at Romilda for a second, face twisted in confusion.

“Err...”

“You and I are old school chums Harry. All my friends call me Rommy,” she flirted as she brushed off an imaginary speck of dust from Harry's robes.

“Oh right. Sorry,” he said as he let loose the patented Potter grin.

Romilda had to use all of her control not to loose her balance. Her knees went weak.

“Hey,” Harry exclaimed, “Hanes called you Rommy too.”

“That he did.” Romilda placed her hand on her hip and struck a cheeky pose. “What do you think? Romilda Vane-Hanes? Has a nice ring doesn't it?”

“Sorry sweets, I don't think he goes for your type. Your not nearly masculine enough,” he joked.

She reached over and swatted him playfully on his arm. “Silly boy!”

The two of them shared a chuckle. Hanes who had been previously occupied in his office stuck his head out at the sound of the laughter. He frowned at the sight of Potter and his secretary lazing about.

“Miss Vane, a word please?”

Romilda swallowed her giggles and turned a serious face towards her boss. “In a crack sir.” Hanes retreated back into his sanctuary. Harry was fairly dying to laugh out loud.

“I'm pretty sure that I'm the right type for Army,” she said showing just how close she must be to the man to use his childhood nickname without the slightest sense of trepidation. The last bloke who did that ended up being demoted down to Hit Wizard. Absalom Hanes never did forgive his brother for that.

“Besides I've been told I have a rather handsome face.”

Harry was roused from his thoughts as he turned to look at the dark haired beauty fully. She flashed her charming smile at him. Harry patted her on her arm and turned to sit in his cushy office chair.

“You know...” Romilda began as she turned to walk off to Hane's office, “I am always open to other offers.”

Harry paused in mid action. His eyes went wide and he looked at her as if she were on coming traffic and he was trapped in the midst of it. He tittered nervously as she turned back and flirtatiously winked her eye at him. Harry watched her make her way across the room before he felt he could breathe normally again.

Better Hanes is the Arse then me, he thought to himself. Harry made to look at the files on his desk, but before he could open the first one he felt the presence of someone near by.

“Tsk, tsk Potter,” a silky voice drawled. “And here I thought you were a model for committed whipping boys everywhere.”

Harry rolled his eyes havenward and silently asked whatever deity present to make this day end soon.

“Go away Malfoy.”

“Of course I can't say that I blame you. Rommy is a tasty lil' bit of crumpet.”

“Go away Malfoy.”

“She is fucking Hanes in the Arse though. Well not 'in' the arse...”

“Go away Malfoy.”

“Although she does have a rather extensive assortment of toys so I wouldn't be surprised....”

“Haven't you ever heard of boundaries Malfoy,” Harry asked as he turned to face the young man who was leaning at the opening of his cubicle.

Malfoy just continued to grin that creepy smile that usually made Harry's fist itch to connect with his face. Ages ago, in a fit of boredom, he and Ron had once cataloged every Malfoy smirk and it's underlying meaning. The smile that Harry was currently receiving had been dubbed the “I'm smarter then you, plebe”. Malfoy winked his eye at Harry and when he got a disgusted eye roll in return he chortled evilly.

“Oh come now Potter. We're all friends here. There are no secrets amongst us now is there?”

“I hardly think your girlfriend would appreciate it if you started sharing her intimate doings with your work mates,” Harry snotted. Draco merely bent over and laughed.

“Really Potter! It's all I can do to keep the woman from telling my mother what goes on in our bed, during high tea.”

Against Harry's will his face cracked a small smile.

“I see you have the Ptolemy Cadmus file there?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he half heartedly thumbed thru the thick folder. “Has the team been able to put a trace on him yet?”

Draco entered the cubicle and sat partially on the corner of Harry's desk. “No. The ruddy berk seems to not want to check in at home.”

Harry sighed. They had been trying to locate this new upstart dark wizard for months. He went simply by the name of Cadmus. He was a pyromaniac who used a Peruvian Vipertooth as both his means of weapon and his way to escape the crime scene.

He was, what they dubbed in the department, a blood supremacist. He came from a very old, very prestigious line of wizards and witches. Cadmus differed from most purebloods who placed such emphasis on bloodlines in that he felt that all magical people (whether pure, half, or muggleborn) had no business marrying people with no wizarding pedigree whatsoever.

According to his file his daughter from his first marriage, Harmonia, had married a muggle when she was only 17. He was a theology student studying near where she lived in West Yorkshire. Cadmus had been against the union, but he could never deny his precious child anything. If she wanted to marry some Nancy boy so be it. The poor young woman however died a few months after the wedding. Her husband burned her alive in their bed. As he was carted off to an insane asylum he calmly maintained that he had to kill his wife. She was a witch and the baby that she was carrying would be evil too. He was found in his cell burnt to a fiery crisp nearly seven years ago.

Although Harry and his team couldn't be positive they suspected that the muggle had been Cadmus' very first victim. The very first couple that he was suspected of killing were murdered just under 5 months ago.

The young muggleborn groom was a fellow who had attended Hogwarts around the same time as Harry although he was a Hufflepuff a few years younger then him. Kevin Whitby was a pastry chef who had opened a little bakery in Hogsmeade. Although it was located in a less desirable area of town next to the Hog's Head, it had become fairly popular in the months before his death. He had recently married his childhood sweetheart, the girl who had lived next door to him in his muggle neighborhood since they had both been kids. Whitney Whitby took the good natured ribbing of her new name in stride. She also seemed to take the fact that her brand new husband was a wizard equally as well. Unbeknownst to most Kevin had long confided in the girl the reasons for his long absences during their childhood. Most mornings Whitney could be found at the counter of The Enchanted Truffle pouring coffee and cutting slices of pound cake for the early rush customers, while Kevin was in back whipping up fantastic creations. Sometimes he would do it by hand, sometimes by wand.

The Whitbys had 2 very happy months together. Before they made it to their three month anniversary they both burned to death in the store right before the eyes of their usual morning crowd. All the witness could agree on was that they had briefly seen the shadow of a small dragon fly by. As far as the Aurors had been able to piece together Cadmus' death toll was up to 8 couples.

“Have we questioned the wife again,” Harry questioned his colleague.

Malfoy shook his head. “She isn't talking. All she says is that Toley hasn't been home in a few months.”

Harry pinched the area right under the bridge of his glasses. He closed his eyes and slightly leaned back in his chair.

“Then again,” Malfoy continued, “if my wife were fucking half of wizarding London I don't think I would be too quick to come home either. The wench must have a vagina like a welly-top!”

Harry stifled a snort as Malfoy continued to babble on. Sometimes Harry marveled at how surreal his life had turned out to be. Here he was, at his job at the Ministry of Magic, discussing the sexual exploits of the wife of a suspected serial killer with his childhood enemy.

Had Trellawney foretold this scene years ago in one of those hateful Divination classes he reluctantly attended back at Hogwarts no doubt he and Ron would have shared a hardy laugh and eye roll at it. Then again Sibyll tended to stick strictly to death and destruction when it came to Harry Potter. No matter, it seemed almost impossible to believe. Especially considering the events that transpired at the end of Harry's 6th year. Although Draco hadn't been the person wielding the actual wand, Harry strongly considered him partly responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Back when he was 17 in Harry's put away heart he kept a list. The list was fairly short. It only contained 4 or 5 names. The list were the people who Harry, before he took his last breath in this world, wanted to make pay. Voldemort and Harry's old potion master Severus Snape held the top two spots. Bellatrix and Greyback were next on the list. Malfoy was sitting pretty at #5.

In the end Harry settled most of his old scores. Although he didn't get to personally finish off Fenrir he did watch as Remus, in his werewolf form, tore out the monster's throat.

Lestrange who had originally escaped from the final confrontation was found some years later working as a prostitute in Knockturn Alley. The former proud concubine of Lord Voldemort was reduced to shagging the dregs of society for the spare sickles in their pockets. When a thrifty consumer asked to see the cheapest whore in the house they were shown to Bella's door. She had become an halcyonian addict, a potion that left the drinker in a state of prolonged calm. She was so completely under the thrall of the draught that when Harry walked in to the little room she occupied she hadn't even batted an eye.

Later he found out she had assumed he was just another customer. Harry was horrified to discover that his visage was one of the most sought after and in demand faces of the illegal polyjuice sex trade. People either wanted to fuck Harry Potter or fuck while being Harry Potter. This was about the time Harry started to grow his hair out. It now sat on his head as a overly messy mop of hair. Long in front, even longer in back. Only Dobby was allowed to cut it. This alleviated him of the worry that his precious strands would find their way into the hands of people who would make a dollar from them. It also helped to cover his now bare forehead. It seemed that people eyes would always drift up there, scar or no scar. Harry thought he had found the perfect solution to make himself seem as ordinary as the next bloke. None of his friends and family had the heart to tell him that he had helped create a mini rage in wizard's hair fashion.

After witnessing Bellatrix receive the Kiss from one of the few Dementors who had remained loyal to the Ministry Harry had been able to cross out all the names on his list save one. He had killed Tom after the final horcrux was destroyed. He had managed to separate Riddle's head from it's neck with the use of Godric's sword. The same sword that Harry used to kill the basilisk in his second year. With the last vestiges of Tom's cursed soul decimated he was really an easy target.

And Snape...well...Harry preferred not to think of Snape. All that mattered was that Dumbledore's killer received some sort of justice.

Malfoy was another story. What had been simply a strong dislike for the blond boy when they were children had morphed in to a burning hatred once Harry reached 17. Although Harry recognized the fact that Malfoy hadn't actually cast the Avada on Dumbledore, in fact the boy seemed terrified to do it, Draco had been responsible for the destruction of one of Hogwarts towers, the year long closing of the school it's self, and most importantly hurting many people's lives.

Bill Weasley was one of those most affected. Although he never showed signs of succumbing completely to the werewolf curse, after being attacked by Greyback he never was quite the same. Some of his wounds never fully healed marring his once dashingly handsome face. He also tended to stare longingly at the full moon for long periods of a time. Harry always suspected that the mauling may have left some psychological scars on Bill however his brother-in-law never really showed any signs of it.

If Harry added in all the hurt, humiliation, and pain Malfoy had caused other people he cared about he figured that Malfoy, as the common muggle saying went, had it coming. However since he was low on the list Harry didn't spend too much time on thinking of ways to exact revenge on his school rival.

Imagine then his surprise when Draco Malfoy showed up on the doorstep of Hermione's parent's home in Notting Hill one balmy night in August.

After Dumbledore's death The Order needed new headquarters. He had been their secret keeper and no one seemed to know how much a Fidelius charm would be compromised in case of death. Besides with Snape back in Death Eater central it would be stupid to remain like sitting ducks at Grimauld waiting for Riddle to make his move. The Burrow was not an option even though the Weasleys swore that they didn't mind.

As usual Hermione offered a solution. Her parents had left for the summer to visit her father's mother in Killarney. Hermione had opted to stay with Harry and Ron. First at Little Whinging, then at Godric's Hollow. To put it simply her parents here not happy with her. If they had known that the fate of the wizarding world be planned at their kitchen breakfast nook they would have hog tied her and spirited her away to Ireland with them.

“I don't bloody well care Harry,” Hermione shouted at him one night after he asked her one too many times if this all was such a bright idea. Dedalus Diggle had just exploded her microwave and Hestia Jones was in the living room talking back to the people on the telly.

“There are bigger things right now,” she pressed as she tied her bushy brown hair into a messy ponytail that sat high upon her head. She then walked away from him and went up the stairs, he surmised, to her bedroom. He had seen Ron go up a few minutes before, but at the time thought nothing of it.

Tensions were already high in the muggle house that night. So of course that was the very same evening that Malfoy showed up.

The tiny group that was assembled together that night were waiting for some of their fellow comrades to get back from a fact finding mission. Remus, Shacklebot, and Charlie Weasley had gone to the Hog's Head to see Dumbledore's brother Aberforth. He had gotten a note thru Mundungus that he had some vital information that would come in handy to the Order. Harry was hoping it was information on where one of the missing horcruxes was. So far the Order knew what three of them were. Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's Cup, and thanks to Hermione's brilliant research, Ravenclaw's pensieve. They just didn't know where any of the bloody items were or even how to destroy them once they found them. Harry was beginning to think that it was going to take a miracle to solve this.

When Harry heard the doorbell ring he naturally assumed it was the Order members returning. Hermione had put up repelling charms all around the house to ensure that no muggles came near. As far as all of Hermione's neighbors were concerned the Grangers and their lovely daughter had all gone to Ireland on holiday. She cast the Fidelius charm to ensure that no wizard or witch would be able to find them. She made herself the secret keeper. That's why Harry was so shocked to find the emaciated looking Slytherin standing on the door step. His hair hung limply on his head, thick with grime. His eyes had no luster and were a dullish gray color.

“Son of a bitch!”

The surprise didn't last long. Harry hurled himself at Malfoy and the two went crashing down on the cobbled mews in front of the house. So much adrenaline was running thru Harry's blood that he didn't even think to use his wand. That is until Malfoy punched him in the nose.

“Fuck,” he screamed as he stumbled from off of the other boy. His shout brought most of the inhabitants from inside the house out although Harry was too busy to care. As Harry head lost the dizzy feeling it had been experiencing he reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his wand. By time he got it to Malfoy's neck he felt an object poking into his Adams apple. Malfoy's wand.

“What are you going to do Potter,” Malfoy snarled. The little scuffle had left him winded and he looked like any moment he would pass out.

“Just you wait and see,” Harry replied in a low steady voice. That's when the street lights went out.

“Expelliarmus!”

When Harry came to he realized that he was back inside the house laying on Hermione's parent's huge bed. The large orange blur that was sitting on his chest as he awakened came into focus and he realized that it was Hermione's cat. Crookshanks licked at his paw oblivious to Harry's return to the living.

Crookshanks wasn't the only party in the bed with him he soon realized. Malfoy was lying next to him, still knocked out. The last thing Harry remembered was hearing Hermione's voice shout out a disarming spell.

At the thought of her name the young witch in question came into view. She was standing at the foot of the bed with her back turned towards him, there was very little light in the room, but he could tell that she was wearing her red Gryffindor dressing gown. Although he couldn't see her face from his advantage point he could see her reflection in the mirror across from her. Her head was bent down examining the engravings of a golden cup she held in her hands. Harry's heart froze. He had seen this cup before.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, his voice strangled with fear.

She whirled around as if surprised to find him in the same room with her. Her big unblinking eyes found his and her lips parted as if to speak. Before she could though her attention was drawn to Malfoy's form. He was beginning to stir.

“Hermione, put the cup down,” Harry pleaded. Hermione brought her eyes back to his.

“But Harry...”

“Please Hermione. You don't understand. I've seen that cup before.” And he had. In Dumbledore's pensieve.

“Harry just listen...”

“He thinks your hand will disintegrate into dust.”

Both Harry and Hermione turned their heads to look at Malfoy. For the first time Harry realized that his head was about all he could move.

“That's Helga Hufflepuff's cup you hold there my dear Granger.” Malfoy pronounced her name as if he was speaking a curse.

“I know,” Hermione softly responded.

She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed in front of Harry and half turned her body to face the two boys. She held the cup in her lap. She shooed the half kneazle off of Harry's chest and watched him pad across the room, swishing his bottle-brush tail to and fro before turning her attention back to the pair on the bed.

“Professor Lupin and the rest got back shortly after he,” she looked pointedly at Malfoy, “arrived.”

“Should we be speaking of this in front of him,” Harry asked, his brow creased in worry.

“If we need to we can obliviate him.” She turned steely eyes towards their current captive. “I won't hesitate.”

“You would be a fool if you did Granger.”

The way the two of them stared angrily at each other Harry almost felt as if he were intruding. If he could he would have left the room. Except that he seemed to be frozen in place.

“Ummm...Hermione...”

“I cast a body-bind on you two.”

“Why me?”

“Because I figured we had better find out why Malfoy came here before you tried to kill him,” she sniffed. He really hated it when she talked to him like he was 5 years old.

Harry turned his body towards the Slytherin as best as he could.

“How the hell did you find the place ferret?”

“I followed Mublood's stench here,” he nastily quipped.

Harry made a guttural sound in the back of his throat and thrashed around on the bed as if he could throw off Hermione's spell that way. He was going to annihilate Malfoy!

“Harry be still,” Hermione chided.

She put down the golden cup and pointed her wand at her empty hand. Before Harry could blink a glass vial filled with what looked like water appeared in it.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Harry could barely hide the awe in his voice. The making of Veritaserum was not an easy thing. Besides being very difficult to brew there were also strict Ministry regulations on it. Hermione was violating some serious rules. He figured she really must have been serious when she said that there were bigger things.

“Do you know what this is Malfoy,” Hermione asked. Her voice took on a chilling tone. Harry had heard her speak this way once before. Cold. Threatening. Inhuman almost. It made Harry's blood run cold to hear it again. She then proceeded to crawl on the bed and before Harry realized it she had straddled Malfoy's lap.

“C'mon Drakey-poo. Surely you know what this is?”

Malfoy looked at her as if he were staring into the face of a banshee. He gulped. “Veritaserum.”

“Good boy.” She smiled at him. There was nothing of the Hermione Granger that Harry knew in that smile. She looked at the vial in her hand.

“You know Drakey, if I were to pour all of this down your gullet...”

Malfoy gulped again.

“It would make you spill all of your deep, dark secrets." She looked him in his eyes again. "Got anything to hide Drakey?”

Neither Harry or Hermione missed Malfoy's quick intake of breath.

“Like if you've ever had a homoerotic dream.” Malfoy's eyes got huge. “And of who. How old you were when you last wet the bed.”

She giggled wickedly as if a brand new terrible idea had entered her mind.

“I might even bring Ron in here and make him watch as I ask you when the last time you fantasized about me.”

At this Malfoy began pitching around the bed madly trying to shake Hermione off of him. Ron might not be that scary with a wand, but he more then made up for that with his fists. Hermione wasn't budging though.

“Yes. That's what I think I'll do. And then I'll leave him alone in the room with you and lock the door so you both can discuss the matter.”

“I've never...how dare you...you filthy bitch....”

Hermione then leaned down and whispered something in Malfoy's ear. Harry tried his best, but he couldn't hear what it was she said. Whatever it was made Malfoy stop cold. The two of them locked gazes.

“Of course you could just answer whatever question Harry and I ask you honestly and we won't even have to resort to this,” she said sweetly as a viper.

Malfoy looked at the vial in her hand. He turned and looked back at her. He sighed as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He closed them and a look of defeat was clearly evident.

“Fine,” he whimpered in a petulant little voice that reminded Harry of the eleven year old boy getting his robes fitted.

Hermione pointed her wand at Harry and muttered something under her breath. Harry instantly felt free of the binding curse. Hermione however didn't move from her position over Malfoy. She really needs to get the hell off of him, Harry thought to himself.

Harry got up off the bed and walked to the end where Hufflepuff's cup was. He picked it up and looked at the badger engraved on the front. Without question this was the right cup. Harry shivered as he realized that he was now holding a piece of Tom Riddle's sick soul in his hands.

“How did you find my house?”

Harry turned back to the bed.

“You told me where it was,” Malfoy answered.

“Give him the potion Hermione,” Harry shouted, his voice full of irritation.

“Granger did tell me. Back when we were in 3rd year. I made a crack about her being nothing but a poor dirty mudblood and Granger here was quick to inform me how wrong I was.”

Malfoy then proceeded to do a surprisingly good impersonation of the Gryffindor girl.

“My mum and dad are Denty-tist. I live in Notting Hill. I can walk to Portabello. My house in on St. Luke's. Blah blah blah blah blah.”

Hermione's face was molten red with embarrassment and rage.

“I have a near perfect memory Granger. I figured I might need that information later so I looked the rest up. It appears that I was right.”

Harry had had enough. “Malfoy I'm going to pour that truth serum down your throat my....”

“He's telling the truth Harry.”

Harry looked at Hermione incredulously.

“I remember that day. He's telling the truth. If someone already knows where a house under the Fidelius is they can still find it. They just can't tell anyone else where it is.”

“Very smart Granger. Now could you please get off of me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she removed herself from off of Malfoy and from off the bed. She then walked over to stand next to Harry.

“Gladly!”

“Finally!”

“Honestly!”

“Enough!” Harry was ready for some real answers. “Why did you bring this here,” he asked, raising up the cup.

“I wanted to have tea and biscuits with you.”

“Malfoy!” Harry and Hermione both bellowed.

“Look Potter, my father was murdered during that raid at Azkaban prison.”

At this news both Gryffindors looked at him shocked. The Great Breakout, as all the newspapers were calling it, had only happened a few days prior.

“His body just turned up last night in front of the Ministry. The Prophet tomorrow morning is going to claim suicide, but the truth is is that my father had outlived his usefulness to the Dark Lord.” At this his voice choked up. His body was nearly coming from off the bed.

“My mother has gone into hiding in Switzerland. Thankfully we have family there who have remained neutral thru all of this so she should be for safe for now. I'm not sure if I'll ever see her again though.”

“Malfoy I'm so sor...”

“Don't you dare pity me Granger,” he spat.

Hermione was so taken aback by his outburst that she grabbed Harry's hand for comfort. She looked down at their clasped hands and instantly let go, blushing.

“You lot are supposed to be the good guys right? Well? I'm here! I'm throwing myself at your mercy because I can't ever go home again. I've brought you the bloody cup. We both know what it is, but I'm the only one in this room who knows how to destroy it. Now are we all going to piss around each other all goddamned day or what?”

The room was momentarily silent after his outburst. Malfoy crumpled back into the sheets panting, his right arm thrown across his forehead. He looked like he had run a marathon. He was so exhausted that he hadn't noticed Hermione lifting the body-bind from him. Harry did however. Before he could ask her why she grabbed his arm and steered him out of the room. He was still holding the cup. As she was closing the door her cat squeezed his way pass the door before Hermione could trap his tail in the jamb. He turned up his squashed face and tossed them both a cross look before heading down the stairs.

“Sorry Crooks,” Hermione called after the disgruntled ginger fur ball before turning back to the bedroom door and muttering a locking spell on it. She then turned her attention to Harry.

“I still have his wand if that's what your worried about.” It was almost unnerving how she could do that. “He's completely exhausted however. I doubt that he is going to get up to anything tonight.”

Harry agreed with this assessment. Malfoy looked as weak as a new born kitten. Harry almost giggled at the comparison. One look at Hermione's stern face made that amusement die quickly.

“He's telling the truth you know.”

“I wish we could be sure,” Harry replied. “Maybe we should make him drink the truth serum any way.”

Hermione gravely shook her head. “See the problem with that is the fact that we have no Veritaserum. Bottoms up.”

Hermione lifted the vial to her lips and downed the contents in one swift gulp.

“Ahhhhh...refreshing.”

Harry looked at her as if she had grown whiskers...again. “Hermione!”

“Plain ordinary tap water,” she explained as she dropped the vial and her wand into the pocket of her robe. “I haven't been able to get the necessary ingredients to actually make a proper truth telling potion.”

Harry looked at her in awe. She had just played the Prat of Slytherin house and gotten away with it.

“I still believe he is telling the truth. I've been doing research and have seen pictures of Helga Hufflepuff's cup. That's it Harry.” She pointed at the cup as if to emphasize her point.

“I know. But it makes no sense. Why would he bring us the cup?”

“If he is a spy why would Voldemort allow a very powerful weapon that we could possibly use against him to walk right into our hands,” she asked, arms flailing about.

“I don't know ok! But I do know Dumbledore is dead because of him.”

“Stop it Harry!” She had grabbed him by both shoulders and gave him a shake. “Stop it now! You told us that Snape was the person who put the Avada Kedavra on the headmaster.”

“Well he was but...”

“And that Malfoy tried to but he couldn't go thru with it.”

“He did but...”

“Well then! If the reason why he couldn't kill Dumbledore is the same reason he has brought this cup to us you very well can't take out some childish grudge on him can you?”

“But...”

“Well,” she asked thru gritted teeth, her arms folded in front of her. The two of them were damn near nose to nose.

“I was right about him before. I told you that he was up to something and you didn't believe me.”

Hermione's tense expression softened into one of hurt and remorse. “You're right Harry. I should have trusted you.”

She grabbed a hold of one of his hands and held tight to it as her eyes moistened. “I am so sorry for not believing in you. As long as I live I will never do that again. But can you please just trust me on this,” she begged.

“Alright! Alright! You win! But so help me Hermione if he compromises headquarters...”

“I'll be personally responsible for him,” she primly replied.

Harry just rolled his eyes as she dropped his hand. Hermione could be so stubborn at times.

“Look, like I said Malfoy isn't going anywhere tonight. I'm going to head off to bed myself. I'm knackered.” And as if to emphasize the point she stretched arms and yawned.

“We can gather what Order members we have here in the morning and do an in depth question and answer session then.”

The three teens were all of age and had officially become members of the Order not too long ago much to Mrs. Weasley's dismay.

“Sounds good to me,” Harry said mid yawn. Hermione crinkled her nose and gave him a small smile.

“You should go to bed as well.”

“Yeah, well maybe I wouldn't be so tired if someone wasn't using me as a human spell cushion.”

That made her giggle.

“First you knock me around, then you bind me up. How did you make all the street lights go out by the way?”

“Oh that? Moody gave me his put-outer.”

“Wicked. He seems to have taken a little shine to you,” he teased.

“Honestly.” She rolled her eyes yet she couldn't hide the smile that was trying to break across her face.

Harry looked back towards the bedroom door. “I still want to kick his arse.”

“I tell you what, if we're all still alive by then, I'll let you two use him as a pinata for Ron's birthday.”

Harry could barely contain his guffaw.

“Promises. Hey, where is Ron by the way?”

For the first time Harry realized that he hadn't seen his other best friend since Malfoy's arrival. Hermione blushed and fiddled with the tie of her dressing gown.

“Oh, he fell asleep,”she said, barely looking Harry in the eyes, “in my bed.”

Harry's eyebrows shot up.

“Oh I like that. Like I'm some tart! We were just talking and he fell asleep,” dismissed Hermione. He snickered. “Well what do you expect, the boy would sleep thru a goblin rebellion even if it played it's self out on his duvet.”

“Well he slept thru enough lectures about them in Binn's class to last a life time.”

“Laugh if you will, but as I recall Mr. Potter you used to be there drooling along onto your parchment right beside him.”

Harry mock scowled at her. Hermione innocently simpered at him. She then turned to walk down the hall to her room.

“Night,” she called over her shoulder.

As Harry watched her sashay away, hips swinging back and forth enticingly, not for the first time did he think to himself what a lucky bastard Ron was.

Five weeks after that night Draco Malfoy joined the Order of the Phoenix. Regrettably Harry and Ron never got a chance to go at him with large sticks. Hermione welched on her deal. Although Malfoy and Harry never really became friends, they both respected each other. Malfoy's contribution to the fall of Tom Riddle was nothing small. After the end of the Second Great War Malfoy remained a presence in their lives. Harry shivered at how much a presence he remained.

When Harry joined the Auror ranks Malfoy had already been in the department for a few years. Harry's superior Hanes had thought it a perfectly brilliant idea to actually make Malfoy his partner. And so their current relationship came to pass. In the field Harry couldn't ask for a better back up. He trusted his old school mate.

He just didn't like the bastard.

“Potter! Did you hear a word I just said?”

Harry's attention was focused back onto the blond. “Err...”

“As I thought. Here,” Malfoy drawled slipping a picture into Harry's hands. “The wife gave it to us. A picture of the darling daughter who started this whole mess.”

Harry looked down at the moving picture. It was so old that the sepia toned image moved slower then usual. The 17 year old girl in the picture waved at him. Harry's heart stopped.

“My God!”

“You see it too eh,” Malfoy asked. “I nearly thought someone was playing a late April Fools on me when she handed it over.”

Harry's hands, still holding the picture, began to shake. Although the hairstyle was different the woman in the picture resembled Hermione Granger, Harry's best friend, at that age. The same Cupid's bow mouth. The same large brown eyes. The same long dark hair. Harmonia's was just bone straight as opposed to the bushy mass that belonged to the other girl. They even appeared to have the same bone structure and be about the same height, 5'6". Hermione however had been slightly heavier then this girl. Though never fat, Hermione did tend to be rounder then her other female peers in her year.

“But how,” Harry asked, hoping his partner could make more sense out of it.

“No clue. But it is quite creepy in'it? Similar names too.”

“Could they be distantly related somehow?”

Malfoy shook his head no. “Already checked in to that. As far as we could find the answer is a resounding no.”

“Bugger!”

“You're telling me,” Malfoy said as he lifted himself from off of Harry's desk. “Although for once I'm glad that Hermione is off gallivanting in the Sates I tell you.”

Harry simply nodded his head.

“Well I better go before Hanes starts making his random desk checks. Ugh!” And with that Malfoy exited the cubicle.

Five minutes later Harry was still looking at the old wizarding photo. What the hell is going on, he wondered to himself! Eventually he placed the picture in with the rest of the Cadmus file. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes closed. The resemblance between the two females was not only mystifying, but also worrisome. If asked he wouldn't have been able to put it into words, but without a doubt Harry had a bad feeling about all of this. He had to agree with Malfoy, he too was glad Hermione was off in America. Harry just wish he knew where.

“I'm right here Harry.”

Harry quickly looked up to see the woman who had made him late for work this morning sitting comfortably on his desk.

“Hermione,” he asked tentatively.

“Who else would it be silly,” she smirked.

You don't want to know, he thought.

Harry looked at the vision. Hermione was dressed in her old Hogwarts uniform; a pleated woolen skirt, a white Oxford shirt, and a pair of white knee socks. She was however missing her Mary Janes and her Gryffindor colored striped tie. Her shirt was also unbuttoned to her bosom. Harry could see the smooth skin of her breasts that were not covered by the simple white cotton bra she was wearing, it's pretty pink bow in the middle. Harry half suspected that she didn't have any knickers on. She moved her right foot to rest on the desk. Yes, she definitely wasn't wearing knickers. Some how Harry figured that none of this was regulation student wear. Harry leaned back in his chair to peek out his office door. There wasn't another soul in the whole department.

I see, the little voice in his head said, I'm sleeping. I'm having another dream .

Hermione grabbed his tie and pulled his chair back towards her.

“You didn't answer the question. Who else would it be Harry?” Her voice sounded far sexier then the bossy words implied.

Harry gulped. “No one love.”

Of course he was dreaming. Even though Hermione was wearing her Hogwarts uniform she was as he last saw her, a stunning 21 year old woman. As evidenced by the fact that she was practically bursting out of her get up. Her chestnut colored hair was half way down her back. She had started wearing it that long because it tended to wave and not look so frizzy at that length. Her skin was the same medium tan colored shade. She had taken to sunning herself on her terrace every chance the weather was right enough. After taking a vacation in Ibiza she had come back saying that she was tired of looking like a pale colorless English woman. To which Ron replied that she looked that way because she was a pale colorless English woman. Hermione then informed him that he better get well acquainted with his hand because she was never going to allow him to touch her ever ever again. Her eyes...

“Ahem.”

Harry looked back at Hermione. She now had her shirt fully unbuttoned and she was rubbing her left breast thru the cotton of her bra. Harry could see the nipple straining against the material. Her right hand seemed to be teasingly playing with the edge of her skirt giving him a full view of what was underneath it.

“Am I going to just sit here all day long and not do anything,” she pouted.

I'm a sick sad bastard, Harry thought to himself. Then he moved his chair closer to the desk.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.

Title: All Roads Lead Back

Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. H/Hr, but a whole lot of ships thrown in. Post-HBP

Summary: Harry Potter always figured that once he had fulfilled his destiny he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell. Set 7 years after the final battle.

Spoilers: All six books.

A/N: I am a Harmony shipper thru and thru. HBP almost sent me into a fit until I realized that I was throwing a tizzy over a book and told myself to get over it. Hee. I then decided to throw my hat in the fanfiction ring and see if I could come up with a realistic (at least to me) story of my favorite couple getting together that adheres to canon. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I have the whole story already plotted out, but would appreciate it if you would tell me if writing the rest is worth it or not.

Thank you for all the reviews and encouragement. It really means a lot to me. I've been writing this story since August, went thru hurricanes Katrina AND Rita, almost a month without electricity, and two computer crashes. But this bug would not die! I was really nervous about posting it, but you guys have been awesome!

This chapter contains major R/LB with flashback R/Hr. Nothing too graphic, but I have to show the past to advance the story. Don't kill me please.

Major thank you to the Harry Potter Lexicon. It's been like my bible thru all of this.

Disclaimer: If it looks like it's J.K.'s, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

“I'm a house-elllllf for you

I can't fight it, I'm not trying to hide it

I'm a house-ellllf for you

I can't fight it, I'm not trying to hide it”

As he opened his right eye, the one not pressed into his pillow, and caught his first ray of sunlight Ron silently cursed his inability to no longer be a heavy sleeper. When he was a teenager he could sleep thru any disturbance. Probably due to the fact that he had to put up with a certain ghoul clanging over his head through out most of his childhood. His friends used to jokingly say he could sleep thru a hippogriff stampede and they weren't really that far off. That was then.

After the war...not so much. Just about any creaking noise in the night would jolt Ron awake. He had gotten progressively better however. At first he would always wake up, wand at the ready. Being tortured by a sadist would have that effect on anyone. But 7 years since those dark days had tempered that impulse reaction to defend his life.

Ron rose to a sitting position in his bed and stretched his sore and aching muscles. He was exhausted! All day Wednesday he and the rest of his team mates had been put thru their paces by Russell Talbot, his Wimbourne Wasp team captain. The team was a hair's breath away from winning the English cup and just needed to defeat the Arrows to do so. The game would be played on June 4th. Ron was terribly excited! He was finally on a winning team. Although in his heart he would always be a faithful Cannon fan (he always rooted for the under dogs in life) he had to admit that his ego took one too many hits during his few years on the Chudley team.

When Wimbourne made the bid to bring him on as their Keeper Ron at first was annoyed that the Cannons were so willing to trade him. But then he saw the money that the Wasps would be paying him and that dried up his annoyance quickly. He soon realized that the Wasps wanted him because they thought that his talents were being wasted at Chudley. That gave him a huge sense of pride. Back when he was 18 he was barely able to get a job as the Canons reserve Keeper, but at 24 he was being courted by the top team in the league. After one year with his new team he was about to play for his first English cup and might actually get picked for the English national team. Plus he would get to play against Wood's team. The thought of destroying Appleby made that thought that much sweeter!

“I'm a house-elllllf for you

I can't fight it, I'm not trying to hide it

I'm a house-ellllf for you

I can't fight it, I'm not trying to hide it”

Ron winced as he heard the no where near dulcet tones of his girlfriend...fiancée...wafting out out of the bathroom connected to his bedroom. Lavender was many things; gorgeous, sexy, funny, caring, but a singer she wasn't. She usually sang when she was in the shower, much to his anguish, so he usually tried to keep her occupied to spare his eardrums the distress. But this morning he was much too tired to join in their usual morning activities.

Usually Ron's morning would begin with a quick shower romp with Lav before heading over to the Burrow for breakfast while she went home. Lavender still officially lived with her mother in Exeter, but she spent so much time in his and George's flat that most of her clothes and other assortments were there. There was however no room for her shoe collection. She always had to pop back home to get the right pair of shoes to match her outfit. She also had to pick up her 4 year old daughter Violet from there. Then she and Violet would floo into the Burrow to eat with Ron, his parents, Bill, Fleur and their four children; Marcel, Lionel, Rosemary, and Dashiel who all lived there. Sometimes George would drop by as well.

