Unofficial Portkey Archive

Wherein Hermione's doubts are satisfied, she and Harry take a trip to paradise, they decide to tie the knot, the locals are befriended, invited and uninvited guests attend the wedding, and our heroes do not live happily ever after - not yet.

Now completed. I don't ask for reviews, but this is the last chance for you to tell me if you liked it (great detail) or hated it (diarrhea of the pen).

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 one final time to betas Mark Gardiner, Shane, Mathiasgranger, and Chris Backus. Thanks also to all the other betas who assisted me during the writing of this fic.

Beta Mark Gardiner (Coulsdon Eagle) and I deliberately coordinated the near simultaneous completion of our respective fics. If you haven't read his "Hermione Granger and the Goblet of Fire," you should. It's excellent.

Chapter 88 - Interlude In Paradise

The owl's arrival may have been inconvenient, but its message was urgently and eagerly awaited. Strangely, from their passengers' perspectives, Muggle airports are quite thoroughly sealed from the sky.

Hermione's return from the loo was interrupted by the dissonant sounds of that owl, looking extremely out of place, scratching at a plate glass window separating gates 47 and 48 of Heathrow's Terminal Three. Fortunately, the steady stream of Muggle passers-by were entirely oblivious, contemplating their own journeys to come.

The owl could not enter - probably a good thing, for both the Muggles and the rather bewildered bird. Hermione darted into a currently unoccupied gate. Slipping behind the agent's counter, she uttered a Notice-Me-Not Charm, Confunded the Jetway alarm, Alohomoraed the jetway door, and temporarily Vanished one of the jetway's windows.

The impatient owl could barely wait to leave - frightened by the alien sounds and odors of Muggle æroplanes.

But its message made Hermione's tentative decision, already thoroughly overthought, incalculably easier. A heavy burden of uncertainty lifted, and she felt like flying - no æroplane necessary.

Harry sensed her more upbeat mood almost immediately. "What's up, Hermione? After all your moaning about the awful hassles of Muggle airlines, you seem rather happy. Or is flying to Hawai'i different…?"

She silenced him with a kiss, resolutely chaste since they were in public. "I just received an owl," she whispered. "From Healer Huxley…."

"So, you finally have your internship assignments?" Harry asked. "You've been fretting…."

"No," Hermione cut across, eyes flashing. "Come with me…."

In her eyes danced an offer that Harry could not refuse.

Her swaying hips enticed him to the deserted gate - LAN Chile flew only four dailies from Heathrow, and none so early in the morning. Renewing her Notice-Me-Not, she spoke breathlessly, "Harry, all our luggage is safely shrunken and in my carry-on bag. It's still more than an hour before our flight. Apparate us someplace magical and deserted, please? Right now."

"Hermione…?" Harry was still underage.

"I'll explain when we get there," Hermione avoided his unspoken questions. "Please…?"

Her pleading played on his sympathies.

Harry was sunk - incapable of resisting her. "Umm … okay, Hermione. Whatever you want." With an unnoticed "pop," they were gone.

Hermione found herself in a vaguely familiar field, overgrown with grass and bushes. A low sun low angle and a light mist combined to set the sky aglow. "Where are we?"

"Take a sniff," Harry suggested.

The slightly rank maritime odour brought last summer's memories flooding back. "We learnt Apparition here," she deduced.

"On short notice, I couldn't think of anywhere more likely to be deserted," Harry commented dryly. "Now that we're quite alone, what's going on?"

"As I told you, I just received Healer Huxley's o-mail," Hermione started explaining. "He's confirmed what I'd suspected…."

Harry wilted a bit. "Your physical therapy's been successful…."

"Oh, no. Too early to pronounce a definitive cure, I'm afraid," Hermione told him hastily, "although lately my endorphin and dopamine levels have been well within normal limits, thank you very much. Look!"

She thrust the brief note and its attachment under Harry's nose.

Healer Huxley's post was short and cryptic; allowing only that Hermione's "supposition" concerning the "nature" of the Love Potion used on Harry was "typically accurate."

As if she would ever be anything else.

The attachment - a page copied magically from that "Half-Blood Prince" potions textbook that Hermione had sent to Hlr. Huxley a month before - highlighted one word, "magnetite," which appeared both in the ingredient list and the brewing instructions.

Hermione took Harry's hand. She seemed almost … bashful. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"Umm … yeah," he responded, still in the throes of a guilty culpability he doubted he would ever fully lose. "You said that magnetic ingredients, like this, could produce geographic … umm … effects in potions at Hogwarts."

"That's right, Harry," Hermione confirmed, still holding his hand. "And now that's settled. It's been increasingly obvious every day since … well, since you volunteered to be my personal trainer - not even knowing what that entailed…."

"I'd do it again…."

"I know you would," she smirked. "Even if it didn't involve lots of sex."

"True," Harry admitted in a slow drawl, "but like you say, I didn't know that when I volunteered…. So what's been settled?"

"We've been settled…." Words ceased as Hermione leaned in to capture his lips. Ending the kiss, Hermione regarded him intently. Initially her left hand rested lightly on his chest but trailed downward as she continued. "If it's still what you want, I'm ready to take it back. I was going to tell you once we'd reached…."

Relief and joy warring across his face, Harry looked completely gobsmacked. A broad smile gradually took hold as Hermione's declaration sank in. "You mean, you'll marry me…? Again…?"

"Well, we haven't been married before, but otherwise, yes."

"You really will…?" He could not believe his luck. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You want me to marry you?"

Leaving his torso, Hermione's hands plonked themselves on her hips. "Harry, how many times do I have to say yes?"

The current number finally sufficed to get the message across.

"Oh, Hermione…." He lifted her entirely off the ground and into a passionate, toe-curling, blood-boiling kiss - a kiss that, finally, she felt capable of returning with equal ardour. Hermione's true feelings, kept awkwardly under lock and key for weeks, burst loose as her mind finally accepted what her body and soul had already concluded.

Forgiveness.

Love that filled her soul to the bursting point.

Despite all that had happened, Hermione realised she remained every bit as much in love with Harry Potter as ever in her life.

But that love was different - stronger somehow - as if tempered by fire. Their relationship had survived more adversity than either could have imagined on the fateful day that Hermione returned from her Hong Kong exile. As nice as their Château Christmas had been, by comparison they had been playing house.

Separating, pair found themselves surrounded by dramatic proof of the power of reconciliation. All about, for dozens of metres, the overgrown meadow was a kaleidoscope of colourful wildflowers, as early summer magically reverted to the height of spring. As in late autumn, when they had triggered a similar outburst, the vernal display was vibrant confirmation of the power of their love.

"Umm … wow!" Harry gasped breathlessly, overcome not only by the beauty of it all (and by her kisses).

"Wow is right," Hermione echoed. "And `wow' is why we had to discuss this in the middle of nowhere. Can you imagine the chaos we would have caused in the middle of Heathrow?"

Harry had to agree. "Umm … yeah … like Interflora exploded all over the terminal. Good thinking, Hermione," he complimented. "They'd have shut it down, with us stuck in London."

Expectantly, Hermione held out her right hand - ring finger extended, willing herself not to tremble. Harry took her hand and made a show of kissing it chivalrously.

"Harry…." Expectantly, Hermione wiggled her unadorned digit.

Harry flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, right…." He grabbed at his midsection, almost tearing of his shirt buttons in his haste. He extracted the ring, with its now superfluous garnet, from his navel. With diligently practised (in private) goblin spellwork, Harry magicked the gemstones to their original, proper position.

He took her hand again, and this time his trembled. Wishing he could say something profound, Harry wracked his brain but could not string together a remotely appropriate phrase. Absent anything better, Harry sank to one knee and murmured, haltingly, "With this ring … I hope … I'll wed thee." He returned the ring to her finger.

"Oh, Harry," she pulled him to his feet and kissed him all over again.

These kisses had the expected effect. "Umm … speaking of the middle of nowhere, Hermione, you wouldn't be interested in … you know … and not as a personal trainer anymore…."

She shot him a wry look. "Not here, Harry. This is Auror property, and undoubtedly someone be along to investigate our little magical discharge." She gestured to the surrounding wildflowers. "Besides, we don't have that much time before takeoff…. And a `quickie' is not how to celebrate our re-engagement."

"Well, okay."

"…But remember what you just said," she poked her newly decorated ring finger in his chest, "you're not just my personal trainer anymore, so don't use that sorry excuse again…."

She grinned, and so did Harry. His "personal trainer" designation, the original pretext for resuming sexual relations, had evolved into something of a bone of contention. Harry would not let Hermione gratify him - asserting his limited "trainer" role. That excuse was now inoperative.

Harry could not be happier, nor Hermione.

No sooner had the re-engaged couple returned to Heathrow than they wished they had not - a loudspeaker's disembodied voice announced, for no apparent (let alone disclosed) reason, a half-hour departure delay. A proper, extended, celebratory dalliance would have been possible after all.

Whilst Harry muttered darkly about buying or chartering his own plane instead of using Muggle airlines, Hermione sought out the gate agent. She returned, frustrated and inclined to agree with Harry, after being fobbed off with some vacuous excuse blaming "air traffic control."

Fortunately, Air Canada's violation of its contract of carriage was (for once) limited to that single, unexplained delay. Boarding proceeded smoothly - Dumbledore's legacy included two first-class tickets. Hermione had cast low-powered Muggle Repelling and Confundus Charms on her beaded bag, their only luggage besides a couple of books for the long trip. Hermione had purchased A Brief History of Time in an airport shop, whilst Harry had finally decided to read Tonks' Christmas present, Michener's novel Hawai'i.

After the left turn to first class, Harry busied himself with his watch, trying to reset it eight hours earlier on Vancouver time. He gave up because at this hour of the morning he would also have to change the date.

Ever-organised, Hermione tried to replace their scanned boarding passes in the envelope containing their travel documents. The binder was no longer empty.

"Wait a minute, what's this?" she blurted as she looked inside.

"What?" Harry peered over. "When did that get there?"

Sure enough, a roll of parchment nestled inside, as if there all along. One of Dumbledore's distinctive purple and green ribbons wrapped around it.

"This wasn't here when I removed the tickets," Hermione clucked. "I would never miss something like this."

"Must have been timed," Harry offered. "Maybe the scanning … so we were definitely going. Let's see what his last words were…."

Expectations of a dramatic epitaph were dashed. Instead of an organised valedictory, Harry and Hermione read a series of jottings in the deceased Headmaster's distinctive loopy handwriting:

I shall die, willingly.

Appearances are often deceiving. You must trust Severus Snape.

Harry's reacted to those words like sitting on one of the Weasley Twins' biting whoopee cushions. His firmly fastened seatbelt thwarted his instinctive response, jumping to his feet, so he accomplished nothing beyond scattering a small bowl of cashews supplied by one of the overly attentive first-class attendants. "What the…! Snape?!"

`Harry, don't cause a scene,' Hermione Legilimenced. `Think about it….'

`I sure have,' Harry thought back hotly, his eyes flashing. `A lot. Neville said that Malfoy killed Dumbledore in cold blood, with Snape at his shoulder, and he didn't raise a finger to stop it.'

`But according to Neville, Dumbledore also insisted upon drinking that poison in the cave,' Hermione replied mentally, trying to calm her fiancé. `Maybe he was ready to die - maybe Snape collaborated in….'

`Connived is more like it,' Harry thought sourly.

`All I'm saying is keep an open mind….'

`About Snape?'

`Yes, about Snape. He was a double agent - you know that. Just respect Dumbledore's last wish here, and ask Healer Huxley when we get back.'

Harry went along with Hermione, as the next handwritten line read:

Show this to Parry Huxley. He will tell you what you need to know.

On the next page, the Headmaster had scratched out a cryptic paraphrase of part of a well-known Muggle poem:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre,

If the phoenix cannot hear the phoenixier, then

Things will fall apart, and the centre cannot hold.

"What's that about?" Harry asked Hermione.

Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Yeats," Hermione identified. "I think that, for once, Dumbledore saw fit to comment on your private matters, Harry."

Harry did not understand. "My private matters?"

"Yes," Hermione reiterated, lowering her voice to a whisper. "In life I suppose he felt constrained in offering advice on … well … romantic interests. But in the hereafter…. In his typical indirect fashion…."

"I'll say," Harry agreed. "It's so indirect, I have no idea what he's on about."

"You've never read Yeats, then."

"Right in one."

"It's like the Order," Hermione suggested. "You're the phoenixier…."

Recognition lit up Harry's face. "And … and you're the phoenix."

"That's my surmise, anyway," Hermione went on. "This poem was his way…."

"Of telling me I was an arse and a bloody fool ever to let you go," Harry finished the thought.

"Not exactly how he'd probably have phrased it - but in essence, yes," Hermione agreed.

The last of the three pages bore only two words - at the top….

The Chamber.

Maybe Dumbledore had been interrupted, because the rest was blank.

Almost.

Harry missed the notation at the bottom of Dumbledore's note, but Hermione was more observant.

K₃[Fe(CN)₆].

Hermione spotted the chemical formula. "Dumbledore has something else to tell you, or us, Harry." Resorting to Legilimency, she added, `Something quite secret … probably about the Chamber of Secrets. Any ideas…?'

For a long moment Harry's face was blank, then comprehension dawned. It was not a happy moment.

`What, Harry?'

Harry shook his head, and looked pained.

`You need to let it out, Harry,' Hermione soothed. `I'll help you. I love you.'

`There's one thing about … even you don't know. Dumbledore moved….' Harry looked tragic. Hermione snaked an arm around him and drew him closer - as close as she could, since the æroplane was taxiing, and both were securely belted up.

`It's okay….'

Harry swallowed and finally expressed his guess. `My parents' bodies are hidden in there, and….'

`…He's telling you exactly where….'

`I don't suppose you've any in your bag, there.'

`Now, even I'm not that compulsive, Harry,' Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. `Next time I will, though. Count on it.'

Once airborne, the pair's thoughts eventually turned to their latest occasion for planning - a wedding of their own.

