Unofficial Portkey Archive

CAUTION TO READERS - THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SEVERAL SCENES OF A SEXUAL NATURE. Whether this chapter is R or NC-17 is a matter of some contention. To avoid upsetting anyone, I have placed specific sex warnings around several passages in this chapter. If you choose to read those parts, please do not be offended, as I have tried to warn you.

Wherein Harry and Hermione finally consummate their relationship and learn a number of unexpected things about each other, and Fleur witnesses something strange.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.

Thanks to betas Mark Gardiner, Shane, Mathiasgranger, and Waffle_Iron.

Chapter 53 - Two Notes in Harmony

Harry's and Hermione's next few hours were spent rather uncomfortably in and around Professor McGonagall's office as the Deputy Headmistress tried to understand how: (1) Katie Bell acquired what was obviously a cursed necklace, and (2) managed to come into contact with it.

A steady stream of visitors - Hogwarts staff members, the Head Boy and Girl, Aurors, house elves (including Dobby) - moved constantly in and out of McGonagall's office. The three teens - Harry, Hermione, and Leanne - each had to tell their stories several times over. This was not particularly difficult for Harry and Hermione, since their involvement was entirely fortuitous. But for Leanne, who was with Katie almost all day and was one of her best friends, the experience was both harrowing and excruciating.

Except possibly Katie, who was hardly in condition to talk, nobody had a clue about the provenance of the necklace. Leanne knew only that Katie met someone (Katie never said who) in the Three Broomsticks loo, who had persuaded her to deliver it to someone at Hogwarts (again, Katie never said who) as a "surprise."

From the beginning, Leanne worried that the request was dodgy. Katie nonchalantly shrugged off those concerns. Her peculiar furtiveness and generally odd behaviour provoked an argument whilst the pair were walking back to Hogwarts. The argument escalated to a shoving match when Leanne attempted to grab the necklace (wrapped in brown butcher paper) from her friend to examine it. The paper had torn, and when Katie touched the necklace - everything started to happen.

Leanne had been quite fortunate - and knew it. If she had succeeded in prising the mystery package away from Katie, she, not Katie, would be on her way to St. Mungo's on an emergent basis right about now.

The general consensus thought that someone had placed Katie under the Imperius Curse and given her the necklace. Nobody had any firm idea concerning the perpetrator. Harry knew only that he could rule out his favourite suspect in all things nefarious. Draco Malfoy had been nowhere in the vicinity.

That fact, however, Harry had to keep to himself. Too many people (and goblins) would be appalled at his lone, spur-of-the-moment trip to eavesdrop on suspected Death Eaters.

The above description of events was far more organised and logical than Leanne's telling. Getting a coherent story from Katie's distraught friend took far longer than it might have. Leanne repeatedly broke down under a combination of guilt and pressure. Harry and Hermione, with ample experience in this sort of thing, spent much time trying to keep Leanne on, or return her to, an even keel. Hermione, being of the same gender, proved particularly valuable in coaxing out the whole story - or as much as Leanne knew.

For his part, Harry frequently felt like a fifth wheel. He also had other things to do. On several occasions he was about to demand to be excused, but Hermione silenced him with either a look or a Legilimenced message.

Eventually, as the afternoon passed into evening, even Hermione's patience was exhausted. When Professor McGonagall's clock chimed seven, she finally put her foot down, and demanded to see the woman privately.

"Look," she told the Deputy Headmistress, "I've been a good sport about this, since it's been painfully obvious for the past hour that we're serving no purpose beyond Leanne's moral support. But at this point, I simply must insist on leaving. I've things that I need to do, and now I'm afraid I'll have to miss dinner to do them. I'm sure Harry feels the same way. He's let me know as much."

"Don't worry about dinner," McGonagall told her, "I'll have the house-elves bring something up for you both."

"It's not that," an increasingly frustrated Hermione replied. "Like I said, I've other things that I simply must attend to - personal things - that are more important than dinner. Unless you've something specific for me to do right away, I really have to be excused. Leanne's parents should be here shortly anyway."

Her favourite student did not act this way without good reason. Reluctantly, Professor McGonagall allowed Hermione to leave.

When Harry realised that Hermione had been excused, he immediately demanded his own release. He told his Head of House that he had to write a letter to Blackie Howe to effectuate an agreement he had made concluded with Schwinn that was "important" to his goblin connexions.

Left unmentioned was Harry's need to discuss the evening's arrangements with Slamdor.

The Deputy Headmistress suspected that Harry was being economical with the truth, but having no basis for challenging him, excused Harry as well.

After seeing Hermione off with a peck on her cheek (and a promise of more later), Harry made for the Gryffindor common room. There, he scratched out detailed instructions for Howe, telling him to contact Schwinn's solicitor to arrange a swap of Harry's interest in the Monte Carlo casino for Schwinn's nondescript traveling wax museum. To preclude any questions about the blatantly unequal nature of the transaction, Harry vaguely told Howe that this transaction was essential to "important goblin business" and left it at that.

Using his manmak, Harry arranged a final preparatory meeting with Slamdor in the landing just outside the Gryffindor portrait hole. The goblin had two full squads at the ready to ensure the couple's protection and, equally critical, their privacy. But Slamdor could not start making good on that pledge until Harry divulged where the tryst in question was to occur. Slamdor, immersed in the goblins' rigidly male-dominated culture, was incredulous at Harry's leaving the choice of locations to Hermione.

Retreating across the landing until outside the Fat Lady's hearing, Slamdor requested, "Impratraxis, inspect should we the location selected for your … appointment. Be prudent should we."

"I haven't selected anything," Harry revealed. "Hermione has a secret place picked out…."

"Arrangements, to the woman … left you?" Slamdor asked. His ears pointed almost vertically and twitched in surprise. He was as close to insubordination as a loyal inferior goblin would approach.

"I trust her on this," Harry divulged.

Still highly sceptical, Slamdor said nothing for a long moment. Finally, "Trust, but verify," he advised. "With us come to need you not, but reconnoiter should we - for our own deployment, if nothing else."

"Well, I don't know where it is," Harry admitted. "She hasn't told me yet."

"But … but…. Arrangements, how to be made will they? Our positions…. Where to deploy will know we?" Slamdor stammered anxiously.

"Look, we'll just play this by ear," Harry calmly instructed. "Like you said earlier, this is a-a … umm … appointment, not a campaign. Forget arrangements - all I need is Hermione and I'm happy. I'm one hundred percent sure it's in the Castle somewhere. How much time do you need to deploy?"

"Allow for … arrangements really should you," Slamdor persisted.

"Well, there's probably not time, and frankly I'm already uncomfortable with how much planning's going into this. I'd always thought this sort of thing would be more … er … spontaneous," Harry told the goblin, betraying emotion for the first time. "But I accept why it can't," he added.

"As wish you, Impratraxis," Slamdor gave up. "More than about five minutes require should we not."

"Once I know, how can I tell you?" Harry asked. "Or will you just follow me around like you've been doing?"

Slamdor furrowed his brow. "Not work well indoors, unfortunately does not our camouflage," he said. "In Hogwarts hallways not routinely are left large rocks. Rather than following, summon us can you. If you will, your manmak to mine please touch."

Fortunately, Harry had not removed his signet ring after returning from Hogsmeade. He did as requested.

"Now locating magic of your choice please use, whilst your wand touch to both of our manmakod," Slamdor instructed. "And your wand, for four seconds hold in place."

"Umm… okay," Harry agreed. He used the simplest Locating Charm he knew from his Auror training. "Locatur!" Harry felt magic flow into his hand.

"Successful was that," Slamdor pronounced. "For the next four hours, locate you can I when on your own manmak that spell repeat you."

"Great," Harry grinned.

"Please, to give us as much notice as can you," Slamdor requested. "Any arrangements - good would be they."

"Okay," Harry promised, "but no guarantees. I think Hermione wants to surprise me."

* * * *

"This way," Hermione beckoned to Harry whilst leading him through another darkened corridor.

The girl had entirely missed dinner, and she was hungry. But her cravings this evening did not involve food.

Earlier, she had waited through two of the longest hours of her life. The Contraceptive Potion she had contrived to "borrow" from Madame Pomfrey's stores needed two hours after administration to be effective, and for best results (or, more properly, lack thereof) should be taken on an empty stomach.

The moment those two hours were up - Hermione went looking for Harry.

Now they were together, under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and very near their objective. He had not planned using the Cloak, at least not on the trip to wherever they were going, but Peeves had taken undue interest in them. Presciently, Harry had brought the Cloak, and it proved invaluable in evading the obnoxiously nosy poltergeist.

Their destination was a surprise, and Harry (good sport that he was) allowed himself to be surprised.

"If we take these stairs, I think…."

"Shite!" Harry cursed as he looked at the Marauder's Map, "It's Filch, coming this way!"

"In here!" Hermione hissed, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him through the first (fortunately unlocked) doorway she saw. They found themselves in what looked like a storeroom for old textbooks.

Hermione had the door closed and magically locked behind them just as the caretaker's footsteps became audible.

She Legilimenced, `While we're waiting…'

Harry startled Hermione by gathering her up and kissing her hungrily. `I know, you want to snog,' he returned silently, as they listened for Filch.

`I do … but could I ask you a question first?' Hermione thought back.

`Anything for you,' Harry reassured her, and took a step back.

`What spell did you use on Katie after she was cursed?' she asked. `I'd never heard it before, and it seemed to work.'

`Just like Hermione,' Harry thought (to himself). Always curious about new spells. Then he almost smacked himself in the forehead - and would have had the click-clack of Mrs. Norris' little cat claws not been right outside the door.

`Hermione, that's the spell … I promised you,' he responded rather sheepishly.

`What spell that you promised me? I don't follow,' Hermione tentatively asked.

`It's Suturc,' Harry told an intrigued Hermione, `what I told you about when … when I came for you…. You remember - I learnt it when you thought they were teaching me Lesson 128. Not only is it a countercurse to Cruciatus, but it helps against Dementors, too.'