After eating Arthur would portkey over to the Ministry with Marc, Leo, and Vi in tow. The Ministry had instituted one of the best day schools for the children of wizards only a few years ago and Arthur's high position made it possible for his grandchildren and Vi to be students there. Rosie, not yet 3 years old, and Dash, just turning 18 months were still much too young to attend.

With Vi taken care of Ron would then go to his team's pitch in Dorset and Lavender would make herself busy...doing something. Ron was never quite sure what Lavender did in her spare time when she wasn't at his side. He suspected it involved a lot of shopping.

Today however was different. Ron was taking the day off to go with Lavender into town to see their wedding planner. He couldn't help but grin to himself every time he thought of his impending marriage in little less then one months time. Asking Lavender to marry him was one of the best decisions he had ever made. He was certain. Friday afternoon after practice he was going to make another important decision that involved him, Lav, and a certain little strawberry blonde miss who owned his heart as well. In his opinion life just couldn't get any better!

“I can't fight it, I'm not trying to hide it”

Although if Lavender decided to stop singing that would greatly help.

Ron heard the running water of the shower stop. He moved his long, gangly body to the end of the bed, stretched out on his bare stomach, and patiently awaited for Lavender's emergence from the bathroom. After a bit the lady came into the room.

“Morning love,” she said sunnily as she adjusted the large white towel wrapped around her still dripping hair.

“Morning,” he gruffly answered as she stooped down and placed a quick kiss on his lips. The movement made her short silky purple dressing gown gape open a bit and Ron caught a quick glance of a milky mound before she righted herself and strengthened the tie of her robe. The little Weasley in Ron's black and orange boxers instantly stood to attention. Maybe he wasn't as tired as he thought.

“Eww,” Lavender admonished playfully, “morning breath.” She crinkled her nose as she said this. “No morning nookie for you I'm afraid.”

She turned to walk to her dressing mirror but Ron grabbed her hand and pulled her down so that she got on her knees before the bed and was face level with Ron.

“You usually like my morning breath. And the gunk in my eyes too,” he teased, his lips curling in to a sexy little smile that almost made Lavender woozy.

She ran her fingers thru his flame colored hair and scratched behind his ear, an act she knew turned him on greatly.

“Of course I do love. I love everything about you,” she said sweetly and kissed him again, this time for a bit longer. “But this morning we have plans,” she remarked after breaking the kiss. She then got up and made her way to the chair before her dressing table. “So no nookie!”

“We could always reschedule ya know.”

Lavender turned from her mirror and looked at Ron, a cute pout gracing her face. “You know we can't do that. The engagement party is Sunday. Sunday! We haven't the time to spare. Moreover our appointment is with the owner. She doesn't just take on any old body. We can't miss it!”

Ron rolled his eyes. He didn't know why they even needed a wedding planner. He was certain that his mother and Ginny could do a fine enough job for them.

“Besides,” she began nervously, “we still are going to the Ministry tomorrow to...you know, right?” The unsure look that crossed her face almost tore at his heart.

“Of course we are,” he reassured her. “After tomorrow our little girl will officially be a Weasley.” Lavender smiled prettily at that statement. “I just don't see why we can't be a little...late,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Won-Won,” she sing-songingly whinged using the pet name she gave him back in their school days, “don't you want to marry me?” That pout was doing very bad things to his libido.

“More then anything,” Ron replied honestly.

That won him another glowing smile before Lavender turned back to her mirror and began her morning beauty regiment.

“Did my singing wake you?”

Ron had momentarily closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep when her question interrupted him. It was a long running joke between them that her singing left much to be desired.

“What, wake me,” he said in a mocking tone, “never. These bags under my eyes, only decoration.”

She stuck out her tongue at him teasingly as she began to vigorously rub a sweet scented cream onto her hands, arms, and elbows.

“By the way, what was that you were singing anyways. It sounded like white noise.”

“That was only one of the biggest songs out right now. It's from the Gorgons, you know, that witch group. One of them went to Hogwarts with us.”

“She was a few years younger then us wasn't she?”

“Yes, but still. Anythehoo they take these old muggle songs and totally revitalize them for the Wireless. It's all the rage!”

“And still I say white noise,” he cracked derisively.

Lavender answered him in kind by tossing one of her bottles at him. It sailed over Ron's head and bounced off of his bottom before hitting the floor.

“Oy! Watch the goods!”

“Oh I'd never want to damage the goods. Did I hurt you?”

“Yes, my bum is still sore from sitting on my broom all day.”

“Sorry love,” she innocently apologized as she lotioned her long lovely legs. Ron momentarily forgot his annoyance at his girlfri..fiancée to admire them. “Talbot still working you lot like a madman?”

“And how! But it all will be well worth it to see the look on Wood's face when we topple Appleby.”

“I would think you would care about winning the cup more then some stupid old grudge against Oliver Wood,” she muttered as she put the cream on at a more furious pace. Ron couldn't help but hear the slight edge in her voice.

“Of course winning the title will be right nice Lav. It would be my first. Harry in his day won three. I've got to catch up. But still it would be nice to take Wood down a peg or two,” he confessed, narrowing his eyes.

Lavender merely huffed. Ron knew exactly why Lavender was annoyed. She thought he was still jealous of the burly Scotsman. That couldn't be further from the truth. He just hated the git!

Ron lifted himself up from the bed and walked over to Lavender. He knew he had to do some serious damage control. He placed his hands lovingly on Lavender's narrow shoulders and placed his chin affectionately on the top of her towel wrapped head. He gazed at their reflections in the mirror as she willfully ignored him by trying to apply her make-up.

“Just think,” he said in a wheedling tone, “of all the bragging rights your going to have when your future husband comes home the big winner.” She failingly tried to smother her smile.

Lavender met his eyes in the mirror and said, “You're always my winner.”

His heart fluttered and Ron briefly cursed himself for the pansy he was becoming. He kissed the top of her head. He was about to make his way into the shower before his eyes landed on a thick book on the table before her.

“What's this,” he asked as he reached to pick it up. “From Shakespeare to the Beatles: A Comprehensive Study of the Muggle Arts,” he said reading the title out loud as he went to sit on the bed. He could hardly contain his laughter. “Are you serious?”

“Don't you dare laugh. I was never more embarrassed then I was last week at the Burrow.”

A week prior he and Lavender had dinner with his parents and a few of his father's staff from the Ministry. After the war a new department was formed, The Department of Muggle/Magical Brethren Affairs. It's intention was to make the relationship between the two societies run smoother. Arthur Weasley was promoted to head the office. His family couldn't have been more proud of the newly minted Liaison to the Muggle World (his title). Arthur was ecstatic that he could finally study his favorite subject in earnest without being made a laughing stock. He had a small staff, but they were the most knowledgeable when it came to anything muggle.

“What the bleeding hell is a Posh and a Becks anyway,” Lavender grumped.

“Dunno, disease maybe,” he offered.

“Well whatever it is I'll know next time,” she said. “You know how important it is to me that your father like me.”

“Dad does like you!”

“Maybe. But not as much as he liked...her,” Lavender said as the hand that was applying her eye-liner slightly shook. She silently swore as she smudged the line and then tried to correct it.

At first Ron didn't know how to answer that remark, but he tried to make his way around it.

“Lav, I told you, if you want to stay in good with the Weasleys you butter up my mum.”

“Pish posh, your mum adores me,” she arrogantly said. “She's always after to babysit Violet isn't she?” Lavender examined the various shades of lipstick on her dresser and selected a frosted pink color.”Besides it's your father who always acts uncomfortably whenever I'm around. You would think that he didn't want you to marry me.”

Ron hated to admit it, but Lavender sort of had a point. Arthur was a tad cool towards Lavender, although he would deny this accusation wholly when confronted with it. The truth was that the Weasley patriarch would always have a soft spot in his heart for Hermione, Ron's former girlfriend. He had come to regard her as a second daughter over the years, especially after she went to work for him at the Ministry as his assistant. It was a very lofty position for a girl not yet in her 20's. After Arthur offered Hermione the job she mulled over the decision for days. She had been torn between taking the offer or going into the two year training program at St. Mungo's. Although the opportunity Arthur was offering her was tempting Hermione still had her doubts.

“Isn't it a bit like nepotism,” asked Hermione unsurely.

“No, it's a lot like nepotism actually,” Ron replied.

It was the summer just after the end of the war and at that time his recent break-up with Hermione was still fresh and he was still bitter. Despite that fact they were trying to maintain their friendship, even living together with Harry in a Diagon Alley flat.

“You know you would be brilliant at it Hermione. This job would be perfect for you,” Harry assured her. “And who would be better at bridging the gap between muggles and wizards then a muggleborn?”

That answer was enough to make her smile.

“Besides I'll wager three quarters of the stiffs at the Ministry got there because of someone they knew,” Ron said which earned him a swat to the head from Harry and barely a scowl from Hermione. He had recently started dating Lavender again to make Hermione jealous, but all it seemed to do was make her indifferent. “Well it's true! That's how dad got in. Uncle Gideon put in a good word for him to hear mum tell it.”

“Never mind that Hermione, just take the job,” Harry pressed.

And she did. And as he predicted she was more then brilliant at it. Arthur would call her his right hand. No one was sadder that Ron and Hermione couldn't work out the issues between them more then Arthur Weasley.

“Maybe he is just in awe of your stunning good looks,” Ron mused trying to diffuse the uneasy silence in the room made by Lavender's last remark.

“Or maybe I'm just not the girl he wanted for his daughter-in-law.”

Lavender rose up from her seat and walked to Ron's nearly bursting closet to the left of the bed to choose something to wear. In truth most of the clothes in there were hers.

As Ron watched her every move he sighed to himself softly. He had hoped that Lavender wouldn't notice Arthur's reticence to their relationship, but it looked like she did. Lavender could be accused of being flighty, an airhead, and scatter-brained, but she was no idiot. She was well skilled at reading people. That's why he supposed she tried so hard to win his father's approval, even going so far as to read just about every book on muggles she could find so she could have something to impress him with. Ron almost thought it was a gag when he found her Muggles for Dummies book a few months ago.

Lavender had never really been interested in anything muggle before then. She didn't even take the Muggle Studies course back at Hogwarts. But one thing Ron had come to learn over the years was that Lavender Brown was one of the most determined witches he would ever meet. She had been intent that eventually she would be Mrs. Ron Weasley and it looked like she was finally going to get her way. So now she was unwavering in her goal to win over his whole family. His mother and Ginny seemed to like her. Bill, Percy, and their spouses got along well with her. Charlie seemed to find her charming. Harry, the twins and Glinda tolerated her. All that was left was for Arthur to come around. Knowing Lav's commitment to achieving this goal he highly doubted that this wouldn't eventually happen.

“I think the Prophet will run a notice about the party either today or tomorrow.”

Lavender was walking back towards the bed, an assortment of robes and other clothing in her arms. She unloaded them onto the bed, rummaged thru them a bit, and chose a smart gray skirt set out of the pile. She held it up along with salmon colored robes to go with. Ron nodded his head in the affirmative. Ron loved the fact that she appreciated his opinion on her clothing and that she seriously took in consideration his likes and dislikes when she dressed. It made him feel appreciated.

“Is Daphne going to be at the party,” he asked.

“I should hope so. It will all be for nothing if it doesn't make the papers.” Lavender had already crossed back to the closet with the reject outfits so she missed his quirked eyebrow at her statement.

“Well even if she doesn't Luna will be there,” Ron replied. “Ginny said that The Quibbler would definitely run something.”

Lavender walked back to the bed, a disgruntled look on her face. “Oh goodie, The Quibbler. I wonder if it's going to be next to the article on how to breed a pygmy Cyclops.”

“Lav, be nice,” Ron warned putting down her book and folding his arms before him. Although he would occasionally tell a joke at Luna's expense he did not take kindly to other's mocking her.

“I am being nice,” she countered. “I invited your ex-girlfriend to my engagement party didn't I?”

In answer to her question Ron only fixed her with a stern stare.

“Oh Won-Won, don't look at me like that.” Lavender walked over to Ron where he sat on the messy bed and placed her arms lovingly around him. “It's just that Loony Lovegood makes me so nervous,” she said trying to get him to understand her point of view. “She's just...it's just...arg! She's so bloody weird Ron! You never know what she's going to say at a moments notice,” Lavender cried clearly vexed at this conversation.

“Cor! That's half the fun of Luna Lovegood,” Ron answered her.

“I don't see why you're so bloody anxious to have her over at the Burrow. You know she's just going to bring that wanker boyfriend of hers.”

“Git's not half good enough for her,” he said tersely.

Lavender looked down in to Ron's face stonily. “You know, if I didn't know better I would think you still had feelings for Lovegood.”

Ron hardly payed the accusation any mind. He knew Lavender like a book and knew she was nowhere near jealous of Luna. “I'm marrying you aren't I?”

“You almost married her didn't you?”

“Yes, and we both no why I didn't don't we,” he answered shrewdly. Lavender blushed at the statement all the way to the edge of the towel still on her head.

“Point taken,” she bashfully said. He grinned at her embarrassment and she returned the grin.

“Listen love, I'm going to finish my hair in the bathroom. Then after I'm done I suggest you take a shower.” She gathered up the outfit that they had chose.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink,” he joshingly asked as he placed his rather large mitts on either side of her waist.

“Hmmm...only of sky, and testosterone, and quaffles. My favorite smells,” Lavender said dreamily.

“However I don't think Madame Borghesse will appreciate your distinct odour.”

He scoffed at her remark and she playfully kissed his nose before she turned to walk to the bathroom.

“So just so we're clear, no more mocking of Luna right,” he called after her.

She turned back to him at the doorway and rolled her eyes. “You know I'm not jealous of Lovegood.” She removed the white towel from her head and shook out her still damp hair. “Besides I guess you really can't help it if you prefer blondes. It worked out in my favor didn't it?” She then winked at him before closing the door.

Ron could only laugh at the statement. In a way he supposed he did have a thing for blondes. And apparently women whose names began with the letter L to hear Fred tell it. But usually when out on the street his eyes generally fell on a platinum colored witch here, an ash blonde beauty there. Whenever George was able to get him to go to a muggle club for kicks he usually ended chatting up women with golden locks. When he was a kid the first female whom he had a sexual thought about of any kind was Hannah Abbot, a blonde pigtailed girl back in his third year at Hogwarts. Of course it could also be argued that she was the first girl to grow breasts in his year and that was what caught his attention.

He was willing to admit that a tawny lovely was enough to pique his interest. But oddly enough the first girl with whom he fell head over heels was no blonde. When Ron Weasley first fell in love the girl's hair had nothing to do with it, although he did think hers was rather wicked. No, he fell in love with her courage, her intelligence, her confidence, her big heart. He fell in love with his best friend. He fell in love with Hermione.

In fact he remembered the first moment he realized that he loved her. He had just woken up in the Hogwarts infirmary after drinking Slughorn's poisoned mead. He was groggy and confused and barely knew where he even was. Due to the darkness of the room he could tell it was late at night. Before he could call out for anyone he heard a soft voice whisper “lumos” as the lantern by his head came to life. His vision was blurry, but a beautiful worry lined face surrounded by an expanse of bushy brown curls came in to focus. She grabbed a hold of one of his hands and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Am I dead,” he asked, voice aching from non-use.

“No silly, your safe and sound here with me,” she reprimanded, but her voice was warm and thick with caring. “Why would you even think you had died?”

“Cause you look like an angel.”

Her eyes had gone wide at the statement, but she didn't look like she was upset by it. “Let's see if you say that next time you see me out of bed first thing in the morning with my hair in tangles.”

Her smile was enough to bewitch him in to saying things he normally wouldn't.

“I'm just glad to be seeing you,” he whispered as he finally squeezed her hand back.

She gingerly took a seat on the side of his bed, hand still in his. She was wearing her school robes, her Prefect badge pinned firmly in place. He would have been content to sit there with her all day just holding her hands and looking in to her big brown eyes, but his curiosity demanded to be answered.

“Hermione, what the bloody hell happened to me?”

She told him the story as best as she could from Romilda Vane's part in it to Slughorn's. When she was done Ron could barely turn his horror struck eyes from her face.

“I'm never eating again,” he firmly pronounced.

Hermione softly laughed. “I heard from Dobby that the house-elves were making Sheppard's Pie tomorrow.”

At that bit of news Ron's stomach growled. He looked down at at as if it had betrayed him. Hermione only laughed louder.

“Well, I'm going to go,” she told him as she got off the bed. Ron felt an almost frantic rush to keep her near.

“Please...stay.” His eyes pleaded with her as well as his words.

“I traded with Padma so I could patrol the First floor and visit with you, but even Prefects get in trouble for not being in bed on time,” she joked. “Besides, I should have gotten Madame Pomfrey as soon as you woke up. She's going to be so cross!”

Ron couldn't help but chuckle. That was Hermione for you, she hated to break rules even though she did it time and time again for him and Harry.

“If I hurry I can run up and fetch Harry. He'll want to know you're awake as well. We can then sneak back down under his cloak and sit with you for a bit longer. Would you like that,” she shyly asked.

“I'd love that,” he earnestly replied. He then watched as she scurried out of the room towards Madame Pomfrey's office, a goofy, gooey smile plastered all over his face .

He supposed he had always known he fancied her a bit before then. At least since he was 14. For one he always thought she was kind of cute, even before teeth shrinkage. And he had to admit that he did have a tendency to go a little nutty with jealousy if another boy looked her way. He even caught himself looking suspiciously at Harry a time or two. How ridiculous was that?

But love? That was a whole other can of worms. You just don't go falling in love with your best friend. Especially when your are dating her dorm mate to make her insanely jealous! Ron could have kicked himself for the mess he had made of everything.

As soon as he got the nerve he chucked Lavender. She cried and wailed at him, but really if she was what was standing in his way of being with Hermione he would have gladly pushed her into a room crawling with acromantulas back then. Unfortunately for him he and Hermione's relationship remained blastedly platonic for six more weeks. Ron was sure that it would take a miracle for him and Hermione to finally get together. Instead it took a death to make it happen. Dumbledore's death to be exact.

It was the night before the old Hogwarts Headmaster's funeral. A pall of deep and weary mourning seemed to cling to everything and everyone on or near the Hogwarts grounds. He and Hermione had escaped the doom and gloom of the castle to go walking near the lake. Ron didn't know where Harry was, probably off snogging Ginny somewhere. His usual unease at what his baby sister and his best friend could be getting up to was momentarily on hiatus. Ron figured that his mate deserved a good snog after everything he had gone thru in the last few days. Just not too good a snog.

There was a aura of unease surrounding him and Hermione, as though both of them were waiting for the other shoe to drop. They were barely talking or even looking at each other. No holding of hands whatsoever, this was no romantic stroll. They had come to her favorite tree near the lake when suddenly Hermione came to a drastic stop. Her face was upturned to the sky and Ron turned his head to look in that direction as well. What he saw made his heart throb painfully. It was the solitary figure of someone flying solemnly across the sky. He needed no omnioculars to tell him who the person was. Harry.

He turned then to Hermione, mouth open to say...something...he couldn't remember the words he was about to speak because all he could do was gape at the girl standing next to him.

She looks as though her heart is being torn to shreds, he thought to himself in awe as he gazed at her still upturned face. He had never seen an expression like that on anyone before. Sure he had seen Hermione cry, a lot of times because of some stupid thing he had said to her, but he had never experienced anything like her soundless, desolate weeping. She didn't even bother to wipe the tears that were trailing all the way down to her charcoal colored jumper. Instead her arms were wrapped tight around her middle as if she were trying to keep herself from falling apart.

Ron was at a loss of what to do. If Harry was bad at dealing with over emotional women he was even worse. When he had broken things off with Lavender he had wanted her to stop crying because it made him feel guilty and annoyed. But with Hermione Ron would have given his whole Chocolate Frog card collection to get her to stop. He hated to see her hurt, even when he was the one doing the hurting. Instead what he did was grab her by the shoulders, pull her towards his chest, and kiss her hard on the mouth.

It was really over before it started. One minute he was kissing the lips he had dreamt of kissing for the last few years. The next thing he knew he was flinging himself backwards from her, eyes wide with terror, mouth opened in horror at what he had just done. She's going to kill me, he briefly thought before he muttered quickly, “I'm sorry.”

If Ron thought he was shocked at his own actions he was doubly amazed when she answered back.

“I'm not.”

Then she smiled at him as her eyes glistened from all the tears she had shed. Ron had been so perplexed that he could barely enjoy the sensation of her taking his hand in hers.

“It's late, we should get back to the castle. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day,” she said as she steered him back towards the school.

She held his hand all the way back. It wasn't until he was settled snug in his bed that the realization of all that had just transpired fully hit him. He couldn't keep the big happy grin off of his face. He was certain Harry had noticed, but he didn't tell his friend what the cause of it was. Harry probably thought he was a gigantic prat for being so happy when everyone else was in mourning for Dumbledore, but Ron didn't care! The time for being sad again would come tomorrow. Tonight he would revel in the fact that he had finally kissed Hermione Granger and he was in love with her. To top it off something in her smile told him that he would get to kiss her again.

Of course that next kiss didn't happen for another month. Ron didn't mind it so much at first. There was just always something to do. First there was the funeral to attend and then there were Harry's stupid muggle relatives to deal with. He and Hermione had made the decision to join Harry on his quest to defeat You-Know-Who and one of the first stops they had to make was to his aunt and uncle's. The three teenagers friendship with one another blossomed in those few weeks spent on that quiet street in Surrey and their bond became even stronger.

Never the less Ron couldn't help but wonder if he was ever going to get a spare moment alone with Hermione. There were times before then that Ron would almost think that his kiss with her had been all part of some beautiful, wonderful dream. But then she would squeeze his shoulder or send him a cheeky little grin while Harry wasn't looking that would make his spirits soar. We got a secret, we got a secret, we got a secret oh yes we do, that smile seemed to say. It was nice having something that belonged to just Hermione and himself.

They stayed at the Dursleys up until the eve of Bill and Fleur's wedding and then made their way back to the Burrow for the ceremony. As weddings go Ron supposed it was a nice one. Fleur was mesmerizing in her snow white satin robes, Bill actually cried while reciting his vows, and nearly all of Ottery St. Catchpole had turned out for the nuptials. After the ceremony, which everyone kept commenting was very very French, he had danced with Hermione. Three times! Of course Neville had danced with her twice. Git. Ron had thought it was a bit odd that Harry and Ginny seemed to be avoiding each other like the plague. He briefly wondered if the couple had had a fight and almost asked his sister, but before he could Hermione saddled up next to him looking very pretty in pale yellow and sweetly asked him to show her his Chudley Cannon poster collection.

For a moment he wondered if she had gone barmy because a: he knew she didn't like Quidditch and b: she had seen the same posters on his bedroom walls plenty of times. It wasn't until Ginny nudged him in the side, hard too, that he realized that Hermione had no interest in seeing his collection. He practically flew out of the Burrows backyard, up the stairs, and to his room on the 5th floor landing. Quicker then you could say "Firebolt" Ron had Hermione on his bed and on her back for a long, drawn out and highly anticipated snog.

It was brilliant kissing Hermione! It was Quidditch, and Christmas morning, and all the good Bertie Bott's flavors mixed up in one. At first she was quite tentative, especially when he first darted his tongue across her lips looking for entry. But as time progressed she gave in equally to the passion of his kisses. Ron almost passed out from joy when she began to nibble at the corner of his mouth. He felt like he was going to explode when she began to languidly graze her nails back and forth down the back of his neck.

They had long since removed their restrictive dress robes so that he could feel her bare arms wrapped around him. He could hear the sound of his dressy cotton slacks rubbing against her linen pants. He wondered what her silken spaghetti strapped blouse would feel like against his bare chest. Ron wanted to just get lost in all of the sensations he was feeling, seeing, tasting. If he could just spend the rest of his life, lips fused to Hermione's he would pay any price to make it happen. He was so caught up in waves of elation that his mind had momentarily gone on auto-pilot. All he could think was: touch, squeeze, feel.

“Ronnie.”

“Hmmm...,” he answered, lips trailing their way down the side of Hermione's soft neck.

“Ronnie,” she half whimpered, half sighed again.

“What,” he absently asked as he licked at the pulse point he found.

“Your hand,” she said as she began to tug half heartedly at his right arm.

For all he knew she was speaking Mandarin.

“My what?”

He was hoping that she wasn't going to interrupt what they were doing to talk about their feelings or something Hermione-ish like that. Not now at least.

“Your hand Ron,” she repeated.

Ron slowly opened his eyes and looked up into her flushed rosie face. She looked wild and ravished with her hair fanned out on his shockingly orange bedspread. Her eyes were foggy, yet serene while her lips were kiss swollen. He almost bent down to kiss them again until he looked down further and saw his right hand placed boldly and comfortably on her left breast.

Fuck me.

“Oh shit...oh damn...bloody hell,” he loudly exclaimed as he wrenched his hand from the spot it had been resting on and rolled himself off of her.

His hand felt as though it were on fire, although he couldn't be sure that was because he had liked what he was doing or because he was terrified that she was going to hex him. He imagined she would do something drastic like turn him into gnome food.

“Ronnie, it's ok.” She pulled herself into a sitting position and brought her knees up so she could rest her chin on them while she leaned against the beds headboard.

“Oh Merlin Hermione...” he continued.

A horklump. Gnomes like those little buggers don't they, he wondered. I'm going to spend the rest of my life looking like a frilly pink mushroom. By this time he was on his hands and knees on the bed looking at her as if he were a little boy waiting in fear for his mother's wrath. Hermione merely stared at him as if he had lost all of his marbles.

“Didn't you hear what I said," she questioned. "It's ok."

“You must think I'm some kind of animal,” Ron answered, voice muffled due to the fact that he had dropped his face in the palms of his hand to hide his shame. Hermione however reached to pull his hands back and looked him in his eyes. Hers had an encouraging little twinkle in them.

“Really Ronnie, it's ok.”

“I mean I would never...” take advantage of you he started to say, but he was interrupted by Hermione's shocked gasp.

“Never?”

For a moment he was at a loss for what to say due to Hermione's comment. Quite frankly he didn't know what she wanted him to say. That was until she gave an impish little giggle.

“You should see the look on your face,” she teased.

At first he felt a fleeting wave of irritation that she would make fun of him like that, but then the surge of relief that she didn't want to turn him in to something slimy made that all go away.

“I'm not mad,” she said finally, completely assuaging his fears.

“It's just...” he began pausing to search desperately for the right words to express his concern.“I...look, I know you want to take things slow. I want to take things slow,” he hurriedly stated. “I'm scared shitless that I'm going to cock up every thing though. I mean finally we are going to...” he paused to catch her eye and bashfully turned his head to blush, “be together.”

He looked back at her and was calmed to see that she was blushing too as she bit at the corner of her mouth. This gave him the courage to continue. “There is finally no McLaggen...”

“No Lavender Brown,” she countered, left eyebrow raised.

“No ickle Vickie Krum standing in our way. Sometimes I'm just terrified that I'm going to do something to make you go away.”

“I'm not going anywhere Ron,” Hermione said calmly as she turned her body to face his more. She shyly played with his fingers on the bed spread while keeping her face down so he couldn't see her blush. He felt like he could float right off the bed at that very moment, he was so happy.

“And why do you keep bringing up Viktor,” she asked finally making eye contact with him. “I've told you over and over again that nothing ever happened with him. You know very well that you're the first person I ever...” she turned her face away to hide that blush again and said softly, “you know...kissed.”

He did. She had told him so not too long after their magical night at the lake. He could barely contain the joy he felt whenever she said that, just like now.

“And tonight I had my first ever celebratory snog,” she said saucily. The look on her face made him want to get back to the snogging immediately.

“And what did you think of it?”

“Definitely O worthy work,” she answered him, her lips stretched into a naughty smile. She was comparing him to school work. Hermione loved school work. This was definitely a good sign, he thought. He chuckled along with her until his mind unfortunately drifted onto Lavender.

“I wish you had been my first kiss,” Ron wistfully remarked as their fingers continued to twine themselves in and around each other.

“It's ok,” she replied. “We'll have other firsts.”

Ron's fingers instantly stopped their play as he stared back at her agog. Did she mean what he thought she meant, he wondered.

“W-what,” he stammered. Smooth.

“There are tons of firsts. First...date. And first fight, although I think you and I have already covered that one ad nauseam don't you think?”

He wasn't quite sure he knew what that word meant, but he was starting to think that she was toying with him on.

“First break-up, but let's not do that one shall we?” She twirled a curly lock around her finger as she humorously continued. “Of course a first message would be nice, but only with clothes on. And then there is first...”

“You're killing me Hermione.”

“....time,” she continued as if he didn't interrupt her. “There's always your first time. The biggest first of them all. The one you can never get back.”

Ron swallowed the lump that had began to form at the middle of his throat. You-Know-Who could have fell from the sky in the midst of this conversation and Ron wouldn't have payed him any mind.

“When that time comes I want it to be the right time and for all the right reasons. I want to be sure. I want it to be because he loves me and because I love him.”

She demurely dropped her eyes back to the spread and traced the large letter E of the Cannon emblem.

“I want a lot of things, don't I,” she asked, haltingly raising her gaze to his.

“No,” he barely choked out. “I want that too.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed it and said, “No rush.”

Her smile at this was beatific. “Good.”

“Someday.”

“Someday,” she answered back to him.

“Sunday?” He barely suppressed the laugh that bubbled forth from his lips when she realized that he was having her on.

“Prat,” she muttered cutely.

“That time you should have seen your face,” Ron told her. “Besides there is plenty of time for that. We have to have something to look forward to on the honeymoon right?”

Hermione drew back from him at that remark.

“H-honeymoon,” a surprised Hermione stammered.

Ron could understand her shock. Seventeen year old boys rarely talked about wedding nights, much less getting married at all. But Hermione clearly underestimated Ron Weasley's determination to never let her go. He was ready for the full commitment after dancing around her for years. Besides his own parents had gotten married not too long after leaving school.

“Just something to think about,” he offered.

“Yes...umm...well...,” she stuttered clearly flustered, “you are definitely a marvelous kisser Ron.”

“And she changes the subject.”

He was amused. It was hard to unsettle Hermione so moments like this were rare. Besides, she looked so darned cute when she was discomposed.

“Lav-Lav obviously taught you well,” she continued, desperately trying to throw him off of his game. She knew how much he hated those pet names.

“Arg! Can we not discuss her please?” It had worked.

“And why not,” she primly asked. “she was your girlfriend was she not?”

“She never would have been if it wasn't for that precious lil' sis of mines. Telling me all that rubbish about you and Krum.”

At this Ron flung himself back on his back on the bed. He was always quick to anger whenever he thought about the dirty trick Ginny had done him.

“Ron, just let it go,” she sighed.

The two of them had gone over this subject time and time again. It was a bit of a sore subject between them. He personally wanted to pluck his sister's hairs from her head one by one over it, but Hermione wouldn't let him.

“Can't Hermione. I won't let it go. after Ginny told me that lie, I don't know, I kind of went... loopy. All I could think about was you snogging that Bulgarian pillock.”

“So in turn you snogged Lavender.”

There was no hint of malice, no hurt feelings in this statement. She was simply stating the facts. Still he felt the need to impress upon her how much he wanted to be with her and only her.

“I swear I never cared for her half as much as I care for you,” he declared.

“But you did care? For Lavender that is?”

Ron could barely meet her eyes. In truth he really did feel more for Lavender then he let on. She had a way of making him feel like he could soar over mountains. With Hermione he usually felt like he was desperately trying to catch up with her, but Merlin did he want to hold on tight when he finally did.

“It's alright Ronnie. You wouldn't be the boy I fancied since I was 12 if you didn't care for Lavender at least a little.”

“I...” he started to answer until the full meaning of her words reached him. “Hang on, you've fancied me since you were how old,"”he cautiously asked. He could barely believe what he thought he heard.

Hermione found his awe struck demeanor amusing.

“A girl tends to fall for a bloke who vomits slugs in defense of her honor,” she answered as she slid her body down the bed and turned herself on her side so she could face him.

“Your taking the piss!” Somehow he knew she wasn't though.

"I am not," she responded. "My little girl heart nearly swooned at the gallantry of it all."

Ron just looked at his brown eyed girl amazed. He just never knew what to expect with her.

“How come you never told me?”

“What would you have done if I had,” she asked him.

“Dunno. I might have at least gotten the nerve to ask you to the Yule Ball if I knew all of that.”

“Honestly Ron if I had told you all of this beforehand you would have gone running for the Forbidden Forest, never to been seen again. Trust me. Besides back then we had finally gotten to a place where I believed that you really did want to be friends with me. You and Harry. There was no way I was going to bugger that up.”

“Like we did this year?”

Hermione made a disgusted noise. “Don't remind me. However I am glad that you had Lavender to get thru it all. And Harry had Ginny. It was really a tough year from start to finish.”

“Your being awfully nice about Lavender,” he said half mockingly, half suspiciously. “Especially for a girl who sent a flock of parakeets at my head.”

Hermione furiously blushed as she remembered her little stunt with the birds in the deserted classroom.

“Look, I was all mixed up in the head. I mean forgive me for being a teen aged girl and going all nutty with hormones,” she playfully remarked before her face took on a more somber look. She wasn't even looking directly at him. Instead her eyes seemed to be settled on some fixed point over his shoulder.

“I was confused about...something.” She then shook her head as if coming from out under a spell. Her eyes settled on him “But I'm all better now. I can think clearly. I know what I want.” She said all of this while slowly twinning her fingers in his hair.

“And they were canaries.”

Both of them giggled.

“Well they were bloody brilliant! I just wish they hadn't been directed at me so I could fully appreciate them.” She laughed outright at that and the sound of it made him puff out his chest with pride.

“Seriously though, I don't hate Lavender. I'm not her biggest fan, but I don't hate her. Besides I can be magnanimous when it comes to her. I got the boy didn't I?” A smug little sly smile formed on her lips that completely captivated Ron.

“Merlin! I think I actually understood that word. I think snogging you is making me smarter.”

“Alas, I always knew you were only after me for my mind,” she tittered loftily right before her lips met his for another kiss.

Although that bit of snogging didn't last as long as the first it was still just as good. When they finally came up for air Hermione turned herself onto her stomach. She folded her arms and laid her head upon them. She was still looking at him, dreamily, but he could tell that she was a bit worn out. He was resting once again on his back, arms folded behind his head. For a brief moment he closed his eyes.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Ginny,” he replied, eyes still closed.

“Goodness! Was I that bad?”

His eyes snapped open and he turned his hear towards her quickly.

“What? Of course not,” he blustered. “And eww.”

That last bit made her giggle and he realized she had been joking with him again.

“I'm still cheesed off at her ya know. I still can't believe she did what she did.”

“Maybe she was trying to light a fire under you,” Hermione limply defended Ginny. “She knew that I liked you and that you liked me.”

Ron just stared at Hermione in shock. If it was true that Ginny knew all of this she had never shared that info with him.

“Maybe she thought if she got you good and jealous over some imagined Krum kisses you would finally get off of your duff and ask me out.”

Ron merely shook his head at the innocence that was Hermione. “You see the only problem with that argument love is that Ginny Weasley never does any thing that does not directly benefit Ginny Weasley.”

“Ron,” Hermione said, abashed at his candor, “that's a horrible thing to say about your sister.”

“Maybe. Still doesn't make any less true.”

“What about the Department of Mysteries? She almost gave her life just the same as you or I, Neville or Luna.”

“Yes, but not for some grand cause or anything like that. It was more likely 'Oooh Harry, look at me. I'm a great brave Gryffindor too'. Didn't you tell me she had never really given up on him?” Hermione said nothing to this, she knew he had her there.

“Look, I love my sister. She's fun to pal around with and she's damned good at Quidditch. That still doesn't stop me from seeing straight thru her. When Ginny wants something she isn't above playing dirty to get it. She wanted to hurt my feelings, she knew just what to say to set me off. See.”