"At the Château," Harry suggested. "How about at midnight on 31 July … the moment I'm of age…."

"That sounds wonderful, Harry, but…." She paused, trying to marshal her Gryffindor courage.

Harry fidgeted. Finally, both simultaneously blurted out the same thought.

"I don't want a fancy wedding."

"I'd much rather not be excessive."

"You don't?" each echoed. Staring at one another, each waited for the other to elaborate.

Finally, Hermione smiled and took the lead, reverting to Legilimency. `I never expected to get married. I mean, who'd want…? But then you came along. You … well, Voldemort's out there, and I'd rather not provide another target. For some reason, he invested a lot of time and effort trying to keep us apart. Now that he's failed….'

`You think he might attack?' Harry's concern was obvious.

`I wouldn't put it past him, and I've never enjoyed society weddings anyway. My family dragged me to a few. You…?'

`I'm just sick and tired of being on display, I guess,' Harry admitted. `I want the happiest day of my life to be happy, not hectic. I was miserable at the Beauxbatons Ball, and if it's okay with you, I'd rather not do it again - to myself.'

`So what don't you want?'

`I don't want any reception.'

`I don't want an impractical and expensive white dress. The symbolism isn't even accurate, thanks to you….'

`I don't want churches or organ music.'

`I don't want bridesmaids.'

`I don't want tons of guests. That only emphasises the family I don't have.'

`Same here, Harry.'

By the time the pair were distracted to gawk at the brilliantly white Greenland ice cap, gleaming below them in the daylong June sun, the nuptials they planned would be quite intimate, indeed.

The wedding would be at the Château on Harry's seventeenth birthday, but not at midnight - a concession to their few invited guests' sensibilities: Ron, Luna, Neville, Jazzy, Tonks, Remus, Hagrid, Dobby, Shak….

And Hermione's mother.

Eva Granger had sworn that she would come all the way from Perth, Australia for her daughter's wedding.

"Your mum?" Harry commented, sounding hesitant. "When did that happen?"

Hermione felt obligated, despite her mum's horrid conduct towards Harry. "The last time I saw her - before she left for Australia," Hermione told him. "She gave us her blessing, Harry, and I promised she could attend our wedding."

He could hardly deny Hermione that, regardless of his own feelings.

Hermione's father went unmentioned, since he had fled the scene and thus from her thoughts.

Not even Hermione could persuade Harry to invite his own relatives.

"The Dursleys? Maybe Dudley, but I don't want to see the rest of those money-grubbing bastards ever again."

Harry also wanted to tell Bladvak, the goblin he knew best, about the upcoming event. He suspected that, being an honourary member of the goblin royal family, it would not be kosher (or whatever the Gobbledegook equivalent term) to marry without at least informing King Ragnok, his honourary father.

But goblins were Harry's only concession to politics. No wizard politician would be invited, not even Arthur Weasley. Well … except for Shak, but as Harry's guardian, he was different.

Blackie Howe could handle legal details. The day before, they would venture into Manchester, the nearest sizeable Muggle city to Blackwalls, and find a registrar for to issue the necessary civil marriage licence. The appropriate officiant for magical rites was harder, until one of Hermione's Eureka moments made the choice embarrassingly obvious.

`Harry, let's have Luna do it - she's the Druid High Priestess now. I'll bet she's authorised,' Hermione Legilimenced.

`Luna Lovegood … marry us?' Harry's eyebrow's rose in silent befuddlement. `But she's not even of age herself."

`Age isn't everything, Harry. I should know. Besides, I doubt the Druids care - with the recent restoration of the office,' Hermione pressed. `And even if they do, whoever's training her can help with the official bits.'

`That's … that's brilliant!' Harry was converted. `She'll keep out the religious BS.'

Plans for a stealth wedding - a fait accompli before the Wizarding World ever learnt of their engagement - thus took shape.

A while later, at 39,000 feet above Hudson's Bay, the pair addressed the symbolically important name issue.

"Harry, we touched on this before," Hermione broached the subject, "but it's serious, at least for me. I don't want to give up my surname. Women shouldn't have to…. But I don't mind losing my middle name. I don't recall nana Jane, anyway. She died when I was two."

Harry's eyes burned. "Hermione, I was just as serious. To marry you, I'll change my name to yours. If you want me to take Granger … I'll do it - even though your father … well, we never got along."

"You know I'd never demand that," Hermione quickly demurred. "Besides, imagine the uproar that extinguishing the Potter family name would cause … especially in favor of my Muggle surname. That might be even worse than the sexual role issue."

"Like I give a damn about all that. Middle name then - like you?"

"I don't want you to do anything you might later regret. James links you to your own father…."

Harry had to admit that, as usual, Hermione was on target. Still, the asymmetry bothered him. "But name changes should be reciprocal, shouldn't they?"

"Yes, but…," Hermione trailed off. "Why drop anything? Think about Dumbledore."

Not sure what she was on about, Harry asked, "What about Dumbledore?"

"He had more names than just about anyone," Hermione pointed out. "Why not you?"

Harry blinked. "You mean, just add another one?"

"Why not? If you want to, that's a better way."

"Hmmm … okay," Harry decided. "Harry James Hermione Potter it is, then."

"Harry! That's silly; be serious!"

"I am serious," Harry protested. "For good reason, I don't want `Granger' in my name; but I love `Hermione' - because that's you. It's you I'm marrying, not your crooked father."

"But…." Sighing, Hermione gave in. How could she, a feminist, object to Harry's adding a feminine name? "All right, Harry. I'll go along with that, if it's really what you want."

"Names aren't the point." Then he added a winning line. "All I really want is you."

* * * *

Hermione spent their Vancouver layover reading peacefully in Air Canada's first-class passenger lounge.

After a quarter-hour, Harry closed his Michener and mumbled something about being hungry. Hermione thought he only meant to graze at the airline's free spread, but when Harry returned more than a few minutes later, he brought a Hudson News bag with him.

Harry sat back down next to her. Hermione thought nothing of it until hearing crinkling noises. She turned and saw Harry slip two garishly pink slabs of Muggle bubblegum into his mouth.

She looked a little askance. "Harry, you've never chewed gum before in all the years I've known you."

"True, I didn't," he admitted. "Until becoming your personal trainer." His lecherous glance was enough to melt her from within, had he kept it up. "Decided right after the first session - you remember that - that my tongue and jaw needed exercise."

"Harry!"

"Well, it's true - and you asked," he smirked. His wicked grin returned. "Tell me, has it worked?"

"Oh, sweet Merlin, yes."

"Do you want these?" he asked. "They look like Muggle versions of Chocolate Frog cards. What's an Alex Rodriguez `rookie card'?"

Hermione took the card and examined it. "He's a baseball player - that's sort of like rounders. He plays for the Seattle team, which is in America, not far from here."

"Ah," Harry nodded. "Muggle sports, like football. Here's another from the same team, Griffey, father and son…. You want `em?"

"No, not really."

"Me neither," Harry shrugged. "I reckon I'll leave them here. The gum's more important, I reckon."

Hermione relaxed against him. "Immeasurably…," she purred,

* * * *

Assisted by some diluted Dreamless Sleep Potion, most of their second leg across the Pacific from Vancouver to Honolulu passed insensate, save occasional interruptions by the extremely attentive flight attendants. It would not do to be unrousable in the æroplane, so Hermione had reduced the potion's soporific effect.

Hermione had to wonder about the Yanks and their forms. Why would tourists be carrying algae, bacterial cultures, or live fish?

Even with extra sleep, they emerged thoroughly jet lagged into the late Hawai'ian afternoon - a full twelve hours behind London. Semi-consciously they passed through American customs. With their luggage shrunken and safely stowed in Hermione's beaded bag, Uncle Sam's minions had precious little to rummage through. The charms Hermione had cast on her bag ensured a smooth, uneventful passage.

Worries about finding the Honolulu equivalent of Platform Nine and Three Quarters vanished once they exited customs. Lounging near the entry point was a profoundly bronze-skinned young man in turquoise cut-offs and a blindingly colourful open-necked shirt. He held a handmade "Potter-Granger" sign.

Briskly, Hermione introduced them to their - escort, driver, or whatever. "We're Potter-Granger."

The sign-holder eyed them sceptically. "You da ones all da way from England?"

"That's us."

"Umm … da ones what spendin' a week at da Polynesian Confederation conf'rence in Kauai?"

Irritated, Harry broke in. "Yes, let's go."

"But you gots no cargo - not for all dat."

"Cargo?"

"Stuff…. Da … luggage … bags."

"Oh you're wondering why we don't have suitcases," Hermione comprehended. Around them heavily laden passengers were leaving the international port of entry.

"Yah, dat's it."

"We have plenty of luggage," Harry told him. "You just can't see it."

"Ah," the Polynesian accepted the explanation and flashed him a sign like a fist, but with the thumb and little finger extended. "Mo bettah mojo … good. Dis way, den. I'm Kimo, your guide and pilot for today."

He led them through the busy airport until reaching a section under construction - airports are always under construction. He lifted a strip of yellow barricade tape. As Harry and Hermione passed under, they felt the frisson of a ward crossing, probably of the Muggle-Repelling variety.

They left the maze of Muggle steel and glass behind. Turning a corner they came to a grassy field, shaded by tall palm trees swaying gently in the tropic breezes. An impenetrable tangle of greenery shielded the field from Muggle eyes. The thicket was perhaps five metres high and bedecked with innumerable yellow, orange, and red flowers.

The field felt almost Middle Eastern, dotted with numerous flying carpets, many Persian in design. Harry and Hermione arrived in time to watch another rug settle gently onto the grass, with four people aboard.

Quite unlike England, magic carpets were preferred transportation in Hawai'i.

"Aloha!" Kimo turned and greeted them with a broad smile. "Welcome to magical Hawai'i, Mista Potter and Miz Granger."

"Umm, that's `Hermione Potter'," Harry replied with a straight face.

Hermione immediately played along. "And that's Potter Granger," she added.

Their guide shrugged, never losing his sunny smile. "An' dese are for you Mista-Miz Harry Hermione Grangers an' Potters." He pointed some kind of seashell, and two leis flew from a nearby stand. Harry received a garland of ti leaves and shark teeth; Hermione a fluffy one of yellow plumeria, purple orchids, and kukui nuts - with a Permanent Cooling Charm to keep it fresh during the trip to the Kauai conference site.

"Dis one's yours," Kimo gestured towards a carpet, maybe two metres across and three long. Like several in the landing zone, it was mostly green with a yellow centre design that somewhat resembled a flower.

Harry held back, having never travelled by flying carpet. Hermione, having seen other travellers loading luggage on their carpets, set down her beaded bag and started extracting their luggage - her two suitcases and Harry's trunk.

"Whoa," Kimo gasped, goggling. "Dat's da kine mojo. Fo sure you wen beat da Man Sam's customs, yeh?"

"What?" Hermione asked, puzzled. Avoiding customs had never crossed her mind. She carried no contraband, only various enchanted items that, under wizard law, had to be concealed from Muggles.

That - and neither fancied waiting at Muggle baggage carousels.

"Iffa you want, de pakalolo dudes on de island really be interested in doin' dat," Kimo suggested, pinching two fingers to his mouth, pursing his lips, and making an exaggerated sucking sound.

Harry took umbrage. "No way I'd ever…!" He still blamed his being stoned for Eliza's death.

"Harry, don't, you're tired," Hermione intervened to calm him down.

"No worries, brah," Kimo backed off, hands raised in a peaceful gesture. "Nuthin' doin', nohow."

A bit guilty over his presumptuousness, Kimo seated his passengers and lifted off as soon as possible. He decided on the scenic route. He swept out over Pearl Harbor and the Muggles' gleaming white Arizona Memorial, and then inland so these English tourists could get a close view of the Waianae Range, with its thousand metre-plus peaks.

England had no mountains worthy of the name, he thought.

But that was not true of Scotland, where Harry and Hermione spent most of their time.

Kimo was a bit disappointed when his passengers were more impressed with the mountains' dense vegetation than their height.

`I'll show `em.' He guided the carpet, carefully charmed for both safety and concealment from Muggles, over Oahu's north shore and out to sea.

En route to Kauai, Harry and Hermione learnt a bit of Hawai'ian magical history. Hawai'ian magic was organic; travelling with Polynesian shamans to the islands. No divorce between magic and Muggle divided the original human settlers - magic was essential to their navigation.

Separation emerged later, and never to the extent in Britain and the rest of Europe. Only after Haoles arrived, with their religious hostility to magic, was separation instituted.

That proved to be a good thing.

Not quite a century ago, a cabal of Haole farmers and missionaries overthrew the Hawai'ian monarchy, and eventually the Americans annexed the Islands.

Hawai'ian wizardry were never subjugated. Any American wizards in Hawai'i back then kept themselves well hidden. Relations with the American ministry began much later, and always at arms length. To this day, magical Hawai'i remained proudly independent. The Kanaka Maoli flag, and no other, flew proudly over the airport's magical enclave. The same pre-monarchical insignia was emblazoned on Hawai'ian ministry carpets, including this one.

The Hawai'ian history lesson took Harry and Hermione to the shores of Kauai, and beyond. Kimo gave another grand tour, along the south shore beaches and inland through a massive red, green, and black hued canyon, the likes of which - this time - neither of his guests had ever seen.

After an exhilarating, cliff-hugging climb out of the canyon, the flying carpet swooped through a mix of late afternoon sun and clouds only a dozen metres or so over an expanse of seemingly impenetrable high-altitude jungle and swamp.

Until the bottom dropped out.

Suddenly, without warning, the carpet went from skimming above the tangled treetops to over half a kilometre in the air, hovering far above a brilliantly green valley floor caressed by the setting sun's rays.

"Merlin! Will you look at that!?"

Kimo smiled; some things were guaranteed to impress anyone.