`Sounds dead useful,' Hermione observed.

`Saved my sanity, if not my life, more than once,' Harry agreed. `I want you to see Dumbledore. Don't take no for an answer. I'll talk to him if you want.'

`No, I'll do it,' she assured him. She had regular phoenix lessons with the Headmaster, now. `But not tonight. We've much better things to do … and your map's showing Filch headed the other way.'

They entered a part of the Castle where Harry had rarely ventured. But he trusted Hermione - trusted her more than anyone in the world. They crept down the shadowy hallway, sandwiched rather more closely together under the Cloak than perhaps necessary, until she motioned him to stop.

"Not far now," she whispered, as they turned into what looked like a close corridor.

"Is this the only way in?" Harry whispered back.

"Yes, they're all arranged in culs de sac," Hermione explained.

Harry persisted, "And the others?"

"On this entry, all unoccupied," she reassured.

"Good." Harry stopped, but Hermione kept moving. She pulled the Cloak pulled halfway off him before noticing. He was dropping what looked like large, nondescript buttons on the floor.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione hissed in a stage whisper.

"Giving us a little added security," he told her.

"I'm afraid to ask," she said.

Harry replied with a grin, "Then don't."

A ways further down the hall, she halted. Harry more or less blundered into her, but she expected it. Reaching back and catching him by the robes, she prevented him from drawing back. Slowly she backed her bum into him, grinding against Harry in a manner calculated to get a rise out of him.

It felt so wonderfully wanton.

"We're here, Harry," she breathlessly whispered. Hermione produced a large golden key from the back pocket of those enticingly tight jeans she wore underneath her robes. Without hesitation or fumbling, she slipped it into the lock of an ancient oaken door and gave it a full turn. Plainly, she was accustomed to both this key and this lock - whilst he had never seen either.

Wait a minute…. He had seen this key - or one very much like it - the night of the Astronomy redo exam. Hermione had shown it to him just before they….

Damn that Mad-Eye Moody.

Harry knew Hermione. Evidently she had planned ahead that the deed - when to be done - would be done in the room this key accessed. She must have intended for it to be that night….

Damn that Mad-Eye Moody!

What was it about birthdays and sex?

The door opened silently, and the two of them slid into the dark room.

Without prompting, the flat's magical lighting illuminated a rectangular room containing a large polished wooden table.

"Colloportus," Harry spelled, locking and sealing the door through which they had just passed.

"Surveillus Revelato," Hermione incanted sotto voce.

Nothing glowed. The room was free of clandestine monitoring devices.

"This is the place, I gather," Harry stated, his anticipation building.

"Yes, this is the place," Hermione echoed, giving him an enticing look. She cast a Silencing Spell on the door, just for good measure.

Harry tore his eyes away from her face. "Okay, then," he said in as businesslike a tone as he could manage. "Let me get necessary rubbish out of the way."

Hermione knew he meant the personal security bumf and guff that his status demanded. As she watched, Harry plucked his goblin signet ring from his shirt pocket and placed it snugly on his right hand ring finger. Touching it with his wand, he uttered a Locating Charm. Now the goblins - responsible for his safety at Hogwarts - knew exactly where he was. They would not intrude.

Critically, they would ensure that nobody else did, either.

Hermione was tired of feeling constrained. She had never bothered fastening shut her heavy school robes before they left Gryffindor tower under the Cloak. Having anticipated this night for so long, she hoped to show herself off to him without looking foolish.

Those robes had been hot - and so was she. Her skin glistened with an oh-so-light sweat as she discarded those now unnecessary garments onto the large, empty table.

Hermione need not have worried.

To Harry she looked stunning - even more than usual - in a pair of Muggle form-fitting black jeans and a baby-blue snug T-shirt bearing the words, "DNA helicase unzips your genes."

"What do you think?" she asked, referring to the room she had selected.

"Nice, but as long as you're in it," Harry replied, "I'd be happy in a broom closet."

Plain truth, he rapidly found out, worked better with girls - this one anyway - than all Dudley's fancy pick-up lines put together. The embrace he received would have driven his cousin mad with jealousy.

"Well … we're here, Harry - finally," she declared with a sigh. "Now kiss me before I go crazy."

Needing no prompting, Harry instantly obeyed - dropping his own robes to the floor and scooping her into his arms. He proceeded to demonstrate that, contrary to Ron's aspersions, he did know how to find Hermione's tonsils.

He had learnt something over the summer.

In his arms, she squirmed. Her gasp, when he grabbed a handful of her bum, passed from her mouth into his. When his other hand joined the first, she shifted her weight onto him and attacked his tongue with her lips. In her passion she could not resist rubbing herself against him. Those delicious sensations only caused her to kiss him harder.

After a bit, they broke apart, panting. Hermione shimmied up onto the table whilst Harry steadied himself with a hand against the wall. She eyed him, wondering if he could smell how aroused she was.

Pheromones were not Harry's strong suit, but seeing how relaxed she was, Harry asked, "You know this place. Is this where you stayed when you were … trying to find me?"

"Yes, Harry," she confirmed. "We all stayed here. All these doors open into private bedchambers. Mine's the one on the far left-hand side. Do you fancy seeing it?"

"I fancy seeing you in it," Harry replied suggestively, "all of you."

She could have creamed then and there. "That's a promise," Hermione winked at him. "The sooner, the…."

Hermione had already hopped off the table and was halfway to her door when - both of them heard it - scrabbling and clinking noises from inside that same room. It sounded like someone, or something, was moving things about in a great rush.

Harry leapt in front of Hermione, his wand already drawn. He demanded, in a firm but calm voice, "I know you're in there. Stop what you're doing and come out, slowly."

Harry Legilimenced to Hermione, `Make for the door. If this gets violent, go get help.'

`I'm not leaving you, Harry, not now,' Hermione refused. `I don't need to get help. I can fight, too.'

`Hermione…,' Harry's thoughts came through petulantly as he kept his eyes, and his wand, on the door. `If one of us has to fight, you know that I'm….'

By sticking her D.A. mirror under his nose, she managed to bring him up short. She could send a distress call if needed.

The door creaked ever-so-slowly open and out stepped….

"Dobby!" Harry and Hermione cried at the same instant.

When the frightened and bewildered elf saw both of their wands trained on him, his eyes bugged out even further than normal.

"Oooh, I is so bad!" Dobby wailed. "I should never be listening to him!" The elf looked this way and that for something with which to punish himself. Finding nothing, he started bashing his head into the corner of the doorframe with sickening thuds.

Taking one look at Hermione's almost nauseated expression, Harry barked out, "Dobby, stop this instant. I forbid you from punishing yourself ever again."

Harry tried to avoid direct commands, mostly for Hermione's benefit. This time, he thought his fiancée would be more upset by Dobby carrying on than by his calling upon the elf's subservience to halt his self-destructive tendencies.

Dobby did as told. He worked for Harry now.

"Tell me, who did you listen to?" Harry asked, whilst stowing his wand. Ironically, he had pulled his wand on the one being in the Castle less likely than Hermione to attack him.

"Me being stupid," Dobby wailed. "Me was listening to that Slamdor with all his plans for things being nice for you and Miz Myown. Now me be ruining everything!" Harry gave the elf a stern look when he seemed on the verge of reverting to head banging.

"What did Slamdor tell you to do?" Harry persisted.

"He was saying that you and your miss … you was finally being together tonight," Dobby's words tumbled from his mouth. "You'd be telling him, he says, and he's a-promising to tell me where you's being. I'm being making everything special…. But no sooner than him telling me this, you's being here - and Dobby's being caught and ruining it all…."

Prevented from punishing himself, the forlorn elf began wailing instead.

Hermione could hold her tongue no longer, even though Dobby technically worked for Harry, not her. "Dobby - listen to me - how long would you need to make everything `nice' the way you had in mind?"

Harry looked her, smiled, and nodded.

"Oh, me be working fast. Me's being skilled," Dobby sounded decidedly more upbeat fashion. "Me's needing maybe five minutes, no more … but me was having less than thirty seconds, and that's not enough…."

"Well, Dobby," Harry took over, "I'm sure Hermione and I can somehow keep ourselves occupied for five minutes. Why don't you go ahead and finish the job. Just knock twice on the door when you're done."

"Oh, yessir!" Dobby squealed, almost jumping up and down with sudden glee. "Me's be working quick. You'll be a-liking it - very much!"

"But Dobby…?" Harry questioned him.

Dobby stopped in his tracks. "Yes, Harry Potter, sir."

"You're working entirely for me now, right?" Harry wanted to be sure.

"One hundred and ten percent, yessir," the elf chirped.

"Then not a word of this to anyone," Harry firmly instructed. "Not to the other elves, not to any of my friends, not to Slamdor, and especially not to Dumbledore or McGonagall. Can I count on you?"

"Absolutely, sir," Dobby affirmed. "My lips being sealed."

The considerably happier elf scuttled back into Hermione's bedroom, the door shutting by itself behind him. Harry turned to Hermione. "Would you like me to keep you occupied?" he inveigled.

"Can't think of anything I'd rather do, or you do," Hermione agreed. Her slightly opened lips pursed in anticipation.

Harry's grinning expression became at once more serious and dreamier. He slid one arm around her, leaned in, and caressed her cheek with his other hand. "Just now, like with Dobby…. I'm constantly amazed at how wonderful you are," he whispered.

Hermione rubbed his hand with hers and whispered, "Kiss me now, Harry."

He complied gladly, immediately capturing her mouth with his. They wobbled a bit before he steadied her against the side of the huge conference table at which she had slaved for so many days to make this night possible.

Leaving balance to Harry, Hermione threw both her arms around his head and neck. She pushed her lips into his whilst her venturesome tongue invaded. Their mouths fully engaged. Harry's free arm crooked behind Hermione until he was cradling her head. Her tongue danced in little circles all over Harry's mouth and lips.