Hermione just stared at him disbelievingly. She couldn't believe that the girl that Ron was describing was the same girl she had shared secret after secret on many a summer night.

“I don't blame her really. She's just used to getting what she wants. She just was spoiled.”

“Your mum,” Hermione tentatively asked.

"No, mum was more apt to spoil Bill or Charlie. Percy even. You know before she had Bill the Healers told her that she might never be able to have any children."

“Come again?” She was completely dumbstruck at this bit of information.

“It's true! I figure that's why she coddled them so much. But then by time Fred and George came mum was letting them swing from the ceiling," he joked.

“No, dad was the one who spoiled Ginny. I guess he was just so happy to have a little girl. He would do anything for her.”

She looked at him sadly. “Who spoiled you,” she wondered aloud.

Ron rolled over on his side to face her and began to trace the lining of her face. It was a tough question for him to answer.

“No one really, I guess. I mean, I know mum and dad love me. Just sometimes I can't help but feel that they forget me. It doesn't matter.”

"It matters to me," Hermione announced resolutely. The firm set of her jaw told him that she meant every word.

“Merlin help me, but I'm in love with you.”

His heart was in his eyes as he softly said this. Hermione stared into the deep blue of them and knew that he was speaking the truth. She honestly didn't know what to say to a pronouncement like that. No one had ever said those words to her. The first thing that crossed her mind was to repeat back his words to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ron cut her off.

“Don't say it.”

She looked at him perplexed at his manner.

“Don't say it unless you mean it.”

Her eyes narrowed the way they usually did when she was about to start a row with him. She wanted to ask him who the hell did he think he was telling her that she didn't know what was in her own heart. Ron saw every word written out on her face as if she had spoken them aloud.

“For me it's enough that you want to be with me. It's all I could have hoped for. I mean, I'm a right lucky bastard to have gotten you,” Ron bashfully admitted.

“I'm just waiting for the day that you come to your senses and realize that you don't really want me.”

“Never,” she declared.

“Hermione, I want you to tell me that you love me only when you're sure that you love me. I'll be ready to hear it then.”

“Well can I at least spoil you till then,” she flirted at him.

Ron tried to make a joke of it. In a exaggeratedly serious voice he said, “I don't know, it's a tough job. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Depends I guess,” she volleyed back to him. “Am I your girlfriend?”

“Depends I guess,” he teased then closed his eyes as though he were going to sleep.

His eyes were closed for no more then 10 seconds before Hermione began playfully beating him across the face and chest. He then pounced on her and began to tickle her all over. She shrieked and yelled and threatened to curse him as soon as she got a hold of her wand. The clamor then awakened the ghoul upstairs which caused them both to only giggle more. They twisted and turned all over the spread until eventually they both somehow ended up at the bottom end of the bed, Hermione laid out on her back with Ron straddling her hips. He held her arms above her head by her wrists so she couldn't tickle his stomach any longer, he was quite sensitive there.

As he held her down he couldn't stay immune to the burst of sexual tension that seemed to instantly permeate the room. Hermione was flushed all over, from her hairline down to her chest. Her erratic breathing made it hard for him to take his eyes from the swell of her bosom. With her arms held back the way they were it only helped to make her breasts seem more enticing. Inviting. Her pearl colored camisole barely covered them. Ron was so enraptured by the sight of her that he didn't hear the shocked gasp from the doorway. He didn't even know that there was another person in the room until he heard Hermione's embarrassed voice.

“Hello Mrs. Weasley.”

For almost two weeks after that incident Ron could not look his mother fully in the eye. Hermione would go running from the room in terror if Mrs. Weasley entered it. In spite of their odd behavior no one else seemed to realize that the dynamics of Ron and Hermione's relationship had drastically changed. Certainly not Harry. There were times that he seemed to be in his own little world and there was nothing his two best mates could do to draw him out. Hermione hypothesized that Harry's dour mood had something to do with the fact that in a few days the three of them would be leaving the Burrow to head off to Harry's parent's home in Godric's Hollow, a tiny little village in Nottinghamshire. Hermione had already told them that appatating there wouldn't be possible since they didn't know the physical location of the place yet. Otherwise they would end up splinching themselves. Ron was not looking forward to this part of the journey. Everyone knew the story of how the Potters met their end. The scene they were going to encounter more then likely was not going to be pretty. Thankfully for him he would have Hermione by his side.

“You've been calling me Ronnie.”

He and Hermione were sitting out by the pond in the garden. Ron had his head in her lap as she played with his ginger hair. They were positioned so that no one could see them if they happened to look out of one of the Burrows windows.

She stopped what she was doing to his hair. He let out a little whigning sound that let her know that he wanted her to resume.

“What's wrong, you don't like it,” she asked as her fingers resumed their play.

“No, it's not that,” he assured her. “It's just what my mum and dad call me sometimes.”

He saw her bite her bottom lip pensively. “I know. I just thought it was...affectionate. But I guess it is kind of weird for your girl...for me to call you by something your mother does huh?”

“No,” he grinned, “I like it.” He closed his eyes as he said, “Now what should I call you?”

“Hermione will do just fine thank you very much. My mother gave me a perfectly lovely name.” She teasingly pinched the tip of his long nose.

“I've got it,” his vibrant blue eyes shot open. “Herms.” Loud guffaws erupted from him at the affronted frown she made.

“Goodness, that sounds like some sort of disease. 'Say, what did your first cousin die from',” she said in a fake deep voice. “'Oh, just a bad case of the Herms',” she replied in sotto. She crinkled her nose in disgust. “No thanks.”

“Ok, ok. What about 'Mione then?”

“Might as well call me your elbow, your ear, you big left toe,” she grumbled as she rolled her eyes to the sky in exaggerated exasperation. She looked so cute when she did that.

“Hermy then.”

She lifted her nose primly. “Only one man in my life is allowed to call me that.”

“I knew it! I knew I saw Gwarp making eyes at you at the funeral,” he said playing along with her kidding manner. “I was ready to go up to him and make my intentions known. Only reason I didn't was because...you know...giant and all.”

She giggled madly at that and he felt his head go light at the sound of it.

“Well I like my name, although it did take me a while to grow into it. When I was little it was just one more thing that made me...” she paused in search of the right words, “different then the rest of the kids.”

He imagined just how different his brave, brilliant Hermione would have been at that age. All big haired and big named. She probably was smarter then some of her teachers even then. She had shared with him and Harry that the children used to tease her relentlessly before Hogwarts. They thought she was odd. The ruddy idiots! They just didn't know what they were missing knowing her. It always made Ron wonder if not for a blundering Mountain Troll would he have been permanently left in the dark as well.

“Eventually though I began to appreciate the things that made me different. Although I don't know how well I would have handled being saddled with Perdita. Luckily dad put his foot down on that one. Imagine, you would be dating Perdita Granger right now.”

Ron's smirk at her story wavered slightly as he cleared his throat to bring up a slightly touchy subject between them.

“I think we should tell him,” he said seriously.

“Tell who what,” Hermione mumbled absentmindedly.

Ron rolled his eyes at her dimness. And they say that I'm thick, he thought.

“Harry. I think...I think we should tell him about us,” he clarified.

Hermione dropped her hands from his hair. “Ronnie,” she whigned, “I thought we already discussed this. I...I don't think that's such a good idea right now,” she awkwardly responded.

Ron sprung up from where he was laying and turned hurt eyes towards her. “And why not? Don't want anyone else to know that I'm your boyfriend eh?” His body language was combative.

“What? Oh come off it Ron, let's not play the injured prat yet again shall we.” He bristled at the fact that she would bring that up so soon after he thought they had settled it.“Harry has a bit too much on his plate to worry over. We shouldn't burden him with our drama as well. Especially now after Ginny...”

“What about Ginny,” he asked, baffled.

“They broke up Ron.”

“So that's why they've been acting so strangely,” he said finally understanding his sister and Harry's odd behavior at the wedding and for the last few days at last.

Hermione looked at him in constrained disbelief. “Sometimes I think I seriously over estimated and that you really only have the emotional depth of a thimble!”

“Well how was I supposed to know,” he exclaimed indignantly. “And why did he do it?”

“To protect her. He didn't want the huge bulls-eye of being Harry Potter's girlfriend on her back,” she replied. “And to tell you the truth I've been living in abject fear that one of these mornings were going to wake up to find Harry gone off to face Voldemort alone.”

“The git would do something like that. He would think he was 'saving' us.”

“Precisely. That is why we can't let him. You and I Ronnie, we have to get Harry thru this! Until then every thing else is trivial.”

“You're right of course,” admitted Ron anemically.

“And above all else, none of us are allowed to die,” she stated forcefully. “Or I'll kill you both myself, I swear!”

She had said it such a half joking, half serious tone that Ron wasn't quite sure if she meant it or not. “Somehow I don't doubt that,” he sniggered.

“Then afterwards, when the dust settles, Ginny and Harry can be together again.”

“And you and I....”he timidly took her small hand in his.

“And you and I,” she demurely answered back. “We'll all get our happily ever after.”

Ron wrinkled his nose. “That sounds a bit girly.”

Hermione shook her hear jovially. “How's this then: Snogs for all!”

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips before jumping to his feet and grabbing her hand to help pull her up with him. “Now that sounds more like it.!”

Lavender came gliding out of the bathroom looking radiant as usual. She had changed in to her clothes already and had her hair pinned up.

“Daydreaming are we,” she beamed at him.

“Only about you love.” She smiled even brighter at that comment. “What took you so bloody long in there?”

She walked over to her mirror and bent down to get a better look at face. He sat up on the bed so he could get a better look at her bum.

“I couldn't decide if I wanted to wear my hair up or down. I finally decided to go with up. Makes me look older don't you think?”

Ron knew that the proper way to answer that question was to just nod his head ambiguously. The same went for the perennial 'Do these robes make me look fat'.

“I want Madame Borghesse to know that she is dealing with a mature young woman and not some little girl she can just push over.”

“I don't even see why we need a wedding planner,” Ron grumbled.

He watched in the mirror as Lavender rolled her eyes again, just as she did when she first told him of her idea to hire someone to organize their ceremony and all of the other events leading up to it. She turned to face him.

“We need a wedding planner because this wedding is just going to be too big for your mum to accommodate everything for the Burrows paddock,” she explained as though she were teaching a small child his letters.

“The Burrow was good enough for Bill,” he muttered.

“Yes, I'm sure it was. But need I remind you that Fred got married in that simply gorgee cathedral, Percy and Penelope were joined at the Ministry, and Ginny got married at Hogwarts.”

Ron looked at her aghast. “But those were completely different circumstances! Perce...well Perce is a show-offy prat. Fred had to get married in that church because his wife is one of those Cathalalics. He said her mum would have had a fit if she didn't. And Harry and Ginny had their wedding at Hogwarts because the whole bloody world wanted to attend! You know that.”

“Yes. And the whole wide world will want to attend ours just as well,” she huffed. Her voice was steeped in annoyance. “Why are you fighting me on this? Is it the money? You can afford this!”

Ron got off the bed and walked over to his girl...fiancée and grabbed her hands. He knew that she was one step away from throwing herself on the floor and having a cry. He knew the signs well. He wanted to head it off before it got out of hand.

“I just wanted you to have a wedding you could be proud of,” she sniffed, her eyes slowly watering. “So you could be proud of me.” He gathered her into his arms as she wailed, “A girl only has once chance to plan the perfect wedding!”

She cried a bit onto his bare shoulder as Ron gently stroked her hair. He neglected to inform Lavender that this would actually be her second chance at her dream wedding. In his old age Ronald Weasley had learned a very important skill, diplomacy.

“There, there,” he comforted her. “Of course I'm proud of you,” he said as he softly rocked her to and fro.

Lavender sniffed. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do. I'm marrying you aren't I?” This earned him a smile as she pulled back to look in his eyes. Their heads were slowly drifting towards each other until there was a knock at the bedroom door.

“You lot decent in there,” a voice bellowed.

“No,” Ron shouted back. “I'm having my way with my lusty wench as we speak.”

“Oh good, I'm not interrupting anything important then,” said George as he barreled into the room. He was already dressed for the day in his black robes with the WWW stitched in swirling loops at his left corner. He and Fred had adopted this quasi-uniformed look after they acquired their second Weasley Wizarding Wheezes joke shop in Hogsmeade village. Fred ran that one while George was in charge of the one in Diagon Alley. “Lavender, your mum in on the floo and she seems to be in a strop over something.”

Lavender rolled her eyes havenward. “When isn't my mother in a strop over something?” She disentangled herself from Ron's embrace and passed by George to head out the door.

“Going over to mum and dad's,” George asked after Lavender left the room.

Ron, dispirited over the lovely meal he was going to miss, sighed forlornly.

“No, we'll probably eat at the Cauldron later. Me and Lav have an early appointment with some wedding planner.”

George's eyes went bright with mirth and Ron instantly regretted his slip.

“Damn,” he said under his breath.

“Ooooh, la dee da! Ronniekins is off to see a wedding planner.”

“Shut it you,” Ron said, grinding his teeth in irritation. “It's what Lavender wants.”

“Of course,” George said in a cloyingly sweet tone. “Just remember Won-Won that if the planner tries to get you to wear white you can't, you brazen hussy you.”

George was already out the door by time Ron threw one of Lavender's face cream bottles at him. It hit the door with a limp thud before Lavender came back into the room. She did not look too happy.

“Violet threw a tantrum again,” she explained to him. “I've got to go home real quick to settle everything. Circe! How in the world my mum managed to raise three girls is beyond me when she falls to pieces every time my child cries for more then a minute.”

Ron took her in his arms again. “Go on, go see about the midget.”

“I'll have you know that my daughter is not a midget. She's a perfectly lovely little girl,” Lavender said in mock indignation. Her arms slowly came around his neck.

“Of course she is. Just like her mum.” He kissed her forehead and then her lips. “Go on. I'll be ready when you come back.”

“You had better,” she said before giving him a quick kiss in return and walking out of the room.

Ron hoped that Violet was alright. She could be a bit fussy at times and was known to cry over something as simple as her peas touching her meat. She also seemed to have an aversion to maroon, just like him. As he walked into the bathroom he made a note to buy his little girl a gift as soon as he got a chance.

His little girl! Ron's heart soared every time he thought of her as such. Although biologically she wasn't his daughter Ron had practically helped Lavender raise her child since her first husband died. He was certain he wanted to adopt Violet even before he was fully convinced that he wanted to marry Lav.

He still remembered the day that Lavender came to him and told him that she was getting married. It was the day before Valentine's Day. He and Hermione had only been back together for 21 days (he counted). This was their third shot for a reconciliation and Ron was certain that this was going to be their last. He still had the engagement ring he had bought her (with the twins help) way back when he was 18. He had tried to give it to her two time before, but they had broken up after each proposal. But this time Ron had hope. He was counting on the third time being the proverbial charm.

He had contemplated doing it on Valentine's Day, but he nixed the idea for seeming too cheesy. He was so wrapped up in thoughts of Hermione, and rings, and weddings that he barely heard it when someone rang the doorbell. It was Lav. She showed up at his and Harry's flat to tell him that she was going to marry her boss, Cornelius Pye. Lavender had worked as a personal secretary for the man since leaving Hogwarts. Pye was the last remaining heir of a pureblood family that once owned a profitable broom company, Pye in the Sky. Even though they had long since sold the company the Pyes still remained a wealthy bunch and Cornelius would often hire pretty little things to help him run his philanthropic organizations and take care of his personal needs. Lavender was the first one he had actually asked to marry him though.

“I think I could grow to love him,” she had told Ron that day. She sounded as though she was desperately trying to convince herself.

“I think I could be happy. He even reminds me a bit of you. I like to think that's how you'll be when you grow-up. He even had Weasley red hair once,” she joked referring to his now bald pate.

Ron was dismayed at her plans. Even though he had been a lout to Lavender over the years, quickly discarding her every chance Hermione looked his way, he had still grown very fond of her. In his own way he figured that he even loved her. He was surprised to find that he was actually jealous over the prospect that she would be another man's wife. Besides Cornelius was much too old for her. He was 78 for Merlin's sake! Dirty old coot!

But Ron told Lavender that if marrying Pye would make her happy then he would be happy for her. She bravely informed him that the only thing that would make her happy was if Ron married her instead. Ron reluctantly told her that he couldn't. Not as long as there was a chance that he could be with Hermione. She said that she understood. Two weeks later he read in The Prophet that Lavender and Olde Pye (he, Harry, and the twins had taken to calling the bastard that) had run off and gotten married in Gretna Green, Scotland on Valentines. Nearly 8 months later Violet Elvirah Pye came into the world.

By time Lavender got back to his place after settling things with her daughter and her mum Ron was dressed and ready to go. It was 10 o'clock. Their appointment was for 10:30. Since he lived in Diagon Alley, in a sky rise building that stood where Ollivander's used to be, he and Lavender were able to walk arm in arm to the wedding planner's shop. It was a dazzling white building located right before the turn into Knockturn Alley, across the street from Gringotts. There was a mannequin dressed in a lacy bridal robe in the store front. She winked at them as they walked up. The gold block lettering on the window said Blissful Brides by Borghesse.

“Try saying that three times fast,” Ron cracked. Lavender smacked his arm.

“Behave,” she warned him.

When they finally entered the shop they were both surprised to see that it was much larger on the inside then it appeared to be from out on the street. That didn't stop it from being packed to the gills with people. Young girls running here and there before mirrors trying on bridal robes. Groups of women walking back and forth, some wearing olive robes jotting down notes on pads. To the right of the entrance way Ron saw a flock of women examining a table full of expensive looking dinnerware as an older woman, who clearly worked there judging by the color of her robes, explained the prices and details of them all. Ron was quite bewildered by the whole scene, but Lavender merely pulled him along to the receptionist table across from the door. As they walked to her a pretty dark haired girl, dressed in olive as well, looked up and greeted them.

“Welcome to Blissful Brides by Borghesse,” she said perfectly and perkily. Ron fought down the snigger at the back of his throat.

“Hello. I'm Lavender Browne-Pye. I'm here to see someone about my wedding.”

“But of course,” the girl answered. “Let me see if I can get one of the associates to squeeze you in. You have to forgive us though, it's summer and everyone wants to get married,” she said as she stood up from her chair and looked around the shop for an available planner.

“No, no, you don't understand,” Lavender smugly interrupted. “I am Lavender Browne-Pye and this," she gestured over to Ron, “is my future husband. Perhaps you have heard of him, Ronald Billius Weasley? As in Ron Weasley star Keeper for the Wimbourne Wasps, finalists for the English cup. Also known as Ron Weasley, co-defeater of He Who Must Not Be Named. Does that ring any bells?”

The upset young girl looked at him and Lavender with huge awe struck eyes. The whole congregation by the table had gone quiet during Lavender's speech and were still watching them.

“Gracious me! The Weasley wedding. I'm so sorry! The Madame asked me to let her know as soon as you arrived. I'll just go run and do that,” the flustered girl said before she turned on her heels and fled the room.

“What,” asked Lavender as she turned to see the nonplussed look on Ron's face.

“Bit rough on her don't you think Lav? Poor kid looked like she probably just stepped off the Express.”

“Listen love,” Lavender said as she wrapped her arms around Ron's neck and kissed his cheek, “you deserve the best. And I,” she placed a hand on her chest, “am always going to be here to make sure you get it.” She then kissed his cheek again. He could only smile at her balls-iness.

Soon the kid, who introduced herself as Paloma, was back escorting them into a back office of the shop. At least it was supposed to be an office, but instead it looked more like a boudoir. Decorated in all dark mauve and lilac colors there were large pillows on the floor and silk veils and beads every where. To the left of the door there was a statue of a pair or dancing cupids. They were currently doing the Cha Cha.

But the soft sensuality of the room was dominated by a large ornate desk. Sitting at the desk when they walked in was a stately looking woman with obviously dyed red hair. She was an older witch, perhaps in her 50's or 60's, but she had the air of a vital, energetic young woman. Ron figured that it must be her bright green eyes that gave that impression. Her face still retained a bit of the prettiness that must have been hers in her youth although now it was greatly lined with age. Instead of the olive uniform that everyone else wore her robes were an aqua shade. She was stout, yet not fat. Regal, yet not imposing. She was standing up to greet them.

“Buona mattina.”

Both he and Lavender turned to the receptionist with perplexed expressions.

“She said 'morning,” the girl answered brusquely.

“That will be enough bella. Could you run down to Tom's and see if he has any more of that sinfully delicious pumpkin spice latte from the other day,” the woman asked in a voice that still carried a slight Italian accent though it was obvious that she had been living in England for a while.

“Si Madame.” The girl exited the room after briefly curtsying.

“Come, sit,” Madame Borghesse entreated pointing towards the two comfy looking wing back chairs before her desk. She took her own seat as the two of them sat as well.

“The Cauldron may not be very chic, but those lattes are to die for. Course they are so good that they must be a sin. But I'm sure a little sin in the morning never hurt anyone. Don't you agree Signore Weasley?”

Ron was at a loss for words. The woman seeing Ron's stunned face merely grinned at his stunned reaction. He turned to Lav hoping that she would help him out.

“She's just teasing you love,” she reassured him as she placed a calming hand on his knee.

“Your charming fiancée is correct Signore Weasley. Forgive me, I tend to flirt with my impending grooms. I am an old woman, it is my way,” she said giving a nonchalant wave with her hand.

“Now, to the business at hand,” she said as she drew her wand out of her right robe sleeve. She conjured a gorgeous looking quill, Ron suspected it was made from a Phoenix feather, and a note pad. “I believe we are here to discuss your wedding.”

“My favorite topic,” Lavender squealed, voice bubbling over with excitement.

“And are you doing things in the old Briton ways,” the Madame asked, hands clasped before her as her quill began to record their conversation.

“Oh yes, Ron and I both come from families that would like to retain some of the old rituals.” Lavender looked over to him and gave him a sweet smile. “But at the same time we would like to add some modern influences as well.”

“Of course, of course. And I will be more then happy to help you with that,” said the Madame as she pointed her wand at the desk and an object that looked like an old muggle adding machine appeared on it. She pressed a few buttons and a slip of paper printed it's self out. She tore the paper off and read it.

“Let's see, that would make the wedding date...June 24th, si?”

“No, no,” Lavender quickly corrected. “Won..er...sorry...I mean Ron proposed Tuesday.”

“Dio mio! Cara, you should have come to me since yesterday. Don't you know that the old rites are the number of days of a complete lunar cycle?”

“I know, I know,” Lavender nervously said.

“That would mean that your commencement is...”

“Sunday.”

“Dio mio,” she exclaimed again. “That only leaves me two days to plan.”

“Plan what,” Ron asked. Up until that moment he had felt completely useless in the whole conversation, but talk of the engagement party caught his attention. “My mum has already taken care of the whole thing.”

The Madame let out a sigh of relief. “Ah,that's good then. In the first years it was the mother of the groom's responsibility to host the commencement besides.”

The Madame then began to calculate the new information. Once the paper rolled out she looked over the information and then handed the slip to Lavender.

“All the things I handle and the fees are listed there. Thankfully the party Sunday gives me one less thing to worry about. That would just mean that I would take care of the Naming Tea, the Reception, and the Wedding ceremony it's self. I'm sorry, but I don't do the Temptations. That's completely up to the Maid of Honour and the Best Man.” The Madame sniffed her nose at that as if the very idea that she would handle something so base.

“Have you decided yet on who will fill these rolls?”

Lavender looked up from the sheet. “Oh of course! Ron's sister Ginerva Potter and her husband, Ron's best friend.”

“Ah yes,” said Madame Borghesse. “Harry Potter. This is going to be quite the wedding indeed.”

Lavender had brought up Harry's name innocently enough so that if one didn't know her one would think Lavender's vague mention was completely innocuous. But Ron knew her quite well and he didn't appreciate her use of Harry's name to score her points with Madame Borghesse. He let her know by shooting her a hard stare the moment that the Madame took her eyes from them and looked back at the door.

Paloma had arrived with the Madame's latte and even brought steaming cups of coffee for the couple. While the Madame held a short conversation with her receptionist in Italian Lavender looked over to Ron and mouthed the word sorry. Ron merely nodded his head back to her. Paloma exited the room again.

“Now if you want, Blissful Brides can help you with other important things. We help with ribbon selection, finding the new home. We even offer instructors who can coach you and your party on the various charms and spells. As I'm sure you glanced in our show room up front we also have a wide selection of bridal robes. Only the latest fashions, of course,” she said as though anything else would be sacrilege. “The prices are listed as well, but my basic fee is what is circled. I think it's more then reasonable.”

Lavender nodded her head in response as she handed Ron the slip with the fees. Ron causally looked down at the paper. Then did a double take.

“Bugger me!”

Lavender turned cool, angry eyes on him. “Ron,” she fumed. She was able to sound both terribly embarrassed and wrathful at the same time.

Madame Borghesse merely chuckled at the couple.

“It's quite alright dear. I've yet to have a prospective groom who didn't react much the same way.”

Ron didn't like to think of himself as cheap, but having grown up being a tad...improvised he learned early on the importance of a galleon. When he became a young adult and first started earning a wage he earned the reputation of being thrifty and smart with his gold. Although the money the Wasps payed him was a hefty amount he didn't believe in being extravagant with his money. The figure that the Madame was offering for her services was more then he got for his signing bonus! What did Lavender take him for? Bloody King Midas!

“Signore Weasley, let me see if I can help you understand,” Madame Borghesse said making her way from behind her desk and settling herself in front of the couple. She plucked the price sheet out of Ron's hands before leaning against the desk.

“In the days since past all the services that I and other wedding planners like myself take care of used to be the responsibility of the Maiden, what we now call the Maid of Honour. She was supposed to be a representative of the bride's purity. She was also responsible for executing the wedding Cycle to the bride's exact wishes. Back then there was no more important job for an unmarried witch! Essentially she would want to do a good job because soon it would be her turn to choose the proper Maiden.”

The Madame left her perch and crossed the room to a bookshelf on the right side wall. She drew out a heavy book, brought it over to Ron, and placed it on his lap. She then went behind her desk and took a seat again. Ron opened that book, a photo album, and began turning thru the pages. Page after page were the animated photos of wedding ceremonies. He assumed that they were former Blissful clients.

“Times have changed however,” she said returning to her subject. “Some say for the good. Some...disagree. Things have been taken from and added to the Cycle. Once upon a time the grooms family would be in the room as the marriage was first consummated.”

“Blimey!”

“Indeed Signore Weasley,” she softly laughed. “Thankfully that was done away with. Why now there are even Matrons of Honour. Trust me that fact scandalizes anyone born before the 1900's.”

Ron began looking at the pictures as he listened to Madame Borghesse continue to speak. He had to admit, the couples in the pictures looked blissfully happy.

“Now days though not as much importance is put on the ancient rites. Some wizarding couples opt to have muggle religious ceremonies. Some even elope. The old ways are not greatly enforced and because of that sometimes a bride will choose a Maid of Honour who isn't...how does that clever little saying go...up to snuff. As your planner I ensure that every thing goes according to plan under my watch. I am thorough, I am attentive to details, and more then anything else I live for making young bride's dreams come true.”

Ron's attention was caught by a photo of a young couple kneeling before a feeble, nearly bald old wizard who was dressed in shiny golden colored robes. Ron recognized the man immediately. It was Armando Dippet, the fellow who was Headmaster before Dumbledore. Ron recognized him from his portrait hanging in Dumbledore's...McGonagall's office. The picture was taken in profile but he couldn't see exactly see the couple's faces because the two tiny images were too enraptured with each other.

Soon that's going to be me and Lav, he thought excitedly.

“Do you love your fiancée Signore?”

Ron answered the question so quickly that he didn't even have time to be offended by it.

“Course I do,” he exclaimed forthrightly.

“Wouldn't you like to make your bride's dreams come true?”

Ron looked at Lavender, his sunny, funny Lavender. She meant everything to him! From the very beginning she always let him know that she put him first before anything. She knew that they belonged together long before he finally figured it out. He knew deep down that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. She was his heart! She was his fiancée.

“Of course I would,” he answered Madame Borghesse.

A smile spread across the old woman's face. Then let me give you and the Signorina a dream wedding. One that will live in your memories and dreams forever. Let me plan your wedding.”

She handed him back the sheet of paper with her fees on it and he leaned across her desk to take them. He could feel, rather then see Lavender go stiff with anxiousness. He looked at it again briefly before plucking the Madame's quill from it's spot where it was still writing. On the line where it asked for his form of payment Ron wrote down his Gringotts vault number. He then handed the slip back Madame Borghesse.

“Whatever Lav wants, do it.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the room for a moment before Lavender sprung to life beside him and reached over to grab him. She placed a big smacking kiss on his cheek before squealing for joy.

“Quello è buono,” said the Madame. “We will meet in a few days to begin making plans in earnest.”

She stood up and he and Lavender followed suit.

“Thank you, thank you Madame Borghesse,” Lavender cried jubilantly, extending her hands to shake the older witch's own.

“Cara bella, it is I who should be thanking you,” she said as she clasped Lavender's hands and placed first her right cheek, then her left against either side of Lavender's and made kissing sounds.

“It's when I meet a couple so obviously in love as the two of you that I remember why I started this company.”

If those words had come from anyone else Ron was sure that it would have been a load of dugbog dung. But something in the Madame's demeanor told him that she meant her words wholeheartedly.

“And you may call me Filomena. After all we are going to be spending an awful lot of time together these next few weeks.”

Filomena then bade farewell to Ron in the same manner as she did Lavender.

“Trust me Signore, you will not regret your decision. I will make your wedding perfect and not a thing will go wrong.”

“I sure hope not,” he responded. “Cause I'm going to be paying for this thing all the way to the Old Wizards Home!”

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.

Title: All Roads Lead Back

Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. H/Hr, but a whole lot of ships thrown in. Post-HBP

Summary: Harry Potter always figured that once he had fulfilled his destiny he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell. Set 7 years after the final battle.

Spoilers: All six books.

A/N: I am a Harmony shipper thru and thru. HBP almost sent me into a fit until I realized that I was throwing a tizzy over a book and told myself to get over it. Hee. I then decided to throw my hat in the fanfiction ring and see if I could come up with a realistic (at least to me) story of my favorite couple getting together that adheres to canon. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I have the whole story already plotted out, but would appreciate it if you would tell me if writing the rest is worth it or not.

I'm sorry for not giving ample enough warning in that last chapter. I honestly thought that I was being subtle with the R/Hr. I edited down the original version like crazy, but I will try harder to be cautious with the non-H/Hr stuff. I just really wanted to explore the dynamics of the R/Hr relationship because it does play it's part in the upcoming H/Hr relationship. It's funny, even though I am H/Hr all the way the R/Hr interaction in HBP didn't bother me. Kinda shocked me actually. I read the other five books thinking that sure the hints were anvil sized, anvil sized that they pointed to a one sided R/Hr. She just never seemed that into him. Then in book 6 I was like, oh snap, Hr likes Ron? Wild! But be that as it may I can't help but see something deeper going on between H/Hr. So that's how I wrote the story, that she felt something for Ron but nothing like she felt for Harry. Speaking in the past sense the poor thing just hasn't realized it yet. But when she does...oh boy!

Warning: This chapter contains flashbacks of some ONE SIDED D/Hr. I repeat this chapter contains some one sided D/Hr. And it ain't coming from her side. Just wanted y'all to be clear on that before you come after me with the torches and the pitchforks. There is also mention of D/Lu. Because I know y'all want some H/Hr I've thrown in the next chapter as well. Even though I'm not happy with it. At all! But once I finally figure out what I want to do with it I'll just re-edit it.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! They really have been helping me.

Disclaimer: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

He had finally decided to do it. He was going to do it! He was going to walk right in to that store and buy that ring for her. I'm going to walk right in, buy that ring, and by Merlin I'm not going to loose my nerve, the little voice in Draco's head assured himself. Of course if he hadn't been so agitated he would have asked himself why the hell he was hearing little voices where there shouldn't be little voices. But Draco didn't have time for all that self analysis mumbo jumbo. He was about to make a very important commitment to the woman who he was almost certain he was in love with. Scratch that, he was sure he was in love with Luna. This was serious business! It wasn't everyday you asked a girl to think about marrying you.

Draco had come to the little town of Hogsmeade to reinterview a witness for his current case. His division of Aurors were tracking some pureblood nutjob who had a hard-on for torching people. The problem however was that no one was exactly sure what Cadmus, the nut in question, looked like or where the hell he was.

They knew basics. According to Ministry records he was born in a small Devon village, Denbury, around 1890 to a witch and wizard of apparently low status. Neither had ever been students at Hogwarts it would appear even though Cadmus was a very ancient wizarding name. Ptolemy Cadmus never crossed those hollowed halls himself. Instead sometime around 1904 he was employed as a stable boy for a family in St. Catchpole, the Stonefeathers. The Stonefeathers were a very old, very powerful, very rich wizarding family that only employed human servants. The patriarch, Elias Stonefeather, once lost a card game to his elf valet and since that heinous transgression no house-elves were allowed near him. Cadmus apparently stayed with the family for only a few years before disappearing from the world.

The next time he showed up on any wizarding radar was when his daughter entered Hogwarts in 1923. There was no record of Cadmus marrying, but according to the daughter's schoolmates she was very proud of her paternal name and always maintained that both her parents were of magical birth. It was assumed that Cadmus had simply lived muggle for all those missing years. They were still waiting for paper work from Arthur Weasley's office to determine if this was fact. They did know that by time the daughter married her muggle husband the unnamed mother was dead. The cause of death was uncertain, but Draco wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't been tuned in to a crispy bit herself.

Some years after his daughter's death he married a stupid bint by the name of Cady Bishop who had been a barmaid at the the Haggling Hag. From what Draco had been able to gather Cady had also been a small time whore who picked up her tricks from the Hag's clientèle. If Cadmus knew this when he married her he apparently didn't care. After the 1952 wedding, that shockingly enough took place in the Ministry it's self, Cadmus once again laid low.

That is until he killed Kevin and Whitney Whitby right in their Hogsmeade shop. It would seem that for Cadmus, Whitney was too much of a muggle for his taste, though they didn't find that fact out til later. At first there were no suspects. The few eyewitnesses they had to the crime could only report seeing a dragon leaving the scene shortly after the shop began to burn to the ground. The thinking was that it was all some freak, random, dragon attack. Experts from the Magical Creature department were called in to investigate. But when the second couple, a Cloinda and Desmond Forbes, were torched in the husband's home the Ministry knew that something was up.

The Second Squad, Potter's Posse as they were secretly called much to their department head's chagrin, were officially put on the case and called out to Peckham to investigate. Before a dispatchment of Obliviators went to work on them, the Forbes' neighbors reported seeing a dragon flying away. That now made for two random dragon attacks. And what was more confusing was that from the descriptions they were able to attain the dragon was a breed that wasn't known to live in Europe.

For weeks the Aurors were stumped as to what was going on. That is until Langdon Moon and his new bride of 2 weeks, Sarah, died while trying to escape from the blazing inferno that had been their Diagon Alley flat. As was usual the witnesses reported seeing a copper colored dragon, a Vipertooth. For the first time Draco and his partner Potter were able to fit a pattern to the crimes. They both realized what all three couples had in common: they were all newlyweds and they all were mixed marriages. Kevin and Langdon were wizards, Cloinda was a witch. Their respective spouses were muggles.

But the pièce de résistance came in the form of a ring that was found in the wreckage of the Moon's home. It was a woman's class ring. A gold Hogwarts class ring with the Ravenclaw seal embossed on it, class of 1930.