Nothing prepared them for the extent of the drop-off, or that instead of bare rock; these cliffs were green - covered with bracken ferns and other vegetation clinging prolifically to their almost perpendicular faces. Far below, pale dots, white-tailed tropic birds they later learnt, circled serenely.

Harry had nearly plummetted to his death from a sheer Scottish cliff, but that one was less than two hundred metres. These cliffs were what … four times that?

Kimo lazily brought the carpet around so that it faced the precipitous cliffs. Soon they hovered maybe twenty metres away from these roughhewn ramparts.

"Where … are we?" Hermione asked as she loosened her traveling cloak. The high forest air had been surprisingly cool, especially when clouded, so the lightly dressed pair huddled together for warmth. Here, however, warm air rising from the sun-kissed valley restored the tropical temperature.

"Aloha from De Valley of de Lost Tribes," Kimo grinned. "You'll be spending de week down dere."

The cliffs, whilst sheer, were anything but even. Waterfalls - some active, others dry, all nameless, eroded the rock vertically, every couple dozen metres or so, creating a fluted effect, almost like a curtain - a curtain of green - from the back of the hidden valley almost to the sea, visible over a kilometre in the distance.

Neither noticed any sign of human habitation.

"Excuse me, but where's the village?" Hermione inquired in a somewhat bossy voice.

"We have da kine concealment wards in de Lost Tribes," Kimo responded with a shrug. From a flap in the carpet he produced two pairs of … something approximating old-time aviator goggles.

"Put dese on and den say wot you see."

A well-kept village blinked into view - several substantial buildings, including a conference center, surrounded well over a hundred smaller huts. Patches of flooded fields indicated some agricultural activity.

The sun was literally on the horizon as they drifted to the neatly cleared landing field. Hermione had Harry watch for a green flash, but none materialised, most likely (she said) due to high north-shore waves.

The tropical sun sets quickly, so they left registration in complete darkness. A Polynesian Confederation of Covens guest Portkey delivered them to their deluxe hut at the back of the valley.

"Hut," or "hale" in Hawai'ian, did not do justice to their accommodations. Powerful Rain Repelling Charms augmented the thatched roof. Should there be erratic weather, adjustable Heating/Cooling Charms could control temperature. Large Flutterby Bushes, growing naturally in the tropical environment, separated their hale from the others. Their quivering branches beckoned to the newcomers.

The hale's walls were swathed in fragrant umbrella-sized hibiscus - a riotous mixture of pink, yellow, red, orange, lavender, and white. On command, these flowers opened and closed, blocking or allowing breezes. Otherwise the hale mostly lacked exterior walls, so this vegetation also provided privacy. The only solid walls were two metres of black lava blocks at the rear, supporting the roof and concealing the plumbing. A flagstone deck by the side door featured a recessed multi-person spa. Geckos and colourful Hawai'ian spiders, charmed to avoid humans, eradicated mosquitoes and other insect pests.

The hale also featured a convenient minibar, or at least Harry assumed from his Neuschwanstein experience. When Hermione opened it, they learnt differently. Nary a three-ounce booze bottle nor a bag of sweets was in sight. Instead, the cabinet - much larger on the inside than out - was filled with bowls of fruit and nuts of all descriptions, cut pineapple, mango slices, papaya cubes, kiwi sections, strawberries, macadamias, cashews, and much more. The door held an extensive array of Fruitopia flavours and bottled water. Pastel-coloured mochi balls, stuffed with ice cream, filled the freezer. Anyone with a salt craving could gorge on Portuguese black bean soup, kalua pig, or (of all things) Spam.

The immediate question was who was hungry for what?

The bed was … evidently an issue….

The event staff chose not to speculate about the couple's sleeping preferences. Instead, they stuck a note to their front door - complete with proper Hawai'ian pronunciations - detailing the spells and wand taps that could merge separate beds, or vice versa.

That was a no-brainer.

Chilled potions left on the nightstand presented another choice. One option was guava-flavoured Dreamless Sleep Potion. The other was lilikoi-flavoured Pepper-Up Potion.

They had been travelling for more than twenty-four hours.

Holding the two potions in either hand, Hermione asked Harry. "Which do you want?"

"Hermione, we haven't had a moment to ourselves since you agreed, again, to marry me despite everything I did….

Harry saw Hermione frown.

Time for a mid-course correction.

"…everything that happened to you. But for every waking moment, I've wanted nothing more than this moment - to have you to myself. Evanesco!"

The Dreamless Sleep Potion vanished.

"Excellent choice, Harry."

That choice was also a no-brainer.

"Now come here, you…. And no more excuses about only being my personal trainer…. Evanesco!"

"Hey, I might have wanted those clothes!"

"You've got more - I helped you pack, remember. You watched." Her beaded bag lay on the floor by their bed. She bent over and opened it up, fishing.

"Evanesco!"

"Harry…! Well, I suppose turnabout is fair play…."

"Just don't turnabout quite yet." The sight of her most intimate places peeking - almost winking - at him through that delightful little cleft just below her arse made him almost painfully hard. "I can still do that bit with my tongue, you know."

"As can I…. There." She stood, and faced him in all her disrobed glory - holding what resembled a Muggle spray can in her right hand.

"Wow … umm … what's that….?"

"Oh, a little going away present from the Twins; courtesy of Weasley's Wanton Witches. Now, what do I like best … chocolate sauce, whipped cream, caramel, or cherry pie filler…?"

"Oh, Merlin…."

"Or maybe all of the above?"

Perhaps forty-five minutes later, an intense pink flash jolted the most mauka (landward) of Honopu's guest hales. The roof stayed on, thanks to the hale's permeable walls. The umbrella-sized hibiscus blossoms flapped madly in the flow of magical energy.

Afterwards, all was still once more.

* * * *

Felicitously, the Seventh Pacific Basin Magical Cooperation Gathering ran on Hawai'an time, meaning the hosts were not early risers. The opening ceremonies started at noon. Long before then Hermione slipped free of Harry's soundly sleeping arms and, clad only in a colourful guest kimono, crept outside to examine the spa.

The fleeting tropical dawn was breaking. From the back of the almost vertical northwest-facing valley the visible evidence was limited to pinkish clouds floating above the towering cliffs. These persistent shadows meant less sunlight, so the thick forest filling the valley's wider makai (seaward) reaches thinned considerably around their hale.

The nearest cliff face shot upwards less than twenty metres away. A green wall of vegetation thickly shrouded its black eroded lava, the verdant curtain broken only by dark vertical stripes kept clear by intermittent waterfalls. The volume of falling water abated overnight - summer was something of a dry season - and most of the nearer cataracts no longer flowed constantly. Constant breezes along the upper cliff faces shredded these smaller falls' remnants, filling the air with light mist.

As the unseen sun rose, the valley's deep viridian shadows lightened. Broken only by occasional trees, the thickest, softest moss Hermione had ever seen or felt carpeted the ground. Leaving the grass-woven one-person flying guest mats behind, she walked the faint footpath towards the very back of the valley. In the cool of the morning Hermione wandered, moss tickling her bare feet and refreshing mist moistening her face and hair. She followed the path until the gorge curved slightly eastward and brought into view the terminal waterfall marking the back of the valley - hundreds of meters high. Higher still, the sun's slanting rays set the tips of the cathedral-like cliffs alight in brilliant lime.

If not paradise, this place was closer to it than anywhere in the world.

Retracing her steps, she paused only briefly to refresh with a Beachside Blast from their not-so-minibar. Slipping off her kimono, she wriggled back into bed next to Harry. Sensing her whilst still asleep, he grunted and rolled onto his back so she could snuggle into his side. One thing never changed - whilst sleeping together they never wore clothes.

She lay still next to him, comfortable in his warmth, but could not fall back to sleep. Instead, she thought … about her, Harry, their oft-threatened love, and this place….

Her mind was made up before Harry awoke.

Gradually he started to stir, mumbling something … something that for once sounded enjoyable. He would rouse soon - she had slept with him enough to know his tendencies.

"Harry, I think I'd like to do it here," she whispered in his ear.

His eyes popped open, disbelieving at striking lucky so early…. "What? Oh. Sure…. Just let me hit the loo first…."

Once Harry returned, Hermione let him know that she meant more than just another round of mind - and magic - blowing sex. "Harry, what I'd like is to be married here. It's the most serene, beautiful place I've ever seen. I don't want to wait until we're back in England."

That focussed Harry's attention. "Wow, Hermione. That's sudden…. No, I mean I'd love to, but the Ministry…. I'm underage, and you know they'll try to interfere. That's why we decided to wait for my birthday in the first place."

"Then we won't tell them."

"We won't?"

"No, we won't," Hermione repeated. "I've thought this over. I'm sure the Hawai'ians will happily marry us. I mean, honestly, they offered to help me get pregnant. We don't tell Arthur or any other wizard, and postpone our return flight for a few days. We can rebook from a Muggle town, using your BoE card. I can call Mum. Once the Ministry delegation is gone, we get married - right here - the back of this valley is amazing. Then we keep quiet until your birthday. I'm happy to have a second, civil ceremony back home, but here is where I want to become your wife…."

"Okay … the sooner the better…. But what about our friends?" Harry wondered. "Flying over, we spent all that time deciding whom to invite."

"That was before I saw this place," Hermione pleaded. "We can have a Château ceremony like we'd planned. But … come on; put on a robe. You haven't seen everything in daylight, yet - not really."

They both dressed - a good idea since the village was beginning to stir. The locals were interested, however, on the conference's long-awaited start, not on the largely uninhabited far reaches of the valley.

"Wow!" Harry's reaction duplicated Hermione's when he saw the collection of waterfalls at the back of Honopu Valley. The mist thickened, as did the moss, as the valley narrowed to a mere ten or so metres wide, surrounded by jungle covered cliffs far taller than any tower at Hogwarts.

"So you'd like to get married here, too?" she sought confirmation.

"Yeah, this is awesome," Harry agreed, "but we'll need bathing costumes if we're planning to stay for more than a few minutes."

"We don't have them, but do you … umm … want to stay for more than a few minutes?"

"Hermione, what do you…?" His question became superfluous as Hermione shed her increasingly damp clothes and, holding only her wand, scampered for the large pool at the base of the main falls.

Harry needed no further convincing. He stripped down and started to follow, only to pull up abruptly after a few steps. Near the pool's edge, moss gave way to bare rock, not suitable for bare feet. Hermione, he noticed, had Transfigured a soft pathway all the way to the water. He doubled back, followed her footsteps, and dove in.

Half an hour later, the pair donned clothes as thoroughly soaked as themselves and made their way back - having ticked off another adventure on Hermione's mental to-do list. Hermione had seen the idyllic Hawai'ian travel pictures of deserted waterfall pools, and had secretly resolved to make love with Harry in one. But she had arrived with no idea where to look.

For once they stood Sod's Law on its head. Something finally turned out to be much easier than Hermione expected.

* * * *

A pleasant aspect of Dumbledore's legacy was a schedule quite light on mandatory commitments and correspondingly full of free time. One of Harry's and Hermione's few obligations was to attend the Convening of the Covens - the opening ceremony where all the attendees were welcomed and formally introduced.

Both wore the muumuu-weight robes favored by the locals. Sure enough, plenty of heads turned when Harry was introduced. The story of his Basilisk-related derring-do had reached as far as the Polynesian Covens, albeit it in somewhat garbled fashion.

Basilisks were unknown in these parts. Instead, Harry was reputed to have single-handedly dispatched a huge mo'o - taking a page from local mythology.

During the course of this see-and-be-seen event, Harry and Hermione spotted the woman they hoped to find; she of the imposing, and mostly forgotten, name. Luckily, she remembered them much more precisely than they, her.

"Unh…. Hello, Miss…."

"Harry! Hermione! I was hoping to welcome you here personally. Hi'iaka Kupaianaha. I don't know if you remember me…. Right now I have liaison duty for the Confederation, so you can even say that this is part of my job…."

She knew her name was difficult for non-Hawai'ians, so she volunteered it.

"…So, are you enjoying yourselves so far?"

"Oh, absolutely," Hermione broke in effusively. "Never better, in fact."

"This place really is paradise," Harry chimed in happily, but Hermione sensed nervousness in his inflexion.

Hi'iaka was well into her perky, can-I-help-you persona for the Gathering. "Great! What are you planning to do now?"

"Well, I think I'll stay and observe some of the plenary … you know, learn what the major issues are…."

Harry's eyes glazed over; even anticipating the actual event seemed boring.

Hermione knew that instinctively. "…But Harry, that's not really his cup of tea. I think he'd rather do something else…."

"Anything, actually."

"Well, Harry might find an afternoon trip to the beach enjoyable. The locals - boys around his age - go surfing once most of the Muggle boats leave…. I wouldn't ordinarily recommend … he's Haole … but Harry being Harry; he could handle any problems…. Anyway, if I can help you with anything, let me know…."

Hermione squeezed out, "Well, there is actually."

Hi'iaka's eyes lit up, then darkened again, as she saw how fidgety they both acted. "Umm … what is it?"

"Can we speak to you in private?"

"It's important."

"I'll bet it is," the young Hawai'ian responded. "I'm on duty now, but I have a break coming up. How about, in fifteen minutes in…." She pulled out a red, yellow, and green event calendar and perused it. "…room 124. It won't be used for the rest of the day."

Harry almost missed the appointment. Most of the French observer delegation (present due to interests in Tahiti and New Caledonia) descended on him, full of questions about Basilisks and his upcoming training with their elite wizard commandos. Harry tried to be diplomatic, so he only escaped with a minute or so to spare.

Fortunately, the French spared Hermione. She used the time well and located the room in question.

They reached Room 124 less than thirty seconds before Hi'iaka arrived. Once inside Hermione locked and Imperturbed the door.

"What's up that's so hush-hush?" the Hawai'ian asked with great interest.

"This has to stay secret," Harry impressed upon her. "If my Ministry gets wind of this, my enemies might try to grab control of my life. I've just escaped one wizard's thumb, so I'm not keen about winding up under another's."