Harry deepened the kiss, his hip coming into contact with the table alongside her. With the table as leverage, he slowly and gently tipped them both over until they lay side by side, with their feet hanging off the edge.

This position proved too awkward for serious necking, so Harry broke the kiss with a chuckling, "oops." They rolled fully onto the table, with Hermione ending up mostly on top of Harry. "Would you care to do the honours?" he asked her. "Your Cushioning Charms work better than mine."

She was all too happy to oblige.

Then she dove back into him. As they snogged, Hermione's hands found their way to Harry's shoulders. His hands in turn found their way to her T-shirt. He worked it loose from the waistband of her jeans and began, with some difficulty, to move it upwards. It tickled a bit, and Hermione responded by kissing him even more vigorously. She drew up her knees, creating more room between their chests for Harry to explore.

But her knees jabbed him a bit, so Harry drew back, sucked in another breath, and buried his face in her neck. The feel of his tongue and his breath on the wet spots left by his kisses made her even more delightfully ticklish. She slid halfway off him and in the same motion slipped one of her hands inside his shirt, finally making skin on skin contact of her own.

Harry was ticklish, too. Feeling her light touch on his stomach, he gave one of her ears a slight nip. Hermione gasped, and he crushed his lips into hers again. By then, he had managed to push her T-shirt above her brassiere. He traced its outline and came to rest atop her breast, cupping it.

At this point, Harry stopped and paid close attention to Hermione's reaction. She could tell by his pause that he was implicitly seeking her consent to continue.

"Harry?" she murmured in a low voice. "What about Dobby?"

"He's got Winky," he replied in a soft breathy whisper. "That leaves you for me."

"Oh, you're incorrigible," she snorted.

"I'd rather be inside of your bedroom," he answered, giving her breast a gentle squeeze. "I wonder how much longer…."

She tugged on his arm. "You can go lower, Harry. I'm really…."

Clunk! Clunk!

"Well there you are," Hermione reacted immediately.

"No, I don't think…."

Clunk! Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

In a flash, Harry disengaged from Hermione, whirled around, and sat up on the table, wand (the magic kind) out, staring towards the sounds. They had not come from the back bedroom, where Dobby was toiling. Instead the sounds originated in the opposite direction - from outside the front door.

"Damn … seems like we've got more visitors," Harry hissed with a scowl. His clothes were in some disarray.

Listening intently, the two remained still for a moment - save Hermione's hands, which clutched his hips. Reflexively she kneaded both sides of his waist. She ached to reach around for his fly, but before she mustered the initiative Harry had other ideas.

"I should check," he told her. She reluctantly released him, and with a little leg kick, he hopped off the table. His wandtip glowing, Harry tiptoed to the entrance of the flat. He performed a three-way combination spell that unsealed the door, unlocked it, and caused it to open inwards just a bit.

The hallway remained perfectly still, but instead of being completely dark, something pink glowed off to his right

Extending his wand hand as far from himself as he could, Harry stretched his arm to the opening in the doorway. "Lumos."

Again, nothing. At least nobody fired any spells at the light from his wand.

`Cover me,' he Legilimenced to Hermione as he crept out the door.

"As much as you want - later," she double entendred back at him, aloud.

Harry had barely stepped beyond the threshold when, all of a sudden, his foot contacted something heavy and solid. He tripped, and nearly turfed himself.

Regaining his balance, Harry looked down. He had stubbed his toe on a good sized, nearly round, grey boulder.

Right next to it was another, almost identical stone.

And another … and another. Looking up the hallway, Harry saw one outlier - much different from the rest. That one glowed bright pink.

Clonk, Clonk.

A different sound brought Harry's attention back inside.

"It's Dobby's signal," Hermione told him. "Is anything out there?"

"Yeah … I think I just stumbled on our guard for the evening," Harry muttered. He retreated inside and shut the door.

"Well, let's go, then" she beckoned. Her face bore the same, wonderfully wanton look Harry remembered from before - immediately after he had proposed marriage. "We've already waited far too long for this."

Harry forgot all about his throbbing toe. His heart jumped into his throat in response to the desire in her gaze and her voice. "Not much longer now," he almost whispered as he moved towards her.

"Alohomora." She stood by the open door to the room that had been her bedroom throughout her search for him and bade him enter first. Harry had no idea, but Hermione knew at once that her old room was transformed into a quite different place.

The most immediate difference was in lighting. The illumination was not at all what it once was. During her search for Harry, Hermione's bedroom had been brutally functional - nothing but steady white, featureless light. Now the light was soft, yellowish, and flickering, its source being several candelabra set in wall sconces.

The room also had an altogether different shape. Before, it had been decidedly rectangular - about twice as deep as wide - and small. Now the floorspace was almost square, and considerably bigger.

The bed was to one side. Straight ahead was something altogether new - a small table, flanked by matching chairs, both trimmed in red and gold. Atop the table another silver candelabrum illuminated a marvelous spread that Dobby had prepared.

"He must have known we hadn't eaten," Hermione remarked. "This isn't at all like when I was here before the term started. This is altogether … more luxurious."

"I'll say," Harry agreed. "Even the Great Hall doesn't compare to this."

Truer words had never been spoken

Harry and Hermione were amazed by the opulence of it all. Dobby had outdone himself.

The entrée was oysters on the half shell, bathed in a white crème sauce.

The main course was a tenderloin roast with a mustard and peppercorn sauce.

In the centre of the table, around the candelabrum, was a collection of small wicker baskets filled with fruits and vegetables - figs, red Jamaican bananas, glazed pineapple chunks (Slughorn's favourite, she recalled), fragrant black truffles, baby carrots, strawberries, almonds, and pomegranates. Several dips accompanied these delicacies: sweet honey, spicy ginger, enchanting vanilla, and of course smooth milk chocolate kept liquid over a bluebell flame.

For dessert, Dobby had chosen a full meringue pavlova topped with whipped cream and bits of lilikoi, and additional chocolate-covered items, cashews and clementine slices, all charmed to stay chilled.

Speaking of chilling, beside the table was a bottle in a standing silver bucket full of ice. Hermione suspected it was alcoholic, meaning that Harry would refuse to touch a drop of it. Dobby meant well, of course, but the elf could not know everything….

Fortunately, Dobby had also left a crystal decanter of ice water on the table.

"Merlin, I can use something to restore my energy," Hermione declared as she approached the table. "You must be starved too…."

Hermione plopped into the nearest chair before noticing that Harry had not followed. Instead he was gawking, open-mouthed, at the window, the colour rapidly leaving his face.

"Harry, come sit down. It's just the window," she called to him. "Try these oysters - they're rumoured to be an aphrodisiac."

The trouble was, for Harry, the spacious, three-sided oriel window was not only another window. Far from it…. He had seen this window somewhere…. In his dreams….

No. He had seen it in his worst nightmares.

In a strangled whisper, Harry uttered. "Hermione…. We - we can't … stay here…."

"Of course we can," she immediately disagreed. "We just got here. You've got your goblins. Dobby will warn off the other elves. We can stay here as long as we wish without being disturbed."

"No. It's the window," Harry repeated, making little sense to her. "You could die. I've had a premonition … I've seen this before…."

The meal forgotten, Hermione rushed to Harry's side. "It's just a window, Harry," she urged. "Whatever you saw, I'm sure it's just coincidental. I slept next to this window every night for more than a fortnight. Nothing ever happened."

"…One of the dreams that - that almost … drove me away from you," Harry tried to explain. "We were going to make love, and Death Eaters broke through the window. They were going to … to kill you. It was like … like what had happened with …er … before…."

Now Hermione was getting alarmed. "Harry, you had a nightmare. It's over. I'm alive, and we're together. We're under heavy guard. Nothing's going to happen."

"But … it was just like…." Harry's voice trailed off. He shook his head vigorously, trying, but failing, to shake those terrible images.

"Harry, what you're feeling is called `transference'," Hermione told him. "You've unconsciously redirected your guilt about Eliza's death to me under the influence of similar circumstances. You can't let what happened rule you, Harry. You'll … you'll die a virgin."

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't think I can concentrate as long as we're by this window," Harry moaned. "I'll keep seeing Death Eaters bursting through…."

"Harry, Merlin knows how many goblins are out there," Hermione protested. "Nobody could force their way in if they wanted to - which nobody does."

"I don't know where the goblins are," Harry replied. "They deploy how they want to."

"We'll see." With that, Hermione strode purposefully to the window, threw it open and spoke, in a voice just shy of a shout, "Alakar!" Harry had used the same command the day he proposed.

She let out an audible gasp when, after a couple of seconds, Slamdor's head swung into view - upside down, as if he were clinging from the overhanging roof, which he was. "You called, Savini," he addressed her, as if nothing were unusual about his hanging head down by his clawed feet twenty metres or more above the ground.

"I - umm - Harry and I…. We were wondering what more precautions you could take to enhance the security of this window." Hermione requested.

"What can be done, shall see I," Slamdor responded slowly. He motioned with his right arm, and in an instant he held a large set of window bars constructed with goblin-forged steel.

"That brings back memories," Harry commented.

"Harry, if it's too close to what the Death Eaters did to you, I'll have him try something else," Hermione replied.

In the background Slamdor grimaced and swore in Gobbledegook as he struggled to attach the bars to the Castle's magically resistant walls.

"It's not that," Harry told her. "No, this reminds me of the Dursleys caging me in during the summer before Second Year."

"They WHAT?" Hermione asked archly, her voice rising. Harry never talked much about his treatment by his relatives, and neither he nor Ron had ever told Hermione about this incident.

Loud clanging sounded outside.

"Er … they barred my window and locked my door trying to keep me from going back to Hogwarts," Harry revealed.

"Those … those … cretins!" she blurted angrily. "They were so awful to you. They'd better hope they never…."