Of course they naturally assumed that the ring was a Moon family heirloom, Langdon came from a Ravenclaw legacy. But after the ring was thoroughly examined the name Cadmus was found scrawled in a fancy script along the inside of it. That was when Harry's researchers went to work. They found the name of Harmonia Cadmus, Ravenclaw, listed as one of Hogwarts former Head Girls. They found out that Harmonia left school that Christmas break of her last year to marry a muggle named Heinz Andrews and that her husband killed her not too long after the wedding. They also learned that Andrews died in a freak fire in 1998. The mental clinic the old man still lived in since he killed his wife burned to ashes with him in it. He was the only casualty.

Soon after the ring was identified an article, published without the Department's consent, appeared in The Daily Prophet detailing the gruesome murders of the Moons. The ring was mentioned and a few scant hours after hitting the stands Cady Cadmus was at the Ministry headquarters to claim her family's possession. The sapphire ring was priceless, or so she said. It rightfully belonged to her husband Toley she told Whitmer, the Auror who took her statement. From what the slightly inebriated wench told them her husband Ptolemy wore the ring on a gold chain around his neck and never took it off. She gabbled on for hours more, but it didn't matter. They finally had their man!

Or so they thought. The problem was that Cadmus seemed to always be three steps ahead of Potter's Posse. They would arrive at a country B&B and find simply "Cadmus" written in the ledger days after the man had already left. They would find "Cadmus" written on slips of paper in the drawers of pawn shops the man unloaded one item after another in. The biggest problem of them all was that no one could give them a clear idea of what the elusive Cadmus looked like. Not even his wife. And she slept with him for Merlin's sake, Draco was known to grumble. All they knew was that they were looking for a rather large man, about 6 feet tall, 6 inches who was built like a manticore. Although he was of a considerable age, well over 100 years he supposedly didn't look a day over 75. According to Mrs. Cadmus he walked with a limp due to a run-in he had with an abraxan when he was a young teen and he wore his long white hair in a plait down his back. He also had an equally long snow white beard that he kept immaculately clean. Harry called in a sketch artist to do a rendering of what the lunatic could look like. There didn't seem to be a single photograph of the man in existence. The wife told them it was probably a pretty good depiction. If you asked him, Draco thought the barmy eejit looked like the muggle Father Christmas on steroids. When he mentioned this to his partner Potter told him, rather nastily, that he in fact did not ask him his opinion..

They had a good sketch and they had a few good leads, that should have been enough. From the description they were given Cadmus was the sort of gent you would remember if you ran into him. But an odd thing happened. Every person the man came in contact with seemed to remember speaking to him, but couldn't quite recall anything else. What they talked about, what he was wearing, if there was anyone else with him. Nothing. Harry had surmised that Cadmus was either using a strong cloaking charm or was confunding these people. Draco was quick to agree. Draco also believed that whatever screws might be loose in the loon's head they were also dealing with a very powerful wizard. The man could control a Vipertooth! A fucking Vipertooth! They were mean little buggers. A Peruvian would rather have a human for lunch then allow one to trot it about like some over grown St. Bernard. This bloke however seemed to be able to command and ride one.

And how else to explain his apparent control over so many people's mind, even months after the fact? The witness that Draco had just spoken with, an Winnona Bettany, still seemed to be slightly mentally frazzled. Winnona contacted the Ministry to tell them that she was remembering some more details of the day she watched Kevin Whitby's bakery burn. Harry dispatched Draco to Hogsmeade to get her testimony, but when the young Auror arrived at the tiny old woman's cottage she appeared surprised to see him. She didn't recall floo'ing the Ministry that morning at all. She then promptly offered Draco a plate of cookies that looked like they were covered in kneazle hair. Draco graciously declined and hot tailed it of there. Winnona still seemed to be confunded and Draco wouldn't be surprised if they found most of Cadmus' second hand victims in the same condition.

Although this fact finding mission had been a wash Draco did find something else to do with his day. He was currently standing in front of Magical Moments, an antique shop next to Madame Puddifoot's. Magical Moments specialized in one of a kind pieces of furniture and jewelry. It was a piece of jewelry in fact that held his attention.

He had first spotted the ring after leaving Puddifoot's one day a few weeks ago. He had met Pepper Warrington, one of the few Slytherin housemates of his that would still associate with him, there for lunch. Back in his fifth year Pepper had been a member of the Inquisitional Squad that he, and a bunch of the other kid's Draco ran with, joined. The slightly older black haired, turquoise eyed girl was also the hot piece of ass that introduced young Draco to the world of sex. Luckily for him right under Pansy's nose. The two of them remained acquaintances even after she married the man she had been betrothed to, Sylvain Warrington. Warrington was another fellow Slytherin and Inquisitional Squad member. Pepper had asked Draco to lunch because she needed a shoulder to cry on. She was afraid that Sylvy had a mistress. Over scones and tea Draco patted her hand and reassured her that he was almost certain that Warrington wasn't stepping out on her with another woman. Draco neglected to inform her that the Warrington he remembered from school seemed to prefer blokes. Once Pepper was calmed down Draco exited the little cafe.

Merlin how he hated Puddifoot's! The tacky decor always seemed to him to look like a muggle greeting card exploded inside. Pepper is going to have to choose a better locale next time, he thought to himself. As he walked pass the Madame's neighboring shop he just happened to glance over and look in the window. He caught the gleam off of a silver object lying on a purple velvet pillow. As he walked closer to inspect he saw that it was a ring. The ring was a shiny sterling silver with a ebony onyx stone in the center of it. The sides had some kind of engravings on them, but from his vantage point Draco couldn't tell what they were. With his curiosity piqued, Draco entered the store to investigate. Upon hearing the little bell that went off, the shops owner came rushing up to him.

“Can I help you fine sir,” the rather plump middle aged witch asked him. She was dressed in dark gray robes that seemed to match her up-swept hair. She had a rather pleasant face that looked like it gave easily to smiles, like the one she was giving him now.

“Oh it's nothing really. I was just curious about that ring in your window. It kind of caught my eye,” he said, sending her a sexy little smirk that made most women want to fling their knickers at him.

Apparently this witch was no exception. She giggled as she waddled quickly over to the window. Draco did a quick survey of the neat little shop and saw that although the items in it appeared to be old, they also seemed to be quite pricey.

“This is a rather nice little place. How long has it been here,” he asked conversationally as she came walking back to him, ring in palm.

“Oh, I just moved in here not too long ago,” she shared as she handed the ring to Draco. “I had a lot in Diagon, but the rent was just far too much for me.”

Draco listened to her talk as he examined the ring closely. It was truly an exquisite thing. The large onyx stone almost seemed to entrance him and the silver brilliantly gleamed as if it had it's own inner shine.

“Gorgeous, isn't it? And right clever too! It reshapes it's self to fit perfectly whose ever finger it is on.”

Draco looked down at the woman who was standing right in front of him. He felt as if he were in a daze. She smiled back up at him and clucked her tongue.

“That right there is the last remaining bit of the Swinhufvud treasure.”

“Swinhufvud,” Draco asked, pronouncing the name awkwardly.

The woman gave a small laugh. “An old Swedish noble family. Well, they lived as nobles rather. They all were wizards though. The line died out unfortunately.”

Draco nodded his head although he had barely heard her. He was still looking at the intricate design on the sides. It sort of looked like a...pig. A very odd looking pig with weirdly shaped horns.

“A poor young wizard, hard on his luck, sold it to me a few years ago,” she continued. “Not a member of the family of course. He probably got it from a past relative who worked as a servant for them. But in my line of business you don't tend to ask questions, eh?”

Draco nodded affirmatively and then held the side of the ring out to the woman. “It's something special all right. But what the devil are these things,” he asked.

The woman giggled again and took the ring gingerly out of Draco's hand. “You wouldn't be the first person to ask that question. It's a snorkack.”

Draco, who had been looking at the ring longingly, quickly brought his eyes back to the witch. Surely she didn't say what he thought she said.

“Come again?”

“I said it's a snorkack. At least that's what that young man told me when I asked him. The Swinhufvud's seemed to raise the things,” she answered him.

Draco looked at the the woman in comical disbelief for a moment before he doubled over in laughter. The woman looked at him confusedly.

“Well yes, I gather it is a rather odd looking beastie,” she said. She gave a half hearted, nervous laugh.

When the attractive blond first strode in to her store Lucretzia Boothe had taken one look at the well groomed man in his expensive looking robes and rather prideful air and smelled a sale in the air. Lucretzia could spot money when she saw it and this well built Adonis with the light gray eyes had bucket loads.

But she didn't count on him being a nutter.

Draco, still laughing, ran his fingers thru his shortly shorn head of hair as he looked in to the perplexed face of the store's owner.

“I'm sorry. It just really is an odd looking...beastie,” he said. Seconds later he was out the door.

For weeks afterwards Draco would find some reason or another to come to Hogsmeade and walk by Magical Moments. Each time he would hope against hope that the ring would still be in the window, and each time he would be pleased to see that it was. He figured the reason for this was that there weren't many woman who would wear a bauble decorated with a pig. Well, maybe there was one woman, Draco thought affectionately.

No one would have ever expected Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood to get together. Sure she came from a good pureblood family, but that didn't negate the fact that the woman was a few bats short of a belfry. Draco had known her in school of course. You couldn't miss her, what with her bottle cap necklaces, radish earrings, hats that would roar or flap about. She wasn't just eccentric, she was bloody mad. Draco and his gang took great pleasure in harassing her when she showed up at Hogwarts for her first year. That is until they realized that the shoddy treatment didn't seem to phase her. It was no fun kicking someone in the teeth if they didn't at least acknowledge that their mouths were a bit sore, Draco mused. It was so much more fun to have a go at Potty and the Weasel King. Now there were two people who made teasing worth the while. Draco soon lost interest in Luna.

After the war he would still run in to her occasionally, but she wasn't really a person who was on his radar. That all changed one fine spring day. Chief Hanes had told him the day prior that a brand new reporter from a fine and reputable paper was coming to do a personality piece about a young man's first few months as a new Auror. Hanes volunteered Draco. Draco didn't mind much, he rather liked the idea of reading an article in the Prophet or even the International Seer detailing all of his daring exploits and heroics.

The day of the interview Draco came to work dressed in a pair of finely tailored black trousers and a black cashmere pullover. His platinum hair set against his usual dark apparel made him look like a sinisterly sexy angel. As he waited for the reporter at his neatly ordered desk during his lunch break he briefly wondered if he was going to be interviewed by a woman. And if said woman would be yummy enough to bed. That should get him a front page exclusive surely! All these thoughts were dashed however when the the journalist herself walked in.

“You,” he exclaimed accusingly, voice dripping in disdain.

Luna Lovegood looked much the same as she did way back in school. Her hair was still dirty blonde, although now she wore it in large curls that hung to her shoulders. Her eyes looked like molten silver. The way they bulged gave her a constant look of surprise. Her straight thin nose and thin pale lips were features found commonly on pureblood girls. She was slightly pale as well, but she didn't look washed out. Her complexion went well with her rather waifishly thin prettiness. Luna Lovegood was in a word, cute. This fact was not lost on Draco as she stood at the entryway of his cubicle dressed in stylishly cut chocolate brown robes. But she still is mad as ever, he thought as he noted the far off look on her face.

“You,” Draco sputtered again.

“Yes me,” she said in a low and dreamy, melodious voice. “At least I think I'm still me. I was when I first walked in here. I think.”

Draco gaped at her, mouth opened wide. He was slightly relieved that most of his office mates had gone out to lunch and were not around to witness this. He would have never lived it down.

“You should be careful, you know. Although a wrackspurt usually comes in thru the ears you never know when they might adapt and jump in any old hole.” She then placed her hand on his chin and closed his mouth for him.

Draco was so annoyed that he didn't even notice the slight tingle he felt where she touched him. He jerked his chin away. This was not how he expected his day to go.

“What the hell are you doing here Loony,” he demanded, his temper steadily rising.

“I'm here to interview you. Didn't Uncle Army arrange all this?”

At this point Draco didn't care who Uncle Army, Uncle Navy or Uncle bloody Royal Air Force was. He wanted the woman out of his office!

“He and daddy played chess together just a few days ago. When I told Uncle Army about the article I wanted to write he said he would handle it. Armistead Hanes is your boss is he not,” she asked, silver eyes boring in to his own similarly colored ones.

“Hang on, Chief Hanes is your uncle?”

She gave a disturbingly loud laugh, more like the bray of a horse, and shook her head. “No. Uncle Army and Dad are just good friends. Dad even lets him cheat at chess.”

Draco silently cursed under his breath. Hanes in the Arse had set him up. Fine and reputable paper indeed! The Quibbler was a piece of garbage that most people used to line their pets cages. It advertised spells to help you raise a sphinx army and published feature articles on goblin/Vampire secret alliances. It was a joke and just so happened to be the paper that Linus Lovegood, Luna's father, owned and edited. Draco sighed. There would be no front page exclusive to look forward to now.

“Look Loony, I think there has been a mistake,” Draco said as he slowly stood from his chair.

“Is there? Did I come on the wrong day? I can come back,” she said, her voice for the first time diverging from it's whimsical tone.

Draco gritted his teeth in agitation. Why couldn't this loon get the picture and just leave, he thought moodily.

“It's not that,” he said. “I just don't think I'm the right person for you to write your little story on. I'm not in some torrid love affair with one of the Gorgons and I don't know anything about Scrimgeour's pet Golem.” He said the last bit rather nastily.

“Oh,” Luna said in a slightly soft, slightly dismayed voice.

Draco looked at Luna again and was almost horrified to discover that her eyes were wet. He hated a crying woman. Unless she was a drunk crying woman. Those he knew how to handle. Lovegood on the other hand was a different story.

“Loony, please do not cry. I just don't think you will get the story you want from me.”

Luna sniffed loudly. “Maybe your right,” she admitted. “I told Uncle Army that I wanted to write a story on how people can change. For the better that is. And that it is possible to get a clean slate. But I guess your are right. You aren't the person I wanted to write about,” she said pointedly. She then turned on her low booted heel and proceeded to walk away.

Draco stared dumbly at her turned back for a split second before he grabbed her arm and turned her back around to face him.

“You wanted to write what?”

Luna gazed strait at him and tilted her head proudly. “I know that my father's paper has a reputation for publishing rubbish. But there is a lot of good in there if people would take the time to read it. I wanted to write an article about you.”

Draco let go of her arm and tugged distractedly on his ear. He felt like Loony Lovegood was turning his brain to mush.

“You mean to tell me you asked Hanes specifically for me? For your interview?” Luna gave a little nod. “But why?”

A small smile appeared on his face. “Because you fascinate me.” Draco snorted. Her smile grew larger. “You don't even realize just how interesting you are, do you?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Listen hon, there are over a half dozen of Aurors you could have gotten for your little piece,” he said. And most of them wouldn't have made you cry he added in his head.

“Oh, I'm not talking about the fact that you are an Auror. Daddy says that half you lot are nothing more then glorified babysitters for Fudge's...well, I guess now Scrimgeour's secret heliopath stash.”

Draco made a loud noise in his throat that was half way between a laugh and a scoff of derision.

“What I'm talking about is what you have done with your life. And not even the fact that you helped bring down Voldykins.”

At this Draco did laugh. He had never heard Lord Voldemort referred to as such.

“What's so special about me Loony? I mean, I know I'm rather gorgeous but...”

“Oh, are you,” she asked just as innocent as could be. Draco didn't detect a hint of malice in the question. “You see I always sort of went for redheads.”

Draco recalled that this was true. Luna dated the Weasel King not too long ago. And if he was remembering right it did not end well. At all.

“Back in school I always wondered if that,” she looked up at his short blonde buzz cut, “was your real hair color. It makes you look rather peaky doesn't it.”

Draco's feathers were ruffled. He did not look peaky! He was a handsome enough fellow, if he said so himself. And he did.

“But that is neither here nor there,” Luna added as she clasped her hands in front of her. “I actually admire you Draco Malfoy.”

Draco was so astounded at this revelation. Luna Lovegood admired him? What the devil for? And why did her her revelation sound eerily like another pronouncement he'd heard before?

I'm very, very proud of you Draco Malfoy.

Draco shook his head as if to clear it. He found that Luna was staring him steadily in his eyes. He cleared his throat.“You um....admire me,” he asked.

Luna smiled.“Well, yes. Are you feeling ok? Did a mugumpwa bite you? They are rather nasty things, pixies. They bite you and all you hear in your head is Celestina Warbeck warbling away til it drives you mad. I'm not sure why Celestina though. Do you figure she put them up to it?”

“Listen Loony you lost me at mugumpwa.” Draco closed his eyes as he placed his hand to his brow line. He felt a headache rapidly approaching.

Luna gave that horse like laugh again. “Very well, very well. You just looked so confused when I said that I admired you,” she replied.

At this time some of the other Aurors were making their way back in to the office. Draco opened his eyes and watched them as they filed in.

“I do, you know.”

Draco turned his attention back on Luna.

“I find people who defy conventions interesting,” she said. “You were born in to a world where you were taught that you were better then most. Where you were taught to despise that which was different then yourself. You learned these lessons from the people that gave you life so you shouldn't have questioned them”

Draco swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, headache forgotten. Why did he think Loony was so loony again?

“But you did question them. You turned against everything that was programmed into your head because you knew deep down it was wrong. Do you know how hard it is to do that? It would have been easier for you to turn to the Death Eaters....”

“Which would have had me dead now or in Azkaban...”

“But you didn't know that then did you?” Draco shook his head. “Of course not. Back then none of us knew who would come out on top in the end. But you knew that you could no longer fall in step with whatever Voldykins had planed. It's a very hard thing, to think on our own sometimes. We go to this restaurant because were told that it's the so called spot to be seen. We glorify certain people because we are told that they should be put on pedestals. We degrade others because we are told they should be scorned.” She said this last bit not without a touch of bitterness in her voice.

“But to think for one's own self? Some fear that more then death. If you die your are just dead. Nothing else can be done about that. But when you think for yourself you have to live with that decision and accept the consequences. For most that can be a terrifying thing.”

“Ok Loony, now you've really lost me. I think my head hurts.”

Luna covered her mouth to hold back the laugh (thank Merlin) that wanted to bubble out. “I'm simply saying that it was brave of you to side with Harry. Especially since you hated him once. You made a decision that has seemed to change your life for the better. But that change never would have come if you hadn't made the first step. That took courage.”

Draco tried to fight the blush of embarrassment that he feared was spreading across his face. Luna was assigning motivations to his deeds and actions that were not necessarily true, but they sure sounded good to hear her tell it. He could almost believe them himself.

“And then the way you fought the Ministry when they didn't want to let you into the Department to train! Holy cricket that took erumpent sized balls!”

Draco was quite certain his face was boiling now. Not too many people knew that last bit. After the war, even after all that Draco had done to help bring down Voldemort, he still wasn't trusted. He was a Malfoy and as such was considered a traitor to the Ministry. That little incident back in 6th year where he let a horde of homicidal followers of the Dark Lord into Hogwarts, an act which resulted in Headmaster Dumbledore's death, also did not help his standing. So unsurprisingly when Draco suddenly decided that this whole saving people gig might not be so bad and wanted to become an Auror there were many people in positions of power who were determined that Draco would not get his wish. Everything worked it's self out in the end and Draco eventually got to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There was one person who wouldn't have had it any other way.

“You could have taken all the Malfoy galleons and been done with it. But you stuck to your guns and you fought for your right to do so.”

When Luna noticed Draco's questioning look she simply said, “Hermione told me. She was very proud of you, you know.”

“Yes. Yes she was,” Draco said, heart swelling as it did every he thought of a certain brunette or someone even said her name.

“Well, I should be going now,” Luna said as she looked around the room and saw that it was almost full. “I'm sorry for wasting your time Mr. Malfoy.”

Luna turned around and made for the exit of the office again. Draco watched her go until he heard a small voice chide him to stop her. He couldn't be certain, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the voice sounded like Hermione's.

“Loony wait!”

Heads all over the department turned to see who was making the racket. Luna who had been half way out the door turned to look at him, that dreamy look returning to her face. Draco shyly shuffled over to where Luna was standing and stood before her.

“Listen Loony, um...if you still want to do the interview I'm for it. Just say when,” he said as he stared at the floor, too scared to meet her eyes. Because of this he missed the huge smile that spread across her face.

“Well now would be just lovely,” Luna said, beaming.

“Sadly I'm a working stiff and we have frittered away what little break I had,” said Draco jokingly.

Luna grabbed one of Draco's hands and wound her arm thru his own. Draco was slightly startled by this move of intimacy, but shrugged it off. It felt nice.

“Uncle Army will understand if I steal you away for another hour. This is going to be my first big feature article and I'm sure that he will want it to turn out well.”

“Sounds good enough to me,” Draco said as he steered Luna towards the door. “Why don't we get something to eat so our stomachs will be full as I tell you how wonderful I am.”

Luna gave a girlish giggle that was tons better then that horsey thing she did.

“That sounds just marvy. Oh I know! We could go to Madame Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade. I haven't been there in ages. I always loved the decor when I was a little girl.”

You would, Draco thought in bemusement.

Draco ended up taking a 2 hour lunch that day. Luna turned out to be a pretty excellent reporter. She asked questions that no other journalist would generally ask and for the trouble got insightful answers out of Draco. When the article was published a few days later it caused such a sensation that The Daily Prophet and The International Seer payed The Quibbler a nice sized amount to run the piece in both of their publications. There was just something so juicy about a son who could turn his back on his family in order to fight for the Side of Light. And the personal demons he dealt with in order to do so...sexy. Draco became a minor celebrity over night. He practically had to beat the women off of him with a stick. Which he almost invested in seeing as how he was now dating Luna.

He didn't end up in bed with Luna the night of his interview. Luna was after all a pureblood girl and they tended to be uptight when it came to premarital sex. But after sharing cozy lunches for two and heading out to the muggle cinema just about every night for a couple of weeks it seemed a far gone conclusion that they would end up sleeping together. Draco was almost terrified of the prospect. He was shocked to discover that he actually liked spending time with Luna. Sure she was off beat, but he kind of liked that aspect of her. She also was one of the least judgmental people he had ever met. She respected the fact that he could be sarcastic and surly. He liked the fact that she was slightly insane. She loved it when he called her Loony Love, said she had never had a pet name before. He would nearly jump her every time she called him her lover in that low dream like tone of hers. Draco feared that once they eventually had sex he would loose all interest in her. That was his usual pattern.

In fact when he and Luna first started dating he had been seeing Pristine Pringle. She was a auburn haired, pureblood princess he had been dating on and off for years. His mother had introduced Draco to Pristine at a luncheon she hosted. It would be too kind to call her simply a husband hunting harpy. Hermione hated her! Said she was silly, mean spirited, and most importantly could afford to eat a sandwich a time or two. Pristy was very pretty though and was good for a lay every now and then. Draco barely tolerated her! When Draco dumped Pristine for Luna he was almost certain that she would soon follow her predecessor. But it never happened. Nearly a year and half to the date of that fated interview Draco ended up moving in to the Lovegood home in St. Catchpole. He had never been so happy in his life!

Two years later found him still ridiculously happy. That was why he was still standing in front of Magical Moments. As soon as he had seen the ring he knew that he wanted to give it to his Loony Love. Once the shopkeeper told him about the snorkacks (crumple-horned snorkacks lover, his girlfriend would have said had she been there) that were engraved on it he knew that he had to give it to Luna. It was made for her. He didn't even care about the price, 2200 galleons. Nothing was too good for his Loony.

In fact what he really wanted to give her was the Malfoy Pearl. The Malfoy Pearl was the family heirloom that was passed down to each first son of the family. Upon choosing a bride the heir would place it on the young lady in question's finger and thus begin the Rites. The Pearl was currently sitting on his mother's vanity table waiting patiently for Draco to choose his future bride. As far as Draco was concerned he had found her. The problem was was that he knew that Luna was slightly gun shy at the prospect of another wedding. For this reason above all Draco wanted to curse the Weasel King and turn him in to a self swallowing flobberworm. He had read in the Prophet that the Weasel was planning on marrying the very same bint that had disrupted the redhead's wedding to Luna almost 4 years ago. Good riddance, Draco thought to himself. I hope she wrecks his fucking life! Draco sometimes forgot the fact that it was his own good luck that Ron called off the wedding. If he hadn't Draco wouldn't have his Loony now.

No, Luna wasn't ready for the Malfoy Pearl. But the Swinhufvud gem was just right. They could consider it a pre-engagement engagement ring. A promise of a promise. Draco knew he was good for fulfilling that pledge. He had never felt this way about any other woman before...save one.

Draco could never be sure when he and the walking Spellopedia named Granger had actually become friends. He knew it was before she almost launched her one witch campaign against the Ministry to get him into the Auror program. He thought it might have been that Christmas, trapped at Hogwarts as the Second War raged on outside, that she knitted (badly) a jumper for him. She said that he deserved a present too, but the truth was that her big heart couldn't stand to see him be the only Order member empty handed that year. He was sure it wasn't the time he slapped her silly for calling his father a monster. She was quite sore (literally and figuratively) for days after that incident. She had been right, but at the time Draco didn't want to hear it. No, Draco could never say for certain when the bushy haired swot that he had teased and berated all thru school had become his closest friend and confidant. But he did remember the night, in vivid detail, when he figured out that he wanted to shag the living daylights out of her.

In a way Draco had always been unconsciously attracted to the girl back when they were younger, though he would have rather died then admit it back then. She sort of reminded him of his mother, fiercely intelligent, crafty, and obviously not above using her feminine wiles to get her own way. When Hermione had threatened him with a vial of Veritaserum the night he defected to the Order she mounted his very lap and deftly grinded herself on him to get a reaction. Of course Potty missed all of that, the blind git! Hermione taunted him with cruel threats and when Draco vehemently denied her claim that he wanted to shag her she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Your wand says otherwise”. He knew she wasn't talking about his beech wood. It was positively Slytherin of her and well played. Draco had to wonder if the girl had been sorted into the wrong house. Against his will Draco's esteem of the Gryffindor girl went up many notches that night. But he didn't think he wanted her in his bed just then. That revelation came not too long after.

It happened a couple of weeks after what they were calling “the cup incident”. Hermione was wide awake and grumpier then usual while Draco had just become a member of the Order of the Phoenix, much to the surprise of all.

It was late September, and Draco felt the first chill of the season in the air as he walked around the nearly deserted Hogwarts castle late one night. Once upon a time Draco had been able to sleep like a baby secure in the knowledge that he was a little prince and that his fairy godmother dark lord would banish all the muggles in the world so that everything could be perfect. Draco never realized that for this to happen some people would have to die. A great deal of people to be exact. The point was driven home when he was called on to murder his headmaster, an act that should have never been left to a child. Draco couldn't do it! He had always thought that Dumbledore was a dithering old fool, but that didn't mean he wanted the dithering old fool dead. Even with the fates of his parents swinging in the balance before him Draco could not throw the Unforgivable at the professor. In fact what he had done to Katie Bell, even unintentionally, secretly weighed heavily on his mind. Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, but he was no killer. And because of that simple fact Draco was now holed up in Hogwarts with a rag tag group of rebels who were relying on a near sighted, barely 17 year old ponce to defeat quite possibly the greatest dark lord ever known to wizarding kind. Yes, Draco was having a hell of a time getting to sleep these days.

Draco decided to head up to the Astronomy Tower to think. Well technically he went there to relive some of his former glory. Draco had become a man in that tower. Draco had deflowered Pansy and a lovely little Ravenclaw named Su Li back in his 5th year there as well. This was no small feat. Most well bred witches learn at their mother's knees early that no man wants the mooncalf if he can get it's dung for free. Luckily for him Pans and Su missed the lesson. Pepper was a slut so she just didn't care. He once tried to get his housemate Daphne up there, she had legs that seemed to go on for days, but she always seemed disinterested. He tried to sooth his battered ego with the knowledge that she and all her family were blood traitors and would eventually meet their preferably gruesome end at the feet of the Dark Lord.

As Draco walked out on to the ramparts of the tower he was shocked to see that he wasn't alone. Granger, dressed in a red satiny dressing robe, was leaning against the rampart walls, her back turned to him. Briefly Draco entertained a sick dark fantasy of just pushing the cranky, know-it-all mudblood over. No one would ever know it was him. He could almost hear the splat her body would make as it hit the ground. He smiled to himself before he noticed the up and down jerking moves her shoulders were making. Shit! The bitch was crying. Draco tried to silently make his way back out the door, but unfortunately for him his shoes made a sound on the stone that attracted her attention. She whirled around to face him, face wet with tears sporting a look of utter shock and bewilderment. Draco did not miss the fact that her wand was drawn on him. Still.

“Malfoy? What in Circe's name are you doing up,” she asked as she fiercely wiped at her face.

“I could ask you the same question Granger,” he sneered. “At least I had the good sense to put on some appropriate clothing.” Draco had changed in to a pair of slacks and a shirt before he had gone wandering.

“Just because your bumbling buffoon of a boyfriend gets to see all of your little girlie bits doesn't mean that you have to subject the rest of us to such torture.”

“Fuck you Malfoy!” But she put the wand back in her gowns pocket.

“Thanks for the offer, but I'm afraid I will have to decline,” he said snottily.

He practically wanted to rub his hands in glee. An enraged Hermione Granger was truly a sight to see. Her pert little nose would get all red and runny. The faint dusting of freckles across it would stand out. Her already large round eyes would appear to double in size and the coil of tight brown spiral curls that ran riotously all over her head would damn near stand on end. Although she was of average height when she got hacked off, like she was now, she always seemed to draw herself up in such a manner that she resembled a fierce Valkyrie. Draco wondered just how far he could push her as he swaggered on to the parapet.

“In your dreams ferret!”

“More like nightmares,” he scoffed. “Actually I'm surprised that the whole castle isn't greatly disturbed by you and Weasel King's antics. You're loud enough about it.”

Although he, Granger, Potty, and Weasel were all sleeping in the Head's suite in the South Tower (neutral territory) it was a lie that he could hear the two when they snuck away to plan 'strategy'. Ha! He didn't have to let her know that though.

“Bastard,” she hissed, one hand clutching the side of her robe while the other held on to the rampart wall.

“No, my parents were married thanks.”

He grinned evilly. This was fun! That is until she broke out in a fresh gale of tears

“You...I...just...” she spluttered as she turned her back to him once again.

“Sod off Malfoy! Just leave me the hell alone.” Her shoulders shook with the great force of her sobbing.

Draco was at a loss for what to do. Although Granger was providing him with ample material to taunt her with he could never stand the sight of a crying female. His mother tended to throw crying fits whenever she wanted his father to buy her something expensive. Pansy would give into tears whenever she felt that Draco wasn't paying her ample attention. But somehow Draco felt confidant that Granger didn't want those things. The girl was weeping as if her heart was being cleaved in half.

“Ummm...do you want me to get Potty or Weasleby for you,” Draco nervously asked. She shook her head firmly as she tried to control her crying.

“No. Don't bother them. Harry barely sleeps thru the night as is. Don't wake them, please.”

Draco slowly walked up to the rampart wall and stood next to her. Although he was looking at her, her face was turned to the night's sky.

“The boys worry about me so. The last thing I need is for them to see is me loosing it like this,” she said as her tears began to slacken.

“Well what do you expect after that stunt you pulled with the cup,” he asked while noticing for the first time that her plain brown eyes were actually almost a dark amber shade.

“Yes, yes I know,” she said tartly. “Brilliant Hermione did a really dumb thing didn't she? I've heard that enough from Harry, Ron, Professors Lupin and McGonagall, thanks. Even Hagrid wanted to get in on the act.”

“Well it serves you right! You really had no idea what was going to happen to you after you drank from it. Those two dunderheads you call best mates hardly left your bedside, they were so worried. They were like little girls. Little bawling girls.”

“I know,” she said, a hint of remorse in her voice. “But something had to be done. We really have no more leisure time to sit and wait for Voldemort to make the next move. He's playing for keeps now.”

“Yes,” Draco muttered bitterly turning his gaze to the same skyline she was looking at. “I know.”

She turned to look at him. “Yes, I suppose you do,” she said.

For a moment the two stood there in silence, each stewing in their own thoughts, until Draco broke it.

“For the record I think what you did was ballsy,” he said begrudgingly. “Mental. But ballsy.”

Hermione cracked a small smile. He could actually hear it in her voice.

“Well gee Malfoy, I think somewhere in that insult was a compliment.”

“Yes, well...don't let it go to your head.” His tone was only slightly condescending. Hermione chuckled softly.

“I wouldn't think of it.”

Draco glanced over at her and saw the smile on her face slowly turn into a grimace. For the first time he wondered what had brought the girl out on this tower at such a late hour to have a cry.

“So,” he queried in a mock disinterested voice, “are you going to tell me why you were blubbering up here like some little ninny?”

She looked at him searchingly as if trying to figure out a complex problem.

“I mean you don't have to if...”

“I'm scared,” she said.

Draco looked at Granger as if she just told him she was going on tour with The Weird Sisters. That would almost be as preposterous as what he thought she said. The gutsy lioness herself, scared? He must have misheard.

“I've been up here for hours actually. I came up shortly after I got dressed for bed. I'm not sure exactly when I started crying,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess it just sort of hit me all at once. I'm fucking terrified.”

Draco was shocked at how candid Granger was being with him. He wanted her to continue talking so he silently nodded his head to assure her that he was listening.

“When I was 12 and first became friend's with Harry I knew that he had a great destiny to fulfill. I didn't know the specifics of it, but I knew what ever that destiny entailed I would be right by his side helping him all the way. I would carry him if need be.”

Draco tried his best to hide the amusement he felt at the image of Hermione Granger carrying Potter the Prat on her back like a old pack mule.

“But you know what I'm starting to figure out,” she asked, voice choked in so much sorrow that Draco quickly got over the mental picture. “Some of us just might not make it out of this.”

She was voicing concerns that Draco had gone over in his own head nearly a dozen times. No matter what side he chose the prospect of him dying was pretty high. He tried to assure her the best way he could.

“Such is war Granger.”

She rolled her eyes disgustedly. “I know that. Don't you think I know that,” she asked. “I'm fully prepared to sacrifice my own life for Harry if I have to."”

Draco didn't doubt her statement.

“But I can't loose...them,” she said haltingly. Big tears started to well up in her eyes again. “I would gladly die a million times over if it meant that I could spare them any pain.”

Draco thought to himself that Potty and the Weasel didn't even half deserve devotion like this. He wondered what it would be like for someone to care so deeply about him.

“But that's just it,” she continued, “they could die and the realization of that fact is sending me around the twist. I'm cracking up Malfoy,” she confided in a conspiratorial whisper. She even looked over her shoulder as if she was fully expecting to see the men there ready to cart her away.

“Bah! Your not going crazy Granger.”

“But I am,” she insisted. “Why do you think I did what I did with that bloody cup! My mind completely shut down Malfoy. I...I was running off of pure adrenaline. When the three of you stood there...there bitching...”

“I do not bitch!”

“...about who was going to destroy the damned thing all I could hear in my head was a pounding voice telling me over and over again to end this, end it now. I-I didn't even know what I had done until I woke up.”

Hermione dropped her head into her upturned palms. Her voice came out muffled and Draco had to get closer to her to hear her.

“My head is a mess and I can't afford for it to be that way right now.”

She raised her head up and looked Draco directly in his eyes. “I'd do anything for Harry Potter, but I'm scared that that's just not going to be enough.”

Amber eyes met gray and held each other's gaze for a moment. Forget those daydreams of flinging the Mudblood Queen off the tower, Draco was now worried that the tortured soul would take care of that herself. And Draco knew that he couldn't allow that to happen. Hate it or not, Granger was the whole brains of this operation. Potty might be The Chosen One, but without her they might as well just hand themselves over to the Dark Lord tied with a neat little bow. He knew that drinking from Hufflepuff's cup would induce dreams, he had been warned about that. He wondered what she could have saw to set her off so.