Hermione finally answered the main question. "We want to get married - here. But Harry's still under age, so we need a secret ceremony."

"Wow!" was the only possible response. "What brought this on?"

"A lot of things," Harry took up the narrative. "But the back of the valley, behind our hale, is so beautiful with the green cliffs, the amazing waterfalls, and the soft moss underfoot, that when we saw it this morning, we knew this was where we wanted to pledge ourselves to each other."

"So we'd like to extend our stay by about three days, and get married after the Conference ends and the foreign delegations depart," Hermione explained. "We love Arthur Weasley, but to tell him would put him in an impossible situation - caught between his official position and his relationship with us."

"I'm sure we can arrange something," Hi'iaka reassured - although she felt far from certain herself, suddenly charged with keeping the biggest secret in these parts since the Americans broke the Japanese navy's code. "Of course we'll be discreet. Most of us think you British are only marginally less arrogant than the Americans."

"So you'll help us?"

"Of course," she smiled. "But don't get your hearts too set on the back of this valley. You saw how damp it is, and a lot of activity would probably ruin the moss and create a sea of mud."

Harry looked downcast. Hermione looked ready to research moss-preservation spells.

"Besides, you haven't seen our ali'i wedding site one valley over," she went on cheerily. "If you liked the waterfalls here, you'll positively adore that spot. I guarantee it."

"I'd love to see it," Hermione agreed instantly.

"The valley to the east is called Kalalau. It's much bigger, and we have to share it with Muggles, so I'll have to involve our Kahuna to arrange things. It's best seen in the afternoon, anyway." Smiling brightly, Hi'iaka clasped her hands together and fairly bounced on her heels. "Ooh, this is going to be so much fun…."

* * * *

Predictably, Harry found the conference, with all its diplomatic nuances, profoundly boring. An Ashrak this was not. Hermione, on the other hand, was quite fascinated by the gathering and all its exotic magical cultures.

Harry excused himself and decided to do some running - exercise to keep fit for his nocturnal adventures with Hermione, he rationalised. He took the smooth metalled path leading to the mouth of the hanging valley. This was a fine jogging route except the final couple of hundred metres, which dropped dizzily. Alongside the stream's roaring cascade, Harry navigated a steep and rocky descent to the beach.

At the beach, his eyes widened. The stream…. It flowed through a gigantic natural stone arch at least ten metres high at its apex. Avoiding sand that was scorching hot in the bright sunlight, Harry soaked his trainers in the stream to get a closer look. Distracted by the otherworldly scenery, he did not initially notice his audience.

A group of the local boys, some Harry's age, and others noticeably younger, were lounging on the makai side of the arch, shadowed from the hot sun.

One of them, with long dreadlocks, addressed Harry sharply. "'Ey cuz! Haole boy! Wot you doing on our beach, malihini?"

"Bored with the conference," Harry answered warily. "Thought I'd see what the beach was like. I'm not disappointed, I tell you."

"Not disappointed, eh?" another replied with a chuckle. "Where you from?"

"Britain … that is England."

"Well come on over mistah Britain," the first one gestured. "Mebbe we g'wine gib you some o' dis…."

As Harry approached, he saw smoke curling from something in the boy's hand. He recognised the odor. It definitely was not tobacco.

"Umm … no thanks," Harry turned down the splif. "I'm not into that."

"K den, wot you inta, cuz," a third boy asked, standing up. They all wore long board bathing costumes, t-shirts cut-off at mid-chest, and what looked like rubber sandals. Harry was in jogging shorts, a half-buttoned aloha shirt, and soggy trainers.

An epinephrine rush shot through Harry's body. He realised he was outnumbered eight to one … and without his wand.

"Umm … magic, really," Harry replied, looking around. He spotted another type of long board propped against the rock. "You blokes surfing?"

"Blokes? Wassa `bloke'?"

"Not yet, brah," the one who originally hailed Harry shook his head. To the extent this crew had a leader, he was it. "Choke with de Muggles. Mebbe later. You do dat Haole mojo den? Where's yo wand, malihini?"

"Don't have it with me."

"Don' got it?" the voices were becoming less friendly. "So how you g'wine make mojo den?"

"Like beef, Haole?"

Harry had to do something. The pack of Polynesians confronting him was becoming increasingly aggressive. They could attack - either magically or physically. Although with his extensive defence training, Harry was confident he could take any number of them; a brawl would hardly be diplomatic. Discretion was much better than valour.

"Like this." Harry replied. With a swish of his right hand he wandlessly Levitated all of their surfboards. Twisting his left hand he set the hovering boards twirling in midair.

"Ai yah! Look wot he wen do. Dat's da kine, brah," one of the boys backed off, sounding impressed. "What's yo name Haole boy?"

"Harry Potter."

"Sheeut. Fo real?"

"Right on, brah! Alohaz!"

"Wanna go surf, brah?" the dreadlocked boy asked.

Instantly, matters improved immeasurably. The locals all wanted to surf. Concealment Charms kept them hidden, but too many Muggle boats were sailing too close into shore. Invisible or not, slamming broadside into a boat was dangerous.

"Can't you cast a Muggle Repelling Charm?"

"Dat's kapu - not on da water."

"On de nomojos? Don' know how."

"De moana's too big."

"Let me try something else, then."

Harry used air elemental magic to produce a cool offshore breeze - cool enough to form a thick fog bank that quickly drove the Muggle boats well out to sea. The spell had to be renewed every forty-five minutes or so, but that left plenty of time for quality surfing. Harry did not realise it, but his magic also created optimal surfing conditions.

The waves started as mediocre, but gradually improved. The most dramatic change was the locals' attitude, which shifted from aggressive to feeling honoured to have Harry in their midst. Each invited Harry to use his (no wahines in this group) surfboard and plied the first-timer with helpful tips. The one closest to Harry's build happily swapped his dark green cut-off tee, with an odd hand symbol on it, for the visitor's aloha shirt.

They showed Harry how to place his feet, and how to use the board's charms to his advantage. Charming a board to perform better on the breaks was cheating, but Self-Paddling and Homing Charms just made life easier.

The locals even taught Harry to make their own version of a Portkey. They enchanted segments of pandamus fruit so, if tightly squeezed, they transported the user to the beach. In major wipe-outs nobody wanted his okole worked on the rocky sea bottom, and newbies like Harry were particularly prone to those. He "busted plenny wipe outs" whilst learning how to surf.

But Harry gradually attained proficiency, thanks to the same natural athletic talent that once made him Hogwarts' youngest Seeker in a century. Riding a surfboard was not that different from riding a broom. Compared to flying a narrow, round broomstick, balancing on a broad, flat surfboard was easy.

After several hours, Harry got the hang (ten) of surfing.

He suspected that the others, despite their denials, were not above a bit of magical cheating whilst riding the waves. Some of their manœuvres, especially when going airborne, were hard to believe. So Harry cheated a bit, too, but not by using magic on his borrowed surfboards.

Instead, he charmed himself, reducing or increasing his weight as the situation warranted. A Featherlight Charm, timed just right, let him zoom right over the peak of a wave - provided it had not curled too much. With the opposite charm, he would sink and cut right through a disappointing wave, bobbing up on the other side.

But mostly Harry used water elemental magic on the waves - wandless attractive spells that enlarged the waves he rode. Whilst everyone else was catching eight-to-ten footers, Harry seemed abnormally lucky; with his selected waves almost always rising to twice that height at their peak.

Beginning another exhilarating slide down a magically magnified breaker, Harry spotted Hermione and Hi'iaka wafting down the face of the hanging valley on their one-person flying mats. Trying to wave to them, Harry lost his balance, producing a spectacular over-the-falls wipe-out that called his pandamus Portkey into service for the last time that day.

He materialised on the beach at almost the same instant a frantic-looking Hermione swooped down.

"Merlin, Harry!" she screeched. "You could have been killed! What on earth do you think you were doing?"

"Umm … surfing."

"Well, yes, I could see that," Hermione snarked until finally admitting to herself that Harry's idea of fun would always be mortifyingly different from hers. "Oh, you'll be the death of me. That was nearly as bad as Quidditch. Anyway, what I should really be saying is aloha au ia oe, since we've arranged to visit the … umm … you-know-where."

"Okay, but I need one of those," Harry pointed at her mat - his reluctance to end his surfing adventure outweighed by his interest in seeing the place he would probably become her husband in less than in a week.

"Here, I brought your mat for you," Hermione tossed a neatly rolled up rattan cylinder to him. "I noticed you didn't take it from our hale."

"Didn't know it was there."

"You left your wand, too, by the way." Looking a bit superior, Hermione handed Harry his dual-wand wrist holster.

The rest of the surfers, left behind by Harry's abrupt Portkey to the beach, pounded up the strand. "Sweet Pele, Potter, this wasn't what I meant. What are you doing with this bunch of kolohes?" Hi'iaka commented disdainfully. She recognised several of the village's most notorious ruffians and knock-abouts.

"Umm … surfing."

"Well, good for you."

"Aloha, guys," Harry took his leave. "Let's do it again sometime."

Harry floated off between the two women as the appreciative scrum of young, thoroughly sodden Hawai'ian warlocks waved good-bye, using the same strange hand gesture emblazoned on Harry's traded-for shirt.

"Hi'iaka, what's this mean?" Harry asked, making a fist with his thumb and little finger extended to either side.

"That's called a `shaka'," their guide explained. "It's sort of like `aloha.' It means everything from `hello' to `just having fun' - all good stuff. When you flash anybody that sign, it means your friends…."

She threw Hermione a saucy look.

"…or in her case, lovers."

Harry grinned and threw a shaka at Hermione whilst Legilimencing, `I love you.'

Her face glowing, Hermione returned the gesture.

As they flew their mats back towards Honopu Valley, now glowing luminously green in the sun's westward rays, Harry glanced uncertainly at the towering cliffs.

"Do we fly over those to get there?"

"We could, but it's easier to take the underground route," Hi'iaka advised, "not to mention safer, with all those infernal tourist helicopters flying around. Muggles call them the `Hawai'ian state bird'."

Just before the conference center, Hi'iaka veered sharply left towards a gigantic mango tree that guarded the valley's eastern ramparts. She put a large triton shell to her lips and blew a pattern of two long, three short, and two long notes. An opening appeared in the dark cleft of an almost dry waterfall track.

"In here," Hi'iaka led. She coaxed a couple more sounds from the triton, which sounded strangled to Harry's western ears, and the end of the cut-off shell started glowing.

"Lumos!" Harry and Hermione followed suit with their wands.

"What is this?" Hermione asked, always inquisitive.

"Mostly natural - old lava tubes," their guide explained. "The whole island's honeycombed with them - all the Islands, actually. Our ancestors just connected them."

"Do these tunnels extend under Muggle areas?" Hermione inquired.

Hi'iaka laughed. "Of course, that's one reason to use them, to avoid prying Muggle eyes."

"I have errands to run in some Muggle town," Hermione stated. "I need to change our return flight without the Ministry knowing, and I have to call my mum. I promised her that, when I married Harry, she could be there."

"O … kay," Harry acceded. He would never prevent Hermione from inviting her own mother to her own wedding, even if he did not like that woman very much - those dreadful (if now withdrawn) accusations of hers still sharp in his mind.

The goblins were a different story. Harry strongly suspected that Impatok Ragnok would be displeased if they married without at least trying to contact him in advance.

But neither knew if the goblins could even be reached from here, let alone how.

"Umm … Hi'iaka," Harry called to the Hawai'ian witch leading them through this very long, very dark - and come to think of it, downright cold, tunnel. "Do you know how to contact goblins? I ought to invite their … er … leader to the wedding, or at least to send a representative…."

Hi'iaka slowed her mat to a crawl. "Sorry? I don't know what you're talking about. `Goblin' isn't familiar to me."

"You've never heard of goblins?"

"No, sorry."

This was worse than Harry expected. "Let's see - they run our bank, Gringotts. They're shorter, a bit over a metre tall. They have long clawed hands and feet. Sharp, pointy teeth. Some have pointy beards. They're fierce warriors, excellent miners, and artefact makers, too…. They live almost entirely underground…."

"Oh," she responded, recognition in her voice, "you mean Menehune - that's what we call them. Legend has it that they first joined these tunnels…."

Harry was relieved. "Great! How can I tell them about the wedding?"

They had never seen the Hawai'ian witch shudder in fear before. "Not a good, idea, Harry. We - that is, Hawai'ian wizardry - aren't on good terms with them. Our ancestors drove the Menehune from the Na Pali hundreds of years ago. Since then, the Menehune … I'd call it an armed truce. Basically, we don't bother them, and they don't bother us."

"But surely you know where they are - how to contact them if you had to?"

"Where they are, yes…. I know one access point at KÄ«kÄ«aola, what the Muggles call the Menehune Ditch. But I warn you, their reputation is rather violent…."

Harry was still mulling this information when Hi'iaka came to a halt, pulled out the triton shell she used like a wand, and blew another pattern of long and short notes. A doorway opened, and sunlight flooded in, suddenly painful to their dark adapted eyes.

They emerged onto a little-used path laid with rough-carved lava blocks. Fine red mud coated it, making for slippery footing. The distinctive low rumbling roar of falling water filled the air.

Hi'iaka chanted something in Hawai'ian - or so they assumed - and blew the triton. The rumble disappeared.

"That's better. This way. It isn't far."

Not far meant less than ten metres, over a route thickly overgrown with strawberry guava and pandamus. They reached an ancient sun-dappled stone altar commanding an awe-inspiring view. Spread out before them was a great tree-filled valley, several times the size of Honopu. It sloped to the sea, surrounded on three sides by green fluted cliffs that, if a bit less dizzyingly perpendicular than Honopu's, were equally stunning in their sheer height and breadth.

The sunlit valley floor sent a warm breeze that caressed the visitors, banishing the chill from the long tunnel. Clouds spilled over the cliff tops far above, but the valley's rising warmth pushed them well away, allowing the late afternoon sun to bathe everything in its golden light.