"Dammit, work won't this," Slamdor swore, this time in stilted, goblin-style English. "If advance notice had I, have made arrangements could I …. But now - too - strong - the - charms." With each word the goblin shoved futilely at the bars with his shoulder.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Hermione pleaded. She saw her perfect evening slipping away - a victim of Harry's mental demons.

"Yes. Standard goblin entry/blocking magic - nothing extraordinary," Slamdor answered.

"Go ahead," Hermione almost begged. Something was better than nothing, and perhaps this something, together with her own persuasive powers, would be enough.

With a wave of his hand, Slamdor shut and locked the windowpanes. Then he said something in Gobbledegook that was barely audible through the leaded glass. In an instant, the three panes of the oriel window vanished - totally obscured by the sort of mirrored surface that the goblins favoured.

Harry and Hermione saw only their own reflected faces. Instead of a window, the oriel now resembled the triptych mirror in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

They heard another brief bout of clanging from the other side, and then nothing.

"Better?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, as he calmed down. "Between it looking different, and knowing the goblins are out there, I think I'll be all right…. Hey, wait a minute…. You don't think they can see in, do you … like in the Situation Room?"

"Harry, now you're really getting paranoid," Hermione scolded. "You're, you know, like royalty to them. There's no way…."

"I suppose you're right," Harry agreed. "And after that latest spot of bother, I really am hungry."

The couple nibbled some of this and some of that, but once they took the edge off of their hunger, they began distracting each other. Hermione Transfigured her sensible two-toned penny loafers into slippers. She promptly slid them off and began playing footsie with Harry under the table. Harry grabbed at her, and with his Seeker's reflexes caught hold of the cuff on her jeans. He started pulling, and she felt herself being dragged off her chair.

"Harry, let go of me!" Hermione mock protested - wiggling all the way.

"Not a chance," Harry refused. "You'll just start up again. I know you."

"I can't help it, I think you're sexy," Hermione responded as she grabbed the seat of her chair to stop Harry from dragging her along any further.

Her resistance only encouraged Harry. He reached his left hand under the table and, whilst maintaining his grip with the right, began tickling the exposed underside of her foot. That drew even more protests, giggling, and squirming.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Hermione had flicked her wand into her hand. Holding firmly onto the table with her off hand, she stealthily aimed her wand at the cloth by which Harry was restraining her.

"Harry, stop!" she said one last time - her latest protest being as half-hearted as the rest.

"No," Harry refused, laughing almost as hard as Hermione. "Now I've got you right where I want you."

"Diffindo," Hermione incanted.

With a ripping sound, the cuff on her jeans split completely free. Suddenly with nothing solid to hold onto, Harry careened over backwards in his chair with a loud yelp. The same Seeker's reflexes prevented any significant injury, except to his pride. Harry found himself sitting awkwardly on the floor whilst Hermione almost doubled over in laughter.

Two could play at that game. Harry's own wand flicked into his hand. "Accio Hermione's jeans," Harry retaliated.

Hermione's jeans undulated. With an unzipping noise they did what was necessary to comply with Harry's summons. In little more than the blink of an eye Harry was holding Hermione's trousers.

Suddenly seated in nothing but rather damp knickers, Hermione let out a shriek as she realised what had happened.

"I can't help it either, I think you're sexy, too," Harry replied with a smirk.

And indeed he did. From where he sat - on the floor atop the back of his overturned chair - he had a wonderful view of her from the waist on down. Hermione had gloriously long legs … so bloody touchable, that he would be in bedlam unless he had them wrapped around him soon.

But even better than her legs … those knickers she wore - they were light years away from the generic white cotton under things of their last encounter. THESE KNICKERS were shockingly scarlet with equally bright gold trim. What's more they were filmy, almost translucent. His eyes could be playing tricks, but he thought her knickers looked rather darker right where … well, where they should look like that if less than entirely opaque.

And were they … wet…?

"Merlin, Hermione," Harry croaked, his throat suddenly parched. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were dressed like that."

"Don't be sorry," Hermione replied in an overtly randy voice. "I'm surely not…."

Harry gulped. The moment of truth was surely approaching.

"…In fact, one good spell deserves another." Without further warning she incanted, "Accio Harry's trousers."

Similar fluctuations and unzipping sounds ensued. Hermione anticipated that in another instant she would be holding Harry' trousers, just as he was holding hers.

Not so fast.

Hermione's arousal had interfered with her better judgment. She had overlooked one minor detail - unlike her, Harry still wore his shoes.

"Whoa!" Harry exclaimed as his runaway trousers darted towards Hermione. When they met resistance from his shoes, his trousers first flipped inside out. "EEEyaaahh! Hermione!" Harry squawked as this happened. Still snagged on his heels, they began dragging him, and soon his chair (with which they became entangled), inexorably towards her.

"Oh my," she squealed, once she appreciated what had gone wrong. "Finite."

She bolted from her seat, and got down on all fours, crawling the last couple metres to reach him. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?" she trilled in a high pitched, worried voice.

"I'll live," he grunted. "But … I just realised something."

"What?"

"You're entirely too far away from me," he uttered whilst reaching his hand towards her.

Hermione grasped it, and he pulled her to where he was still sprawled on the floor. His hands found her shoulders and her hands entwined in his hair. Their lips met and he pulled her onto him forcefully enough that she made a little "umph" sound. She tasted of pomegranate and chocolate covered strawberries. He tasted of pavlova, whipped cream and passion fruit. He ran his hands down her back, still covered by her T-shirt. Reaching the hem, they moved to her glorious bare skin below. No more than a couple of strokes with his fingernails had goosepimples bursting all over her midsection.

Hermione groaned … or moaned … or made some sort of noise from deep in her throat. Never breaking their kiss, she drew her arms back slightly and cupped his face in both of her hands. The same movement also ground her scarlet-clad nether region into his rapidly stiffening counterpart.

Her knickers were most definitively moist. He wondered if just vanishing them would be too forward - along with his own pants, of course - before long, they might not be so dry either.

Harry's turn came to close his eyes and make unintelligible sounds. His breath fluttered over her smooth cheek as his fingers traced their way down to those alluring knickers. Once reaching them, he traced the dividing line between the roundness of her legs and the flat of her tummy. Harry grabbed her buttocks cheeks with each hand, finding them a perfect fit. He squeezed and felt her clutch him in return. Not only were Hermione's knickers scanty, they were silky smooth.

With Harry's hands all over her bum, Hermione felt her insides going soft, like paraffin wax in the summer sun. Less divinely, she also became acutely aware of her shin jabbing into the side of Harry's chair. That would not do.

Her cheeks, both upper and lower, were flushed by the time their lips parted. "I think it's time that we moved this to the bed," she purred.

"Okay," Harry instantly agreed. Awkwardly, he tried to stand, but his topsy-turvy trousers caught in the overturned chair. He sat back down heavily.

Ever helpful, Hermione tried untying his stubborn shoes. She had little luck, and less patience, with knotted laces hidden by inside out jeans. Out came her wand. "Nodus solvere!" From then on, she had little trouble divesting a most helpful Harry of shoes, trousers - and for good measure, socks. Unlike her carefully selected knickers, his boxers were utterly pedestrian.

She grasped his hand. With their fingers intertwined, she shyly led him to what had once been her bed.

Not any longer - and not just because it would now be their bed.

More than the rest of Hermione's old room, the bed was radically transformed. Throughout her prior stay, it had been an austere institutional single, simply bedecked with practical white cotton bed linen and a sensible blue wool duvet.

No longer.

Their waiting bed was fully twice the size of Hermione's formerly functional single and was made for anything but sleep. A luxuriant pile of cushions of eclectic sizes, shapes, and textures replaced her single feather pillow. Nary a plain white pillowcase was to be found. Instead of her old, nearly threadbare blue duvet was a rich wine-coloured comforter. Beneath it, silky amber sheets peaked out from the edges. All was in Gryffindor colours, right down to the dust ruffle.

Hermione blushed again. Dobby's redecoration of the bedclothes unintentionally approximated her knickers. They might even clash - but no bother. She did not expect to be wearing them much longer.

As they reached the bed, Hermione felt Harry hesitate. He stopped and squeezed her hand. She turned to face him.

"Umm … Hermione?" he spoke in that endearing tone of voice he used when trying to be extra earnest about something. "Before we go any … further, I think I should … er … I need to ask, will you…?"

A warm smile filled her face. She anticipated his question. "You don't have to ask, Harry. Implicitly, you already have, and I said `yes'."

"Please, Hermione," he continued. "I really think I should, just so everything's clear. I wouldn't ever want to that guy that you wanted to stop, but I didn't…."

Hermione bit back a reply, and let Harry finish.

Harry did - in his own fashion. "…Anyway, Hermione, will you … make - make love with me tonight? Please?"

Here was another reason she found Harry so wonderful. He was the kindest person (at least to her) she had ever known. Even his phrasing - "with" rather than "to" - was so gentle. His lovemaking would be cooperative, not domineering.

Theirs would be a partnership, in the fullest sense of the word.

Before replying, Hermione drew her wand. Whilst an uncomprehending Harry watched, she symbolically locked the door and Imperturbed the room. Then she slipped off her holster, sheathed her wand, and placed it on the nightstand next to the bed.

Hermione had her own little speech prepared. "Mum once told me; don't lock the door until I'm sure. Well, Harry, I'm sure - absolutely. Of course I'll make love with you tonight. There's nothing I'd rather do. But I frankly don't believe what you just said. I couldn't believe it and still be in love with you."

"I love you too … er … what don't you believe?" Harry changed course in mid-sentence.

"I don't believe you'd ever carry on after I asked you not to," she told him. "If I ever said `no' to anything, I know you'd stop, no matter how far we'd gotten. It's part of who you are, and it's why I trust you so very much…."

"That's another reason I love you," he sighed happily. "You have more faith in me than I do in myself."