“What about you Malfoy,” she asked, breaking Malfoy out of his reverie. “What are you scared of?”

Draco looked down at the girl, the rather pretty girl whose hair seemed to form a halo around her head, and weighed his answer. He could tell her that he was scared that he would never see his mother again. She was a good mum, for all her pretenses, and Draco missed her with all of his heart. The thought of never seeing her face again nearly wrecked him inside.

He could tell her that by virtue of him being a Gooder now the Light was bound to loose this war. He was a curse, an abomination. He was almost certain of this fact. People died because of him; Dumbledore, his father. The list might be short now, but he was sure it would grow.

Or he could tell her his deepest fear, that no matter what he did he would always be his father's son. Draco loved his father. All he ever wanted was the older Malfoy's approval. But Draco was smart enough to know that it was because of men like his father that monsters like Lord Voldemort thrived and made it possible that children would have to fight an adult war. Draco could tell her any of this.

“Clowns,” he said instead.

Hermione looked at him for one moment in slack jawed surprise before she huffed and turned to walk away from Draco.

“I don't even know why I bloody well bother,” she angrily seethed. Draco grabbed her arm to hold her in place.

“Hang on a tic,” said Draco moodily. “You just can't get your knickers in a twist because you don't like my answer.”

“Clowns Malfoy? Honestly,” she retorted.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and went in to her Perfect Prefect pose. Her chin was held at an imperiously high height..

“Yes Granger, clowns. I can't stand the buggers! When I was 7 my nanny, this great she-hulk of an Austrian my mother picked up some where, snuck me out of the Manor to go to a muggle fun fair not too far from where my family lived. Grizzelda was a halfblood so she was used to going to the things. I was so excited to be at the place that at first when we walked in I didn't even notice the grinning fool making his way to me. That is until he got in my face. That false demonic grin still haunts me til this day. I got so agitated that I began unconsciously flinging people and things about. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad probably had one hell of a mess to clean up after Zelda threw me over her shoulders and got me back home.”

As Hermione listened to Draco's story she fought down the belly aching laugh that wanted to escape from her mouth. She even clamped her hand over it as if that could keep it in. She could almost see the blond little tyke that Draco must surely have been once loosing his shit over the sight of a harmless red nose.

“Yuck it up Granger, but it really isn't all that funny. If I ever needed further proof that muggles were dotty it's the fact that they let those painted demons around their children,” said Draco snidely. He turned around so he could lean his back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

At this Hermione finally let out a loud and mighty guffaw. She wiped a tear of mirth from her eyes.

“You do realize Malfoy that there are 3 year olds who would probably think you are a bit of a chinless wonder, don't you?”

“I don't care. I still can't stand the ruddy things.”

The two of them shared a companionable laugh. Draco wasn't sure what a chinless wonder was, he had suspicions that it wasn't quite a compliment, but he didn't care. Standing up on that parapet, high above the world, laughing over some silly childhood fear with Granger seemed the perfect place to be at the moment. In all the craziness that had followed the attack on this very school only a few months ago he had almost feared that he would never hear laughter again. The sound was almost balm for his soul.

“You know I know, right?”

Draco cocked his head at her, his lips still bearing a smile. His face barely had time to change in to a confused expression before she dropped a bombshell.

“I know that someone is helping you.”

Draco's whole body froze. Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocksy-bollock-bollocks!

“Er...I, um...don't know what you are talking about.”

She smiled at Draco ruefully. “Come now Malfoy, did you think I had come over stupid all of a sudden? I've know from day one that someone was helping you. How else could you have gotten the cup and found out how to destroy it? And how else did you know what it was and to come to us with it?”

“I'm a fairly brilliant boy,” he said, puffing his chest out too cover up the fact that his mind was a riot inside. She knew! She fucking knew!

“While I don't doubt that,” she tittered, “I also know that you knew too much about the inner workings of the Order when you first got here. No need to hide the fact. I'm pretty clever, or so they tell me.”

Of course she was. She was Hermione-fucking-Granger, Draco thought to himself sourly, smartest bitch of her age. How did they ever think they could get one past her?

“I also know that whoever this person is, they appear to be on our side. And for whatever reasons they need to keep their identity a secret....”

Draco turned to face her and stared her intently in the eye. “Damned good reasons,” he insisted.

“Yes, damned good reasons...I think it would be best if this remains our little secret for the moment.”

Draco could hardly believe it, Granger was actually taking him into her confidence. Had the world gone mad?

“You mean you aren't going to mention this to your precious Potty,” asked Draco.

She bit at the corner of her lip, a pained expression on her face. It was a rather cute expression. “Not just yet,” she said slowly as if weighing her words. “We have bigger things on our plate at the moment.”

Hermione then did something that almost knocked Draco on his own ass. She got up close enough to him that he could feel her breath on his face. It had a minty smell, as if she had recently charmed her teeth clean. He could also smell some flowery scent on her skin and in her hair. Her close proximity to him nearly made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“But eventually Malfoy Harry is going to need to know about him. Bad things might happen if he doesn't.”

The way she was looking at Draco and the way she emphasized the word him let Draco know that she had sussed everything out.

“I understand,” he said. “But as you said so yourself there are bigger things.”

She sighed. “Yes there are.”

The two of them stood in silence once again, each weighing their own thoughts. Then suddenly Hermione let out a long, lazy yawn and stretched her arms, feline like, to the sky. Draco couldn't take his eyes off of her.

“Well, I think it's time for little witches to be in bed. I'm going to turn in.”

Hermione walked to the exit of the parapet without a glance backward at Draco. Which was a good thing since at the moment Draco was admiring her nicely round arse. He caught himself in mid-ogle and reluctantly brought his eyes up higher.

“Um...Granger,” he said. Hermione, who had reached the door at this point, turned back to look at him. “Since were all sharing tonight, what did you really see when you drank out of that cup?”

Draco didn't particularly want to hear her answer, he just wanted to keep her up on the tower with him chatting for a little while longer. He was bored, he told himself.

Hermione stared at him hard for a moment, as if weighing what she was going to say. Then all of a sudden a sad yet endearingly pretty smile crossed her face.

“It doesn't really matter Malfoy. It can't ever happen. I won't let it.”

Draco had no clue what would make her so melancholy, but as the light of the moon crossed her face he was almost astounded at just how lovely she actually was. Had she always looked like this or was it just a trick of the lighting, he wondered. Before he could ponder the question further he saw her inch closer out the door.

“Why don't you get some sleep too Malfoy. I'm sure we are going to have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“When don't we,” he grumbled.

She merely smiled saucily. “Night Malfoy. Don't let the bed pixies bite,” she said in a low husky voice as she winked her eye and was out of his sight.

Draco never figured out if it was the smile or the wink that did him in, but once he was alone out on the tower he had to control his urge to plunge his hands in his pants and have a wank right there on the spot. Draco had fallen in lust.

Which he found odd. Prior to that chilly autumn evening he had always thought of Granger as some sexless creature. She hardly was even a separate entity in his mind. He always grouped them together in his head pottyweaselmudblood, the Tiresome Threesome, the Terrible Trifecta. But that next day in the Great Hall during breakfast he was so enthralled by the beauty of the girl sitting across from him that he could barely eat his porridge. Had her eyes always been that large and sparkling? Had her lips always worn that sexy little pout? Was her skin really that flawless? The ridiculous brown bush he was used to seeing on her head suddenly turned in to a mass of coppery, chestnut colored, cinnamon, and chocolate hued tendrils battling it out for dominance over her head. Draco had always prided himself on his long and silky blond locks, but for the first time he truly understood the term crowning glory. She was goddess! Draco quickly looked around the table to make sure he hadn't said it out loud.

As a general rule everyone usually ate at the High Table, the table the professors sat at during the school year, although now it was placed level with the other tables so everyone could sit around it. Across from him Granger was slowly stirring her spoon in her tea cup as she read from a book propped up on the table entitled Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes. Potty and the Werewolf were having some intense discussion a few seats down to his left. The brown skinned, older Weasel was sharing a laugh on the other side of the table to Draco's right with that Moody bastard who had embarrassed him back in 4th and a young-ish looking witch who he could have sworn had neon pink hair just the other day. It was now an electric blue with white streaks. Bah! He couldn't keep up with Potty's Merry Band of Do Gooders.

But where was King Weasel? He wasn't in his usual spot, spellotaped to Granger's hip. Seriously, how was the poor girl supposed to breathe? And just like that, as if Draco had called his name out loud, the redheaded idiot came striding thru the entrance door and bumbled his way up to Granger's side. Draco watched them like a hawk. Hermione, unaware of Weasel's presence, continued to read her book and stir her tea. The prat then snuck up behind her and plucked the book out of her hand. Granger, spinning around in her seat, grinned up into the face of the gangly red head when she saw it was he who filched her book. But her eyes didn't smile. At least Draco tried to convince himself of that, but had to admit he could have been inventing it. King Weasel plopped down in the seat next to her and shyly handed the book back to her. For his reward she placed a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek. The idiot turned almost as red as his hair. They both made cow eyes at each other. Draco told himself that she was just over doing it. Draco wanted to empty his stomach on the table. He quickly stood up from his seat, tossed a few insults at the lovebirds (and Potty for good measure) and grumpily stalked away from the table.

When Draco was 7 or 8 his mother took him into Twillfit's to buy him a dress robe for a party she was throwing. As the diminutive store owner Thimbalina Twillfit measured him, his mother's attention was caught by a family of red mopped children being led by a rather plump looking woman with similarly colored hair. The troop marched into the second hand robe shop across the street from them. His mother turned back around to face him and said in her cultured, posh voice “poor”. She said it with the same sneer she would have uttered “house-elf” or “mudblood”. That was the first time he knew the Weasleys for what they were, lower then him. However, nearly ten years later, a Weasley would have something that he was shocked to discover he wanted. Granger.

And he did want her. Sometimes he imagined himself rogering her good and proper all over the school. No place was sacred: The Slytherin common room, the Quidditch Pitch, the Potions dungeon classroom, Greenhouse Number 3, the Astronomy Tower. Especially the Astronomy Tower. One time he woke up during an Order meeting surprised to see Hermione looking at him queerly across the room. Only moments before he could have sworn she had been sitting on his lap. Heh.

When he told Hermione about these dreams years later he was treated to a playful, yet slightly painful, swat to the head followed by a prissy declaration of “perv”. They were friends by this time. That didn't negate the fact that Draco still found her quite beddable. He just wouldn't mind cuddling afterwards now.

For Draco, Hermione became the first woman, besides his mother, that he ever respected and honestly liked as a person. And most importantly wanted to shag rotten. All at the same time! It was an interesting conundrum. He thought she was one of the most brilliant witches he would ever meet. Her knowledge of obscure potions and charms often astounded him and she would often take standard spells and improve on them to suit her needs. Power radiated off of her in waves. Her mind came monstrously in handy when he was taking the tests to get into the Department. She would often tutor him for hours if he needed it.

Draco also discovered not too long after he joined up with the Gooders that Granger was actually quite fun to be around. As long as she wasn't stressed that they were all going to die any minute. She had a clever personality and a quick witted sense of humor that could be right cheeky. She was always good company to have if you wanted to go for a pint at the Cauldron.

And to top it all off she was sex walking! The cute young girl matured into an attractive looking woman. And the most alluring part was that she didn't even seem to recognize the fact.

In actuality a bloke would probably think her plain if they just gave her a passing glance. There were far prettier faces, but Hermione Granger had more sex appeal in her pinky then half a dozen other witches combined. Sometimes Draco wondered if she didn't have some distant veela ancestor that she didn't know about. He didn't know how else to explain the effect she had on men. Maybe it was the way she would stare intently into your eyes, looking up from hooded lids, as she talked to you. Maybe it was the naughty little way she would nibble on the corner of her full lips as she puzzled something out. It might have been the way she would throw her head back and let out a full throaty laugh, exposing mile after mile of her creamy neck, when she found something particularly humorous.

Or it could have been the ass, Draco thought. Definitely the ass. And the hips. And the thighs. And the calves. And the gloriously ample sized chest. Granger was all curves. Her baby fat had worked it's self in to a nice little pattern that gave her a drool worthy hour glass figure. In Draco's opinion her body was made for sex, a fact that she could not hide as she strode boldly thru wizarding society in her muggle clothing. He might not have that high of an opinion of muggles, but Draco surely wanted to thank the fellow who had come up with the idea for tight, low slung designer jeans. They were truly a wondrous thing to behold! Most trendy young witches liked to be waifishly thin, slim figures went well with French cut robes, but not Hermione. Despite her best efforts to slim down; eating like a bird, running in the mornings, cutting out sweets entirely she steadily maintained her pleasingly rounded figure. Draco didn't see why she bothered to go to all the trouble to try and look like all the other sickle a dozen witches anyways. In his opinion she always looked like a million galleons.

Without a doubt he was captivated by her. Sometimes he would almost get the impression that she felt something for him too. A lingering stare here. A seemingly more then platonic caress there. But he could never be sure. That is until the night of Scrimgeour's party, nearly six and a half years ago.

Rufus Scrimgeour had decided to throw a little fete for the the people in the Ministry he deemed his Rising Stars. In truth the shrewd Minister of Magic was determined to keep tabs on the heads of his various departments. He was not above using the young and impressionable new recruits under those heads to do so. Scrimgeour rented out a section of a fancy restaurant in Diagon Alley and invited a few select people and their dates to attend.

Hermione was most definitely a star at the Ministry. She and Arthur Weasley were making great and exciting strives in the MMBA office. She also had a formidable reputation due to the work she did with the Order during the war. Draco figured that he had been invited because Scrimgeour wanted to make it look like there was no hard feelings about the hassle they had given him when he joined up. Bunch of divs! Nadia Fallowes was there from the Magical Creature Department, while Terry Boot and McLaggen were representing Games&Sports and Cooperation, respectively. Amy Kitterey was there for the Accident&Catastrophe office, though unsurprisingly not one Unspeakable bothered to show up. Fabian Bole and Roger Davies were both mover and shakers in Transportation, but Draco knew that the only reason the latter was at this dinner party was because he was currently dating the Ministry's Golden Girl.

Hermione had been going out with Davies for only a few months. Draco thought that Davies was a tosser. He was a notorious brown noser who Draco was sure was using Hermione to improve his standing at the Ministry. When he shared these suspicions with Hermione however she didn't seem too fussed.

“He's pretty and he's a nice distraction,” she told him in a bored sounding voice. “I don't really care about the rest.”

“So you would have taken up with any old pretty face then,” Draco asked, trying desperately not to sound bitter.

“Maybe,” she said innocently.

She then smiled slyly at him. The woman was such a bloody tease!

Hermione took up with Davies a few months after the Weasel dumped her. At least that's what the Prophet said, but since they seemed to take glee at putting Hermione down Draco payed them no heed. Although Hermione never quite gave him a solid reason for the break (we grew a part) Draco wasn't able to take advantage of the situation for his own ends because he was on his first go round with Pringle at the time. He had tried to dump the simpering miss once Hermione had become free, but it was no good. Pristy was determined to marry and she was determined to marry a Malfoy. She had practically invited herself to this dinner in fact. Pristy, even with her longish face was pretty enough to turn heads whenever she walked into a room. But to Draco, in comparison to Hermione, she didn't stand a chance.

The Golden Girl had come dressed to the gathering in a strapless silky coral colored dress with a low cut bodice. The skirt of the dress clung to her as it drifted down to the floor. It would have been a miracle for her to be able to move in it if not for the slit that started indecently high on her right thigh and allowed her luscious leg to peek thru. She topped the outfit off with a pair of fashionably strappy matching heels.

When Hermione first walked in the restaurant Draco had nearly been made speechless at the sight of so much skin. It was December so the temperature was cold. He figured she must have used a heating charm on pretty boy Davies and herself. He was very thankful for heating charms. As she slid into a seat next to Draco and smiled sweetly at him he felt an overwhelming urge to punch out Davies, throw Hermione over his shoulder, and make for the nearest room with a Do Not Disturb sign on the door knob. Who was he kidding, he would do her right here on this very table in front of Scrimgeour himself if she would let him get away with it.

Draco felt like slapping himself. He had to get over these wild fantasies of his. He decided to turn his full attention to Pristine and ignore Hermione the rest of the evening. It almost worked too. That was until he felt Hermione go stiff beside him. He looked at her face and saw that her attention was drawn across the room at a table where two couples were being seated. One of the couples was She Weasel and the Prat Who Lived. Unfortunately the other couple was Hermione's ex and the scattered brained tart he had been dating since the split. What was her name again, Draco tried to recall. Beige? Lavender Beige? Blue? That wasn't it. All he knew was that the blonde bubble head had been in the same year as them back at school.

Draco turned to look back at Hermione and was surprised to see that she was trembling. She wasn't quite angry, he knew full well what a hacked off Hermione looked like, but she did seem extremely upset as she gazed steadily at the two currently cozy couples. They each were so wrapped up in one another that they didn't notice the Ministry party table at all. She Weasel was currently trying to make her way into Potty's lap so she could put her tongue down his throat.

Draco was about to ask Hermione if she was ok, when suddenly she rose up quickly from her seat and stalked across the floor in her high click clacking heels. For a moment Draco wasn't even sure what had happened. No one at the table even blinked an eye at the brunette's hasty departure. Her own boyfriend was too busy forcing all of his nose up Scrimgeour tight arse. Her friends were in their own world and probably didn't even know that she was in the same restaurant. Draco quickly got up from his chair and made for the direction that Hermione exited. Pristy was so busy being entertained by the overgrown behemoth McLaggen that she didn't pay Draco the slightest attention.

Draco eventually found himself in a a dimly lit hallway walking pass a door that said Witches and another one that said Wizards. He could smell Hermione's scent near by. Chanel No.5, she once told him. He had gone into muggle London and purchased a bottle of the fragrance for Pristy, but it never quite smelled the same on her. Like a mix of wild flowers and newly bought parchment. The same scent that was getting stronger and stronger as Draco continued to walk down the hall as it veered right.

“Hermione,” he asked tentatively. “Are you back here?”

Draco heard not a peep, although he was certain that Hermione was indeed near. Just last month Shacklebot, one of his trainers at the Department, had taught Draco's Auror class the subtle signs of detecting a disillusionment charm. It was one of those times when you really had to rely on your senses instead of your wand. He could hear the faint ruffle of silk on skin. He imagined he could almost hear the soft staccato beat of a heart that wasn't his own. As he neared the end of the hall he suddenly turned to the wall on his right side and stuck his hand out. He came in contact with something warm and firm yet at the same time deliciously squidgy. He had his hand on Hermione Granger's silk clothed breast.

“Get your bloody hands off of me Draco before I hex them into hooves!”

Draco reluctantly pulled back his hand.

“You can be such an enormous prat sometimes you know,” she said irritably as she cast the charm to make herself appear again. Seconds later Draco was looking in to a set of furious angry eyes. The lovely dark amber that fascinated him seemed to turn a murky shade that went well with her cheesed off demeanor.

“What the bleeding hell do you think you're doing feeling me up like that,” she yelled as she dropped her wand down the front of her dress. Lucky wand!

“No need to throw a wobbly pet,” Draco said nonchalantly. “I just came out here to make sure you were ok. That's what friends do.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Gee Draco, thanks for the lesson. I don't know how I ever got along with out you sharing your worldly wisdom.”

“Now see here Miss, no need to get all shirty with me,” he said barely holding back the aggravated tone in his voice. “I was just worried about you.”

“Well you needn't be. I'm a big girl, thanks,” she said nastily. “I just came out here cause I needed to go to the loo.”

“Oh of course,” snickered Draco condescendingly. “That's all it was. Had nothing to do at all with a certain wanker who walked in.”

Hermione's eyes went up two sizes when he said this. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said.

But she did know. He could tell by the way her teeth went to work on her mouth!

“C'mon Hermione, you are far too smart to play dumb. I saw Weasley and the little blonde of his walk in. You don't have to pretend with me.”

Hermione looked at him oddly for a second before shaking her head and leaning back dejectedly against the hard sea foam green wall.

“Go away Draco,” she said miserably as she threw her head back. “You have no clue what your talking about.”

Draco took a step towards her. “I don't, do I,” he asked. “Weasley only dropped you like so much rubbish and is currently tap dancing all over your heart. Beside that fact you still love him. Am I right?”

“Draco,” Hermione said in a pained voice, “you don't understand. I almost don't understand!” She turned her head to the side and willed herself not to cry. “It's not Ron. Not really.”

“I know what it's like,” he said getting so close to her that he could count every single freckle on her nose. His voice was low and thick, choked up with an emotion he was afraid would over power him soon.

“I know what it's like to want someone, even though you know that that person might never feel the same way about you.”

Hermione turned her large round eyes to his. Though she struggled to remain aloof a riot of emotions played themselves on her face. Fear, confusion, loneliness. But most importantly there was relief. Sweet relief. Draco did know what she was going thru.

“I know what it's like to try and talk yourself out of what you know you feel.”

Hermione slowly closed her eyes as Draco's words washed over her.

“And most importantly I know what it's like to think you'll go mad if you never tell.”

Her eyes opened wide in surprise as she let out a gasp. Draco's right hand had somehow found it's way to her left shoulder and was gently messaging it. She looked up into his eyes and nervously swallowed as she saw them burning with desire, desire for her. She chuckled awkwardly trying to defuse the situation before Roger or Pristine came in to the hall. Or worse, Harry and Ron.

“Methinks you've mistaken my friendship for something else Draco,” she said coyly.

“No,” he drawled as he innocently gave a squeeze to her shoulder and for his trouble watched Hermione swallow, “I think I know exactly what this is.”

He placed his body slightly against hers and leaned his head on her forehead. Their noses were almost touching.

“We can not do this Draco,” Hermione whispered, her voice sounding very fragile. She seemed to be having trouble breathing.

“Why not,” he asked huskily as a hand crept into her hair.

“Damn, damn, damn...” she whispered as Draco's thumb began to slowly rub at her temple. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as they closed.

“I want you Hermione. Merlin only knows how I want you! I have for a long time.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him intensely. It was that moment that he knew that she had known how he felt all along.

“And I know you want me too,” he pressed boldly. “If you didn't you would have had your wand out ages ago.”

Hermione swallowed the meek denial she was going to make. He was right, in a way. She could have stopped it a long time ago, years ago if she had wanted to. It's just that some sick, twisted part of her reveled in seeing someone else go thru the same hell she continuously occupied.

But she honestly never thought it would go this far.

She grabbed his wrist to stop his hands movement.“No Draco. We could never work. We just won't fit,” she said firmly.

By this time Draco was inching his lips towards her neck.

“I think we could fit just fine,” he said in as he began to trace his other hand up the inside of her barely clothed thigh. It was about to go up her dress. “If you give it a chance.”

“And then what?”

Draco stopped what he was doing and looked up at her, a bewildered expression on his face. His hand however remained on her thigh.

“Why won't you just let this happen,” he pleaded petulantly. His hand left her shoulder and he placed his palm on the wall next to her head instead.

“You didn't answer the question Draco. And then what,” she questioned him again as she tried to push her body closer to the wall, arms laid limp by her sides. “We shag once. Probably enjoy it. Shag again.”

“Yes, and,” he said in a terse, obstinate voice.

“And we might even get together.”

Draco removed his hand from her thigh and brought both of them to her face. He looked at her beseechingly. “Would that be so bad?”

Hermione's eyes burned from the achings in her heart. It was all there to read if anyone took the time to do so. Desperation, anxiety, fear, reluctance and something else. Regret?

“No,” she said. “Not at first at least. We'd probably have a few wonderful months of dinners, and dancing, trips to the cinema. Picnics. And then inevitably it would all come to an end.”

“You don't know that,” he countered. “You don't Hermione. The Know-it All doesn't always have the answer. We could be perfect together. I...I care for you.”

Draco hadn't even realized the truth of his words until he spoke them. But he knew he couldn't take them back. He was tired of the charade.

“So much.”

“And I care about you,” she exclaimed, grabbing his wrists in a tight grip. “Just not like that. That's why I know this could never happen. When this would eventually end, and it will, I would end up loosing you. Us. This thing we have between us. You would come to hate me because I could never give you what you wanted.”

Draco felt as if he was drowning in desperation. “Are you confusing me with Weasley now? I'm not him Hermione. This is different!”

“Is it,” she asked. “Ron and I were the best of friends until we let a relationship bugger it all up! Things are so weird between us now. Our flat is like a war zone. Poor Harry....”

“Fuck Harry,” he shouted irately.

He wrenched himself from her hold and backed away from her. He was so angry that he felt as though he couldn't look at her face. He turned his back to her.

“This isn't about Harry bloody Potter. Not everything is about Potter!”

“No,” she said, voice strained. “It's not,”she said, thankful that his back was turned.

She crossed the short distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her right cheek against his muscular back. She could feel him tense at her touch.

“It's about me being selfish. And not wanting to loose a friend. A friend who I didn't ask for,” Draco grunted, “Merlin knows I didn't ask for, but who I got none the less. You are my friend Draco. A friend I've been thru hell and back with. A friend that I couldn't bare to loose.”

A few tears fell from her eyes and soaked thru his slate blue robes.

“You mean that,” Draco said, voice thick.

He felt her gently nod her head against him. He turned to face her, wrapping his own arms around her small waist and pulling her flush against him.

“Can we at least be dear friends with benefits,” he asked innocently.

“Honestly!” She slapped his arm. One day he was going to be black and blue if she kept that up.

Draco chuckled. “You can't blame a bloke for trying, can you?”

She giggled as she pulled Draco into a bear hug. He couldn't help putting his face in her hair and breathing in it's jasmine scent.

“You know it could have been brilliant,” he whispered into her ear.

“I think this is brilliant,” she said pulling back from him and looking him squarely in his eyes. She meant it.

“Yes, well...I guess it is.”

They stood there for a moment, gazing regretfully at one another, before Draco loosened his hold around her and grabbed her left hand.

“Let's head back in. I think Cormac McLaggen is trying to make off with my date,” he said, making her laugh.

They began to walk back up the hall, their linked hands swinging freely between them.

“I wouldn't be surprised. The man is a sex fiend. Though he could do better.”

“Come now pet, jealousy does not become you,” Draco teased.

“Jealous,” she exclaimed. “Of that cow? Please! If she turns sideways she's liable to slip right thru a crack!”

Draco guffawed. They were almost to the door.

“No Draco, I can't say that I'm envious of a girl who prides herself on the fact that her weight and her her I.Q. match, thanks,” she said in that tart little voice that always made his John Thomas stand to attention. Like it was doing now. Thank Merlin for robes!

“You could do so much better then her. I don't know why you let your mother bully you in to dating these prissy little princesses. I swear if you would just...”

Before she could heat up on one of her favorite topics to lecture him about, his sex life, he stopped her at the door of the restaurants main room and turned her to face him.

“Are we ok, I mean...” he asked.

He knew he couldn't help the fact that he still was attracted to her. That he still wanted to know her spirit and her body in every possible way that law would allow. But he also knew that he would rather die then do anything to endanger their friendship. He hoped his momentary slip hadn't done that.

As if knowing that he needed the extra added assurance she squeezed his hand and said, “We're ok.”

For years Draco would play that scene over and over in his head. He knew something held her back. Sure it was partly because she felt that they had a good thing in the dynamics of their relationship. She was telling the truth when she said she was scared that adding sex to the mix would ruin it. But Draco sensed something else. Something deeper that Hermione wasn't willing to share with him. He wondered if Hermione was even aware of it herself.

At first he assumed it was that she still loved King Weasel, but wasn't willing to admit it. He wasn't surprised, no one really was, when the two sweethearts reunited later that summer. But he quickly changed his mind when they broke up again just a few months after the reunion. Draco began to wonder just what their problem was. It was like they couldn't figure out if they really wanted to be with each other or not. No, it wasn't Weasley. But whatever that unnamed thing was it didn't stop him from still wanting her. For Draco, the platonic lines that were drawn around their friendship would get blurred time and time again until she finally left England.

Draco never felt the same way about another woman until he finally found himself with his Loony Love. He dated gaggles of attractive witches of course. Women threw themselves at the sexy Slytherin on a daily basis. He dated women from the office. He dated women he met out at local pubs. He dated women his mother set him up with. He dated Pristy so often that the girl naturally assumed that she was destined to be the next Mrs. Malfoy. She even went so far as to have the engagement announcement written up and ready to owl over to The Prophet as soon as Draco asked. Unfortunately for her all of that hard work would be in vain. He unceremoniously chucked her for Luna as soon as he got the chance. Hermione had been right, the silly bint wasn't that bright.

In Luna Draco found what he had been searching for without even knowing it. Luna met all of his needs, physically and emotionally. She challenged him, whether it was debating the existence of her beloved snorkacks or opening his eyes to the prejudices that his parents instilled in him and he unwittingly still held. She took care of him, making sure he was warmly dressed in the winter or properly fed at night. She made him laugh; with her, never at her. Luna was his lover. But most importantly Luna was his friend.

And Luna was the woman he believed he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“'Scuse us buddy.”

Draco was roused from his deep thoughts and turned to see a squat, scruffy man in a brown bowler hat and matching patched robes staring at him irritably.

“Whaaa....,” Draco said, a confused expression on his face.

“Your blocking the way Guv'.”

“Sorry,” he said as he turned his back to the window he had been staring at and stepped back to allow the man to pass. The fellow walked by, still brassed off.

Draco watched him walk away before turning back to the display. Draco wasn't sure how long he had been standing in front of Magical Moments. He was sure that when he got back to the office Potter would be none too pleased to find out that he had not made head way on their case. He would also be annoyed to learn that Draco had spent all day in Hogsmeade for no good reason. But Draco didn't care. This was his life he was deciding here. By buying that ring he was about to make a huge, monumental move. If Luna wasn't quite ready yet to be the next Mrs. Malfoy he believed that he was at least ready to let her know that he wanted her in his life long term. He was prepared to wait for her. He loved her. He was certain of the fact. Even if sometimes, late at night with Luna fast asleep and curled in his arms, he still remembered amber eyes.

Draco walked into the store.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.

Title: All Roads Lead Back

Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. H/Hr, but a whole lot of ships that just might piss some people off, post-HBP

Summary: Harry Potter always figured that once he had fulfilled his destiny he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell. Set 7 years after the final battle.

Spoilers: All six books.

A/N: I am a Harmony shipper thru and thru. HBP almost sent me into a fit until I realized that I was throwing a tizzy over a book and told myself to get over it. Hee. I then decided to throw my hat in the fanfiction ring and see if I could come up with a realistic (at least to me) story of my favorite couple getting together that adheres to canon. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I have the whole story already plotted out, but would appreciate it if you would tell me if writing the rest is worth it or not.

Not happy with this chapter. I particularly am unhappy with the ending. But I wanted to give y'all some H&Hr for sticking it out with me. It's still flashback though. It ain't fluffy. I don't think it's angsty. But it's drama for your mama. Enjoy!

There is a quote from Chapter 30 of HBP.

Warning: If you like the idea of a poor little Hermione sitting in the corner while pining away for Harry, step away. I mean, she pines, but she is also a logical girl. What do you do you do when you think you can't have what you really want? Substitute!

Disclaimer: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Harry Potter believed he was falling off the broomstick. He had no evidence to support this theory, in actuality he seemed perfectly normal to the outside world. He still went to work everyday at the Ministry. He still met up with Ron, George, and a few other of their mates for a pick-up game of Quidditch every other Saturday. He still made time to clean and tinker with his antique Silver Arrow whenever it suited his mood. And every evening he ate his meal at his rather imposing diner table with his lovely wife Ginny. He fit the picture of a perfectly normal bloke going about his life. But in his head, Harry was sure he was cracking up. How else to explain the fact that every time he closed his eyes for more then five minutes he would have frighteningly unfriendly yet delightful dreams about one of his best friends. Dreams in which he did things to, (and with) that best friend that would make a sexual deviant blush. The only relief that he seemed to get from his conscience was that at least it was the female one. Unfortunately for Harry that did not provide as much relief as he would like.

The dreams began back in late November, early December. Harry's team of Aurors had been tracking a dark sorceress by the name of Bath'sheba Holliway all over the English countryside. Sheba, as she liked to be called, had a penchant for marrying wealthy older men. That in and of it's self was no crime. But Sheba had a tiny habit of destroying the souls of the men she married, and not in the usual wifely way either. She would wed a perfectly healthy and robust middle aged merchant or a spry old gent of sixty years who happened to own a large parcel of land and little less then a week after the wedding the new husband would be found dead, a withered shell of his former self. Sheba would have already left the village to find her next prey.

Her scheme luckily was uncovered by a young medical examiner from one of the larger towns Sheba hit. The gentleman discovered that there were large trace of amounts of belladonna, lovage, aconite and the venom from the fangs of a runespoor in the system of one of the deceased. These were the most important ingredients found in a powerful poison called Animatentia, a potion that the Ministry banned the making of because it shriveled a person's soul from the inside. It was like a Dementors kiss, but in liquid form. It also was a poison that only a magical person would know to brew. The medical examiner just so happened to be a Squib.

After the MMBA office made the arrangements with the proper muggle authorities, fifteen victims were discovered in neighboring villages who had all died from Animatentia . Two other things linked the poor stiffs. All of them were very well off and all of them had days prior to their death married a woman named Bath'sheba.

Though the Department of Magical Law Enforcement now knew that they had a rouge witch on their hands, Harry, Draco and the rest of their team had a difficult time finding the woman because she changed her appearance from town to town. Eventually Harry and Draco came up with a plan to smoke Sheba out. They set up a sting operation in the town of Hever; they had reason to believe that Sheba might strike there next. They used one of their fellow Aurors, a fresh faced 20 year old who had just made it out of his training class, as bait.

Jacoby was a Metamorphmagus. He transformed himself into a well to do peer of the court who was retiring in his old age to his books in a newly renovated manor house near the castle. Sheba was upon the man in no less then a week, this time disguised as a willowy strawberry blonde. She was engaged to him two weeks later. Their wedding went off without a hitch on their one month anniversary. The night of their honeymoon she sent her brand new husband to bed with a hot toddy and a kiss. As soon as Jacoby believed his 'accommodating' bride was asleep he owled over the contents of his drink to the small pub in town where the rest of Potter's Posse were waiting. After the necessary charms were done on the evidence and Animatentia was indeed discovered, the Second Division roared into action, wands cocked. When they apprehended Sheba at the manor house she was so unprepared for the invasion that she momentarily dropped the glamor she had been employing.

The woman was a hag! Literally! All long gray hair, crooked nose, and rotting teeth to prove it. Jacoby was delirious with joy that she had never allowed him to exercise his husbandly duties. As she was dragged off to be sentenced she petulantly wailed that she did it all for love.

Catching Holliway was a big get for Harry's career. Even though Malfoy helped with the capture, Harry was considered the whole brains of the operation. There was even departmental gossip that when Shacklebot eventually retired Harry was most likely to take his position as First Division Lead. His family and friends were very proud of his accolades and the attention it brought, especially Ginny, but for Harry all the praise fell on deaf ears. He no longer felt any passion for his career. He was a highly accomplished and decorated Auror who had an uncanny knack for the job, but the drive that made him quit Puddlemere and join the training program almost 4 years ago was now missing.

The same thing happened when he was playing pro. He was Puddlemere United's star player and Seeker from the moment he was drafted at 18. No one was better at catching the snitch then him. He even beat the British record during a game with Tutshill, two and three quarter seconds. But to be fair the silly snitch was slightly batty and flew right at his nose.