They occupied a timeworn stone platform built on the shoulder of a precipice at least five hundred metres above the valley floor. Above them, for another seven hundred metres, towered green, vegetation-choked natural escarpments. Down those cliffs, on either side of where they stood, flowed two massive waterfalls, each carrying at least twice the volume of anything in Honopu. The falls were too close for their tops to be visible. Their erosive power undercut the rock, naturally maintaining these crags' soaring verticality.

Fast flowing streams emerged from pools at the bases of the twin falls. They swept past either side of the platform, merged in a rough triangle, and dove over the edge in a massive single cascade that plummeted into the valley below.

The sublime combination of emerald cliffs, misty waterfalls, balmy breezes, and brilliant tropical sunlight was like nowhere else on earth.

After spending a few ethereal minutes simply soaking in the views, before, behind, above, and below - and literally soaking in the moist air - Hermione turned to Harry and uttered a single word, "Yes."

Overwhelmed by the whole experience, he just nodded dumbly.

She threw herself into Harry's arms and gave him a bone-crushing hug.

Harry lifted Hermione off her feet and swung her around, reminiscent of their first encounter once she returned from Hong Kong almost a year ago.

"Yes," he echoed.

Enthusiastically accepting the venue, they inspected it more closely. On the makai end, just beyond the stone pavement's edge, Hermione noticed a bowl-shaped indentation, maybe three metres in diameter, partially filled with leaves and dirt. "What's that?" she asked.

Hi'iaka apologised for its condition. "We'll have it ma'ema'e in time, I promise."

"But what is it?" Harry asked, now genuinely curious.

"We simply call it Paradise," Hi'iaka answered, blushing a bit. "After the ceremony, you will be left alone, with an opportunity to consummate your relationship … there. It will be filled by a large, traditional Hawai'ian mattress. Once you are wed, everyone departs except your seconds, and they remain behind a charmed privacy screen until you summon them."

"Why summon them?"

"Hermione, it is a beautiful place … I rather like the idea…."

"They'll - we'll, since I'm Hermione's second - be converting the Kahuna's carpet for your use to bring you back."

"No tin cans, please."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"I agree, Harry, but one question … is `Paradise' itself charmed?"

"Legends hint that it was, but if true, those charms are lost and have not been renewed in our memoury."

"What kind of charms are we talking about?" Harry wondered aloud.

"My point exactly," Hermione reiterated. "They wouldn't be similar to that Phallic Rock you once mentioned, would they?"

Rendered speechless, Hi'iaka could only nod.

"So I suspected," Hermione pointed her wand at the indentation and cast her spell-revealing charm, Survellius revelato. The area appeared rather foggy and indistinct.

"What do you think, Harry?"

Harry ogled his bride-soon-to-be. "I think we need to be careful, but between the two of us, I'm sure we can arrange something."

* * * *

Contacting Hermione's mum was simple - an international telephone call to a number Hermione already knew.

Rearranging their return flight was only slightly harder. Another Surveillius revelato showed that Harry's passport was not enchanted at all (Hermione had had Muggle passports since age ten). Somewhat humourously, they modified their papers to read "Hermione Potter" and "Harry Granger." The deeper implications, however, tickled more than their funny bones. The resultant lovemaking session was sufficiently enthusiastic that they were interrupted by Covens' security service enquiring if everything was all right.

Reports of a woman screaming, indeed.

A reminder to remember their Silencing Charms was not the worst thing in the world. Harry and Hermione had almost lost track of time - a special dinner engagement. Hermione had encountered Manongia O Kaeaea at that morning's plenary session and almost immediately invited him over for a visit. The three chatted until past midnight, as Harry and Hermione told the Aotearoan representative the full ramifications of their earlier meeting - how his informed speculation about Cho Chang's tattoo was an essential link in a chain of events that included the Battle of Stonehenge. His assistance helped prevent the likely fall of the British Ministry and a catastrophic Death Eater takeover. News of this made the representative pale, then puff up proudly, as the value of his assistance became clear.

The next day Harry went surfing again and Hermione attended more of the Conference. In late afternoon, they boarded a quick carpet to Hanalei - the nearest Muggle town of any size. Hermione bought new return tickets under their assumed names. She felt somewhat guilty because she had encountered Arthur Weasley at the day's session.

An expectant senior Weasley confided that he had booked on the same Muggle return flight to London that Harry and Hermione would now not be taking.

Harry quickly dispelled her guilt. Spending a good twenty hours with Arthur Weasley, cooped up in Muggle æroplanes, was a bad idea indeed. Their conversations would undoubtedly involve extensive discussion of "the late" Ginny Weasley.

A far better liar than Harry would be pushed by that experience.

The most convenient alternative return flight was on an American carrier. Purchasing a second set of tickets and forfeiting their original reservations was simpler. The money meant nothing.

Using the elusive Menehune as middlegoblins to contact the Gablankansta promised to involve an entirely different degree of difficulty.

Hermione was working through a Tagalog translation of the Patronus Charm with a Filipino delegate when, ironically, Harry's Patronus hit her in the back. "Meet me on the beach behind the arch in half an hour. Tell nobody. Dress Muggle. It'll be fun - I hope."

As soon as was polite, Hermione bustled from the conference. She knew Harry had been trying to arrange a surreptitious trip to the Menehune contact point - where they would try her idea about what might impress Hawai'ian goblins with aggressive reputations but probably primitive techniques.

Several of Harry's surfing buddies came to guide Hermione once she reached the beach. Although Hi'iaka had warned that some of these ruffians were less than trustworthy, they were perfect gentlemen in escorting her to Harry.

He was waiting, just on the makai side of the arch, his Manmak signet ring on his finger and his Arakkilli positioned just so over his wrists. Harry wore his old constellation shirt as a muscle-T, shorn of both sleeves. He was sharing some joke with a lanky young man whose dreadlocks fell well past his shoulders.

"Harry," she chirped, sprinting the final few metres to leap into his arms. "Where did you get that?"

"That" was a full-sized parti-coloured magic carpet easily capable of seating six.

Harry chose misdirection. "Had the shirt for a long time. Tore off the sleeves so the whole Tladimax shows. Not sure how far up the arm it goes…."

"Harry!" Hermione cut him off in frustration.

Harry's companion gave her a sly wink. "Aska no questions, sis, an' you's be told no bullshit."

"So who's your well-connected friend?"

"I know him as Makaha Maka, and despite whatever slanders you might've been told, he's a true friend."

"Das right, brah, and you's da miss akamai. I knows da Menehune puka. We surf south shore in da winter. Jalike go flyin' fast kine?"

This was their one chance to try contacting the Menehune with nobody the wiser. "Let's," she agreed.

"Lesgo bust one da kine flight, den."

Before they went airborne, Harry took the extra precaution of casting a goblin Cloaking Charm over the carpet. Their unorthodox guide was impressed, and not for the first time, by Harry's magical abilities.

Thoroughly concealed, they started out to sea, then turned west, and then mauka from the next valley over. Soon wild-man Maka was following a Muggle road south past the canyon and to the opposite shore.

"Is dere, nexta da saggy bridge `cross da river," Maka pointed as he brought the "borrowed" carpet to a smooth landing. As they touched down, Hermione reached into her beaded bag, and produced a red and white … something….

"Finite!" She ended her Shrinking Spell. The object returned to its original size - a Muggle cooler that was definitively bigger than a bread box.

Hermione eyeballed the ditch, a frown on her face. Menehune Ditch was something of a disappointment. It contained less water than the draft of Hermione's cooler - filthy, opaque water at that. With a shrug she turned her head and looked to the river on the other side of the Muggle road.

"Auwe, sis, you look unhappy. Wot you need?"

"Clean water," she sighed. "I assumed, wrongly it seems, that the ditch would be full of it. We'll have to use the river, I suppose."

Maka shook his head, his dreadlocks dangling. "Dis da dry side, sis. But no worries. Da nomojos, dey needs plenny water fo da sugar." He pointed to a rather rundown looking structure a few dozen metres downhill, bridging the ditch.

"What do you mean…?"

"Jus wait here, cuz." Maka jogged to the nearest support and was atop it so fast, he may have used magic. He produced a long, thin murex shell and pointed it uphill, whilst chanting something in Hawai'ian they could not hear.

Maka turned and shouted to them. "`Ey! You gets plenny da kine water now!"

Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "What did he just do?"

Hermione had to smile, "Opened a Muggle irrigation channel, I think." She levitated the cooler under the channel.

"Evanesco!" Clear water from much higher up the mountainside gushed from the bottom of the viaduct, filling the cooler in seconds.

"A priori!" Harry repaired the viaduct.

As Maka looked on, fascinated, Hermione Levitated the cooler next to the ditch.

"Frigidio!" Harry incanted. The water froze almost instantly. Harry kept his wand trained on the ice block a bit longer than strictly necessary, so it cooled to well below freezing.

"Evanesco!" Hermione Vanished the Muggle cooler, whilst Harry Levitated the ice block onto the nearby carpet.

They repeated the process a dozen times, until the carpet was stacked with large blocks of ice - more ice than had been in one place on Kauai since … maybe ever.

Maka stared at the pair in wonder. He had no idea why his Haole friend and his wahine were making this magic, but it certainly was impressive.

Finally, Hermione conjured a large white sheet to protect their handiwork from the hot sun.

Harry evaluated the ditch. Not much of it remained - too little if it were actually as significant as the Hawai'ians claimed.

Taking a guess, Harry made a half-circle motion with his signet ring. "Aksey kastorik!"

He finally put the usual incantation for ending goblin Concealment Charms to better use than to facilitate a potion-addled tryst. The landscape rippled, and about fifty more metres of the so-called ditch appeared. More of a trench, it led to a tunnel burrowed into a nearby slope.

"Whoa, brah. Dat's major mojo!"

Menehune goblin magicks were sufficiently close to the Gablankansta that the same spell - albeit with extraordinary magical force behind it - ended both.

And this trench - the so-called ditch - was clear, a telltale sign of recent use.

Affirmatively seeking to attract Menehune attention, Harry leapt into the trench with a shout.

Nothing happened.

Lighting his wandtip, Harry followed the trench to its end. Less than two metres into the rock face a solid, featureless stone wall blocked the way. Harry reckoned he could blow it open, if necessary, but he much preferred a less hostile approach.

His first objective was to leave all the ice as a truce offering to goblins who had probably never seen anything like it.

Harry sought and found an alternative - hidden in a nearby recess was a cylinder topped with a smooth, wave-rounded stone.

Its size and location resembled the polished, spherical stones with which King Ragnok's goblins operated their splixii.

Ragnok's goblins had taught Harry how to operate the Château's splixit. Since Menehune Concealment Charms responded to Gablankansta magicks, maybe their entrance controls would also.

Hoping he had activated the controls with his invisible (to human eyes) Tladimax scars, Harry moved the stone this way and that. Finally, he touched his Manmak signet ring to the stone. Throughout he powered the spellwork more robustly than probably necessary.

Nothing happened.

Harry thought he had failed.

Suddenly, dust started shaking loose from the stone wall. With a mild grinding noise, it opened to reveal a darkened chamber.

"Lumos maximus!"

The chamber was quite large enough for their purposes. Hermione provided Harry a parchment with the note she had composed the night before using Harry's Gobbledegook phrasebook. They requested the Menehune to contact King Ragnok's Gablankansta and inform the Impatok of their impending nuptials. The ice was both a reward and a sign of good faith.

With a Sticking Charm Harry attached the note to one end of the sheet covering all the ice. Hermione guided as Harry Levitated nearly a half-tonne of ice into the Menehune antechamber.

Then they waited.

After several uneventful minutes, they retreated to the side of the road and conjured Muggle beach umbrellas.

Harry compulsively adjusted his Arakkilli so their fit was perfect.

Maka opened a brown bottle of Primo. With the sun beating down, it was nearly enough to make Harry, a teetotaler, jealous - almost.

After about five minutes, the door at the end of the ditch slammed shut.

"Eh, dat mean dey know we're here and dey know we know dere dere," Maka deduced.

Hermione's supposition - that goblins on volcanic tropical islands probably prized ice highly - was spot on, although not entirely for her reasons. True, ice was extremely rare among Kauai's Menehune, since they lacked magic or artefacts to make it. Most ordinary Menehune tasted it only during their version of weddings.

But whilst ice was rare, it was not particularly needed - at least not on Kauai, the island farthest from Hawai'i's volcanic hot spot.

The Menehune of the Big Island, Hawai'i's largest and wealthiest goblin community, were very differently situated. Their underground haunts were uncomfortably close to the most active volcanoes in the world.

For Big Island Menehune, cooling ice was a luxury of the first order. Their only natural sources, however, were the tops of extremely high mountains - an arduous trek. For them, ice was rare, valuable, and extremely hard to get. They happily paid through the nose for it, even to Muggles.

The Kauai Menehune recognised a potential gold mine when they saw one.

They also recognised Gobbledegook. Worldwide, spoken goblin dialects varied significantly, but they had only one abecedarian model. Regardless of tongue, all goblins used the same written language.

How did these wizards, two of whom were obviously tourists, know the goblin tongue?

What was their connexion to Impatok Ragnok, ruler of perhaps the greatest goblin nation in the world?

How had they ended their Concealment Charm - and all but forced a supposedly impregnable entrance?

Most importantly, since there was money to be made, how much ice could they produce?

Before Maka had downed his second beer, the stone door again slid open. Maybe two dozen Menehune filed out, gathering at the ditch's far end. Undoubtedly many more kinsmen were close by, out of sight.

The Menehune were armed, but compared to the goblins of Harry's acquaintance, their weaponry was rather puny. They were also hesitant, unsure what to make of foreign wizards who actually sought them out.

After some shuffling about, one Menehune stepped forward. "English do speak you?" he asked in a heavy accent.