The more he looked at her, the more gobsmacked he became. And with Harry in nothing but underwear and a shirt, his desires were altogether evident to her, tented in his boxers.

She returned those urges every bit as fully, if not as visibly. Only a tiny spot discoloured his boxers; but her dampness extended…. For a moment she wished she'd bought them crotchless, but that thought fled when Harry tried saying something coherent.

"Hermione … your knickers…. I mean - I didn't know.… Not the last time…. Since when have you had … er … something like that, it's…?" Harry struggled to give voice to this particular thought.

He was already close to dumbstruck at the sight of her - and much more remained to be seen. Hermione smiled her knowing smile, and once Harry lapsed into embarrassed silence, she finished what she supposed was his thought, "You mean something so … sexy?"

"Well … yeah," Harry admitted. "I know how thick I can be, but that's more what I'd expect Lavender, or maybe Romilda, to wear. You've always been so…."

Hermione faked a pout. "Boring, you mean?"

"More like sensible," Harry tacked. "But … that, too, I suppose."

She let him off the hook. "You know me too well, Harry. I only bought them this morning at Samson's Option. They're Lover's Touchâ"¢ Evanescing Lingerie. I'm glad - relieved actually - that you like them. I worried they might be too much."

"Like them? I love…. What's this evanescing thing?" Harry wondered out loud. "You - you mean that they'll vanish or something…?"

A most intriguing concept.

Hermione slinked to him, entwined her arms around Harry's neck, and fixed his eyes with hers. His hands found her waist. "Close, but not exactly…. They'll need some help from my lover's touch," she whispered in his ear. She shimmied against him, and pushed Harry's hands down to cup her glorious bum again. Parts of her felt like they were on fire.

"Mmmm-hmm?" he contentedly grunted.

"Ten minutes' exposure to light activates the charm," Hermione breathlessly explained. "After that, they're supposed to disintegrate at your touch."

She pulled out of his embrace, took two steps back, and whirled around like a model at the end of a runway. "See?"

Harry gawked. His handprints were plainly visible on each side of Hermione's buttocks, standing out as oases of her creamy skin against the scarlet of the remaining the silky fabric.

Harry was again reduced to indistinct, guttural sounds. "Wow," he gasped in appreciation. Once she faced him again, he noticed another creamy place - a vertical streak of her enticing flesh running up the right side of her … well, front. Those degradable knickers must also carry an Adhesion Charm, Harry concluded. Otherwise the right half surely would have fallen off.

Another most intriguing thought.

"Not just my hands, then?" he asked, whilst watching her watching him ogle her.

"Anything," she replied, repressing a telltale giggle. "Just direct contact with you. Any part of you will do. By the way, they're also flavoured. According to the description, the red is strawberry, and the gold, tangerine. You'll have to tell me how they taste."

Hermione sat the bed, without any false, leg-crossed modesty. Instead, she lay back - in a decidedly, and intentionally, immodest fashion. Although supine, she could still see him, barely, betwixt her breasts. She gave him a come-hither look and raised her feet to wiggle her toes at him.

"Now what are you waiting for? I'm lonely over here," she both asked and declared.

Harry was transfixed. Although wanting desperately to go to her, a warm wet fog descended over his brain.

"I dunno, waiting to wake up from this dream, I guess," Harry replied vaguely. "This … it's just too good to be real…. I'm not this lucky."

"Well you're getting lucky tonight," she told him. "Now, c'mere…. She reached to where her knickers narrowed. Finding the edge, she nudged the scarlet fabric aside so Harry see the delights awaiting him beneath. "I need you, Harry … you've no idea how badly…."

In the constantly changing candlelight, her revealed treasures seemed to glisten. Harry's knees were so wobbly that after one step towards her, but staggered and nearly fell.

"Oh honestly," Hermoine huffed. Springing up, comparatively lithe and catlike, she took his hands and led him to their bed. "Now you need to get this shirt off right away," she breathed. "My knickers have entirely too much of a head start; my bra needs to catch up."

Reaching down, Harry grasped the hem of her blue T-shirt, and with her active encouragement pulled it over her head. Simultaneously, she did the same to him, not bothering with his front buttons.

The net result was their shirts became quite intertwined - precisely what Hermione intended.

Before Harry realised her intentions, her arms had passed over his head and down behind his waist. With their shirtsleeves and arms hopelessly entangled, they were so close that Hermione could ravage his mouth with impunity.

Which she gladly did.

In semi-darkness their eyes locked, Harry emerald eyes melting her heart. Her own intense look more than matched his desires. Leaning in, Hermione started kissing his chest. She left a cool, damp trail as she licked and lapped her way to his mouth. Reaching it, she claimed it. Tasting him and feeling his heat, delectable shivers shot up and down her spine.

Responding to the shivers, she drew one leg up and wrapped it around his waist. One of his hands instinctively rose to support her, and she pressed into him. Harry felt the bedclothes against the back of his knee. Then, as before, he toppled onto the bed. Unlike the last time, she went along for the ride, since their otherwise useless shirts still bound them tightly together.

Kissing … touching … writhing against each other and against the constraining fabric, the pair rolled together on the bed.

"…I love you…."

"…I need you…."

"…I want you…."

"…I'm here…."

"…Have your way with me tonight…."

"…That feels wonderful…. Ouch…."

"…Damn shirts…."

"…Don't stop now…."

"…Evanesco shirts…."

"…We'll need those later…."

"…We'll worry about them later…."

"…Well, now that you've done it, put your wand down somewhere…."

Applying a Sticking Charm to his double-wand holster, Harry tossed it gently. It adhered to the wall maybe a metre above the bed.

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He nibbled at her neck and nearby sensitive places. She tried pushing down the only garment he was still wearing with one of her feet.

"…Your bra does taste like strawberries…."

"…At … least … you … wore … boxers … rather … than … briefs. There…."

"…Most of your knickers are gone by now too…."

"…Good…. Oooh, do that again…."

"…There…?"

"…Oh, Merlin, yes…."

"…You're practically dripping…."

"…Well, what are you going to do about it…?"

"…I could start with this…."

"…Ooooaaah. Just don't … stop with that…."

"…You mean this…?"

"…Absolutely…. Faster, Harry…."

Harry's fingers nudged at her dewy flesh, searching out her most sensitive spots. They touched and titillated; and lingered and loved. He sought to care for his most magical of creatures - to know all of her that was knowable. He wanted to hear every sound she uttered, feel every movement she made, see every wonderful sign she gave of feeling as rapturous as he did. It was sorcery as much as it was foreplay.

Measuring his progress by how raggedly she breathed, Harry applied rotation to her most sensitive and inflamed spot. Hermione surprised herself with the low mewling sound she made. She tensed, relaxed, and tensed again.

Her motions only encouraged Harry to go faster and harder - and then slower and gentler. He carried on until something exploded inside of her. With a scream, and a lurch, Hermione went rocketing over the top.

Unsure, Harry continued until he felt her hand gently but firmly squeeze his to tell him he was done - for the moment.

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For the next long moment, Hermione lay still, holding Harry's hand nestled amongst her folds. Her chest heaving as she returned to earth, she was utterly content and utterly open to him.

"Harry, that was … unbelievable," she gasped. Then with a sigh she snuggled into him. They lazily caressed one another whilst recharging their batteries. Nothing but the sound of their gradually normalising breathing was audible.

Eventually, Hermione's left hand released his and glided downwards, tracing spiral patterns first on his chest, then his stomach, and finally below his navel. By the time she recovered from her more than serviceable first climax, her fingers had found him. She slid their tips along his full length. He was in full upright and locked position.

"Oh, Hermione," Harry rumbled, otherwise lying boneless with her in his arms.

"Thanks for letting me do it … undressing you," she whispered in his ear whilst starting to stroke him more purposefully. "That was incredibly sexy … even more than last time."

"Luv, you know you can do anything you want," Harry replied lazily. He was in love with her; and beyond caring about anything else. "Aaahh … I'd say you have no idea what that does to me - except I know you do…."

Hermione smiled. "Bloody well right, I do." Without letting go of him, she slowly extracted herself from his embrace. She bent over to where….

This time the bananas were going to be jealous.

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Harry felt her hand - the one not already gloriously accounted for - sliding down the side of his chest. The mattress flexed as her weight shifted.

Whoa!

Hermione was making her intentions blatantly obvious - a tongue in the navel is not exactly a discreet way of going about things.

He knew what he wanted to do, too. Two can play that game … very well.

He felt the tickling sensation as her long hair draped over his other head, then a drip of saliva. At that, he slipped both hands around her waist and pulled her back to sitting. Rubbing his hands all over her bum, raising goosepimples everywhere, he asked her, "You did it first before. Let me go first this time?"

"Au contraire, I've already started." At his sigh, she shot him a libidinous look over her shoulder, raised herself to her haunches, and decided, "I think this time we'd be best together."

Hermione swung a leg over to straddle him. She enthusiastically returned to what she had been doing before his interruption.

Harry thought he had died and gone to heaven - for the first time in his life he entertained the possibility that a righteous God might exist after all.

He had done many naughty things with Eliza, but he had never, ever had a view like this. Hermione was now practically all he could see. She was definitely all he wanted to look at.

So he looked … and noticed a few remnant shreds of her erstwhile knickers in the vicinity. The telltale sensations from his other end demonstrated that Hermione was zealously pursuing her part of the togetherness bargain.

With the indescribable feelings rocketing through him, Harry ceased admiring the scenery, pulled her close, and went to work - his first objective being the extirpation of those remaining bits of strawberry and tangerine flavoured fabric.

Her pursuit of his happiness generated feelings even more intense than last time. Briefly, Harry's rational mind hesitated, remembering what else he anticipated doing this evening. But it felt too good. He surrendered control to altogether more basic instincts.

Harry gave entirely as much as he received. He matched her rhythm, stroke for stroke and slurp for slurp. `Swish and flick,' he reminded himself. The closer he approached his own peak, the more furiously he pursued her.