Regardless of the fact, by time Harry was just a few months shy of his 21st birthday the Quidditch fire in his belly was extinguished. He felt set adrift, as though he had nothing to hang on to. He figured he was having these feelings because he no longer found the game challenging. He had already played for England in his first World Cup against Bulgaria and won, stealing the snitch right from under Viktor Krum. He no longer had anywhere to go.

Then he hit upon a thought. In Harry's mind the last time he felt any real rush or sense of meaning was back when he, Hermione, and Ron were out quite frankly saving the world. So Harry decided to do something drastic. He played his final game for Puddlemere in May of 2001 and August of that same year he became an Auror trainee.

At first he had a difficult time of joining up, the Department Head seemed to be a real hard arse, but the Minister of Magic cleared the way for him. It was even arranged for Harry to be sped thru the program. Harry could only assume that his defeat of the greatest dark wizard of all helped earn him extra credit. Either way Harry soon found a purpose again. He enjoyed his work. The fact that he was responsible for making the world one dark wizard shorter, one witch with an apple fetish less was comforting. Ginny even eventually got over the fact that he wasn't in Witch Weekly on a regular basis. Interestingly enough, all of the little Quidditch fangirls who cried into their pillows over the news of him retiring from the game soon became Auror groupies. They followed his exploits in the Daily Prophet and even carried around scrapbooks full of his clippings with them. In the end it would seem that Harry made the right choice.

Then the usual unhappiness found it's self inside his heart again. Harry could not deny to himself that he felt that he was missing something. What that something was he had no idea. He had an attractive wife, a lovely (though much too large for them) house, great friends and an exciting career path. What was wrong? Was it the job again?

The night that Sheba Holliway was sentenced before the Wizengamot Harry came home to a sumptuous diner prepared by Ginny. After eating he floo'ed Ron to discuss the game between Portree and the Harpies that happened the week prior and to arrange a lunch get together for the next day. He gave Hedwig a few extra owl treats before letting her out of her cage for her nightly hunt. Then he settled down with his wife in the lounge to listen to the Wireless before heading up to bed with her a few hours later.

Once nestled in their master bedroom suite he enjoyed a quick satisfactory romp with Ginny before turning over to go to sleep and to his dreams. Once there he made love over and over again with a brown haired, brown eyed beauty that made his skin feel as though it were made of fire. He awoke in the morning to find that his night time gallivanting left a mess of the sheets. Ginny was kind enough to pretend that it wasn't that big of a deal. Just joked, as she was collecting the linen to be laundered, that he had better have been dreaming of her. Thankfully for him she was half way out the door when she said it, thus missing the shamefaced look of her husband as he remembered just who the woman who had occupied his dream that night was. Hermione.

The next day when he met Ron at The Cauldron he almost blurted this shocking news to him. Ron was his best mate. His brother. And that little bit of truth is what held Harry's tongue. He wasn't about to share with his wife's older brother the news that he had a kinky dream about a woman that said older brother once knew biblically and still might love. Phew! He might as well perform hare kare on himself, especially since Ron was the sort of bloke who preferred to let his fists do the talking for him.

When it came to woman the two men usually never held anything back. There were no hidden peccadilloes between them and they were often quite frank with each other when they discussed the opposite sex. Only two women were unofficially on the DO NOT Discuss list: Ginny and Hermione. Ginny, because Ron would have rather committed ritual suicide then hear that Ginny liked it when Harry pulled her hair in bed. And Hermione because...well...Hermione was as good as Harry's own sister wasn't she? He didn't want to hear about Ron doing those kind of thing to her.

That only left to discuss the other women in Ron's life that he had shagged; Lavender, Luna, Laura Madly (a Hufflepuff from their year who was a notorious Quidditch groupie), and some muggle woman he had picked up in a pub one night. Sometimes Harry's virility felt a bit inadequate in comparison to Ron's track record. Ginny had been Harry's school sweetheart. They had married not too long after she graduated from Hogwarts. She was the only woman Harry had ever been with. This often led to Harry being only a captivated audience to Ron's fond reminiscing. Harry normally didn't have anything to contribute to their male bonding. If the illicit little fantasy had been about someone, anyone else Harry probably would have told Ron about it. But as such....Bollocks to that!

So Harry kept his little dream to himself and despondently half listened to Ron detail the on going drama of his romance with Lavender (the woman wanted an engagement ring like yesterday). He brushed the Hermione dream to the back of his mind and tried to convince himself that it was the stress of the job and the after effects of too little sleep that caused him to have such a heady vision. He assured his conscience that it was a one time thing and that it wouldn't happen again.

That night he dreamt of Hermione chanting his name over and over again as he took her from behind.

Ginny was slightly less understanding about the mess that next morning. She hardly cracked a smile as she changed the sheets and sent Dobby on his way with the soiled ones. Harry half suspected that he might have called out Hermione's name in his sleep and that was the cause of Ginny's peeved attitude with him. But then Harry conceded that if that were the case he would not currently have testicles because his wife would have hexed them off promptly. No, Ginny just seemed to be annoyed that her 24 year old husband seemed to be suffering from a condition that most teen aged boys had under control by the age of 16. Harry almost wanted to tell her that this whole situation was a little more serious then a simple wet dream, but once again he remembered his testicles and kept his mouth shut.

This went on for weeks. Whenever Harry would settle down to even a cat nap within minutes Hermione would be there before him. Under him. On top of him. Distracting would be the best way to describe it.

Ginny was starting to become aggravated at his nightly pastime though she tried her best not to show it. At one point she moved out of the bedroom they shared and down the hall to one of the many guest rooms complaining that his snoring was keeping her up at night. They still slept together though. But quite frankly nothing he did with Ginny in the real world could match the heat and passion of what he felt when he was with Dream Hermione. This bothered Harry greatly. Hermione was his friend and only his friend, Ginny was his wife. He married her. She was still the pretty, funny, athletic girl she was when he proposed to her over five years ago. She was still the girl that helped him forget who he was and made him feel normal, something he had never felt til he first dated her when he was 16. She was like a warm blanket, covering him and shielding him from the world and it's problems. Why then could he not get off his mind a woman who had never been more then one of his dearest childhood friends? A woman who he hadn't seen in years.

He and Hermione practically went thru the fire together when they were still just barely kids. Ron too. The three friends faced adventure after adventure by each other's side. They became an inseparable team not too long after he and Ron saved Hermione from that troll their first year. Thats why he shouldn't have been so shocked when at the end of their 6th year, when Harry was preparing to embark on one of the hardest journeys of his life, his two best friends refused to leave his side. Harry had just attended his wise old mentor Dumbledore's funeral and broken things off with Ginny to protect her. Dumbledore had set before him a quest to find the 4 horcruxes that held Tom Riddle's soul and he knew that as his girlfriend Ginny could be used as a target to get to him.

He also knew that his friends could be hurt, but the idea of parting from them as well was almost too much to bear. He needed them. He relied on them. Ron barely left his side when he had to travel into the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione helped him change time to rescue his godfather Sirius. Both of them fought valiantly at the Ministry when he dragged them on his ill fated rescue mission. Now he was about to go on a crusade that seemed almost too daunting for him. How could he possibly manage without them by his side? How could he make it thru without Ron's bravery? How could he manage without Hermione's brilliance?

Deep down he knew he needed his friends' help, but how could he ask? How could he ask them to quite possibly sacrifice their own lives for his cause? No he couldn't do it. Even if it meant going it alone and being the tragic little hero the papers tried to make him out to be. Harry should have known better though. Right after the funeral Ron and Hermione let him know of their intentions to go with him wherever he chose to lead them.

“You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?”

As Hermione spoke those words Harry knew that he wouldn't have to go thru this nightmare alone.

Their first stop after school let out was Number 4 Privet Drive. Dumbledore had stressed the importance of Harry going back there for the last time before he became of age. Harry figured it had something to do with the blood protection he got from being around his mother's sister Aunt Petunia.

When the Dursleys came to pick him up from the train station they were as disgruntled to have him back in their presence as ever. But Uncle Vernon's temper almost reached an apoplectic pitch when he pulled the car into the drive and discovered Hermione and Ron, both dressed in jeans and t-shirts similar to Harry's, standing in front of the house. After getting off the Hogwarts Express the Trio decided that Hermione would apparate Ron and herself to the Dursley's house. They figured that Uncle Vernon wouldn't let them in the car and besides there wouldn't be too much room in the back since Dudley was the size of a baby pachyderm. Harry barely fit in there. They had already sent Crookshanks, Pig, and Hedwig ahead with Ginny to the Burrow so as not to further complicate matters. Uncle Vernon looked like a charging gorilla as he made his way to the doorstep. Hermione however held her ground. Ron, seeing the determined look on her face followed suit.

“What is the meaning of this,” he bellowed quite loudly at the two teens. He then turned an accusatory eye toward Harry. “What have I told you about letting these freak friends of yours come here boy? That's it! I've had just about enough of this nonsense. First that senile old fool assaulted us this summer and now....”

“Silencio!”

Hermione cast the spell at all three Dursleys simultaneously. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley gaped at her dumbly as she held her wand steadily out towards them. Harry and Ron even looked at her in amazement. Was this Hermione Granger using magic against 'innocent' muggles?

Vernon still worked his mouth to and fro as he spat out silent ugly words, if his purple face was any indicator of his feelings. Aunt Petunia fainted at the disgrace of it all, there was no telling how many of their neighbors were viewing this display. Dudley tried to make a run for it back to the car, but Hermione threw an impediment jinx on him to stop him. She also shot one at Uncle Vernon.

“Err...Hermione, what do you think your doing?”

It wasn't that he minded watching the Dursleys be humiliated, it was loads of fun seeing Dumbledore mess with them the summer before, Harry just didn't like the fiery look that was burning in Hermione's eyes as she spelled the family.

“Blimey Hermione,” concurred Ron, “you could get in terrible trouble for all of this.”

“Don't worry, no one saw,” she told them. “Besides, right when the car pulled up the drive I surrounded the doorway with a confunding spell. If any of your neighbors happened to have glanced over all they would have seen was the six of us having a jolly little chat on the front steps.”

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione as if she were a creature they had never encountered before. All Harry could do was thank whoever was responsible for fate that Hermione was on his side. It was scary almost sometimes the spells she was able to perform.

“Now Ron if you please, levitate Blondy over there into the house. I'll take Mr. Reasonable over here,” she said sarcastically walking up to Uncle Vernon and plucking the house keys from his frozen hands. Harry was just about to whip out his wand to levitate his aunt when Hermione furrowed her brows together and shot him a disapproving glance.

“No Harry, you're still not of age yet. If Ron or I catch hell for this at least we will have that argument to back us up. We can't afford for you to get in any unneeded trouble.”

Although Harry felt slightly annoyed and hampered in by Hermione's words he did have to accede that they made sense. So instead of using magic he lifted his aunt Petunia in his arms so he could carry her in the house. It wasn't an easy task either. For such a bony looking woman she was quite heavy!

Once Hermione unlocked the door and all three teens managed to get their perspective Dursley in the house everyone settled into the living room. Hermione had the boys place Harry's aunt, uncle, and cousin on the couch. Ron took a seat in a chair nearby and Harry went to stand by the fire place. Hermione sat down on the little coffee table in front of the Dursleys. She then ended the spells on them and sprayed a shot of water out of her wand on Petunia to rouse her from her faint.

“Hey now girl! What is it you think you are doing to my wif-”

Hermione sighed as she daintily crossed her legs in front of her and rested her wand arm on her knee.

“I was actually trying to wake her up so we all could have a pleasant chat. But silly me Vernon, you seem incapable of doing anything that even remotely resembles the word pleasant. That's why I had to shut you up again,” Hermione said looking Harry's uncle straight in the eye, a hint of edge in her voice.

“You may also notice that you can't move your legs or arms. I've made you incapable of doing so.”

Ron and Harry looked at each other across the room. They hadn't even noticed Hermione saying the incantation to do such.

“What do you want from us,” Aunt Petunia asked in a tremulous voice. Apparently Hermione had only silenced Harry's uncle.

Hermione studied Petunia's face before speaking in a low, yet clear voice.

“What do I want from you? What do I want,” asked Hermione mockingly, her eyes never leaving Petunia. “Hmmm. There are many ways I can answer that question. Let's see, I want you to learn how to make your husband shut his gob a time or two so we could have a civil discussion.”

At this Uncle Vernon began pitching back and forth in his seat. He was beyond upset and began to make a blustery noise at the back of his throat. Regardless Hermione's spell still stuck.

“I want that beady eyed whale of a child of yours to stop leering at me as if I were a chipolata.”

Dudley indignantly gasped at the comment. Truth be told he had been looking at Hermione as if she were good enough to eat.

“And I want a nice helping of steak and kidney pie this evening because I'm famished and would like to enjoy a decent meal if I have to put up with the present company. Those are just some of the things I want. Truth be told what I want could fill up Buckingham palace.”

Ron looked on at Hermione concernedly. He had never seen her in such a state. He slowly moved to get up from his seat, but with a simple hand gesture Hermione waved him back into it. Oddly enough she had never took her eyes from the Dursleys so Harry couldn't figure out how she was aware of anything else going on around her. He himself was entranced by the picture of Hermione working herself into a right proper rage. Even the bird incident in Flitwick's classroom had nothing on this.

“But what I need,” she continued, “oh, what I need, that is an entirely different question.”

Hermione scooted closer to the edge of the table making the Dursleys scoot back on the sofa in trepidation.

“You see my dear Petunia, I need for the three of you loathsome...”

She looked at Uncle Vernon.

“Miserable...”

She looked at Aunt Petunia.

“Disgusting people,” she said turning to stare Dudley down, “to act like human beings for once in your petty little lives.”

Aunt Petunia had had about enough of this.

“Now you listen to me you silly little girl,” she said, voice rising, eyes popping out of her skull like face. She opened her mouth to continue but Hermione silencioed her as well. Harry almost wondered if Dudley was going to speak up so she could make it a hat trick.

“No,” Hermione countered forcefully, “you listen to me. You see that man there,” she asked gesturing to where Harry was on her left. “No Vernon, he no longer is the boy you're so fond of calling him,” she said nastily as she turned to stare at the still fuming man. “No one can remain just a child after the horrors he's gone thru in the last few days. Ha! Few years!”

Hermione was heating up to her subject now and the sheer power that hung about her was enough to give even the Dursleys pause. She had their full attention now.

“Albus Dumbledore died just a few days ago. Did you know that,” Hermione asked, looking back and forth between the three on the couch. “No, I suppose you wouldn't. Pity information like that wouldn't be found in the muggle news. Information that is about to affect a great deal of muggles very soon. Muggles like you, in fact.”

At this news Harry's Aunt Petunia's eyes seemed to outgrow her head. He figured out of all of them she would be the one who most understood the significance of Dumbledore's death.

“Harry has barely just come from Dumbledore's funeral. A man whom he loved and admired. A man who was the last thing close to a father figure he had in this world. But can he mourn for that man? No. Why? Because he has to go save the whole bleeding world, that's why,” she said angrily brushing a single tear that rolled down her cheek. She took a few seconds to collect herself before continuing.

“Let me speak plainly and in small words so that your tiny inept brains can process.” At these words Hermione's voice dripped with malice. “There is a very bad man out there. A very bad man with a superiority complex. A very bad man who wouldn't right give a damn if you or I were to die right now. You see I,” she said putting a hand to her chest, “I have the bad grace to have been born from two parents that can't so much as transfigure a hedgehog into a pin cushion. To him I'm filth.”

Hermione spat out the words. It hurt Harry almost as much to hear her say it as it must have hurt for her to say. Looking at Ron he could tell that he felt as much the same.

“But you? Ron what's lower then filth,” Hermione asked, barely looking at the redhead.

The question stumped Ron for just a second before he answered light-heartedly, “Mountain troll dung?”

“Ah yes,” she said as she shot Ron a pleased smile that made him blush to his roots, “Mountain troll dung.”

She looked back at the Dursleys. “You three are the the parasites that live in Mountain troll dung.”

Hermione was being unflinchingly cruel to Harry's family, but Harry couldn't have stopped her from her tirade even if he wanted. Which he didn't.

“If you were wiped off the face of the planet I'm not sure that there would be too many people who would give a damn.”

She paused and looked at him then. Their eyes locked and for a second Harry felt as though he couldn't breath. But the moment passed as soon as Hermione looked back to her captives.

“But Harry would care. Oh yes, he would. Even after you have treated him like rubbish all this time. Even after you made him a slave in his own home. Even after you left him to grow up in a cupboard for the first few years of his life.”

“Hermione please...”

“No Harry, let me have my say,” she pleaded fiercely. He simply turned his back to the room. The emotions that were pouring forth from the girl was becoming almost too much for him to bear.

“Harry would care, because his heart is too big not to care. Harry Potter was put in this world to save so many countless lives. Not because he loves the glitz and glamor of being a hero. But because he would rather sacrifice his own life then see others get hurt. That trait is as much a part of him as the green eyes he was born with or his black hair. And that is what he has to do now.”

Harry turned back to watch her, amazed by her words.

“He has to face that big bad man, that megalomaniac who wants to fix the world to suit his image. That man wants to take away all that we hold dear. Freedom. Love. Life. I might think that you people are vicious, heartless beasts, but even I don't think you deserve to die simply because you were born what you are. And neither does Harry,” Hermione cried as she fought for breath. Her nose was red and running and her hair stood on top of her head, a beautiful mess. Ron was gazing at her as though she were the most lovely thing he had ever seen. In that moment Harry would have been hard pressed not to agree with him.

“Harry is the only person who can make sure that such a tragedy doesn't happen and right now he hasn't got that much time to do so. Now for some reason he has to come back to this godforsaken place before he can start. Due to some, thankfully,” she stressed the word, “insubstantial amount of DNA he shares with you lot he needs whatever protections this place affords him. He has to stay here for a few weeks before he can be on his way, never to be seen by the likes of you again,” she said pointing between them. “Ron here and I need to be with him on every step of his journey.”

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. Her tremendous amount of hair fell in her face veil like. When she looked back up at the Dursleys Harry thought he caught almost a pleading look on her face.

“I don't ask for your hospitality. I don't ask for your kindness. I don't even ask that you to pretend to care if your nephew lives or dies. But what I do ask is that you don't fight us on this. Do it for your own sorry existences if that will help you sleep at night.”

At this Uncle Vernon made a noise that sounded like the cross between a scoff and a cackle. His trollish eyes still burnt with a furious fire. Hermione seeing this rolled her eyes and pointed her wand threateningly at the man.

“You know what, scratch that! I'm telling you,” she steamed, her voice sounding bitter and caustic. “Simply put, the three of us are staying here. Harry, Ron, and I are going to be staying in your house for however long we need to and you won't even think to object. You won't, or God help you...” Hermione aggressively added, “because we won't.”

For a moment silence reigned in the living room of Number 4 Privet Drive. All the other occupants seemed fixated on what the bushy haired girl would say next. Even Uncle Vernon had the good grace to take the threat in Hermione's words seriously. Then Dudley, being his usual cloddish self, broke the spell.

“But Harry can't do anything to us. Dad said,” Dudley smugly retorted. “Harry got in all that trouble when he blew up Aunt Marjorie. Harry can't perform magic until he...he...gets of age. That Dumbly man said that won't happen til he's 17.”

Uncle Vernon turned his large head as much as he could on it's fat neck to shoot his son a proud smile. Hermione however seemed to find the whole thing a joke. She even laughed a bit before she turned all of her attention to Dudley.

“You really are stupid aren't you.” It wasn't said in the form of question. Dudley looked almost humiliated at such a reply.

“But your right, Dudley is it? Harry isn't 17 yet,” she said in an almost sickeningly sweet tone. “But I am.”

Everything began to happen fast after this. Harry was so perturbed by the chilling note in Hermione's voice that he almost didn't move out of the way quick enough when she pointed her wand quickly at the fireplace behind him and shot a bluebell ball of flame into it. The hearth instantaneously exploded into a roaring fire that not only scared the Dursleys, but seemed to frighten Harry and Ron as well.

But Hermione wasn't finished yet. In a loud crack that echoed thru the house Hermione disapparated herself in front of the cowering family. Harry then heard the second crack of her reappearing in a room above them on the second floor. He couldn't tell if Hermione was upset or not by her powerful outburst, but he figured that she would need one of her friends desperately. He asked Ron to lift the jinxes off the Dursleys while he went to see about Hermione. It also didn't hurt to let the sniveling people know that there was also one other guest who was allowed to perform magic in the house.

Harry ran into the hall and up the stairs. At the sound of feet on the steps Harry's door shot open. Standing in the frame, looking none the worse for wear, was Hermione.

“I figured this room was yours,” she said, eyes twinkling. “It reeks of unkempt boy”

Harry could only stare at her in awe. It was as if the Hermione standing in his room was an entirely different person from the one who was almost terrorizing the Dursleys downstairs. In fact Harry wouldn't be shocked if Dudders had left a dudder in his pants at that fabulous display of wand skill she gave.

“So what did you think? Was it a bit much?”

“W-what,” Harry stammered out.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hands and pulled him quickly into the disorganized room, that hadn't been cleaned since the last day he was in it, and brought him over to his bed. They both sat down facing each other. Harry was still perplexed as Hermione grinned a mischievous, naughty little girl smile at him.

“I figured that for people as obtuse as your aunt and uncle I would need to put the fear of...well...,” she said pausing, “a crazed witch with PMS into them. I remembered you telling me and Ron how Dumbledore messed about with them last summer and figured that something similar would do just the trick again. So did it,” she asked hopefully.

All Harry could do was laugh. Hermione truly was the brightest witch of her age! Hell, of any age!

“Are you kidding me? I think Aunt Petunia is trying to figure out just what you'd like to have for afters once you've finished your steak and kidney pudding,” he delightedly said.

Hermione only rolled her eyes mirthfully.

“Silly woman. I said pie.”

They stayed at the Dursleys for the rest of the month of June. The three teens slept all in Harry's room. Hermione was given the bed, while he and Ron slept on the floor on either side of her. At first Harry offered Hermione the use of the spare bedroom. He half suspected that now that the Dursleys probably thought that Hermione was insane they wouldn't object. At least not where she could hear them. But she declined the offer. She believed that the three of them needed to be within arms reach if needed. Harry couldn't disagree with the idea.

The three of them would hold themselves up in that tiny room for hours. At times they would talk about the murky path ahead of them, but those were rare moments. Mostly they laughed and joked together, sharing warm memories of their childhoods (Harry didn't have much to add to this of course), silly antidotes about friends and schoolmates, and fond thoughts of people who had passed. Sometimes they didn't even speak, just sat near each other content to be in one another's presence.

The Dursleys mainly let them alone and the Trio returned the favor in kind. The only time when their paths would cross was if Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the kitchen for a bite to eat or if they needed to use the loo or take a bath. But there were no big altercations. Except for the day that Ron turned Dudley into an albino piglet.

Harry and Ron had been downstairs in the hall waiting for Hermione to come down so they could go out to eat for a change. Hermione was still in the room changing. As of late her tendency to be even more girlish was becoming increasingly bewildering to Harry. Ron on the other hand didn't seem to mind. He said he would pop upstairs to see what was keeping her. Five minutes later Harry rushed up the stairs due to the commotion. All he could hear was the angry squeals of a pig, the high strung shrieks of his aunt, and the crazy giggles of Hermione and Ron. When he reached the landing he saw Petunia cradling a baby pig in her arms as she shouted angry words at Ron. She wouldn't so much as glance at Hermione. Upon seeing Harry they each both grabbed a hand of his and took off down the stairs and out the door laughing like hyenas all the way.

They were so tickled because Ron caught Dudley watching Hermione change her clothes in Harry's bedroom. Luckily he didn't get a good peek thru the crack he made in the door while Hermione's back was turned to it. When Ron discovered the Peeping Tom he angrily jinxed the other boy. Ron was in such a strop that he didn't even know what he had changed Dudley in to until the little pig began to run around the upstairs hall in a panic, the sound bringing Hermione and Aunt Petunia out of their perspective doors. All three kids had a good laugh at the incident. Hermione even told Ron that it was N.E.W.T. level worthy work. Ron blushed at the compliment. Harry realized that his friend was doing that a lot around Hermione these days.

On July 2nd Harry prepared to leave Privet Drive for the very last time. He didn't know if he wouldn't be back due to bitterness or death, he just knew that whatever the cause he would never walk thru those doors again. As he and Hermione waited in the hall for Ron to appear, Harry turned to stare at the tiny cupboard under the stairs. That small cramped space had been his home for almost all of his life. Harry knew as he gazed at it that he should be feeling a sense of anger and disgust at the treatment he endured at the hands of his aunt and uncle. That cupboard was the embodiment of that treatment. But all Harry could feel was a cold, dead numbness within. What if the road ahead only led him to just one more small box that would trap him in? This time forever. As if answer to the questions hurtling thru his head Hermione grabbed his hand in both of hers and brought his attention to her.

“You'll never have to go in there again.”

She spoke plainly and her eyes glistened. Her fingers felt warm in Harry's surprisingly much larger hand. He wondered briefly when nature wrought that change before squeezing it to let her know that he believed her. Ron came bustling down the stairs and the two dropped their hold on each other. The Trio then departed the Surrey neighborhood to begin the next leg of their journey.

If Ron was his brother, Hermione was his sister. She stuck by him thru all his endeavors much like a sibling would. So then why do I see her naked every night when I close my eyes, he now wondered. I'm sure there must be some law against that kind of sibling bonding, Harry thought. He had no solutions. At least none he would like to try twice.

He tried having sex with Ginny as much as he could at first, but then that only seemed to increase the strength of the fantasies. They started coming at him during the day. Slowly but surely he stopped sleeping with his wife altogether. It started to feel like he was betraying the woman in his dreams instead of the other way around.

Harry then decided to wear himself out in a different way. He threw himself into his work. Harry's group of Aurors started making collars at an amazing speed. So much so that the Second Division started to get even tougher cases assigned to them. But after a few weeks of great success he started to have daydreams about Hermione while at his desk. Actually the dreams took place on the desk, but that was beside the point. It all was becoming increasingly too much to bear.

Harry next decided to try a muggle therapist. If he tried a mental healer he was sure that word would get out all over the wizarding world. That would be a disaster! So he found the address of a well recommended psychologist one day when he was in muggle London and made an appointment to see him. Once Harry was laid out on the man's expensive leather couch he unburdened everything about the dreams on him. Unfortunately the stupid git only wanted to ask questions about Harry's marriage and Ginny. Harry only saw the man the one time.

Then in April Harry hit upon a brand new idea. When Hermione disappeared back in the spring of 2000, she didn't tell anyone of her plans. He later found out that at the time she was being courted by several foreign ministries and even a school. At first it hurt Harry deeply that Hermione hadn't confided this information in him, they shared everything with one another, but Harry soon came to the conclusion that Hermione might have actually left the country under some sort of duress. According to the detectives he and Ron hired she didn't take any of the jobs she was offered. They checked every foreign ministry for any sign of her. They payed close attention to the French speaking countries since she was fluent in the language. They scoured all of Ireland thinking she may have gone to the place of her grandmother's birth. They checked all of the warm weather countries since she seemed to like the hotter climates. Nothing turned up. Except for one occasion, her wand was never used again. For all intensive purposes it would seem that there had never been a witch named Hermione Jane Granger. Harry wondered just what could have happened to make her give up her life.

For the first few years after she left Harry worried sick after her. He didn't think anything foul had happened to her, he and Ron felt in their hearts that if something unfortunate were to happen to Hermione they would both feel it. He still worried though that if she was out there somewhere needing his help she wouldn't be able to reach him. His Quidditch game began to suffer. He began spending hours and hours at the Ministry trying to find out if they had any leads on the Granger case. He even turned to Malfoy to see if he and any of his contacts in the Auror department could find any leads on her. Harry was a desperate man! Eventually Ron and the rest of the family convinced him that when Hermione was ready to come home she would let them know. Harry decided that they were right and tried to move on.

That is until the dreams started attacking him with frequency. Harry came to the conclusion that Hermione must be trying to reach him thru these dreams. Riddle had used similar methods with Harry, sending him visions and messages while he was sleeping. No one knew this more then Hermione. As soon as the theory waltzed thru Harry's head he popped over to Hogsmeade so he could go use the library at Hogwarts. It was one of the finest wizarding libraries in Great Britain, in fact in the world. If he could find out the answer if Hermione was using his dreamworld to call for help, it would be here.

Soon Harry found himself ensconced at a table in the back of the library. The librarian, Madam Pince, helped him find the books that would come in handy for his research. She even barely looked down her nose at him this time. Harry figured growing up and becoming an adult came with some rewards.

Harry paged thru book after book dealing with the astrological importance of dreams, the significance of numerology in dreams, and books dealing with oneiromancy. He wanted to tear his hair out when he realized that all these books were about some form of Divination or other. Surely what he was looking for could not be found in this garbage, he thought. He even read thru a book about astral projection. The theory was that the soul could inhabit an astral body that can travel outside it's physical one. Although Harry was intrigued by the notion he soon brushed the idea to the side. Somehow the idea of Hermione Granger sending her astral body across the cosmos just so she could sit on his face held no merit.

After an hour of searching thru musty old books Harry dejectedly decided to give up his research mission and go home. As he was exiting the library he ran straight into Head Mistress McGonagall, his former Transfiguration teacher and Head of House. The older witch had come to the library in search of him. The Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost, had spotted him in the library and reported the news to the professor. The Head Mistress, never one for beating around the bush, got right down to business with him as soon as he took a seat in her office. She told him that her current Defense of the Dark Arts teacher, Vervain Lermontant, was vacating his position at the end of term.

Vervain was an American wizard from New Orleans. He was said to be a descendant of the famous Voodoo Queen Marie Leveau. Harry had met him a time or two at various functions and found him a good enough chap. Just oddly magnetic. Women flocked to him. Men aspired to be like him. His charm even seemed to work on animals. He had been the Defense teacher since the war ended and Hogwarts reopened. It would seem whatever curse the position held died with Riddle. Now after 7 years of teaching young minds he decided that it was time to go back home to the city of his birth. McGonagall was sad to see the man go, he was a fabulous and dedicated teacher.

He also wasn't too hard to look at, though she would have never shared that thought with a single soul.

Although there were no Dark Lords hiding behind every corner any longer Minerva still believed that it was important for her students to have a strong defense curriculum. She didn't want to just hire any old body for the job. When she heard that Harry Potter was currently in the building she felt that her prayers had been answered. Potter would be perfect for the job! Sure, he had little regard for rules per se, that however did not negate the fact that the young man's Defense O.W.L. had been exceptionally high, he had been the leader of his own dark arts defense league, and was now currently a well trained and high ranked Auror. There was also that little thing of him defeating Lord Voldemort. Potter was made for the job!

Minerva was certain that the school governors would agree with the choice. Even after the war some families were a bit reluctant to send their children back to Hogwarts. Many opted for home schooling their children. The school never reached again the full capacity it had held during the Golden Age of Dumbledore. But Minerva figured that with Harry Potter as a professor there they might have to turn back applications.

When McGonagall made her offer to Harry he was at first shocked, then pleased, then elated by it. Harry Potter, professor. It sounded right to him. Never mind the fact that he would be teaching the subject that was closest to his heart in the first place that he truly called home. It was a perfect fit! Harry left Hogwarts that day with a renewed vigor. He would leave the Department and teach at Hogwarts. Maybe this was the answer to the emptiness that wouldn't quit his heart.

The new career prospect did not however alleviate the Hermione situation. He was still dreaming about her constantly. So much so that she began to fill his waking thoughts. If it had only been about sex he could have handled that. If all he wanted to do was shag her just one good time to get it all out of his system he would have accepted that completely. Maybe the old adage was true, men and women couldn't just be friends.

But Harry was never good at lying to himself, at least not for long. He longed for her. He longed for her in much the same way he wanted his parents' care, Dumbledore's guidance, and Sirius' companionship. It began to seem like he lived and breathed Hermione. Memories of their years together played themselves inside his head constantly. He soon realized that he was truly happy only when he had his brown haired witch in his arms. Even if it wasn't real, it was real in his heart. And that's when the horror of it all struck him. He wanted a woman that could never be his. He wanted a woman whom he had no idea where she was. He wanted a woman who technically was just a figment of his imagination. He wanted a woman who he should have never wanted in the first place.

It wasn't that he didn't think of Hermione as attractive. In fact there were times in those last few years that he would look at his voluptuous best mate and wonder where the bossy little know-it-all girl went to. Not to say that she stopped being bossy, or being an insufferable know-it-all. It's just the package that all that came wrapped in became infinitely more pleasing to look at. He never dwelt on those thoughts long though, because it always felt like he was betraying his other best friend, Ron. Even when the two of them were broken up. Which they always seemed to be.

Then there was Ginny to think about. Ginny probably wouldn't have taken kindly to the idea of Harry checking Hermione out. More importantly the idea that he could view the girl who was as good as his better half as just some bit of skirt seemed sacrilege to his mind.

So Harry compensated by trying to view Hermione only as some asexual being. Which was hard especially when Hermione began to flaunt and indulge in her burgeoning femininity. She wore clothing that was entirely too provocative for her (Harry secretly blamed her flat mate for that). She even went to muggle nightclubs every now and then (once again, the flat mate). But worst of all she began to notice other men and Harry couldn't help himself from noticing men noticing her back.

When Hermione and Ron were a couple Harry didn't mind it so much. One new bonus of their relationship was that arguing decreased dramatically. Harry was never certain exactly when the two of them had officially gotten together, he suspected sometime around the period when the three of them went to Godric's Hollow, but he was thankful for the cease fire. Although Harry valued their camaraderie he wasn't so sure that he would be able to do the task at hand with their constant bickering. But instead Ron would just shoot puppy eyes at Hermione while she blushed a maddeningly pretty shade of pink. It was then that Harry would wish they would go back to fighting like the olden days. Thankfully they didn't do too much of that. Harry wasn't sure his stomach could take it plus it made him envious. He would have liked to have someone to cuddle with too. Ginny would have been nice. But whatever exactly encompassed Hermione's relationship with Ron they did a good job keeping it hidden away from Harry. He figured that was Hermione's doing as well, she was always rather modest. Sure he saw a quick kiss here and there, but really nothing too much to make him that queasy.

By time the three of them lived together shortly after the war Hermione and Ron, or the Heron as the twins jokingly called them, were entering Break Up #1. Harry was very happy he didn't have to encounter any hanky panky on the living room couch. He figured it would be too weird, seeing his brother going at it with his sister in the room he liked to eat his bowl of cereal. Sure he wanted them to be together, he just didn't want to have to see it.

With their relationship over Hermione and Ron's arguing returned in full force, especially when she began to date. Her first paramour was Roger Davies, a former Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. Although Harry wasn't certain how well Hermione knew the bloke back in school he naturally assumed they had become close by working together at the Ministry. What started out as a few harmless outings soon turned in to a full fledge relationship. Ron would seethe at the sight of them. Harry was just happy that whatever Hermione and Davies chose to do he never spent the night at the Trio's flat. It would have been too awkward, what with Ron glaring at the ponce from across the table as his current (ugh!) squeeze Lavender buttered his toast (double ugh!). He could just see Hermione finding the whole scene boring, stuffing her head instead into a muggle law book or something while he himself tried to pretend that he didn't want to throw a plate of hot kippers at Davies face. Harry might think he was an ok fellow, but that didn't make him think he was good enough for his Hermione. Quite frankly Harry was relieved when she broke up with the jackass after only seven months of dating him.

Soon Hermione and Ron got back together. Harry never knew if it was a passionate reunion because Hermione was living in a flat in South London by this time and the couple spent all their time there. But the happiness was short lived. Hermione and Ron got back together in June of 1999 only to break up again in August. It was Ron who chucked her this time. He really wanted to be married and Hermione just seemed disinterested in the idea.