Aiming his wand at himself, Harry gently Levitated himself into the opposite end of the ditch. Holstering his wand, he held his arms forward, fingers splayed. He thus demonstrated he was unarmed (at the moment) and gave the Menehune an unobstructed view of his goblin Manmak, Arakkilli, and Tladimax. "Yes, I speak English," he answered slowly, then added, "Asi Inklak mandalah" - the same phrase in basic handbook Gobbledegook.

"The Most Esteemed Impatok Ragnok us to contact wish you," came the next syntactically mangled inquiry. "Why?"

"As my note said, Savini Hermione," he gestured to his fiancée, "and I are to be married here this weekend…." Harry ostentatiously introduced Hermione in goblin terms. "Impatok Ragnok is my adoptive father, and I am Ragnok's adoptive son. I wish to inform King Ragnok of such an important event."

Harry did not see Hermione's ecstatic smile. Harry had publicly acknowledged their engagement - no, their nuptials - for the first time. It was real.

The interpreter's explanation to the rest of his - clan, perhaps - took quite a bit longer than Harry's original statement. The others seemed unwilling to accept what they were told. Finally, he turned back to face Harry.

"A wizard in goblin royal family?" he spoke slowly. "Unbelievable that find we. Explain must you if our help wish you."

"I saved the Impatok's life and that of many of his subjects," Harry began. He gave an extremely abbreviated description of the Death Eater attack on the Ashrak, and Ragnok's responsive actions.

Maka's eyes widened. He had never heard - never even contemplated - such a thing, but Harry's almost laconic description bore the ring of truth. "Fo real…?"

The Menehune found Harry's explanation equally, if not more, amazing. They clustered around the interpreter, chattering wildly in their dialect, virtually ignoring Harry. Had he been inclined, Harry probably could have captured the lot of them.

Finally, Menehune body language suggested a resolution. The translator once again faced Harry.

"Very well. To his Most Esteemed Highness, your message transmit shall we. However, reputation of the Kauai band, it at stake have placed you. If proven false is your far-fetched story, much face lose we. Thus, additional security require we…."

A sly grin crossed his face, as if successfully calling a bluff.

"…a hostage…."

"Hostage?" Harry looked shocked. Additional ice was one thing. No way in hell would he put Hermione in that position. And his new-found friend surely did not deserve such a fate. That meant he would have to….

"`Ey, brah!" Maka broke the tense silence. "All dat wot you wen said, no bullshit, right?"

Harry looked oddly at him, surprised at the question. "Every word's the truth."

"Lesgo, den," Maka declared, jumping into the ditch in front of Harry. "Can't no hab de bride or da groom go pau, eh? "I gots nuddin doin'…." He flashed Harry the shaka, theatrically thrust his bronzed arms over his head, ignored Hermione's weak protest, and unflinchingly walked into Menehune custody.

And so, an agreement of sorts was reached.

* * * *

"…Have you seen that little swishy things they want us to wave?" Harry was ready for the Convening to be over, or "pau" as the Hawai'ians would say.

"In the fruit cabinet, Luv - they were fresh cut so I kept them fresh."

"Thanks, I need to go on the early side so I can tell Arthur we've been delayed due to the Kahuna's last-minute interest in buying Blackwalls' potions ingredients."

"Remember, Harry, `Hawai'ian time'," I'm certain Arthur's had his fill of that - I know I have. By the time you're done, I'll have checked on the Menehune situation again…. I'm starting…."

COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!

The hale's resident moa - that noisy excuse for a chicken that richly merited a Hoarseness Hex - loudly announced the arrival of "official" visitors.

"I'll get it. You haven't even shaved yet."

"Hermione?" she heard Hi'iaka's lilting voice. She opened the umbrella hibiscus door. Their Hawai'ian friend escorted an even greater friend, Roxtar the Lost-Finger, another goblin in what must be formal Menehune garb, two members of conference security, and bringing up the rear, their newest friend, Maka.

Several villagers stopped in the pathway, gawking. Not every day brought Menehune, or goblins, to Honopu. More like - never.

"Harry, they're back!" Hermione shouted. "They did it!"

Harry came rushing out, a toothbrush in his mouth and his wand, glowing Razus Charm orange, in his hand.

"Impratraxis," Roxtar greeted, throwing himself to the floor in ritual prostration. After a moment of confused hesitation, the Menehune representative followed.

"Ho braddah!" Maka exclaimed as he stepped over the recumbent goblins. "I don' believe dis!" He gathered Harry into an enthusiastic hug that literally lifted the smaller man off the ground.

Harry spat out the toothbrush. "Anyor, please," he choked from swallowing what remained of the Muggle toothpaste Hermione insisted that he use. "Welcome everybody. I'm relieved that my message got through."

"Great congratulations sends Impatok Ragnok."

"And you, you great kolohe, you weren't mistreated, I trust?"

"Eh, da Menehune, dey could do bettah, malihini," Maka jokingly responded in kind, "but dis one, aftah he wen learned wot dey'd done, he wen give me choke gold. Nuff to get own hale. Me hafta pick da kine wahine - like you, brah."

Harry and Hermione were both intensely pleased that Maka, who volunteered when most needed (keeping Harry from offering himself), had been rewarded for his stint as a hostage.

With the imminent beginning of the closing ceremony, they had no time for extended conversation. Roxtar agreed to wait in the hale. Hi'iaka would take the Menehune - an official representative named Omanaha - to meet the Kahuna. She sensed the diplomatic opportunity of a lifetime.

Harry and Hermione would attend the conclave's closing.

Afterwards, Harry was delayed when several other conclave attendees - the French representative included - crashed what was supposed to have been a brief conversation with Arthur Weasley. Hermione returned to the hale alone.

Roxtar stood as she entered, bowing but not prostrating himself. She was not of the royal family - at least not yet. "Savini Hermione, much pleased is Impatok Ragnok. Save an imprexa, his first choice by far are you…."

Hermione smiled. "Why thank you, Roxtar. I hope I always justify your king's regard."

"Of that, certain am I," Roxtar declared, favouring her with a rare goblin-style smile. "More than regards sends Impatok…."

Roxtar ended a goblin Concealment Charm, revealing a package about the size of a large book.

`Of course,' Hermione thought - her notoriously bookish reputation was known even to the goblins.

"You will convey my thanks, won't you," Hermione requested as Roxtar passed her the package with his nine fingers.

"Of course, Savini."

The contents shifted a bit as she examined the package. This was no book. Delicately, Hermione opened it. She gasped at its blindingly brilliant contents, reflecting light in all directions. So many…. It looked almost like cloth.

"My word!"

She had obviously received a very expensive diamond - any thought these were fake would insult Ragnok - bib-type necklace. Grasping the nearest fold, she removed it from the box.

It kept coming and coming - a cascade of diamonds, most in the one-two carat range, held together by a network of silvery metallic threads.

She encountered a sleeve, then a collar, surrounded by significantly larger diamonds.

It took her breath away.

Not a necklace. She had received a dress - a wedding dress - fashioned entirely from diamonds, except for black onyx patterns woven into the sleeves and the train. It should have weighed much more than it did, but was obviously charmed to be feather-light.

"Merlin, Roxtar … I can't," Hermione spluttered. "It's…."

"Gift to you of Impratraxis' father, Impatok, of Gablankansta," Roxtar uncharacteristically brought her up short. "Try on, should you. Your measurements from before had we, but perhaps not perfect…"

"Umm … okay," Hermione agreed hesitantly. She inspected the dress for zippers or clasps, but found only a couple, quite near the neck. "What holds this together?" she asked Roxtar. "Mithril?"

"Yes, a specialty of ours is it," the goblin confirmed, admiring her perspicacity. "Quite rare to be woven into thread. Hold in place all jewels until to dissolve it, you wish…."

"Dissolve it?"

"The jewels sometime want may you," Roxtar stated matter-of-factly. "Very valuable are that many diamonds…."

"Hermione, you in there?" Harry strode in with the Kahuna - whose real name was Kano Mawakuele - beside him. "Your mum's flight…." He made a hissing sound upon seeing her wearing a glittering, all-diamond dress that reached the floor.

"Hermione … Merlin's beard…. You're beautiful…."

Harry was agog, breathlessly gaping, as if seeing her for the first time.

Roxtar bowed low, "Impratraxis, returned have you. Now, activate the charms may you…."

"You … you mean, like at the ball?" Harry asked, gradually grasping that Hermione's amazing garb was courtesy of King Ragnok.

"Exactly."

"Harry, but should you … you know, be seeing me like this … before tomorrow?"

"What…? Oh, that." Harry shrugged. "I never thought I'd live long enough to get married. I figure I can handle seeing you in your bridal gown before the wedding…."

"Harry…." She lunged into his arms, her lips crushing into his. To Harry's surprise the diamonds did not dig into his skin beneath his thin shirt. He staggered a bit before steadying himself. One of his hands drifted to her back whilst they snogged. It found the open clasps. He shifted positions, letting Hermione bear more of their combined weight, and closed them.

The effect was immediate and just as disconcerting as before. She squirmed, as if he had started tickling her. The cut surfaces of countless small diamonds wriggled and slid as the dress adjusted itself perfectly to Hermione's shape. In less than a minute it was over. Hermione stood there, a vision. Rows of large diamonds decorated her décolletage. Sheets of smaller diamonds draped across her derrière. A glittering train stretched almost two metres behind her, hovering a few centimetres off the floor.

The goblins sure knew their charms - and their artefacts.

"Mis - ter Potter," the Kahuna drawled after watching the display, both of wealth and affection, from the couple he would be marrying on the morrow. "You told me you wanted a very low-key, informal wedding. But if your bride will be wearing that, you can't very well look like something a mongoose dragged in. Please come with me, I have just the thing…."

"Go ahead, Harry, I need to change into more practical clothes to fly to Lihue to meet Mum."

Harry looked appraisingly between Hermione and the Kahuna. "Don't you want me to come along?"

"Actually, no," Hermione shook her head. "Mum doesn't exactly know you very well. I want to chat with her first - to make sure she's on her best behaviour."

"All right," Harry agreed. He turned to the Kahuna, "Lead the way, then." He flashed Hermione the shaka, simultaneously Legilimencing `I love you.'

Once the two men were by themselves, Harry asked, "What is this thing, anyway…?"

"You'll see soon enough, Mister Potter," he evaded, eyes twinkling almost as much as Dumbledore's used to. "Rest assured it's quite appropriate and quite Hawai'ian…."

Maybe an hour later, Harry returned, reasonably pleased with the Kahuna's choice of a traditional outfit for his wedding day. With Hermione off collecting her mum, Harry talked with Roxtar.

Impatok Ragnok also had gifts for Harry. Harry recognised the first the moment he saw it, before starting to unwrap it.

Ragnok had replaced his Vorpal sword - the original had been destroyed whilst blocking Voldemort's point-blank Killing Curse, saving his life.

The other gift was new, and even more significant.

A headband - a crown in goblin eyes - for Harry to wear at the wedding.

It was goblin tradition.

Unless forced to ascend the throne prematurely, goblin princes were coronated when they married - when they could begin contributing to the nation's bloodlines.

It fit perfectly, of course. The band, ending on each side above Harry's ears, was solid gold - as if goblins would use anything less. The smooth, lustrous metal held five gemstones: two outer jet black obsidians cut in starburst fashion and an inner pair of deep red teardrop rubies. Its centerpiece was a magnificent pure white diamond.

Regarding himself in a mirror, Harry thought he looked rather ridiculous with that thing on his head. But Roxtar's words made him reconsider.

"Impratraxis, Savini's ring by the same goldsmith forged was yours. Perhaps notice the resemblance can you."

Taking a second look, Harry agreed; aside from the obsidian, the resemblance was remarkable.

After the wedding, Harry vowed never to wear anything so ostentatious - except when on goblin territory. There, he probably had no choice.

Harry asked Roxtar to give his thanks to Impatok Ragnok, but also expressed some surprise. Amongst goblins, Roxtar was second only to Bladvak in Harry's personal esteem, but why would the Gablankansta select someone martial as its representative at his entirely civilian wedding?

Not that Harry was at all disappointed.

"Roxtar, you must have tried hard to land this Hawai'i assignment," Harry jovially pointed out. "I would have expected … I don't know … someone less, well, sending a warrior for something that's well, not … if I'm making any sense…."

Roxtar understood perfectly. "Impratraxis, thanks are to you. Amongst my people with you associated am I. My…" He trailed off. This conversation seemed difficult for the goblin brave, and Harry felt remorse for starting it. "More successful am I … more than to dream could I. The "Lost Finger" now am I. Like great warriors of history…."

Harry had never had such a conversation with a goblin, and precious few with humans - except Hermione. He could talk to her about anything.

"If like others avoided assignment with the so-called `Wizard Prince,' a nobody would still be I …."

Nor had Harry ever heard a goblin admit any other goblin's less than absolute loyalty.

"Everything you've achieved has been through your own bravery, not mine," Harry told him. "So I can't see you in a civilian post, like a banker."

"Bankers," Roxtar spat. "Money too much crave they. Problems cause they. Unnecessary tensions."

Was something more in play? Harry followed up.

"What tensions?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"Foolish bankers," Roxtar grumbled. "Too important is the gold. Now with Gringotts' customers, are tensions. And what for? Money, when so much already have we."

"So what happened, exactly?" Harry asked again, more concerned.

"Regrettably, not sure am I," Roxtar responded apologetically. "Right are you. Banker not am I, now or never. To be your and Savini's bodyguard also is why sent here was I. If with your own kind to rise do tensions. Two days ago was that. Nothing more know I…."

Harry shook his head. "Well, whatever happens we'll take it as it comes," he declared, reciting a motto learnt from Hagrid. "Nothing is going to ruin the happiest day of my life."

"Agreed," Roxtar added. "With bankers' follies, trouble not yourself."

The day for the wedding of the century, at least by Honopu standards, began as had all this vacation's others - mists, shadows, tropical breezes, and a pink flash of Harmonic Convergence that set nearby umbrella-sized hibiscus and Flutterby Bushes flapping wildly.