She was doing wonderful things to him. Before entirely taking leave of conscious thought, he realised she had found something very useful - indeed exquisite - for her hands to do. Before her touch showed him, Harry never realized how far his erection extended into his body.

After tonight, he would never forget it.

He lost himself to her … yet won at the same time. Losing never felt so good.

As his own pleasure ebbed, Harry's universe was reduced to little more than the delicious apex of the living arch Hermione extended so wantonly over him. Over and over, he swept his tongue across her captivating keystone bud, hungrily sampling the full range of taste; her tip so sweet, her sides salty, tart deeper in.

He had learnt well how to do this, even with things topsy turvy. He plunged forward, licked his way upwards in one motion, and at the apex - swish and flick.

Harry could hear, almost feel, her involuntary squeals, squeaks, and murmurs. He sensed subtle pressure changes from his jaw to his forehead as Hermione rocked against him in time with the rhythm he set. He must be doing something awfully right.

`Go, Hermione!' he Legilimenced.

Her multitasking ability gradually ebbed as she approached wherever it was that he was taking her.

She released his spent organ, having licked him clean. Down beneath, her lovely kneading slowed and stopped.

Instead she rose up, her hands pushing against his knees for support,. Her rocking back and forth grew more frantic as the sensations he generated overtook her.

Concentrating on him and him only, she thrust herself into his tongue ever more forcefully as her back arched.

Her rubbery legs slowly collapsed on either side of him, as she opened herself to him ever wider.

Harry was slowly succumbing to all the physical exertion. The less she supported herself, the harder breathing was for him. Fatigue set into his jaw. Still he kept on. Hermione had done wonderful - fabulous - things for him. He would return the favor in full.

Finally, he sensed a distinct shudder emanating from deep within. She let loose with a rumbling groan that he felt more than he heard. He grabbed her bum and pulled her towards him. Harry extended his tongue as far and as firmly as he could. Shaking his head vigorously back and forth, he pushed everything - mouth, lips, tongue - against her most sensitive points.

She bucked almost like he had earlier. Her groans grew louder and higher in pitch until ended with her indistinctly shouting his name. As he took another deep breath, she was THERE - wherever her personal heaven might be. She was magnificent. She was glorious….

Suddenly the fruits of her ecstasy were all over him - in his eyes; up his nose. Harry could not see. Breathing seemed impossible. Something went down the wrong way. For a frantic instant he wondered if he might even be drowning. What a way to go….

Harry could not help it. He started coughing - hard. To the extent he thought at all, he put his effort in trying not to do anything worse.

* * * *

This time, it worked. When she felt Harry start twitching and thrusting, she knew exactly what it meant. Rather than draw back, like the last time, she followed the advice she had read that morning. Holding her breath, she took him as far in as he went. That way, when he came, she was not jostled, nor did she ever feel like choking.

But everything has a price. She missed his taste and the feel in her mouth. No book learning necessary - she loved him and wanted him in every way.

Gloriously, she had him now.

In every way.

Rational thought soon faded. Maestro Harry picked up the pace again, plucking her body like a string. His tongue's wonderful movements were driving her far into unknown territory. Already he had brought her to a perfectly marvelous peak - the kind that, had she done it to herself, would have left her more than content.

What she felt now was something else entirely.

All his slipping, sliding, wiggling, and probing brought were producing transcendent feelings. Like ripples on a pond they emerged from his touch. Like waves on the sea they flowed through the length and breadth of her body until crashing into her brain's pleasure centres with the force of roiling breakers.

She had never felt anything like it before. Her diddling was puny compared to the pleasure generated by the newfound power of their love.

Nor was she controlling those feelings. For the first time, she was ceding control of her ecstasy to another - and she loved him for it.

`Go Hermione,' she heard him Legilimence. At least she thought it was Legilimency. In this mental state it was hard to know.

She found, and followed, the rhythm of his motion.

The rhythm built. Each stroke brought another charge of liquid electricity that left the nerve endings all over her body quivering. She altogether ceased trying to guide anything. Locking her elbows straight and relaxing into him, Hermione passively accepted the delights Harry offered.

He had already had her writhing in a state of penultimate passion. But something even more intense was pooling within her - growing, throbbing, and aching to be released. Finally she reached critical mass.

She topped out as the bottom dropped out. A breathtaking sensation shot through her, a rush like the long first drop of a roller coaster - only this trip, this rush, lasted considerably longer. From its epicenter at her core, waves of warmth spread to the farthest reaches of her body. Without even knowing, Hermione let out a low rumbling groan - and then one higher, and higher, until she screamed his name.

The warm waves tingled and seemingly bounced off her skin - from the inside. In an instant, Hermione's entire body shown with sweat. The reversed waves pulsed back through her body to concentrate from whence they had come.

And so did she crest.

With a final, radiant explosion of pleasure, she released all the remaining tension within her. Hermione's arms gave out, and she collapsed on top of Harry, where she lay gasping, and basking the beginnings of an afterglow that promised to be as peaceful as the previous minutes had been intense

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Until she heard him start coughing.

The first hack might have been a figment of her imagination. She was anything but coherent. His second cough commanded her attention. The third one propelled her to action. She immediately rolled off him.

Hermione was dismayed. "Harry, are you all right?" His continuing coughs answered that question well enough.

She reached out to hold his head up. He looked like a drowned rat, and the sheets around him were soaked.

"Oh dear! Harry! Did I … have an accident?" she blurted. She cursed herself for getting completely carried away and somehow hurting him.

Blessedly, his coughing quickly subsided.

A torrent of apologies followed, "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! I'm mortified that I'd do something like this to you … and on our first time. You must be revolted…." She reached for her wand.

Harry was okay. He broke into a nervous smile. "Luv, that was no accident." He wiped his face with one hand and took a whiff. "Smells like you … lovely."

He gave his hand a quick flick with his tongue. "Tastes like you too - tastes great by the way."

"But you're more fulfilling," Hermione countered with a gentle grin.

"Tastes great," Harry reiterated.

"More fulfilling," Hermione insisted.

"Well, you still tasted great," Harry persisted. "But that was just a bit too much all at once, when I wasn't expecting it."

"I suppose we can both be right," Hermione conceded. "But what on Earth happened?" Obviously, she had missed something in her research that morning.

"No idea," Harry answered. "But now that I know, I wouldn't mind chancing it again sometime," he said, grinning.

"You really mean that?" she asked. "You don't have to … if I grossed you out."

Still lying down, Harry slid his arms around her inviting, naked torso. "I mean it absolutely. I was just startled, and a bit got in my lungs."

She still looked uncertain. Glancing at her nearby wand, she looked at him, "Do you want me to Scourgify you?"

Harry pondered the offer, then shook his head. "Nah, just the sheets. I'd rather you kiss me instead."

She did, then leaned back just enough to speak. "That's the two of us mingled together," she observed. "I like it that way." Soon they found themselves cuddling side by side enjoying the afterglow. Harry was flat on his back with Hermione's head resting on his shoulder. She traced aimless designs around his navel.

Harry turned and gave her a quick, artificially noisy peck on her nose.

An evil grin flashed over Hermione's face. In one motion she bent over, gave his nose a very sloppy lick and bit it just hard enough to hang on. `Gotcha,' she Legilimenced.

"You!" Harry yelped as he tried backing away. "You're gonna get it now!" he declared as he pulled his nose free. He received another wet lick on the way out.

He grabbed her to retaliate in kind. Shrieking and laughing, they wrestled one another in the sheets, their tongues attacking each others' noses. Both their noses were thoroughly wet - and their owners almost gasping with laughter - by the time Harry managed to pin Hermione beneath him. "What now?" he asked whilst still slightly out of breath. He kissed each of her breasts.

"Why, the main event, of course," Hermione pointed out. For emphasis, she started wiggling her hips against his.

"But I already…. You made me - " Harry stammered. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," Hermione said seriously. "You're sixteen, not sixty. I'm sure you have a couple more where that came from. All I did was put up a speed bump to slow you down a bit."

"And here I was planning to apologise for giving in to you," Harry snarked as a sly expression crossed his face. "And what about you?"

"What about me, what?" Hermione played along.

Harry grinned, "How much more do you have where that came from?"

"I'm good till totally knackered," she told him with a touch of pride in her voice. "There's no numerical limit."

Harry gave her ear a little lick, "Then I've got my work cut out for me."

"Best get started, then."

With long and languid strokes, Hermione began running her right hand down his far side from the middle of his ribcage to beyond the point of his hip. "You've nothing to apologise for, Harry ... believe me. I'm sorry for making sport of you before, with that urologist comment. That wasn't your problem. From the other night, I gathered that you just needed me to take the edge off. Now, I don't think you'll have anything to worry about."

All Harry could do was gawk. Without prompting, she had done wonderful things to him - things that he would not have dreamed of asking for. "You mean that … you did that … like, for therapeutic reasons?" he asked.

"Sort of," she told him. "I wanted to anyway, but I chose the order for a reason."

"I'm sure I'm going to need more therapy," Harry replied.

"Unlike the National Health Service, you won't have to queue up," Hermione smirked.

"Okay, I'm at the front of the queue. Now what?" Harry asked, whilst gazing at her with half-focussed eyes.

She rolled over. Presenting him with her bare back, she instructed, "You may start by giving me a back rub."

"At your service, my dear," Harry readily assented. He partiallly spooned her with the lower half of his body, but left enough room for both his arms (mostly his left, which was on top) to scratch, rub, and knead her fine, smooth skin.

Before too long he had the bright idea to run the back of his hand up the center of her spine whilst ever so gently raking it with his fingernails.

All of the tiny, barely visible hairs on her back stood at attention. Hermione let out a contented grunt, pulled her knees up, ground her bum into him. The rest of her followed.

A now-familiar sensation shot through her.