Harry almost didn't know who to be angrier at, Ron for doing the dumping or Hermione for not saying yes to his friend's proposal. His irritation with her only increased when at the start of Quidditch season she began a steamy in your face affair with Oliver Wood, Harry's team mate at Puddlemere. Sure Ron was being a git as usual by taking back up with Lavender (Merlin!), but that didn't give Hermione rights to go snogging Wood in the locker room after games, he nauseously thought. He tried to forget that he might have been the person responsible for them getting together.

Usually after every big win Harry, Hermione, and his team mates would go to a nearby pub to celebrate. Even after all these years Hermione still faithfully came to every single one of Harry's games, Quidditch fan though she was not. Most times he could also schmooze her into coming out with the team afterwards. Ron would come to the victory benders occasionally, but since he was the enemy (proud wearer of the orange and black) he didn't make it a common occurrence.

One night at the start of October after a particular grueling game with the Magpies Hermione was at his side as usual as he, Wood, Casey, Haversham, Wadcock, and the rest celebrated their hard fought win with bottles and bottles of Firewhiskey. Hermione had been looking particularly fetching that evening in a snug black jumper, painfully tight black jeans, a matching calf length sweater, and pencil thin heeled boots. Malinde Wadcock, one of Puddlemere's chasers and the daughter of one of the team's former players, seemed to think so too as she flirted with a clearly inebriated Hermione, tugging on the chestnut curls that were falling on her shoulders.

A very beastly, very male fantasy of what the two very attractive women would look like sliding together on satin sheets rose up in his head before he very sternly beat it down in shame. Hermione was his friend, he had no right to think of her in such a way. He decided then to leave at that moment so he could clear his head. Plus he needed to go to the Burrow and see Ginny who was expecting him. She couldn't join them at The Horse's End because she got stuck baby sitting Marcel and Lionel.

Harry told Hermione that he had to leave and go see Ginny and asked if she wanted him to accompany her home first. Hermione declined the offer. He was worried that she might have had too much to drink, her eyes were rimmed in red, but she told him to hurry and get to Ginny so the younger girl wouldn't worry about him. Malinde half jokingly told him that she would make sure Hermione got home safe. Harry, not liking the appraising look in the woman's eye as she looked at the comely brunette, asked Wood to see Hermione home instead. Harry then darted out the pub and apparated over to the Burrow. He enjoyed a few nice snogs with Ginny before heading home. In the morning he popped over to Hermione's to check on her and was shocked to discover Oliver Wood looking at him sheepishly from the couch while dressed in one of Hermione's much too small for him dressing robes. Crookshanks was nestled in the other man's lap, purring lazily as Wood petted him. Traitor!

That relationship sold Daily Prophet issues for weeks much to Hermione and Harry's dismay. She and the Prophet seemed to have a long lived love/hate relationship. She hated anyone involved with it and they loved to portray her as some social climbing, bed hopping vixen. It would seem that Rita Skeeter's portrayal of her all those years ago had affixed it's self in people's mind. But the Prophet wasn't the only publication that exploited the new couple. Hermione and Oliver were constantly seen on the front cover of all of the papers and tabloids snogging. It was a sensationalist wet dream, what with Ron (Hermione's long put upon ex-beau) playing Keeper as well on one of Puddlemere's rival teams. It got to the point that Harry stopped reading the news all together save for the Quibbler. Out of respect to Hermione and Luna's friendship the editor, Mr. Lovegood left her alone.

Ron was heartbroken over these turns of events. Though he still dated Lavender his heart just wasn't in it. It was with Hermione. The flat the two boys shared began to feel like a funeral to Harry now that his flame haired friend went from being chipper and sarcastic and turned in to a morose shell of his former self.

Harry felt cut a drift from Hermione as well. Where once he wouldn't hesitate to apparate directly into her apartment, he now was apprehensive to do so. Once Hermione's flat mate Glinda discovered that Hermione and just about all her friends were witches and wizards Hermione chose Harry to be her fail safe. A fail safe was the one person who could apparate and floo into a home at will by bypassing whatever elaborate wards the caster had set up on their place. A fail safe came in handy in cases of emergency. When Glinda started seeing Fred it made it possible for Hermione to have a fail safe and since she was on the outs with Ron at the time she unsurprisingly chose Harry. Even during the short periods that she got back with Ron she never changed their status. Harry took advantage of the situation to have breakfast with his best friend on many mornings, the two of them sitting at the comfy little breakfast nook that once sat in the kitchen of the Granger's old home. They would dine on black pudding or French toast as Harry babbled on about his girlfriend or the joy he got out of playing Quidditch. Hermione never seemed to mind him popping in on her and she always was there to listen to him.

But now with Wood in the picture Harry was reluctant to continue the practice. What if he floo'ed in only to see them going at it on the lounge room floor. Harry would rather pluck his own eyes out at that prospect. So he stopped coming over to visit Hermione all together. It was painful for him to break off contact with her like that. Since their days spent hiding from Riddle during the war Harry had never gone more then a few days where he didn't see her face. But his feelings were too conflicted on the subject now. Harry felt that Hermione should be with Ron and he didn't like the idea of some random bloke, even one he saw naked in the locker room shower, pawing all over her. He ended up spending even more time with Ginny, which wasn't such a bad trade off. He just wished that everything would go back to the way that it was so he could have Hermione back. Then, like an answer to his prayers Hermione and Wood ended their relationship amicably before Christmas.

Harry was ecstatic over the news! Of course he didn't show his joy to Hermione. He did let her know that if she wanted to cry on his shoulder over the break-up he was there for her. Hermione however didn't seem too upset over the end of the affair. Although she wasn't so forthcoming on details, thank Merlin, she really seemed to see the relationship as nothing more then a fling.

If she was really broken up over it she didn't have time to stew because her grandmother, Bridget Granger, passed on Boxing Day. She and Harry went to Ireland shortly after to bury the old woman and to handle her estate. Hermione then decided to go to Hyères, a town on the Côte d’Azur for a week so she could recharge her batteries. She promised to meet up with Harry after his upcoming game with the Kestrals on the 13th of January. They would then go have a few drinks at The Spotted Jack afterwards.

Harry was despondent over his teams loss to Kenmare, but even more so when he realized that Hermione missed his first game since his Hogwarts days. She didn't show up at the pub either. Harry had barely gotten Ginny home with little more then a quick kiss and a pat on the head when he immediately apparated over to Hermione's.

His usual point of entry was her living room. The flat was small, just two small bedrooms in the back, a bath, and a tiny lounge area that seemed to barely fit the comfy furniture, Hermione's bookshelves, her computer, and the telly. Crookshanks cat bed stood empty by her desk. The ginger cat hadn't been back home in weeks much to Hermione's despair. The living room was separated from the kitchen by only a bar and half of a wall. Despite the size it always felt cozy in that as soon as you walked into the place you could smell and see what was cooking in the kitchen. This day however Harry did not like what was on the menu. In fact what he saw almost made him vomit every meal he had ever eaten.

Though Hermione and Malfoy separated themselves rather quickly, the familiar sound of apparition alerting them that they were not alone in the flat, they did not do it soon enough to save Harry from the picture of Hermione bent back slightly over her small kitchen table while Malfoy leaned up seductively over her. Both of them were fully clothed, mercifully, but the damned Slytherin's pasty hand had been on her waist.

She tried to make her self look presentable, smoothing her skirt and patting down her wild hair, as Harry slowly and icily stalked to the kitchen doorway. A look of murder and rage sat upon his face. While Hermione had the good sense to look mortified at his discovery of them Malfoy simply treated Harry to one of his signature smirks (the one he and Ron designated the “wouldn't you like to know”), kissed Hermione's hand (making Harry's temper reach near Uncle Vernon like status), and exited the kitchen past Harry's wrathful form. He let himself out the front door, his training robes billowing out behind him dramatically. Twat-face!

Harry watched Malfoy walk out before turning the full brunt of his ire on Hermione. She had backed herself into her refrigerator and was staring at Harry with big, child like eyes. The eyes of a child who knew that their parent was about to give them what for.

“What the bloody hell was that,” he asked in an oddly even and steady tone. He enunciated each and every word.

Hermione looked between Harry, who was blocking the nearest escape route to the low bar to her right. Harry could almost see the screws and wheels turning in her head, as though she were trying to figure out just what her chances of jumping over it might be. Obviously in the heat of the moment the woman forgot that she was a witch. She then turned fully towards him, Harry surmising that she realized that she was not athletic enough to make the jump, and swallowed deeply before squeaking out, “Imperius,” in a meek little voice.

She wasn't serious and Harry knew she wasn't serious and this only helped to further enrage him. Harry stared at her unbelievingly for a second before he chuckled lowly. There was no humor in that laugh.

“You know I would almost believe you too if it wasn't for the fact that I know you can throw off an Imperius almost as well as I can.”

He stepped further in to the kitchen.

“And then there is the little thing about Malfoy's wand being registered with the Ministry when he joined the Law Enforcement Department,” he said eying her crossly. “If his wand had cast an Unforgiveable in here there would have been Aurors swarming the place by now,” said Harry as he folded his arm across his chest imperiously.

Hermione looked like she had about enough of his attitude. She stamped her foot angrily, crossed her own arms in a belligerent pose and said, “Oh hang it all! I don't have to explain myself to you!”

She then apparated herself into her living room and began to head for the door. Harry was too quick for her though. He was by her side in a moment, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to face him. She made a sound like a scalded cat.

“Oh really now? You don't have to explain to me why Malfoy was just manhandling you in the kitchen before I popped in,” he asked, grabbing both her upper arms and shaking her slightly. “You don't have to explain to me why you looked like you liked it?”

“No,” she shouted back at him, wrenching herself free. Luckily for them Hermione made the place imperturbable when she first moved in or all her neighbors would have been getting an earful.

“No I don't! In case you missed the memo I am an adult. As in of age. And this is my flat. And you know what? I can bloody do what ever I want in it,” she yelled.

He got right in her face and asked frigidly, “Does that include whoever you want as well?”

It was a low blow and Hermione returned it. She slapped him. She slapped him so hard that momentarily Harry saw bright flashes of light before his eye. He reached his hand to the spot where her hand met his face and felt the swollen flesh there. Harry had fought a basilisk. Harry had flown rings around a dragon. Harry had battled an army of Dementors. But never in his life had Harry been smacked by a girl, especially this girl. Harry stared down at his friend and she seemed to be in as much shock as he was over the situation Her whole body was an angry flush and her breath came out in angry puffs. Her hair looked like it was flying off her own head.

“Oh my,” she faintly whispered as her hand traveled to her chest in a motion to stop her heart from jumping out of it .

She wandered slowly over to her beige couch and plopped down forlornly on it. Her hands then covered her face as she began to rock back and forth at a slow and steady pace. Harry shuffled over to her and sat down next to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, but she just shrugged out of his grip.

“I think you should go home now Harry,” she said huskily, not even looking at him.

Harry wasn't about to have this. He took both of her hands and held them in a tight grip as he tried to gain eye contact with her. She wouldn't let him.

“I can't Hermione. Not when something is so obviously troubling you,” said Harry in a soothing voice. “So much so that you actually hit me. You hit me Hermione! You've never done that, no matter how much we have ever argued. Hell, you never even hit Ron!”

“I was angry alright,” she explained irritably as she tried to squirm her hands from Harry's grip. He wasn't letting her go. “You got in my face and that's how I reacted. I'm sorry ok?”

“No, not ok. Why didn't you come to my game today?”

She huffed angrily before giving up on getting her hands free. “I didn't feel like it. I was tired when I got home from my trip and I lost track of time. Besides, Ginny was there.”

He looked at her mystified by the statement. “What does Ginny being there have to with anything?”

She finally made full eye contact with him before rolling her eyes. “Well I figured with Ginny and the rest of your little Potterhead fangirls at the match all the adulation you needed to boost your ego was there. One less would be no great travesty really.”

She said it so scornfully that Harry almost felt like she had slapped him again. It hurt just that much.

“Do you think that's why I like you there,” he questioned dolefully, “to boost my ego? Hermione, you are my good luck charm. I've never played a game without you, you know that.”

The tenseness that radiated off of Hermione seemed to lessen at that. Harry took this as a good sign and scooted closer to her on the sofa.

“Even when I loose it's makes me feel better to see your face there. It helps me to know that no matter what there is one person who doesn't think I'm a looser.”

Hermione's eyes pooled with tears before she sniffed and wiped at them harshly, forbidding them to fall.

“Your girlfriend...”

“Once played the game. Remember? Seconds after I came out the shower Ginny was already telling me how I let Donahue fake me out. And giving me tips on what to do next time.” Ginny could be quite annoying that way.

“What I needed was you to tell me how you were going to burn some chocolate chip cookies special, just for me.”

It was true. Whenever Harry lost Hermione wouldn't even bring up the sore subject. Instead she would do something for him to show him just how special she thought he was. Usually she would try to cook or bake him one of his favorite treats. It always came out inedible or at best burnt, but Harry dutifully ate every crumb.

Hermione sadly smiled at Harry as she tentatively touched her hand to the spot where she hit him. He winced only slightly as she barely grazed the area.

“I'm sorry,” she said as her hand came down. She then gazed into his eyes as if to apologize for every hurt she caused him this day. “I'm sorry.”

For a moment their eyes held. Harry felt intoxicated by the way she was looking at him. His head seemed almost too heavy for his neck. Like he was feeling a strange cocktail of too many emotions all at once. He felt like he was about to fall...into what he did not know. The spell however was broken when Hermione pitched herself from the sofa and walked over to the bar, her back turned to him.

“I'm sorry Harry, but I really think you should go.” Her voice sounded like a mix of bitterness and regret.

Harry knew he had a decision to make. If he left right then he knew that his friendship with Hermione would be intact, safe and sound. But if stayed and continued to push her, find out what exactly was going on in her head, he might get his other cheek smacked for the trouble. Especially if he brought up Malfoy again.

“Sorry Hermione, but I'm not going anywhere till we have this out!” Harry always knew he was a masochist.

She turned to face him, perplexed. “Have what out? You wanted to know why I didn't come today. I told you.”

“Yes you did, but you seemed to have glossed over the pink elephant in the room. Or should I say blond ferret?”

Hermione looked down her nose at him. “I refuse to have this conversation with you,” she said snottily.

“Oh really,” Harry asked mockingly. “You refuse to have this conversation with me? Well would you prefer to discuss this all with Ron?”

At that Hermione's eyes bulged in disbelief.

“I can have him over here as quick as a shot if you'd like.”

“You wouldn't dare!”

“Oh you bet I would.”

“This doesn't even have anything to do with Ron,” argued Hermione.

“Oh doesn't it? Him so heartbroken over you that he can barely stay on his broom during games now. All the while your carrying on with Malfoy!” As Harry said this he had to fight the urge to cross the room and shake her again.

“Harry,” she said as if trying to plead her case, “Draco and I...”

He cut her off before she could finish.

“Exactly! Draco and I...Draco and I...,” Harry mocked. “Tell me Hermione, when exactly did it become Draco?” Hermione looked gobsmacked at this line of questioning.

“Cause see, I know when it happened, but I'm wondering if you even realized it?”

It was true. For the last few years Harry had become aware that Malfoy might have more then friendly feelings towards Hermione. It was never anything blatant Malfoy did to worry his suspicions, it was just a hunch he had. He always kept close watch where the jerk was concerned. He would watch Malfoy like a hawk to see if he would make any unwanted advances towards Hermione. Harry just never thought he should have been paying attention to Hermione as well.

“This thing that's been going on between you and Malfoy,” began Harry noting Hermione's horrified look. “Oh yes, I've noticed. I've noticed it for a long time now. At first I thought it was just coming from his side. The way he would stare at you like you were the last sip of water in the Sahara. The way he would follow you from room to room. The way he would call you...ugh...'pet'. But I told myself that what ever was going on in that little tow-head of his I didn't have to worry because our Hermione is a smart girl. If he tries anything she'll let him have it . Ha! I guess I was right eh?”

“How...dare...you,” fumed Hermione, her face turning pink from anger. She looked like she was ready to deck him this time so he jumped up from where he was sitting and backed further away from her reach.

“Did I hit too close to the mark?”

“You have no fucking idea what you're talking about! Draco just came over here because he wanted to check up on me!” Harry snorted at that.

“It's true,” she said as she stepped closer to him. “Draco was out of town when Nan passed. He knew how much she meant to me, just as much as you did.” Harry scoffed at this. “He wanted to see if I needed anything. If there was anything that he could do for me.”

Harry chuckled darkly. “Oh yes, Draco Malfoy, the benevolent.”

“Draco is a good man,” she countered. “You would realize that if you took your head out of your arse long enough to see it.”

“My God. He really has done a number on you,” Harry said as he met her in the center of the room. He cupped his hands around her face as though determined to get thru to her.

“Draco Malfoy is evil Hermione,” he said, searching her face for any sign of understanding. Seeing none his voice took on a begging tone. “You used to know this, back in school. What happened? What did he do to you?”

Hermione's eyes took on a fervent glow. “How can you say that,” she asked him desperately. “He saved your life once Harry. I...we wouldn't still have you if not for Draco.”

“For which he is still awaiting a thank you very much for,” Harry indignantly said. “Is that what you are Hermione? His thank you.”

Her hand must still have hurt from the last time she hit him because she simply pushed him from her.

“He gave his life for the Order. Just like the rest of us. He helped us bring down Voldemort.”

Harry turned his back to her. He didn't like the look in her eyes as she detailed the greatness that was Draco Malfoy. Hermione wouldn't let it go that easy.

“He's going to be an amazing Auror. He's at the top of his training class.” She was unrelenting on this subject. “Why I had lunch with Alastor just the other day. All he could talk about was Draco. He says that Draco just might be the best he ever trained. Like he was born for the job.”

Harry forced down the jealousy that surfaced at the praise. He was getting angrier with Hermione by the minute.

“Oh, so is that it now? Did you run thru all the Quidditch players in Britain Hermione? You've decided to collect Aurors now?”

Even he was shocked at his venom. He turned to face her and ignored the pang he felt in his heart at the destroyed expression on her face.

“You should have at least given Wadcock a turn. She's fancied you for months.”

“Why are you talking to me like this,” she barely sobbed out.

“Because it hurt Hermione,” he spat. “It hurt to fly around that stadium and not see your face in the crowd. It hurt thinking that you just blew me off when I needed you. It hurt not being able to be with you these last few weeks. And most of all it hurt to see Malfoy all over you when...”

“Wait a tic,” she franticly said, grabbing hold of him and focusing her eyes on his. “You were hurt by seeing me and Draco?”

Once again that tangled emotion that he experienced earlier rose up in Harry. He was confused, he was flustered. He didn't quite get what Hermione was getting at. Of course seeing her with Malfoy hurt him. She was his friend. He wouldn't want to see a friend hurt would he? Why else would he be mad?

“Well I would have to keep this all from Ron wouldn't I,” he asked her. She looked at him as though she couldn't understand his meaning.

“This is about Ron," she exasperatedly asked. “You're upset because you don't want to tell any of this to Ron?”

She searched his face and not finding what she was looking for sighed desolately.

“Of course that's it.” She turned and crossed back over to the bar. “Silly Hermione,” she muttered so quietly that Harry barely heard her. She was confusing him more and more.

“Do you even realize how much this is going to pain me not to tell Ron,” Harry asked as he walked up to her.

“He is still crazy about you Hermione. I mean, yeah there's Lavender. She's like a right leach, Lavender is,” he paused hoping to hear her snicker at least. Hermione always enjoyed a good Lavender dig. This time however it did not do the trick.

“But if you gave him any indication...any sign...”

“I can't Harry,” she keened. “I can't do this any more. That ship has sailed.”

Harry was becoming even more confused by Hermione's shifting mood by the moment.

“But you can do,” he emphasized the last word, “Malfoy.”

She irately glanced over her shoulder at him. “Would you drop that please. I've told you before, Draco is only my friend.”

Harry didn't know what made him say it. He really didn't want to say it. It was as if he came down with a bad case of verbal diarrhea. As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he had crossed the line of all lines.

“Oh, so do all your friends bugger you on the breakfast nook?”

As long as he lived he would never forget the homicidal look on her face right at that moment as she swung around. She was fairly frothing at the mouth. He had never seen her in such a rage, at least directed towards him. Hurricane Hermione was about to make her first appearance.

First one book from her bookcase on the far wall flew at his head and struck him. Then another. Then several pelted him simultaneously. He was so shocked that he completely forgot that he was The Chosen One and let his ass get kicked by a bunch of books. That was when the telly in the living room shut on and the lights in the kitchen begin to blink off and on in a syncopated rhythm. Harry knew that he could take down an over emotional witch in a strop, even without his wand, he just didn't want to do anything to hurt Hermione. Or better yet, wind her up further.

She advanced on him menacingly, a malicious gleam in her eye. “Pardon me, but have you never met Ron Weasley,” she raged in answer to his question as everything else went still.

Harry could have kicked himself. At this point he would have preferred the books again. Sure he wanted his two friends together, but he didn't want to hear about it. He began pacing back and forth in front of the box, his hands placed over his ears as if that could block out her voice.

“I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it.”

Hermione, sensing Harry's discomfort decided to go in for the kill. “What don't you want to hear? That I let Ron....”

“Argh! Stop it right now,” he practically begged.

“Stop what,” she asked innocently. When she got no answer she said, “Let me get this straight. You're the bloody Heron cheerleader, but you don't want to hear about what goes on between us?”

“Of course not!”

“Why is that,” she asked forcefully.

Harry was stumped as to how to answer that. “B-because,” he stuttered. “Because," he tried again. “Because it's too weird!”

“Weird,” she asked and he shook his head affirmatively. “Do you and Ron ever talk about any of the other girls he's been with? Yes, I know about the Hufflepuff.”

Why did he ever think he could best Hermione Granger in an argument? “Of course.”

“But that's not weird,” she countered.

“No!” He was starting to get flustered. Why was she badgering him so?

“So what exactly is so weird about me and Ron? If it's not Ron? Is it me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean...well...well Hermione it's like your my sister,” he blustered out.

Hurt flitted thru her eye for one brief moment before her lips curved into a hard, embittered smile. “Of course I am. I'm like the bloody baby sister you never had.”

Harry nodded his head, glad that she was finally understanding him.

“And you just can't stand the idea of sissy getting any, can you?”

Shit! This wasn't going to well, Harry thought to himself. “Hermione,” he tried to interrupt her.

“That sissy is a sexual being. I bet you never even noticed that fact have you?”

Just what was she on about, he wondered. “Hermione!”

“What did you think I did with Ron,” she waspishly asked. He began to inch away from her as she came closer to him.

“With Roger?” He inched farther still.

“With Olie?” The back of his legs hit her recliner and he automatically sat down. She bent over him, arms on either side of the chair.

“Played a rousing game of exploding snap?!”

He hopelessly tried to say that he didn't want to know, but she cut him off.

“Sex Harry,” she bellowed in his face. Harry was horrified at the outburst.

“I've had sex with them. Every single last one of them. I've done things that would make you blush Weasley red, I have.”

It wasn't like he didn't know Hermione was no innocent, he just preferred to pretend that such was the case was. It kept him sane doing so. But here she was, flaunting the truth of it in his face. Why didn't she understand that he didn't want to discuss it? But Hermione continued. She would have her say.

“But you know what,” she asked hotly. “Believe me or not, I have never slept with Draco Malfoy!” Her words were angry yet edged in sincerity.

Harry looked in to her large brown eyes and saw the truth of those words. “No?”

She took a hand in hers. “No.”

Once again Harry's masochistic tendencies shone through. “Do you want to,” he asked.

If asked Harry would have described her pause as being the size of the World Cup pitch, but really it wasn't even a second in length.

“No. Draco isn't who I want.”

Before he could ask her who she did want she got down on her knees in front of him, cutting him off. “Look, this thing with me and Draco it's...complicated. But it's never going to go that far. It hasn't before.”

Harry looked at her, eyes agog. “Before?”

Realizing that she might have made the situation worse Hermione tried to smooth his ruffled feathers.

“Listen, I don't want to be with Draco. I don't. He's my friend and that's all he is ever going to be. So what you walked in on today, that's never going to happen again. Ok?”

She looked up at Harry so innocently, so desperately. She needed for him to believe her.

“Let's not argue anymore. I don't want to fight with you. Yelling at Ron has it's moments, it's cheap thrills. But arguing with you...it's...it's...”

“Yes?”

“Draining.”

“Just answer me this Hermione,” he asked as he clasped her hands in his own. “Is he the reason you won't take Ron back?” Of course Harry was referring to Malfoy.

She went to answer his question but choked on whatever words almost came out of her mouth. Instead she said, “I know why you think you still hate Draco.”

Harry scoffed at her delusion.

“No, it's true. You haven't hated Draco in ages. But you still see him as the Slytherin ponce. The demon seed of Lucious Malfoy. When he hasn't been either of those things for a very long time. You refuse to see that he has changed. That's because you barely have yourself.”

Harry tried to untangle his hands from Hermione's grip but she wouldn't let go.

“No, it's true. You're still that dashingly noble boy you were when we first met. The kind that would stick up for a child you barely knew when a bully tried to take his gift from home. The kind that would risk his own life to rescue his best mate's kid sister. The kind that would save a hellion of a little bint from a full grown troll.”

Harry tried to protest, but she covered his lips with a single finger.

“The kind of big hearted young man who actually befriended said girl who up til then never knew the meaning of the word, but desperately needed a friend. That is who you are Harry Potter. That's why I love...,” she paused, “...that's why I love you. Why we all love you.”

Harry felt filled with warmth, his cheeks were flushed, his head felt light. He fleetingly wondered if he was coming down with a winter cold.

“You were already too good to be true to start. You had no place else to go.”

She gave him an adorable half smile that made his heart seize up, but as quickly as it appeared it melted into a frown.

“But not everyone is like you Harry. People are not static. We...we don't all just stand still. Sometimes we change.”

“Like Malfoy,” he grumped.

“Like Draco,” she answered. She then turned her eyes away from him and to the floor.

“And like me.”

Harry couldn't quite comprehend the meaning of her words.

“Sometimes the thing you thought you wanted at 12 years old may not be what you want at 21. You can fight it and deny the truth of it to yourself as long as you like, but eventually the lie...it wears you down.”

The full meaning of her words pounded into Harry's head. She just couldn't mean what she was saying though.

“Hermione,” he asked, “don't you love Ron still?” If he had to pick anyone for his Hermione it would be Ron.

She wouldn't look up and meet his eyes. It seemed the carpet design was more important.

“I..I still love Ron. I think I'll always love Ron. But this thing between us,” she said, her melancholy gaining momentum, “it's getting old. All we do is hurt each other and try again, hurt each other and try again. Rinse, lather, repeat. Well I'm sick of it. I'm tired of dancing around...dancing around...”

Harry lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. Once again he felt that pull. “Dancing around what?”

She grasped at the hand under her chin franticly as Harry held her gaze. He almost wondered if she felt the same unnamed emotion he did, but was too scared to ask. When she could no longer stand the strength of his stare she wrenched his hand from her face.

“Nothing Harry. It doesn't matter,” she whispered.

Harry was becoming increasingly annoyed with Hermione. He knew that there was something else going on with her, in her head, but she wouldn't tell him. This was unlike her, Hermione told him everything. He briefly wondered if she had mentioned whatever it was to Malfoy and instantly felt his anger rising at the thought. Instead he changed the subject.

“Hermione, you and Ron...you belong together. Everyone says so.” He slid out of the chair and on to the floor next to her. “Just like they say about me and Ginny,” he finished as if trying to prove a point.

“Merlin,” she exclaimed, irately pushing herself away from him. “Not everyone was meant to be like you and Ginny,” Hermione said, voice full of scorn. “Not everyone was fated to be together. Just because she has red hair! And just because you look like your dad. It's not that simple for the rest of us you know!”

She quickly got up from the floor and stamped her way back in to her kitchen.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said as he got up to follow her, barely withholding his own anger, “no need to take my head off. That's not what I said!”

Once again he was in the kitchen doorway. She was seated in the corner at her table, head in her hands.

“Why are you trying to put words in my mouth?”

When she could provide no answer he continued. “Hermione, Ron misses you.”

He walked over to her and slid next to her. “Quite frankly I think he's going spare without you.”

Hermione looked up at that. Her face was impassive. “Really?”

“He's writing poetry.” He made a face. “Bad poetry. It's really awful.”

The utter absurdness of this made her chuckle. The sound almost made Harry's heart swell. He wanted to keep her smiling.

“I need you to put the bloke out of his misery. Take him back. Do it for me.”

The small grin that had begun to spread on her face stopped midway. She looked lost. She looked hesitant. She looked wrecked. Harry searched his head for anything that would make the smile return to her face. She started to say something.

“Harry...Harry I...I...”

He cut her off. “You know I always pictured us together.”

Once again the smile appeared. It then stapled it's self to her face as he said, “Someday. Me and Ginny. You and Ron.”

He threw his arm around her shoulder and drew her close to him.

“We would all live next door to one another. I always pictured us being in the Hollow, but I wouldn't mind St. Catchpole. We would be in and out of each other's home. Our kids would all be in the yard playing. You and Ron would have a cute little flame haired kid, named Harry of course. And I...I don't know how good a dad I'd be, but me and Gin might one day have our own little Ron.”

All thru this speech Harry's eyes were set before him as he pictured this perfect future. It was the simple desires of a man who only wanted peace and tranquility. Some might say it was sedate, and boring, but Harry only saw it as normal. And that's what Harry wanted more then anything, a simple normal life.

“And what if you had a girl,” Hermione asked, her eyes very wet. He saw that his dream touched her as well.

“I 'spose Rondah will do,” he said jokingly. Hermione gaped at him, unsure if he was joking or not.

“Then again Ronilla also has a nice ring to it,” he continued, enjoying the playful way she slapped his arm once she realized he was indeed joking.

“That child would hex you and Ginny as soon as it got of age,” she responded. “Probably Ron and me too for allowing it to happen.”

Harry just smiled contentedly. “Well it's just a silly little fantasy I've had.”

Hermione turned her head to get a good look at him. “And that's really how you see us? The future? That's what you want,” she asked him.

“Well I'm no Trellawney, or anything,” answered Harry giving her a small squeeze, “but it's a nice dream. Don't you think?”

She regarded him carefully before saying, “It sounds perfect.”

Except Harry never got his dream. Not exactly. He and Ginny came home from their Honeymoon in early May of that same year to find some shocking news. The newly wedded couple had been in Australia and New Zealand since the day of the March wedding. They indulged in their time alone together, never even checking in at home while they were gone. As soon as the couple got back from their trip they headed to the Burrow. They were met by several grim faces.

The whole family knew that they would be arriving that day in late May. Harry had to be back to join up with his team for the British Cup and he needed to begin practice soon. He and Ginny were all smiles as they walked into the Weasley family kitchen. Molly and Fleur were standing at the sink, whispering in each other's ears as both held one of the half veela's small sons in their arms. Glinda was breast feeding her newly born baby girl at the table as Fred stood behind her chair, hands resting protectively on her shoulders. She seemed upset but Penelope Weasley, Percy's wife, awkwardly tried to comfort her with soft words all the while balancing her own infant son in her lap. Bill, George and Ron came busting into the room while discussing something in low, ominous tones. Everyone seemed to pause as they realized all at once that the happy couple had finally arrived. Ginny amusedly asked who died. When no one laughed both she and Harry nervously asked the question again.

All the other occupants in the room looked at each other apprehensively. Harry felt a cold fear amass in the pit of his stomach. He realized that Hermione was no where to be seen. He caught Ron's eye and asked him anxiously where his girlfriend was. He didn't know that the two, who had gotten back together not too long before his engagement, had broken up again shortly before his wedding. When only silence reached his ear he ran into the living room to look at the family clock, the rest of the troop filing in after him. It displayed the status of all of Arthur and Molly's brood. He and Hermione had been added to it long ago. While Harry's hand rested on HOME, Hermione's was pointing to LOST. Before Harry could go into hysterics Arthur and Percy floo'ed home and joined the rest where they were. The two men had just come from the Ministry where they apparently had been seeking leads on Hermione's disappearance. Arthur was sad to tell the family that so far they had none. Hermione was gone.

Now here Harry was, years later, having fallen in love with her.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.

Title: All Roads Lead Back

Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. H/Hr, but a whole lot of ships thrown in. Post-HBP

Summary: Harry Potter always figured that once he had fulfilled his destiny he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell. Set 7 years after the final battle.

Spoilers: All six books.

A/N: I am a Harmony shipper thru and thru. HBP almost sent me into a fit until I realized that I was throwing a tizzy over a book and told myself to get over it. Hee. I then decided to throw my hat in the fanfiction ring and see if I could come up with a realistic (at least to me) story of my favorite couple getting together that adheres to canon. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I have the whole story already plotted out, but would appreciate it if you would tell me if writing the rest is worth it or not.

I know I kind of messed up on the ages of the Weasley boys. At first I thought there wasn't a verified age for Bill and Charlie so I filled that in. Then I discovered that there are birth dates listed for them. Anyhoo, tired to rework that bit but it's still a titch off. Hope you don't mind it.

I know a lot of people want real time-Hermione in this fic like yesterday. Trust me, she is coming. I've got an outline! I've been following it! Hee. She is on her way. I think something that may not be so obvious, and is totally my fault, is the time frame of these chapters. Believe it or not, minus the flashbacks, it's only been three days since the start of the story. I'm moving things along pretty darned slow, placing all my chess pieces on the board. Please be patient. I understand that some people become impatient when you get to chapters that are not exclusively H/Hr. I've even had reviews that tell me that I should only focus on H/Hr. But that is difficult for me to do because even though a chapter may be a Ron chapter or a Ginny chapter that does not mean that it is not important to the story as a whole. It's kind of Rashomon-esque(best damned movie EVER) in that you basically get the whole story from different points of views. But all the views are there for a reason. TRUST me.

Warning: It seems like I am always giving y'all warnings. LOL! So remember the many times I've mentioned I hate Ginny Weasley? Yeah, still do. Just keep that in mind as you are reading the first half of this. I have not lost my mind, promise. This chapter might make you squirm at the beginning. There is some ONE SIDED H/G. But trust me; you are going to want to hang in there. Everything is not what it seems. If y'all don't end up killing me I should have an H/Hr-centric chapter up soon. Merry Christmas!

Disclaimer: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

“That cow!”

Ginny looked up from her plate of Death by Chocolate cheesecake.

“That complete and utter cow!”

When Lavender had floo'ed that morning to ask her out to lunch, Ginny jumped at the invitation. She had been feeling forlorn and inconsolable since dawn. Only a few hours before she and Harry had had an encounter. Of the frustrating kind.

Ginny had awoken during the middle of the night to hear Harry whimpering loudly in the room down the hall from her own. She had been worried about him as of late. Something seemed to be weighing heavily on Harry's mind.

For the past few night's at the dinner table Ginny would look up from her stew or her salad to see a detached and far away look on her husband's face. Ginny surmised that whatever was disturbing Harry had a lot to do with the big case he was working on currently. Draco Malfoy had even stopped by the house late one evening 2 weeks prior to drop off some important looking parchments. Harry made it a point to never socialize with Malfoy outside of work so Ginny could only view this breach of normal conduct as important.

Ginny hardly minded that Harry showed so much devotion to his job. The thought of the great and powerful Harry Potter, taking on all evil doers and making the world safe for all wizarding kind was far more of a turn on then she cared to admit. When Harry left Puddlemere to become an Auror Ginny told herself that for Harry chasing after the Snitch would never compete with saving the world. Harry Potter was a hero. And that was who Ginny married, a hero. Ginny's only wish was that he show as much devotion to her and their marriage as well. She cooked for him. She kept his house clean (with a little help from Dobby). She attended to his every whim. How could she love him any more? Here she was even, leaving the comfort of her cream colored duvet to see why her husband wasn't sleeping well.