Their bags were packed. During the ceremony, their things would be moved for the night to the village's best Honeymoon Suite - available after the end of the Convening - the night after that, Sunday, they began their triple red-eye return to London.

Hermione picked up her mum alone from the Muggle airport. That was just as well. The way Harry heard it, her mum - whilst pleased that the pair would no longer be "fornicating" - had been appalled at Hermione's latest encounter with Voldemort.

Hermione no longer bothered to sugarcoat the risks of the magical world. She was an adult and would act like one.

Still, Hermione had returned at wit's end. Her mum touched off a huge row by declaring that things would have been best if Hermione and Harry had never met. Hermione's vigorous defence of Harry led fairly directly to her Mum regretting Hermione's magical talent.

By the time the carpet reached Honopu, after a late night flight along the pitch black Na Pali Coast, a détente of sorts had been reached - Hermione's mum would keep her views to herself and accept Harry's place in her daughter's life, whatever her personal feelings on the subject.

Her alternative was an immediate return trip to Australia.

At three p.m. precisely, a dozen triton shells trumpeted, and the village's two most sumptuous flying carpets lifted off for Kalalau - one bearing Harry, Roxtar, and Harry's friend Maka; and the other Hermione, her mum, and Hi'iaka.

They stayed close to the awesome cliffs to avoid Muggle tourist helicopters. A Concealment Charm protected the wedding site, but the usual Muggle-Repelling Charm was removed, due to Hermione's Mum.

Speaking of Eva Granger - she adjusted surprisingly well to the magic carpet, even when it flew hundreds of metres above the valley floor. Hermione never gave Harry a straight answer whether a Cheering Charm or some Muggle equivalent might have been responsible.

The twin waterfalls cascaded magnificently (as they always did). Approaching them made him think of Hermione - something he did often. She had magicked her hair for the occasion … into double-waterfall braids.

Hermione's carpet had proceeded first and was settling in for a landing on a spot cleared for that precise purpose. In the bright sunlight, Hermione looked amazing, her dress sparkling brighter than the waterfalls surrounding them.

Harry sharply contrasted with Hermione's brilliant færie white. He wore a native Hawai'ian outfit of gold (mulberry bark dye) and red (a long cape bristling with thousands of feathers) that the Kahuna had provided. Until the goblins' extravagant gift to Hermione, neither had planned to dress up. But with Hermione draped in several fortunes worth of diamonds, Harry needed more than Bermuda shorts and an aloha shirt with a moving design.

The ceremony passed as a beautiful dream. Hawai'ian chanting. An exchange of colourful orchid leis. Emphatic "I do's" from both bride and groom. Harry's theatrical removal of the goblin Concealment Charm from Hermione's ring - she was already wearing it and refused to take it off even for the ceremony. Hermione bestowing a traditional koa wood ring on Harry.

And finally, when they kissed, it was to the only music either wanted for the ceremony - the Beatles' "It's All Too Much" - the song Harry had used all those months ago to rescue Hermione from self-imposed mental exile.

The Kahuna handfasted them with a green leafy lei he had worn for that purpose. He then declared them man and wife, as recognised by the covens of the Pacific Basin Magical Convention. All guests then left, most leaving behind traditional offerings - black lava rocks wrapped in ti leaves. Hermione's mum dallied a bit in a sobbing embrace of her daughter. Everyone, save the bride, the groom, and their seconds, would enjoy a massive celebratory luau in the village.

The seconds - Maka and Hi'iaka - retired behind the aptly named privacy screen, where they would remain until the newlyweds were ready to return to the village for the night.

Finally, only the Harry and Hermione remained, united at last in matrimony.

As promised, Paradise awaited - a large cushion of sorts, coloured bright yellow, and comfortably warmed by the afternoon sun. They ventured onto it. Whatever the cushion contained was almost unnaturally soft, yet surprisingly firm at the same time. In other words, as intended, it made perfect marital bed.

"Hypoviolettæ!" Harry and Hermione simultaneously cast Anti-Sunburn Charms over the area. They would need them.

"Would you like help with that?" Harry gestured to her dress, which sparkled blue-white in the almost constant sunlight.

"I thought you'd never ask," Hermione invited him, raising her hair so he could access the goblin clasps. The form-fitting features of the diamond gown relaxed as the clasps unfastened. Harry carefully lifted the amazingly light garment over her head - only to discover that….

"Like what you don't see, Harry?"

"But … the dress…. Didn't you wear anything underneath…?"

"For the ceremony, but once everyone left, I banished them," she gestured behind her to where the unnecessary undergarments were barely visible in the long grass. "The dress had comfort spells anyway. This way felt more … naughty."

Drinking her in, Harry could only mumble, "Five points to Gryffindor for excellent spellwork." He carefully Levitated the diamond gown to where it once again obscured her unmentionables.

"Now can I return the favour?"

Harry nodded and raised his arms. Hermione slowly and meticulously removed the long red-feathered cape from his shoulders. Daintily she Levitated it to drape over a bush beside her clothes. Licking her lips, she divested him of the woven grass shirt and kilt of sorts he had worn.

"Finite." Harry's traditional Hawai'ian garb flickered and reverted to its original form - the aforementioned Bermuda shorts and Hawai'ian shirt. "Sorry, but the real thing itched so badly I could barely stand still," Harry admitted sheepishly. Unlike Hermione, his wedding garb had not been charmed - not that he had considered it - his thoughts were on other matters at the time. "The Kahuna … well I'm hardly the first, so he taught me the Transfiguration…."

"Well, we can't have you itchy, can we?" Ziiiiip.

As his Bermudas dropped, she knelt in front of him at the edge of the cushion's makai side. The fabric was warm, its surface soft, and firm but yielding - rather like Harry, but not nearly as yummy…..

"Don't expect me to make a habit of it, but for today … mmmm."

Hermione took him in, her tongue swirling. Whilst she focussed on him, he stood staring at (but not necessarily seeing) the magnificent vista of Kalalau and the ocean beyond. Eventually, Harry simply closed his eyes - it was too much, and he needed to concentrate on not buckling at the knees.

Moments after yielding himself to her, Harry did topple over, and he, too, appreciated the attributes of Paradise.

Recovering, to sit on the fluffy cushion, he grinned at her. "My turn." And so it was. First on her knees atop him, and then supinely splayed across the luxuriant fabric, Hermione was conscious of nothing but wave after wave of pleasure courtesy of Harry's amazing ministrations. Eventually, she felt a breeze and the almost ticklish sensation of misty Hawai'ian rain. She opened her eyes and … the sun was still shining….

Harry also stopped for the rain. "Merlin, Hermione, look!"

Rolling on her side, Hermione saw the glowing arc of a full double-rainbow soaring across the towering green cliffs. It neatly framed the white ribbons of the double waterfalls that tumbled down on either side.

They watched in silent awe until the brief rain shower passed.

Hermione snuggled next to him. "Harry," she whispered as her hand slithered across his across his thigh, finding him. "Unless you want to be a father quickly, I think we need to watch what we do…. There could be Fertility Charms here."

"Not until after it's all over, Hermione," Harry sighed. "Only then can we think seriously about that…."

"I love you, Harry," Hermione squeezed him as he put his arm around her. "But you're absolutely right."

"So now what? I could stay here forever, but maybe we should…."

"There's still one way I'm a virgin, Harry," she stroked his firmness.

"What? But I thought…. You really want to?"

Hermione crinkled her nose. "Umm … not really, but our options are somewhat limited."

"Then don't," Harry was firm in more ways than one. "Never think you have to do anything you don't like … not with me…."

"Umm … okay, then…."

"Then what?"

"I know," Hermione smiled brightly, "let's try mixing our magic. I've been reading up, and now that we're married, nobody can accuse us of doing anything wrong…."

* * * *

The rented Chevrolet slowed at the junction reading "Kalalau Lookout." Hesitating, the vehicle turned in - into the exit lane. It swerved, barely avoiding a bus full of Japanese tourists and clipping some of the ubiquitous bluish hydrangeas.

The driver, a middle-aged man, sweated bullets by the time he finally parked. "Damn," he muttered, "I'll never get used to driving on the bloody wrong side of the road."

One more time he checked his hastily printed Internet maps. The large valley had two overlooks (and a trail), but this was definitely the correct one - the one with the unobstructed view of the eastern valley cliffs.

Just to make sure, he pulled out the tombstone listing he had clipped from the wedding announcements in last Wednesday's Southland Times. It read:

Potter - Granger

To Be Untied In Holy Matrimony

June 14, 1997, at 4 p.m. local time

Double Falls, Kalalau East

Kauai, Hawai'i, USA

As the typo indicated, that ad had been as hastily arranged as his own departure for the States.

Now to find that view. He followed a concrete trail through neatly cut grass, past the picnic tables, and to the green painted railings.

What a view! A few clouds drifted off the swamps immediately to the south, but they evaporated in warm air rising from the broad sunny valley. Some sea cliffs back home were equally dramatic, but utterly inaccessible. Here one could look down - all the way to the sea a thousand or more metres below.

He scanned the fluted eastern cliffs. There! Double waterfalls poured into a cleft. A single stream emerged and almost immediately dropped into another falls, giving the appearance of huge, free-flowing letter "Y." Interestingly, neither falls originated at the cliff tops. Instead, both popped from some particularly permeable rock layer maybe 150 metres above their base.

The official overlook view was still too oblique, and it was too crowded. Mid afternoon must be the prime tour bus hours, and the parking lot was nearly full with cars.

He looked about. There must be…. He knew first hand that Americans were notorious rule breakers.

There - off to the left, and a less than a dozen metres below the railing - the telltale red clay slash of an unofficial use track meandering along the western ridge. He followed the fence leftward until it ended and located the track's upper end.

A half an hour later he had followed the narrow and precipitous track perhaps half a kilometre - to a small open area no more than a couple of metres across. He could no longer see the official overlook, meaning that nobody up top could spot him.

A perfect spot for an invited, but uninvited, guest.

He reached into his meticulously packed rucksack and pulled out a device resembling an oversized pair of opera glasses. His daughter and her - he supposed he should be pleased, but had a hard time naming the emotion - soon-to-be husband had called them "Omnioculars." According to them, and the device's written instructions, these could penetrate wizard Concealment Charms.

He sighed. He hoped they were right; he certainly had no way to run an advance test. If not … he had come a very long way on very short notice all for naught.

Thoroughly familiar with the instructions, he fiddled with the dials. The magnified scene sharpened and came into view. Yes - success!! He could see people, maybe two score, in the small level area at the junction of the "Y".

Where was…?

She was unmistakable - a vision, even from here - wearing a long white dress so dazzling it almost hurt his eyes to look at her. A sharp pang of regret pierced him. He had not laid eyes on his daughter since that awful August night when London burnt, and then he had been too preoccupied to say a proper goodbye.

He had no idea when, or if, he would ever see her again.

It had been his hope - and his fear - since Hermione had been born that one day he would lead her proudly up the aisle.

All his own bloody fault.

He dropped to his knees, softly weeping over his estrangement from his only child. Soon, however, his stiff upper lip returned. That only daughter was to be married. He disliked the groom mightily - he put her in mortal danger - but he had no doubt that they loved each other.

And Harry Potter was so bloody rich that his own peculations paled into insignificance.

There he was, dressed in some off-colour tan outfit that oddly looked like dead leaves - but with the largest feather boa he had ever seen, almost a cape, bright red, draped about his shoulders. He also wore some sort of headband.

People were milling about. The ceremony would be starting soon.

Yes, there was Eva. Another knifelike frisson stabbed his heart. He might well never see her again either. Visiting was too dangerous, and she could know only vaguely where he was.

Such was the life of a fugitive.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Startled, he almost fell over. Concentrating intensely on the view, he had not noticed the approach of a tall, blonde, slightly sunburnt man, dressed in khaki shorts, now standing beside him.

"Oh, sorry," the man apologised. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"Quite all right. Not your fault. I was just distracted by the magnificent view."

"Isn't it, though? Nothing remotely like this near Minneapolis, where I live…. Forgive me, Joseph Swenson." He reached out his hand in a friendly manner.

Although the interruption was annoying, it would not do to be impolite. He took the proffered hand and used the man's support to stand up. "No problem. Edward Farmer, Invercargill."

"British?" the man fished. "You do have the accent."

"New Zealand, actually."

"Kiwi, then…. Really, I've always wanted to visit. The travelogues are so fascinating. I'm in real estate, by the way. If you're ever interested in moving to Minnesota…." Incongruously, given their location, he held out a business card.

"Doubt that will ever happen," he politely refused. "I have a fine dental practice back home."

"Well at least let me offer you a look through these…."

Edward Farmer's attention focussed on the large black pair of binoculars around the man's neck. He recognised them immediately as astronomical binoculars - quite over-powered and ill-suited for viewing scenery.

He went through the motions. "Aarh, these are too strong for me. They'll give me quite the headache. Sorry."

He sat down again and went back to his own viewing, hoping the overly gregarious Yank would move along.

He did. "Well … cheerio then. Must be off, I suppose," he took his leave with a faked British accent.

Edward Farmer did not pay the slightest attention as he left.

Good. He had not missed it. The bride and groom were still together before some wildly dressed man standing at a black stone altar.

They must be giving each other rings.

Yes! It is done. He is kissing her. The strange man takes something from around his neck and….

He tied it around their wrists. They kiss again. That must be Eva. She is giving her a huge hug - mostly ignoring him….

Damn!

I would like to hug her too, but there is no way….

Everyone is leaving - except them.

Now what?

Oh-oh. Is this what I think it is?

The bride's brilliant white dress went flying through the air.

Oops, he felt his cheeks redden. Time to go. He had a long plane flight ahead of him.

* * * *

"Frigidio!"

The bucket of water immediately frosted over and quickly froze solid.

"I do believe he's got it!" Harry commented in a deliberately exaggerated British accent. In his normal inflexion, he added, "With work, you should be able to conjure…."

"Harry!" With Roxtar in tow, Hermione brought her mat to a stop and leapt off directly into her new husband's arms. "How's the training going?"