Until the other night, Hermione would not have believed that having Harry's bare body pressing against hers would feel so amazing, so cozy and slippery - and just a tad ticklish where his hair, barely thicker than dandelion fluff, was beginning to sprout from his stomach and chest. Slowly she began rocking back and forth, especially her bum.

He whispered in her ear, "You were right. I think I'm going to be just fine." Then he closed the space between their torsos and started nibbling the nape of her neck.

She could feel how fine he was. "You've said it yourself…." She shuddered from his spellbinding touch. "…I'm always right."

"Thank Merlin for that." Now too close to rub her back, Harry stroked her side instead - his touch emphasising every one of her curves. She cuddled against him happily, the warm, solid evidence of her correctness rubbing against her backside.

â†"â†"â†" WARNING â†"â†"â†" CONTAINS â†"â†"â†" SEX â†"â†"â†"

"Harry," she spoke in a breathy voice. "Just below my bum, my legs … they sort of curve inwards, a little away from each other. Do you know where I'm talking about?"

"Sure do," he rumbled whilst continuing to stroke her side and run his tongue along her neck. "I had a stunning view not very long ago."

"Well, I want you to slide … yourself … right there, and then keep doing what you're doing."

Following her instructions, he readjusted himself - and instantly was most glad that he did. It soon became quite apparent that Harry would not be having any … urological … problems that evening.

Harry ran his hands all over her, from Hermione's breasts to her knees. His toes joined in, sliding under her feet. She was startled that the soles of her feet had become erogenous zones - but pleased nonetheless.

Within minutes, Harry and Hermione were both insanely excited. Her body physically begged for him as intimately he moved alongside her. Her heat caressed his firmness each time it slid by - as far forward as he could manage, then as far back as he would chance - each cycle producing a barely audible squelch. His top hand alternated between cupping her breasts and stroking her bum. His lower hand clutched the curve of her waist through the space between it and the mattress.

She was as close to surrounding him as possible without actually drawing him inside. His sensitised bell end tingled with every thrust. Their juices commingled, leaving the entire area warm, slippery, and wonderful.

Hermione was intensely aware of Harry's position. He slid back and forth only centimetres from where she craved him, easily close enough to restimulate her to prickly passion.

It was time, she decided. Hermione reached down and made ready to guide him home.

Harry groaned her name as she touched him. Once he realised her intentions, he pulled back a bit. It was not quite how he imagined that moment.

Sensing his resistance, she let go.

"Hermione, could I … the first time … I'd really like to see you," he murmured.

"Harry - lover - whatever you want, I'm happy to do," she cooed back.

She shifted, and Harry expected he would see her looking up at him expectantly. But she kept turning. The next thing he knew, she had straddled him again.

"Do you see me well enough, now?" she asked.

Harry could only gurgle an inarticulate reply. Speech was difficult with both her hands cupping him and grinding him against herself.

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Hermione noticed that she could see her reflection quite clearly in the charm that the goblins had cast on the oriel window. Equally distinct was the shadow that she cast over Harry.

"No, I rather think not," she decided, speaking half to Harry and half to herself. "Accio wand." That bit of wandless magic was perfect. Harry did not know what Hermione was planning - although he was quite sure he would like anything she did.

Keeping one hand around Harry's most exuberant manhood, she pointed her wand at the sheets below him. "Lumos transcendære," she incanted. For a moment, the spell looked like an ordinary Lumos. Then a small glowing orb separated from her wandtip and glided towards the sheets, expanding and becoming and more diffuse. The bedclothes absorbed it, and instantly began emitting their own pale white light.

When Hermione had first climbed atop him, she appeared to Harry mostly as a silhouette in the uncertain candlelight. Now her every inch glistened as if in full moonlight. He could see her as clearly as possible without his glasses.

"That's dead useful," Harry complimented. "I'd wager you've been practising."

"You'd win that bet," she admitted. "I try to be good at whatever I do."

"Good" hardly began to describe her. Hermione was not done. "Specularis totalus!" She used a spell Harry had cast against her during their recent duel. Instantly every surface in the room - except their bodies - gleamed with mirror-like reflectivity. The walls, the ceiling, the furniture, and even the sheets glittered with reflected images, although the bedclothes remained exactly as soft and silky as before.

Her spell's eye-popping effect surprised even Hermione. Reflecting back and forth endlessly the mirrored surfaces created multiple likenesses that extended into infinity in all directions. Everywhere he looked, he could see her, and she, him.

"Well, seeing me shouldn't be a problem now," she observed dryly as she Banished her wand to the (hardly visible) bedside table. The tender look in her eye disappeared; replaced by the pursed-lip expression she wore when concentrating. "You know what?" she continued. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

â†"â†"â†" WARNING â†"â†"â†" CONTAINS â†"â†"â†" SEX â†"â†"â†"

A roaring in his ears began as Harry felt her fingers close around him and shift him into position under her. Ignoring the multitude of comparatively pallid reflections, he gazed at her intently, trying to lock this moment into his memory forever. He was going to make love with this girl - not of his dreams, anymore - but of his present and future. Harry took a deep breath.

He let out a low moan as she began enveloping him, but stopped as he saw a frown mar her beautiful features. Her other movements slowed. She seemed to quiver atop him, leaving him just short of her barrier.

"Is … is something wrong, Hermione?" he asked tenderly, his hands stroking her thighs.

"This is … supposed to hurt," she answered in a remarkably tiny voice. "I-I-I thought … that I wanted to … to control it. I don't know that I want to do that anymore."

Harry drew back. "Do you want me … on top?" he offered.

"No," Hermione said in the same small voice. "I just want you … to help, somehow. To understand…."

"I do understand," he assured, whilst she accustomed herself to his intrusion. Tantalisingly, she slid a bit further around him, not even as far as before.

Their eyes locked.

"C'mere and kiss me, then," Harry invited. He extended his arms. She leaned forward, and again he felt the touch of her virginity. Harry gave her a quick kiss, as her hair fell across his face and shoulders, tickling them. He felt her breasts upon him, and behind them, Hermione's fast, shallow breathing. She was still tentative.

Barely moving his lips back from hers he whispered. "Ready? Remember, I love you…."

"I could never forget that," she replied in a voice that sent shivers up his spine.

Harry captured her mouth again, kissing her deeply. He repeated his earlier telepathic message, `Go, Hermione.' She reached out and clutched his hand. He moved up; she moved down; and the deed was done. She made a small sound - a chirp, barely a squeak - as he made her his.

As Harry felt Hermione flex her hips forward to surround him completely, he also received a jolt of sharp stinging pain. In the agony of her ecstasy, she had bitten the side of his tongue.

At the metallic taste of blood, she pulled her lips away and began to say something. "Don't you dare apologize," he shushed her. "If I had to hurt you, I should share that, too."

In the sheets' soft glow, Harry could see Hermione's hips molded seamlessly against him. Her face broke into an absolutely enthralling expression. It resembled the euphoric mien she wore after he had told her that the prophecy was not his death sentence.

Harry's stinging tongue in no way reduced his need for her. Had it, Hermione surely would have noticed, as she was committing to memory the nonpareil sensation of being filled for that one and only first time. He was completing her, rising up within her, until he touched her heart and lifted her soul. Her body grasped him tightly and strove to draw him to her completely.

Her teared-up eyes betrayed intense emotion, although she was not crying - unless shedding tears of happiness….

"Go, Hermione," he repeated out loud.

She did, and as she did, he began moving in harmony with every rhythm she set - stroke for stroke - providing an equal and opposite reaction to each of her actions. He danced inside her as she led him higher, as they now moved as one.

Her long hair swayed in the glow of the sheets, and her breasts bobbed invitingly mere centimetres from his face. Harry's hands found them instinctively, but that placement disrupted their cadence. Soon his hands returned to her hips.

Her hips now joined to his, the lovers pleasured each other.

Hermione leaned closer and closer to Harry, her pelvis angling to best receive him and her back arched with rising frenzy. She strove towards another mind-quaking climax. That same throbbing, liquid pleasure was back - overcoming her - washing hotly over her, collecting all around his presence, set to explode once more.

He concentrated on her whilst her hair swished back and forth across his chest. Intermixed with pleasure was an occasional remnant of discomfort, as her lost virginity rubbed slightly raw against him. But beyond any physical feeling, what struck him most about her was the joy of it all. She displayed an utterly wild, totally unself-conscious look of ethereal rapture. It lit up her face from within.

Joy.

Everything had been worth it! Weeks of pain and tribulation paled to insignificance. After the longest time, she was finally realising her greatest desire. The mirrors about them could just as well have been the Mirror of Erised. It did not matter at this climactic moment. The images would have been identical.

"Go, Harry!" she squealed as they got close. "Go-oh-o-oh-o-oh-o…!" She began moaning in cadence with their mutual rhythm.

Her hair whipped into a tangled mess as she pressed further onto him. Harry felt her shift forward and slip her toes between his knees. He strained to keep pace with her increasingly fast and furious movements. She was ready to erupt. He could sense it.

Hermione started clenching around him. She throbbed, as did he. Some ecstatic sound escaped her mouth, which might have been his name. Her thighs pounded furiously on him. Her pleasure burst all over them both. His essence, her heart, his soul, and her psyche merged in a single glorious union.

In their bliss, they paid no attention to a pinkish beginning to blossom about them.

Harry crashed headlong towards his own apogee. Straining to match her increasingly frenetic pace, he thrust - up, up, up … possessing her as much as humanly possible.

He carried on, oblivious to the gathering roseate halo now reflecting endlessly off the shimmering surfaces that surrounded them.

Harry let loose a primal scream of his own as he powered to a mind-shattering finish. His eyes closed. His head thrashed back and forth in triumph.

Transfixed by their mutual pleasure, neither noticed as the pink glow crescendoed in an intense ruby flash, jointly emitted by and from the two of them.