She was in such a tear to get to him that she didn't even bother to slip on her bedroom slippers or throw on her dressing gown. He's seen me in less, she mused as she smoothed down the front of her ankle length midnight blue peignoir and pulled its left strap back on to her shoulder. As she padded down the oriental patterned runner of the hall she could hear the sounds from Harry's room getting louder. When she reached the oak door of the bedroom she knocked tentatively on it.

“Harry,” she nervously queried.

All she got back were jumbled, muffled groans that sounded like “stop” and “don't”. Ginny gently pushed open the door, thankful that it hadn't been locked. She had foolishly left her wand back in her room.

As she stealthy entered thru the door she looked towards the bed. Although she could barely see due to the darkness surrounding her, she could make out Harry's form writhing on the mattress. Ginny's heart sped up in fear. Back when they were still dating Ron had once joked that if Harry and Ginny were ever to get married Ginny would need to invest in crash padding for their bed. Ginny had assumed that her prat of a brother was making an off colored joke, so she hexed his eyebrows off in retaliation. She had used a non-verbal spell so that Ron wasn't even aware that his brow line was now as smooth as a new born babe's bottom. That is till his girlfriend at the time, Hermione, entered the Burrow's kitchen and collapsed on to the floor in a fit of tears and laughter. When Hermione would answer his questions of “what's so bloody funny” with only more giggles followed by pointing, Ron retreated to the bathroom to go have a look see.

Ron didn't speak to Hermione for 2 whole days after that. It took him one week to forgive Ginny.

Hermione later confided in her that in the last few months before Voldemort's defeat Harry, who had been prone to nightmares before, had almost gone mad from the visions Riddle would send him at night. The Dark Lord, sensing that the end, either way, was near decided to go for broke and use the connection he had to Harry's mind like a weapon against him. As soon as he would fall into a deep sleep Harry would see before his eyes scenes of death and destruction. Mangled bodies would be everywhere and all of them would resemble the people that he loved and cared about the most. The insides of Harry's own head had become a battlefield. No matter where he laid his head at night; the Hollow, Hermione's, Hogwarts those dreams would follow him. Since Ron usually slept near by his best friend it usually fell to him to try to comfort Harry during these episodes. Ron would even get in the bed and hold him while he whispered comforting words to try to help both of them sleep. This went on for months with poor results until Hermione ended up in the bed with both boys as well. She and Ron, on either side of Harry, all three faces pressed together so closely that you could hardly tell who's tears were who's. Eventually Harry was able to sleep thru the night.

“I'm sure that after Harry and I get married I'll be able to take care of him just as well,” Ginny high handedly told Hermione.

However Ginny never got the chance to make good on that claim. After the wedding, once she and Harry began sharing the same bed, Harry never once roused her from her sleep. Ginny began to half suspect that Hermione had exaggerated the story. Typical. However when Ginny questioned Harry about it not too long after they got married he confirmed the truth of it.

“Well you don't dream so awfully any longer,” she petulantly replied.

They were both lying in bed at the time preparing to go to sleep. He turned on his side to face her.

“That's because I have you.” He reached over and kissed the tip of her nose. “Your the best security blanket a bloke could have.” Of course no sleeping was done after a response like that.

As Ginny reached the bed and leaned over Harry she couldn't help but think such was the case no longer.

By this time her eyes had adjusted to the dark. Harry was lying on his back with the sheets thrown off him. His right leg was bent on the bed while the other was twitching slightly. He was clad only in a pair of satiny black pajama bottoms, his nicely sculpted chest bare. This was the closest Ginny had been to her husband in weeks and her mouth nearly watered due to the close proximity. She bit down on her lip to withhold the groan that wanted to come out at the sight of all that smooth, hairless skin. Harry's head was turned facing her and his usual untidy, shaggy mop of unruly long hair was even more tousled. He looked like an angel. A ravished angel. He had his right arm thrown across his head and his left was at his side, the hand clutching at the bed slip.

Even though she knew that he was having some kind of nightmare Ginny couldn't help the tingly feelings she was experiencing. To put it bluntly, she was in heat. There was just something unquestioningly erotic about his pose. His tensed body just seemed to hum with some kind of kinetic sexual energy. Why, the way his face was all screwed up in concentration it looked damn near similar to the way Harry looked when he was about to...

“Please...”

Ginny furrowed her brow, her train of thought lost.

“Please don't...” Harry moaned.

Ginny ducked down nearer to him and placed her hands softly on his shoulder.

“Harry wake up,” she gently said trying her best not to spook him.

“Stop...”

His voice sounded so whinny and pitiful that Ginny had a hard time believing that it belonged to her big strong husband and not to some snotty nosed little brat begging his mum for a lolly. As Ginny pondered on this further she felt two strong hands latch on to her upper arms in a vise like grip. Before she knew what was what she had been flipped on to her back, her body being pressed in to the bed by the man straddling her.

“What the...”

Ginny didn't get to finish her sentence. A pair of soft full lips were in the way.

Yessssssss! Ginny nearly wept from the sheer relief of it. This was it. This was what had been missing all this time. This was what had been lacking in her marriage. Passion! Fuck devotion. Passion was what she wanted, she thought as their tongues tangled over and over again. Why Harry hadn't kissed her like this since...Harry had never kissed her like this. Like he was trying to pour his very soul into her. Ginny almost protested. It's just all too much! It will never fit, her thoughts screamed in her head. But her body? Her body didn't seem to mind. Parts of Harry were touching parts of Ginny that they hadn't touched in ages.

When Ginny had been thrown on the bed her nightgown had ridden up to her hips. Without even realizing it she had wrapped her legs around Harry's waist and tried to urge him as close as she could by pressing her heel to his bum. The only thing keeping him from sliding right in to where she desperately needed him was his pajamas and her knickers. Damn the luck! Ginny would have reached down and removed the offending garments herself if her two hands hadn't already been busy, fisted in Harry's shock of cool crisp hair.. Harry's own hands were caressing the sides of her face. His calloused fingers rubbed at her skin gently and the two sensations combined made her almost scream in delight. Instead Ginny moaned into his mouth as Harry slowly moved his hands across the planes of her face. His fingers crept slowly into her hairline and began to thread in her hair. Her silky, straight hair. Her baby fine hair.

All of a sudden everything stopped. Fingers stopped stroking. Lips stopped caressing. Harry's pelvis stopped pushing furiously at hers.

“Ha-Harry...”

To Ginny's confused mind she couldn't figure out why all of the good tingly feelings had ceased. As she slowly opened her eyes and dropped her legs and arms to the bed she caught the soft glow of light that was emanating from Harry's wand tip. He was still on top of her, but he was in a sitting position. Though his whole body was stiff with tension Ginny could feel that his...arousal...had deflated somewhat.

“Harry, I don't understand. What's wrong?”

That was when she looked fully at his face. As long as she lived Ginny believed she would never forget the look on his face. Shock. Harry was completely surprised to find that the woman underneath him, the woman he was about to make love to, was his wife of five years.

“Ginny?”

“Yeah. It's me. Why did you stop?”

Harry looked at her with wide, dark green eyes clearly confused as to how they had ended up in this particular situation.

“I...um...I...” Harry stuttered out. “I guess I had been dreaming.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and swallowed back her irritation.

“That much is clear. You were making so much noise that I came in here to see what I could do for you.”

“Oh,” he said dully.

“Yeah, oh.”

Ginny sat up and Harry practically leaped off of her, kneeling on the bed to her left side.

“Then we started...well, you know. And then you stopped.” That last bit came out a mite bitter. “Why did you stop,” she asked again.

Harry ran his hands thru his hair and looked around the room as if he was searching for answers in the wallpaper.

“I don't know Ginny. I guess I was just tired and confused. I really didn't know what I was doing,” he casually said. But he didn't look at her when he said it.

“Oh.” Ginny closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry. At least not now.

He spoke the incantation to extinguish his wand and slipped it back under the pillow where he usually kept it. The room once again was shrouded in darkness.

“I'm zonked,” he said as he stretched his body out and gathered his poor rumpled sheets over him. “I think I'm going to turn in. Tomorrow is Friday and I need to be in early for a briefing.”

He closed his eyes as he laid his head back on the pillow. “Are you staying,” he asked, half stifling a yawn.

If she had been Ginny Weasley she would have snapped at this point. She would have jumped on Harry and beat at him with her fists till he were black and blue. She would have jumped on Harry and shagged him good and proper till he was black and blue. She definitely wanted to jump on Harry and cry on to his chest, be it black or blue. But she was Ginny Potter. Her husband was tired and he needed to be up bright and early so that he could save the world.

“No Harry, I don't think so. I'm afraid my feet are too cold and they will keep you up the rest of the night,” she said as she removed herself from the bed. The false cheer in her voice nearly made bile rise up in the back of her throat.

A dreamy sort of smile crossed his face and Harry turned over on his side, his back facing her. “You’re just too good to me Ginny,” he murmured sleepily.

Ginny wasn't sure how long she stood at the side of that bed, but it was well after sleep descended on Harry making his breathing shallow. Eventually she found herself back in her room. She walked over to her nightstand in a trance like state and picked up her wand. She then went into the bathroom connected to her bedroom suite. She cast a spell to lock the door and then one to block all sounds from leaving the room. She then cried herself to sleep on the tiles of the bathroom floor.

Harry had already left for the day by time Ginny came downstairs to prepare breakfast.

“I don't care if she has the most read column in The Prophet. Daphne Greengrass is a no talent hack!”

Ginny picked up a morsel of cake on her fork and lifted it to her lips. This is almost better then sex, she thought as she swallowed the delectable confection down. Well, definitely better then not having sex.

“What are you on about Lav?”

They were having lunch at the Leaky Cauldron that day with plans to go into Diagon Alley after. Lavender was sitting across the table from her, head lowered over a copy of The Daily Prophet, her plate of fruit salad untouched.

“This,” she exclaimed irritably. She practically shoved the page she had been reading in to Ginny's hands. “Just look at this tripe!”

Ginny dropped her fork on her plate and picked up the paper. The first thing she saw was a small picture of the witch who covered the society section for the paper by her byline. Daphne Greengrass. The cute dark haired, coal eyed woman had been in Lavender's year back at Hogwarts. Her column was called Daphne Tells It All. It covered the big social events of Great Britain's wizarding elite. Engagements, weddings, baby announcements, parties, promotions; all of it was spread out over 3 to 4 pages. If you also wanted to find out who were living in separate houses, who were having torrid affairs, and who was going to kill his wife if he walked in on her with the Wireless repairman again, Daphne told that all too. It really was little more then a gossip sheet. It was also the first section most people usually turned to in the morning. Daphne's pic winked at her. Ginny and Harry's comings and goings had often been featured daily.

“What am I supposed to be looking at again,” Ginny asked trying to figure out what had her friend all in a tizzy.

"My Morgana Ginny! The bloody mention of the engagement party!”

Ginny spread the paper out on the table and looked all over for the announcement. She eventually found it at the bottom of her right hand side.

“Aha! Found it.”

“Took you long enough,” she grumped.

Ginny ignored the comment. She scanned the notice quickly and finding nothing wrong looked at Lavender again.

“I don't get it. What's so bad about this,” a confused Ginny asked.

“What's wrong with it,” Lavender exclaimed. “What's wrong with it?”

Ginny sighed. Lavender could be so dramatic.

“What happens when two Gryffindors fall in love,” Ginny read from the paper in a fake announcers voice. “Wedding bells! Ronald Billius Weasley, charming Keeper for the Wimbourne Wasps and Lavender Brown-Pye, the young widow of broom entrepreneur Cornelius Shepfield Pye will be joined on June 23^rd at an as yet unmentioned location. Since the banns were announced just a few days ago all of Great Britain has been a-twitter over the news. If you always knew that these two lovebirds were destined to be together, like I did, come join the happy couple this Sunday evening begin the Rites to start their blessed union. The fete will be held at the Weasley family compound in Ottery St. Catchpole. Although this will be the bride's second wedding, we here at the Prophet are sure it will be her last marriage.”

Ginny had to stifle the giggle that bubbled up at that last bit.

“Why did she have to mention Corn?”

“Well you were married to the man Lavender.”

Lavender looked at Ginny as though she were simple minded. “That was ages,” she said, a bored expression on her face.

“The man only died 3 years ago.” Lavender scowled at that so Ginny quickly switched topics. “Other then that though you must admit it was a perfectly fine mention.” She then handed the paper back to Lavender.

“Sure, but who is going to read it,” she said in a loud whinging voice as she snatched the paper back. At this point most of the other customers at the tables around them turned to see what the fuss was about. Lavender gave them all the stink eye.

“Ron and I got tossed to the bottom of the page as if we were rubbish,” she pouted as she turned back to the table.

Lavender loved her social standing almost as much as she loved Ginny's older brother.

“But did you see who got a big photo and interview?”

“It looked like McLaggen and Pug Face,” Ginny said as she took a sip of her butterbeer. Lavender had opted to try a frothy fruity drink that would pop and fizz and put on a little firework display every few minutes. After she swallowed down a bit of it she opened the paper back to the society section again.

“Pansy and Cormac: Tales from a happy Slythedor marriage,” she read, voice oozing disgust. She turned back to Ginny. “What's so special about a Slythedor marriage?”

“Well you know there has always been a long standing rivalry between the two houses. Some say the grudge goes back as far as Godric and Salazar. You hardly ever hear about inter-marrying between the two.” Ginny shrugged, “I guess some think the McLaggens are rare.”

“Well it's not like they re-wrote the bleeding Magna Carta!”

Ginny snorted. Lavender was really taking her muggle studies seriously.

“The Pug and her lil’ bitch are always in this thing,” Lavender said as she shook the paper furiously. “The happy couple this...the happy couple that. When we all know that Cormac can't keep it in his pants.”

“He used to chase Hermione around her desk when they worked together at the Ministry.”

“Gabby Delacour says that he is always over at Beauxbatons 'recruiting' the pretty young things for his department. Ha! She can hardly keep the silly little bints in class when he comes around.”

“I hear he does the same thing at Hogwarts. Never chats up any of the blokes.”

“Humph,” said Lavender as she speared a melon chunk off of her plate and chewed it furiously. “Of course Parkinson probably doesn't give two shits. She only married the brute because he had the three things she loved most. Money, connection, pureblood,” Lavender counted out on her fingers.

Ginny tittered. “Well...” she took another bite of cake, “...I bet I know one thing McLaggen has that Pansy doesn't love.”

Lavender looked at Ginny, half listening as she sipped on her Pink Pixie.

“A penis.”

Lavender's drink went shooting out of her mouth. Once again they drew stares.

“Sorry,” Ginny said sheepishly to those sitting nearest her. Lavender scooted her chair closer to the table.

“No.”

Ginny shook her head affirmatively.

“No.”

Ginny chuckled.

“But what about Malfoy? Weren't they an item once?”

“Yes. Then in my 5th year, your 6th, Draco Malfoy became He Who Must Not Be Named's errand boy. Pansy needed someone to keep the loneliness at bay didn't she?”

Lavender hung on to Ginny's every word. It was as if V-Day had come early this year.

“Tell us who Ginny, tell us who” she pleaded.

Ginny looked at her with an evil gleam in her eye. “I don't know if I should,” she teased.

“Ginny please?”

Ginny laughed. “Ok, ok.” She looked around them to make sure that their conversation wasn't being listened to.

“Let's just say that Parkinson might make that gossip section constantly, but I'm pretty damned sure that dear Daphne isn't telling it all.”

For a second Lavender was totally at a loss as to what Ginny could mean. And then it hit her.

“You are fucking with me!”

“No my friend, you and I don't have that kind of relationship. But Daphne and Parkinson did. Moaning Myrtle told me.”

“Myrtle,” asked Lavender bemusedly. “Forgive me Ginny, but I have a hard time believing anything an emotionally challenged 14 year old dead girl would tell you.”

“Don't knock the dead Missy. The Hogwarts ghosts knew all the best gossip,” Ginny confided. “And if it went down anywhere near the plumbing you can believe Myrtle saw it.”

When school re-opened after the war Ginny found herself back at Hogwarts being named Head Girl and Gryffindor House Quidditch captain. She also was Harry Potter's newly re-established girlfriend. This should have made her the most popular girl in school. Instead Ginny never felt so isolated.

The boys avoided her as if she had the plague. None of them wanted to get too friendly with The Chosen One's girl. If he could take out the dark lord of dark lords what couldn't he or wouldn't he do to them. Since Ginny only had eyes for Harry she didn't mind the lack of male attention.

Most of the females ignored her as well. She had a gorgeous, rich, older boyfriend who was being recruited by all the top teams in the Quidditch league. It also didn't help that said boyfriend was the savior of all wizarding kind. Oh how the girl's hated her! At first it had hurt, but eventually she came to see that all the other girls were jealous of her. Ginny could hardly blame them. She would be jealous too if she wasn't so damned lucky. Ginny had prestige, power, and at last she had her man. She convinced herself that if it meant having Harry in her life, she was willing to suffer the abuse. She just wished she had a friend she could talk to. With Colin dead and Luna off in her own world usually, Ginny realized that she wasn't really close to anyone else in her year. Before she had spent most of her time hanging with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Now she was all by herself. Neville was once again living in Scotland, in the city of Aberdeen going to school, and would visit her on the weekends. But other then those too brief moments spent with him Ginny felt terribly alone. That was how she and Moaning Myrtle became friends.

Before, Myrtle had always held a grudge against Ginny because of the whole chamber opening, Riddle possessed, diary throwing incident back in her first year. What most people didn't know, and what Ginny was far too embarrassed to tell, was that for years Myrtle would harass Ginny whenever she could. If the ghost caught the poor girl in the bathroom on her own she would soak her from head to toe. The harassment only got worse after she and Harry officially started dating in her 5th year. Myrtle had always had a bit of a soft spot for Harry.

By her final year Ginny felt that it was time to bury the hatchet with the dispirited spirit. One night after making rounds Ginny entered Myrtle's sanctuary in the first floor girl's bathroom. Before the usually high strung ghost could attack her Ginny told her that she wanted to call a truce and be friends. Myrtle made crying like noises for ten minutes straight before happily agreeing. After that Ginny would spend an hour or two with Myrtle after her Head Girl rounds almost every night. Ginny would gush about Harry to the enraptured ghost and Myrtle would tell her all of Hogwarts secrets. It was a relationship of mutual benefit.

“You remember that bathroom on the first floor, the one that Myrtle haunted?”

“More like terrorized,” Lavender huffed.

“Yes, well, let's just say that a lot of...interesting things went down in that bathroom. Harry, Hermione, and Ron stole some ingredients from Snape and brewed up a potion in there once. Myrtle told me.”

Lavender arched one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “You're sure that's all they did in there?”

“That's sick Lav.” Ginny snapped. When the pretty young blonde looked perfectly chastised Ginny immediately regretted loosing her temper.

“They were only 2^nd years back then. Besides Myrtle gladly told me all of the sex stuff.”

“Like?”

“Filch bawling like a baby crying 'Selene, Selene. Why can't you love me Selene? Why can't you notice I'm alive' while whacking off.”

“Selene? As in Professor Sinistra? That Selene?”

“That Selene.”

“Gracious,” said Lavender as her hand fluttered to her chest.

“Yes. Then there was the story of Terry Boot. He would sneak in there every Tuesday night with a duffel bag filled with girl's knickers and knee socks he filched from the laundry. He also would carry around a large pair of Marry Janes. He liked to strip all of his own clothes off, slip on a pair of the panties, the socks, the shoes and nothing else. He would then study his Arithmancy book till the crack of dawn.”

“I always knew he was a poof.”

“You only thought that because he didn't ask you to the Yule Ball way back when,” Ginny teased.

“I had a perfectly lovely time with Seamus, thank you very much.” Ginny laughed as Lavender stuck her tongue out at her.

“But finish tell me about Parkinson and Greengrass.”

“Nothing much to tell. They would just have these passionate little trysts and Myrtle would watch.” Ginny snickered. “She would even act them out for me.”

Ginny gave a little cough and changed her voice to sound eerily enough like Pansy's, high pitched and annoying. “Oh Daph, your hair is as soft as a demiguise.”

Lavender chortled.

Ginny adopted a lower, silkier Welsh accent. “I'll love you forever and ever Pans.”

Lavender could barely control her laughter. “You know, her plumbing might not work any more, but Myrtle sounds like a right perv.”

“And how,” Ginny agreed.

The two women entered in to a comfortable silence for a few moments. Ginny finished her cake and Lavender plopped a grape she lifted off of her plate in to her mouth.

“Think they're still doing it,” asked Lavender curiously.

“Parkinson and Daphne,” Ginny queried. “I don't right know. But I have been at a Ministry function or two where you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

“Goodness,” exclaimed Lavender. “But you know it all makes sense now. All the little write-ups she gives the Pug. You know Slytherins never believe in giving something for nothing. I always knew Greengrass was an old snake thru and thru.”

“Awww Lav, Daphne isn't that bad.” Lavender scoffed. “She isn't, as far as Slytherins go. She's always been nice to me.”

“Probably wants in your knickers!”

"Lav!"

“Well it's true.”

“No, really. Daphne never fell into that whole pureblood rigmarole that most Slytherins hold to. In fact her parents backed the Ministry during the war,” Ginny said.

Lavender picked up the paper again and began to skim it.

“Be that as it may, I still don't like the bitch,” Lavender said as she gave a toss to her summery blonde hair.

“And I'll never be able to read this thing the same way again. Listen to this: As I was having supper at Presto's, the place to see and be seen, late Monday night Perfect Pair -rubbish- the McLaggens popped in for a bite. Being on such intimate terms with the couple...”, Ginny sniggered, “...I made my way to their table to sit down and have a chat. As the three of us reminisced over our happier years in school, Hogsmeade visits, the Yule Ball, getting caught after curfew, I couldn't help but be in awe of the affection that lay between the couple. As Cormac, the Assistant Deputy Head of the Department of International Magical Coorporation, left the table to discuss important Ministry matters with his colleague Galeta Hersh...”

“Oh come on now, she doesn't even work in his department,” Ginny interrupted. Lavender continued to read.

“Pansy and I got down to business -goodness, at the table, in front of everybody ladies...kinky.”

“You're so bad Lav!”

“Shush! I'm still reading,” she said in a mock stern voice.

“Pansy, I asked, please tell all the faithful readers of Daphne Tells it All just why you have a lasting strong marriage. The stunning, statuesque -oh I think I'm going to be ill now- blonde smiled a peaceful and content smile. My marriage is strong because I make sure my Cormmy is happy. I didn't need to bind him to me to keep him by my side -sanctimonious little- He's there cause he wants to be there. I wasn't one of these pie in the sky little girls who think that marriage is all rainbows and unicorns. I knew that if I wanted a long lasting, healthy relationship I would have to work for it.”

As she read from the paper Lavender had raised it in front of her. The view of her redheaded friend was blocked. She gabbed on and on and was unaware of the enraged woman who was sitting across from her.

“My work paid off. You know Daph, there are mornings when my darling husband won't even let me out of bed. -I doubt that- As Pansy and I laughed over this -I bet they did- she slowly leaned in and left me with this final thought to share with you dear readers: If you have to question the strength of your marriage, you might want to question your marriage.”

Lavender lowered the paper. “The woman has no shame,” she said turning to look at her friend.

She was stopped cold.

When a magical child is born its lineage doesn't guarantee that the small babe will grow up to be a witch or a wizard. In fact the question of whether or not a child would have substantial powers or be a Squib(a condition that had once been rare but was now growing steady prevalent due to the marriages of such closely related purebloods) could not be answered until said child showed any magical aptitude. Generally this occurred around the ages of 4 or 5 once the child expelled their first bit of accidental magic. This was a small blessing in and of its self. No mother would like to have a tot going thru its terrible twos that could make it's porridge fly about the room. Of course there are always exceptions. Yevgeny Murat was fabled to have somehow charmed his stuffed chimaera to stalk and eat his older sister's pet crup all at the tender age of 18 months. But such cases are rare.

In the Weasley household Molly and Arthur's boys' powers tended to pop up at age 5. Percy's actually presented themselves when he was 3. Even then he was an over achiever. But the only Weasley daughter did raise questions. By the summer of her 8^th birthday Ginny Weasley still hadn't shown any magical abilities. Her parents were not overly concerned though. They still had a couple of years before drastic measures that would 'encourage' her powers to come out would need to be taken. George had once helpfully proposed they lock her in a pen with a half starved quintaped...and was promptly boxed in the ear for the suggestion.

Ginny by all accounts seemed to be unaware of her deficiency. She appeared to be a cheerful, boisterous child who lived for fun and mischief. But this was an act. Ginny hated not having what others had! Although Ginny's parents made due for their large nest as best as they could, she still felt their lack of wealth keenly. Her being a female didn't even exempt her from having to wear her brothers' old hand me down robes and trainers. Ginny valiantly soldiered on thru this degradation.

But the idea that she might not grow up to be a witch, something that should be her birthright...Ginny couldn't even bear the thought of it. She would rather die then be a Squib! She never told a soul any of this though, just buried it deep down inside and put on a sunny smile. She took Ron's teasing. She withstood pitying pats on her head from her mum followed shortly by a murmured "poor dear". She even ignored Percy's adult like quips of "at least she can't cause more trouble". She did plan to turn him into a pigeon the first chance she got however.

Then that fateful summer the whole family, minus Bill, went to visit Charlie in the Ukraine. Charlie, having recently graduated from Hogwarts, was in Chernihiv to apprentice under the acclaimed dragon huntress Gerda Winkler. She was a petite older witch whose grandmotherly appearance often disguised her fierce nature. She was the foremost expert on all dragon species, both living and extinct, in the world. She was also missing the limbs and an eye to prove it. She could hog tie a baby Fireball, smoked imported Salem cigars, had a voice like a brass gong, and liked for the young men in her tutelage to call her mother. Charlie simply adored her. He wrote home, sometimes 3 letters a week, gushing about Gerda. Molly couldn't stand the woman, sight unseen. As soon as Arthur got some leave time from the Ministry and Percy finished up his fourth year while the twins were leaving their second at school she packed up her family to go visit her second oldest boy.

They spent two weeks camped out by the Desna river. Arthur and the boys would go out in the field with Charlie and his mates, while Molly would watch Gerda like a hawk from the sidelines. Ginny usually was forced to stay with her mum. All in all though, Ginny enjoyed the trip. On their last day there Arthur gave Molly a wad of muggle money, to Ginny's eyes what looked like a small fortune, to go buy his little princess something nice for her birthday.

They walked into town and Molly looked for a shoe store to buy Ginny a nice new pair of girl's shoes. But as they walked the streets Ginny's attention was caught by the display in a nearby shop window. The store sold expensive porcelain figurines. Ginny instantly fell in love with a statuette of a Ukrainian noble woman dressed in a lilac colored Renaissance gown holding a small brown puppy. Ginny wanted to be that girl, but she would settle for being able to buy her and put her on her bureau. She tugged her mother into the store.

Molly at first tried to refuse her daughter's request, but after seeing Ginny's pleading face acquiesced. The two Weasley ladies entered the store and waited for someone to serve them. And they waited. And they waited. They stood there for 20 minutes and watched customer after customer get served, some who had even come in after them.

After awhile an embarrassed Molly tried to shuffle her child out of the store, but Ginny would have none of it. She had to have that pretty lady! And her little brown dog. Didn't her mum understand that? But before she could ask her Ginny saw one of the very attractive, well dressed shop girl's lean over to her colleague and say "bidnny" (poor) and then look at her mum and her. Ginny may not have spoken the language, but she knew what that look meant. It was the same look she received from the other children when she showed up to Mandy Brocklehurst's birthday party in patched robes. It was the same look her mother got from passerbys as she walked into the second hand stores in Diagon Alley. It was the same look in little Meleficent Avery's eye as she told Ginny her mum said they couldn't play together any longer.

Oh yes, Ginny knew that look. Usually she would force down the anger that would swell up inside her at those moments. But not this day. Something inside of Ginny just snapped. She felt a heated wave pulse, vibrate all thru her body. It felt coarse. It felt sickening. It felt ugly. It felt powerful. For the first time in her life Ginny Weasley was experiencing rage. Molly, who had been half way out the door at this point, felt the pulse in the air of powerful magic being expelled. She turned to see her child's eyes turn indigo and her long red hair nearly stand off her head. Molly yanked her daughter out of the store as a porcelain swan sitting on a stand nearest to her exploded.

Ginny ended up breaking every figurine in the store that day. All save the girl and her little brown puppy. Ginny was officially a witch. She was also grounded. Molly stressed to her that if she let her temper get out of control it could be disastrous. Ginny would need to control her temper. She usually did. She never had another episode like that one in Chernihiv. Until now.

Lavender tore her gaze from the near purple face of her future sister-in-law and placed in on the now empty flute she had been drinking out of. The glass rattled on the table as if it were doing an angry jig. As Lavender looked at the tables nearby, all of the glass and tea cups were doing the same thing much to the astonishment of the other customers.

“Um...Ginny....” she fearfully said. Ginny snatched the paper from her hands.

“Let me see that,” she snapped as the glassware came to a halt, thankfully.

“Why this is just a pile of tosh. Absolute rubbish! Daphne obviously left a few things out. Ahem...” Ginny said before adopting Daphne's tone. “Pans, love, how have you and your man whore of a husband managed to not kill each other after all these years?”

She then gave an airy toss of her head and began to simper like Pansy.

“Why Daph, dear, I simply allow my husband to chase after anything in knee socks and pig tails. And when I'm feeling a bit peckish myself I invite you over, spread you wide open on my marriage bed, and put my mouth on your crotch!”

Ginny then threw the newspaper across the table.

Lavender looked at Ginny in shock. “Ginny!”

Ginny looked at her defiantly and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“What's gotten into you today?”

More like what hasn't gotten into me today, she broodingly thought.

“Well whatever it is, I like it,” Lavender enthused, eyes bright with mirth.

Ginny looked at Lavender's big cheerful grin and couldn't fight the small smile that appeared on her own.

“I've missed this you know. Having a close female friend. I haven't had one since Parv ran away to New Guinea to chase after that mad muggle she was in love with,” Lavender said as she reached across the table, grabbed Ginny's hand, and squeezed them affectionately.

“I'm going to love being your sister Ginny.”

Ginny squeezed back. “I'm going to love having you for a sister Lav. I wouldn't have chosen anyone else for Ron. I'm really glad he is marrying you.”

Lavender squealed at this and clapped her hands merrily. “I am too. Now let's pay the bill and get out of here so we can do some shopping.”

~~**~~~~**~~~~**~~~~**~~

Ten minutes later the two nattily dressed women were walking down Diagon Alley, arms linked, chatting away. They made a lovely picture and men couldn't help but gawk. Both girls were slender and stunning, though Ginny was a tad petite. Their elegant robes (both had an account at Twillfit's and Malkin's) and stylish coifs (Ginny's long auburn locks were up in a French twist while Lavender's fell just above her shoulders in golden waves) spoke of money. Though Ginny was easily the prettier of the two, Lavender's naturally vibrant and vivacious personality radiated from her and made people watch her. They were the cream of the wizarding elite and every little girl wanted to grow up and be them. They knew it, and relished it.

“Oh, did I tell you? Ron and I are going to file the adoption papers later today.”

“Oh Lav, that's brilliant,” Ginny said and squeezed her friend's arm. “Mum will be so excited.”

Lavender smiled. “She treats Vi just like she was one of her own grands.”

“And spoils her rotten too,” Ginny clucked. “I never had it so good. Rosemary, Felicity, and Violet get away with murder.”

“Violet Weasley. That has a lovely ring to it, doesn't it.”

Even though it was not really said as a question Ginny still shook her head affirmatively.

“Much better then Vi Pye by any accounts. Could you imagine! That's what the kids at Hogwarts in a few years would have called my child, Vi Pye. Why that's tantamount to child abuse,” Lavender proclaimed.

Ginny was too amused. “Well you did marry Olde Pye Lav.”

“I declare a change in topic,” she stated primly.

“Alright, alright,” she said while giggling.

“Did you see that bit about Blaise Zabini in the paper?”

“No, what?”

“Looks like he got married.”

“Do we know the witch?”

“The name didn't sound familiar. Someone named Amparo Leon.”

“Hmmm. Probably just left Hogwarts.”

“Back in school Blaise was a scrumptious bit of arse.”

“Lav,” Ginny exclaimed, scandalized.

“You know I never got to date a black bloke.”

“Lav!”

“Did you and Dean ever...”

“Don't you dare finish that sentence!”

“Ok, ok. Spoil all my fun,” she said in mock seriousness.

As they came to halt suddenly, Ginny felt the dark cloud she had been under all day begin to disperse. She really did enjoy the times she spent with Lavender. And she felt just horrible about loosing it like that in front of her. It wasn't Lavender's fault that Pug Faced Parkinson was a horrid little slag. Ginny could barely even remember what had upset her so much. Everything about Pansy's life was a lie. Her secure marriage, her happy husband, all lies. And what's more, Ginny thought to herself, the woman probably has even begun to buy into her own self invented delusions. Ginny could almost feel sorry for her. In fact she did feel sorry for her, she convinced herself. Ginny Potter pitied Pansy McLaggen.

“Oh look, there goes Susie. She must be on lunch from Mungo's.”

Ginny turned to look across the street at the slightly over weight, short woman with her dark blonde hair tied in a severe top knot on her head.

“Sue! Oh Susan,” Lavender shouted failing her arms about. The woman in the lime green healer's robes walked into Obscurus Books, oblivious to Lavender's shouts.

“Oh poo! She must not have heard me. You know I heard Parkinson is seeing her. I wonder how Susan in putting up with that nightmare. You would think she would have gone to one of her little Slytherin mates. Tracy Davis has her own practice over in Hogsmeade. Course Tracy Davis was as dumb as a garden gnome back in school. I wonder how she managed that.”

“Hang on Lav, why would the Pug be seeing Susan Goldstein,” asked Ginny, a perplexed look on her face. "Susan treats pregnant witches."

“Well...yes,” Lavender said, turning to look at the younger woman. “The McLaggens are expecting. I thought everyone knew that. It was in the paper just last week. Though how they managed that...”

Lavender turned to look behind at the store front she and Ginny had stopped in front of and instantly lost her train of thought.

“Ooooh, looks like Persephone's is having a sale today. Goody for us,” she said as she turned back to her friend. Her happy smile turned in to a frown of worry.

“Hey, your eyes are watering.”

“Oh, are they,” Ginny asked as she took the white handkerchief with her monogram, GMP, out of her robe pocket and rubbed at her eyes madly. “I think I'm allergic to this new scent I'm wearing.”

“Oh, I hope it isn't that Chased garbage. It's made by Cordelia Hunting, she plays chaser for Appleby. I tried a sample of it just last week and it turned the back of my neck pea green. These barmy celebrities! Just because she can fly a broom real fast does not make her qualified to make perfume,” Lavender prattled on, never noticing her friend's half hearted laughter.

“Next thing you know the stupid bint will have her own line of womens robes. Imagine!”

Lavender strolled in to the lingerie store and immediately walked over to the sheer night gowns that left nothing to the imagination. Ginny followed slowly behind her. Lavender picked up a rose colored baby doll and held it against her body.

“You know, I bought one of these last year for Ron's birthday. He wouldn't let me out of the bedroom all weekend long,” she beamed proudly.

Must be nice, Ginny gloomily thought as she by passed the gowns and headed to the back to look at the thermal underwear.

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