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Loud crashing, ripping noises followed the flash by a split second. Hermione's Mirror Charm collapsed. The silvered surfaces that surrounded them shattered into millions of tiny pieces and vanished. Refulgent flashes of light, as innumerable as the stars, passed before - or possibly behind - their eyes. Basic instinct triumphed as the couple surrendered their higher intellect to the waves of pleasure rumbling through them both.

This time, the "afterglow" was more than rhetorical.

When Harry next became conscious of anything beyond exhausted satiety, Hermione lay prone atop him with her breasts pillowed on his chest. Some sort of tapping sounded to his right. He turned his head in that direction. The oriel window was no longer. It had blown out. Not a pane survived in its now twisted and jagged frames.

The source of the tapping became apparent. The window was near enough for Harry to see reasonably well without his glasses. The flat sides of several goblin-forged blades banged against the defenestrated metal, whilst the goblins kept themselves discreetly out of sight.

Harry stroked her hair. "Hermione, lover, we need to get up," he said quietly.

"I need … tissues," Hermione mumbled in a tranquil, almost incoherent voice.

She withdrew her toes from between his knees. Her legs flopped down on either side of where he still filled her. "What the…?" she groaned more edgily. "Harry, put us down."

"What?"

"We have to get down before I can get up," she said in a voice now fully her own.

Harry twisted around. He was shocked to see them floating in midair, fully a metre above the bed. His grasp of this seemed to break whatever magic caused it, and the pair tumbled back to earth. Hermione managed to twist herself free just in time to avoid inflicting a most painful injury upon Harry.

She seized a box of tissues from the headboard and pulled the sheets around herself, whilst Harry dealt with his goblin guards.

Deciding that he had to ignore, for once, being starkers, Harry called out, "Alakar," in a nearly normal voice. Several bob-eared heads reluctantly hove into view, including Slamdor's.

"Impratraxis, well are you, trust do I?" Slamdor asked a question that, even for a goblin, was not much of a question.

"Yes, very," Harry answered. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

"Tell you, can I, only that failed has our blocking charm," Slamdor recounted. "Smashed through by a swathe of rose-coloured magic, was it - and then gone … pulverised. Powerful your magic indeed is, for that to do. Existed, a weak point must have."

Immediately, Harry was concerned. "Hermione, I didn't … hurt you … at the end there, did I?"

"Good heavens no, Harry," she reassured from underneath the wine coloured comforter. "Whatever happened just then didn't hurt me in the slightest. All I feel is tired."

"Thank Merlin," Harry sighed, relieved that whatever his magic had wrought (he assumed it was his), it had not injured her. What he might have done - to himself - had she been harmed, he never had to consider.

Harry continued his discussion with the goblins.

"Harry, you should get dressed," Hermione told him urgently. She began Summoning her own widely scattered clothes. "I really think we ought to be getting back."

"Why?" Harry groused. "Don't you want more of Dobby's treats?"

"I would love to cover your bits with chocolate sauce and lick it off," Hermione flirted, "but unfortunately we haven't time. Anything powerful enough to obliterate a window like that is bound to draw attention."

"Savini, worry not of your privacy being disturbed," Slamdor reassured her.

"Unfortunately that's not the issue," Hermione persisted. She hastily Transfigured a lace pillowcase into a passable replacement for the shirt that Harry had vanished previously. "Even if - especially if - your goblins bar Filch, or worse one of the staff, from entering, it will be all too obvious what we've been doing. I really don't want to get into trouble with Headmaster Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall over this."

Harry agreed that she had a point. He gathered up his things as well, and within five minutes both were ready, if not particularly willing, to leave. Harry could tell from the Marauder's Map that Hermione was right, as several persons, including Filch, were advancing in their direction.

Fortunately, the goblins had alerted Dobby. He had popped into the flat's main room, and was rapping on the door. Hermione let the elf in and instructed, "I need you to put everything back how it was very, very quickly."

"Yes Miz Myown!" he chirped brightly. "I'm trusting both Mistress and Master is all right?"

"Quite all right, Dobby," Hermione confirmed with a smile. "Everything is wonderful."

"Impratraxis," Slamdor addressed Harry rather nervously as Hermione dealt with Dobby. "The sheets, may have we?"

"They're undoubtedly quite soiled," Harry responded. "What good are they?"

"Please Impratraxis," Slamdor persisted. "Followed goblin tradition should be. As a prince, your coming of age is to Impatok Ragnok of importance. In the eyes of our law, establish will the sheets … that … that of the status she has assumed worthy she is."

"Harry, we have to go," Hermione impatiently reminded him. "Just let them have their customs."

Harry found something off about the entire request, but rather than object, for once he it go. The Map showed Filch less than twenty metres away, and entering their corridor.

He turned and followed Hermione out of the window, where the goblins had helpfully constructed a temporary ladder leading to another window three storeys below. With Slamdor issuing commands to the goblin guard, the pair left behind a place that, from this evening forward, would always be enshrined in their memories.

* * * *

Sad eyes gazed across the extensive gardens that sloped away from the Castle and dropped steeply to the lake and to the Forbidden Forest beyond. The night was dark, clear, and moonless. Its darkness matched the melancholy inhabiting her soul.

Today was her birthday. She was twenty years old. It should have been the happiest day of her life - but instead it was one of the saddest. She was alone and far from home, a guest in a strange castle in a strange land. Only one living soul had any idea of the depth of her sorrow that night.

That person was the only one who thought to send her a birthday present. Poor Maman Appoline had trouble remembering her own name. A few friends from school had owled cards, and that kind Professor Flitwick had thought to have the house elves prepare her a one-serving cake. He meant well, but the cake was typical Hogwarts fare - too heavy and much too rich for her refined tastes.

But only one present.

Fleur Delacour sighed as she removed her sister Gabrielle's gift from the magical player that had just finished with it. Fleur had always been the responsible one, whilst Gabrielle assumed a more rebellious role. Her iconoclasm lately had involved fascination with various things Muggle. Hence the birthday present, a magical CD, entitled "Huis Clos." It consisted mostly of torchy songs sung by Édith Piaf, a Muggle singer.

On the morning of the day that had ended with her life torn asunder, Fleur had confided in Gabrielle - she and Bill had set a date, she told her. They were to be married on Fleur's twentieth birthday - today. That very night, Bill and Papa had been murdered by Death Eaters.

And so she was here - and miserable - gazing out of a window under strange, strange skies.

Suddenly, she heard a loud ripping noise from somewhere outside. The next instant a brilliant streak of intensely pink light shot, she assumed, from somewhere in the Castle not terribly far to her left. Briefly the light pooled behind Hogwarts' powerful wards, revealing a bit of their hemispheric shape.

The next moment, the pink light penetrated the wards and shot off into infinity, returning everything to darkness.

Thud. Thud.

Something - something alive - leapt across her window, startling her and almost making her scream.

"Mon Dieu! Zut alors!" Her window was at least a dozen metres up.

Then it, too, was gone.

Whilst all this did not exactly add up to any sort of attack on the Castle - the magical beam was directed away from it - the security instructions issued to all Hogwarts staff were rigid. Anything out of the ordinary, particularly if on the grounds, must be reported up the chain of command. No exceptions.

This certainly qualified.

Fleur immediately called Professor Flitwick through the Floo as required. Then she drew her own wand and went to assist the investigation.

* * * *

Author's notes: As for the chapter title, I'm fine with H/Hr as "Harmony," but I can do without the "Pumpkin Pie" concept. The latter will not be found in this fic

Draco, of course, can work through intermediaries

"Economical with the truth" stems from Edmund Burke, an 18th Century British reformer and supporter of American independence

Harry has no plans whatever for the premises he acquired. Someone else does

"Trust but verify" - the old Reagan-era arms control maxim

The goblins' lack of prior notice will have an unanticipated effect

The "-od" is a goblin plural form

Contraception - Hermione is too clever not to be responsible. Fics where she accidentally gets pregnant (including one I wrote) make me cringe, it is so out of character

A cul de sac or "close" is a dead end

The buttons Harry spread are courtesy of the Weasley twins, armorors to the Order

Professor McGonagall let Hermione keep the key

Helicase is an enzyme that separates DNA down the middle

Ron's tonsils comment was in Chapter 43

All of the foods Dobby served are thought to be aphrodisiacs

It's worth going to New Zealand just for the pavlova

Lilikoi is the Hawaiian term for passion fruit

The oriel window figured in the dream that began Chapter 44

Triptych mirrors are common in clothing stores

"Waist on down" from the Who's "Dreaming"

"Not expect to be wearing them much" - a line from "A League of Their Own"

Hermione's conversation with her mother occurred in Chapter 45

Harry had never thought of Hermione as a sexy lingerie sort of person

I don't know of any other fic that features disappearing knickers

"Applied rotation" is from Zappa's "Dinah-Moe Humm"

"Swish and flick" is the first wand stroke taught at Hogwarts

Hermione was massaging Harry's erected perineum during 69

Losing … winning, the concept from ABBA's "Waterloo"

Oops, female ejaculation. Congratulations, Harry, you did good

"Pluck her body like a string" from Jefferson Starship's "Miracles" - mentioned in Chapter 22

"Big dipper" is British for roller coster

"Tastes great … more fulfilling" - a spoof on the old Miller Lite beer commercials

Hermione's resort to mirrors is fortuitously important, as they focus, amplify and cohere the pair's magical energy

Hermione's perfectionist motto surfaces again

This is an accurate description of what someone would see if inside a completely mirrored cube

"You ain't seen nothing yet" - from BTO's song of the same name

"Dancing inside" - more from "Miracles"

Lasers were first created by firing light into a mirror-silvered ruby

Having not been present for Hermione's unicorn trick in Chapter 31, the goblins wish to confirm her erstwhile virginity

Édith Piaf is a real French singer; the rest about her is made up

"Huis Clos" is the title of a J.P. Sartre work, generally translated as "No Exit"

"Strange, strange skies," is from "Moonlight Mile" by the Stones

61

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