"I wen donnit, sis," Maka beamed. "Youz lookin' at de Island's first mojo iceman!"

"Congratulations!" Hermione returned the Hawai'ian's high wattage smile. "How much more time do you think you need with Harry?"

Maka saw the desirous expression on Harry's face. "Donnit four times inna row, now," he told her. "I'm plenny ready fo shua. Guess it's a time fo my side o' dings." With that he turned and hurried to the beach.

Hermione almost seemed affronted by Maka's abrupt exit. "Hey, what's that?" she called futilely after him.

Harry's hand found hers, and she let him spin her about so she came to rest in his arms. "Don't mind him. He's agreed to keep all his surfing buddies, and everyone else, away from this half of the beach for the next several hours. Mmmm…." She kissed him needily. Even with goblin Concealment Charms, having bystanders in the vicinity would have been most distracting - and Hermione did not want to be distracted.

"Finally," she panted when they came up for air, "we can trust our contraception when we make love…."

At the double falls, and again at the village's newlywed suite, Harry and Hermione could not discount the possibility that their premises were permeated with undetectable Hawai'ian Fertility Charms. Like it or not, they were of the same mind about such things - starting a family had to wait until Voldemort was fully and finally destroyed. Their being targeted had played a huge role in keeping them apart. They could never place that burden on an innocent and helpless soul.

Voldemort would jump at the chance to use any child of theirs against them.

Thus, on both their wedding day and night, Harry and Hermione had felt obligated to pull their sexual punches.

Until now.

Alone together, amongst the beach naupaka dotting upper Honopu Beach, they could at last make uninhibited love as husband and wife, with no conception-related worries.

Harry took off his shirt and Transfigured it into a large beach towel. Hermione contributed a very useful Sand Repelling Charm. Roxtar transformed into a boulder.

"You know, with that mixing magic business…. I can feel, well, how it feels for you…."

"Oh, really. I didn't feel anything like that."

"That was because I was … umm … holding back. You know, because of Fertility charms and all…."

I see…. And how was it for you … er, me?"

"Like I never wanted to stop…. The longer I went, the longer you did. It's like nothing I've ever felt before. It just goes on and on and on."

"Well, I consider it cosmic compensation for childbirth. Maybe you'll have a chance to feel that some time."

"Not for a while, though. And if I do, it'll be worth it."

"Harry, how about less talk and more action?"

Their privacy ensured, Harry and Hermione pounced upon one another like crazed mongooses.

A couple of strenuous hours later, Harry and Hermione lay nestled together in their altogether, watching afternoon shadows creep across the beach, yet unwilling to confront the imminent end of their Hawai'ian interlude.

Beginning this evening, they would be subject to the tender mercies of Muggle air travel for most of the next two calendar days.

"…You know, Harry, you worked wonders with Maka, teaching him that. I'm not alone in thinking so…."

"He did it himself," Harry modestly deflected her praise. "He's barely more than wild talent. He never thought he was worth anything, so he wasn't. He volunteered as a hostage because he thought his life didn't matter. Now, for the first time he's found a way to be useful - sort of the way I felt coming to Hogwarts…."

"And look what you've become," Hermione sighed, kissing his chest. "Useful doesn't begin to describe it. He can print money selling ice to the Menehune. Even Hi'iaka is impressed with the diplomatic opportunity."

"Well, between us, he's `plenny' impressed with her," Harry added. "Too bad she looks down on him…."

"Not so, Harry. I can tell you that the feeling's mutual," Hermione revealed. "They managed a civil conversation as our seconds whilst we were … otherwise engaged. I do hope they get together."

"Perhaps they'll invite us to their own wedding," Harry mused.

"They might…." Hermione's voice was low, and she had a faraway look in her eyes. "Harry … you know when it's all over - Voldemort, the equality pledge, all that - I could see us coming back here…."

"Why wait that long?" Harry sighed. "I doubt Maka and Hi'iaka will. We could vacation here every…."

Hermione rolled over so to lie directly on his chest with her arms crossed. She looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm not thinking about a vacation, Harry. I mean permanently…."

"Really?" she had his full attention.

"Yeah, I've been thinking. Magical education here, and throughout the Pacific Islands, is so spotty, I'm sure that we could found our own school…. Wouldn't it be wonderful growing old together, here?"

"You're presuming a lot."

She knew that look in his eyes - he worried about the prophecy. "Harry, I had to presume that to marry you. When I said yes, I put my faith in you. Nobody has more faith in you than I have."

He smiled at her, and cupped her face in his hands. "Let's add that to the list of topics to discuss after I prove that you're always…."

WHOO-HOO!!

They abruptly scrambled to a sitting position, Hermione trying to cover herself with part of the towel. Harry Summoned his wand - wandlessly, of course.

WHOO-HOO!!

Looking frantically around, Harry noticed an owl circling - one of the Château's international fast owls. Apparently, it could sense his presence, but was stymied by the goblin Concealment Charm.

As soon as they were clothed, Harry ended the spell. The owl gratefully dropped a small package, about the size and shape of a medicine bottle. Rather than wait for a reply, or even a treat, the owl immediately flew off.

"What the hell?" Harry plucked the delivery from the sand and examined it. It was cylindrical, with no identifying characteristics, save a blank white wrapper about its middle.

Hermione reached in.

"Be careful," Harry pulled it back. "It could be dangerous."

"No, it's a communication device for extremely confidential messages," Hermione told him. "Healer Huxley sent one about my post-Draught of Despair prognosis. The spell to open it is `Apparicio verbatim'."

Harry performed the spell, and the stopper popped out with a hiss. A cloud of pellucid smoke emerged and began swirling. In a few moments it resolved into the twin images of Jerry McAllister and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Their expressions were grim.

Shak spoke first. "Bad news, Harry. Please listen carefully and remain calm. You can't return to England safely, nor Hermione. The Ministry has fallen - a vote of no confidence. Thicknesse is the new Minister. The Wizengamot has voted him extraordinary and emergency powers - to enforce their decision to rescind your inheritance. All ties with the goblins are seriously at risk."

"A goblin named Bladvak - I'm sure you know him - was caught recently in the act of foreclosing on a Gringotts mortgage. The property was hardly worth the effort, but allowing that would put at risk the finances of virtually every pure-blood family in Britain. The Wizengamot belatedly realised that your Gringotts shares block retaliation. So they've voided your shares … or so they claim."

"Needless to say, the goblins recognise none of this. The Wizengamot is mulling over whether to issue an ultimatum. Last we heard, the goblins still occupied Azkaban - and were threatening to massacre all Death Eater prisoners. A confrontation would almost surely spark a new goblin rebellion and wholesale seizure of wizard accounts at Gringotts. The goblins aren't likely to back down. After the engagements at Stonehenge and Hogwarts, they're confident that they can fight wizards, so they're in no mood to comply…."

Harry heard an angry guttural sound behind him. Roxtar was listening in, his claws bared. Neither Harry nor Hermione had any inclination to stop him.

"Your role in those engagements means that you're also at risk. The Wizengamot gave you twenty-four hours to accept the inheritance nullification, but of course you were overseas - which they damn well knew. So you've been charged with high treason, and Hermione's sought as accomplice. Aurors were dispatched to arrest both of you at Heathrow, but thank Merlin you weren't on the plane, despite your names appearing on the manifest. They arrested Arthur Weasley on trumped up charges of complicity in your activities…."

"Oh Merlin!" Hermione gasped.

Free magic began coursing between Harry's fingertips.

`Stay calm, Harry, you have to,' her voice was in his head. To reinforce her words, she laced her fingers through his.

"The more extreme factions have even floated the idea of a Bill of Attainder…" Shak continued, but his voice was drowned out by Hermione's.

"They can't! That's … positively medieval! That law was repealed a century ago!"

"…don't think they've a pygmy puff's chance in a dragon's den of actually receiving Muggle Royal assent." Shak's image opined.

"What's `attainter'?" a confused Harry asked.

Hermione turned the top of the tube, pausing the message to answer Harry's question. "Attainder, Harry," Hermione explained, "is a nasty method for English Kings of yore to cut down powerful rivals. Parliament declares you guilty of treason without any trial - or even proof."

They looked at each other. Harry nodded, and Hermione took a deep calming breath before twisting the tube the way to restart the narrative - just as Jerry McAllister took it over.

"Harry, sir, you can't come back here right now. That's the current temperature of things. It's too dangerous until the situation stabilises. The Wizengamot have passed an extraordinary escheat declaring Blackwalls forfeit, and the Ministry are seeking expropriation. We're resisting this unprecedented move, but things are in flux. I've sworn the staff to a new Vow and terminated anybody who refused. Shak and I have just spent that last several hours conjuring a Fidelius Charm over the entire Château. The moment this owl leaves, we're activating it. We'd much rather wait on you, but there's no time to lose. A surprise assault could take place at any time…."

"We know you're both familiar with wartime communication methods," Shak broke in, "and Horace taught you well…."

`Harry,' Hermione Legilimenced again. `Look.' She pointed at the blank paper wrapper. On closer examination, it was not quite blank. A familiar set of characters was penciled lightly in one corner.

Jerry was speaking again. "The goblin splixit is within the radius of our Fidelius, so we can coordinate with them, but given the anger on their side, we think it best that you undertake the initial contact."

Shak took over. "Harry, take Hermione and go to France. You're still welcome there. Thicknesse abrogated the anti-Voldemort alliance, and thus made France an enemy. You are already greatly esteemed there, and being the Ministry's number one undesirable will only increase your status."

"I'm truly sorry that you and Hermione won't be the Heads after everything that's happened, but the Ministry is purging known and suspected Order of the Phoenix sympathisers from Hogwarts. I've been fired outright. McGonagall's been demoted. Both Ron Weasley's and Longbottom's status is probationary. Basically Voldemort's taken over the government without a fight because nearly all pure-bloods are terrified of losing their estates to the goblins. However unfairly, you're being blamed for that."

"We'll attempt to contact you in France."

The smoky images vanished; leaving the stunned pair standing on Honopu Beach gawking. In a matter of minutes, their entire world had been turned upside down. After several long moments, Harry shook his head in disbelief and turned to Hermione, "Well, doesn't that beat…?" He paused at the sight of her shattered countenance. "Hermione, don't…."

No use.

She practically collapsed in his arms, wailing, "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! I've ruined everything! My stupid idea about the goblins … now Voldemort's taken over!"

"Hermione, don't," he repeated whilst holding her close. "Your idea was brilliant then, and it's still brilliant," he reassured. "The goblins thought it was so great that they jumped the gun … but somehow messed it up…."

"Stupid are the bankers," Roxtar growled. He looked furious. His drawn and ready blade glinted incongruously in the lazy tropical sun, as if Death Eaters could emerge at any moment in the peaceful, isolated valley.

"But now we can't even go back to England," Hermione sobbed. "Voldemort's so powerful. We're exiles…."

"We'll get back," Harry vowed. "Your idea, it's even more powerful! It strikes at the heart … that's confirmed now. That's why they reacted so crazily - fear."

"But Voldemort…."

Harry's eyes grew hard. "Don't lose faith in me, or yourself, now, darling. Voldemort still has me - us, dammit - to overcome, and he knows it. I'm sure that, as the dust settles, we'll find allies … the goblins, the Sisters, the Order … even the French. And I'm a lot tougher now than I used to be, thanks mostly to you…."

"Oh, Merlin, Harry. It's just so much harder now."

"It was always going to be hard, Hermione," Harry squeezed his new wife's shoulders. "For better or worse, remember. But with just about all the old pure-bloods having thrown in with Voldemort, when we do win, we don't just win the battle…."

Hermione grasped the implications. "Real change, Harry." Her trembling ceased and she regarded him with wonder in her eyes. "A social revolution … it might actually happen…."

"We went through hell to reach this point, Hermione," Harry said intensely. "If there really is such a thing as destiny, I think this has to be why…."

Her eyes now burning, Hermione reached up and stroked the fringe of his messy black hair with her fingers. They lingered on his cheek. "It never ends, does it, Harry?"

"Not with me - or us," he agreed, betraying his first smile since receiving the terrible news from Britain. "Not as long as I have this scar."

FIN

* * * *

Author's notes: Hawai'an words: mojo = magic; Kimo = James; da kine = best; pakalolo = marijuana; Haole = Caucasian; makai = seaward, mauka = inland, lilikoi = passion fruit; mo'o = lizard; ali'i = nobility; malihini = stranger; kapu = forbidden; nomojo = Muggle; moana = ocean; wahine = woman; okole = butt; aloha au ia oe = I love you; Pele = Hawai'ian fire goddess; kolohe = rascal; ma'ema'e = clean; kahuna = boss, in this case the village's mayor; makaha = borderline crazy; akamai = clever; puka = doorway; pau = to be over, doneI don't particularly like flying anymore; I mention some reasons why

LAN = LAN Chile pre-1997

H/Hr learned Apparition in Ch. 9

Flowering also occurred in Ch. 46

Interflora is a British version of FTD

Brief History of Time was re-released in 1996

Tonks mentioned Hawai'i in Ch. 13, and gave Harry a copy in Ch. 66

I reset my watch when entering a plane

Healer Huxley treated Dumbledore's final illness

Poetry is W.B. Yeats' The Second Coming, slightly modified

Farmer's reducer, first used in Ch. 40, appears again

This H/Hr dislike fancy weddings

The name change arose in Ch. 50; Harry agreed to mutuality

Hudson News is currently in Vancouver airport; don't know about 1997

By 1997, baseball cards no longer had gum; poetic license

Both cards exist; and are somewhat valuable

The Hawai'ian agricultural declaration form is real

I've tried making the Hawai'ian pidgin accurate

Cargo is a Polynesian term for goods generally

There's always construction at airports

The magic side of the airport is hidden by hau bushes

Hawai'ians use seashells as wands

Reference is to the Kanaka Maoli flag

Harry smoked pot in Ch. 27

Hawai'ian locations and place names are accurate

The beaches are "Poipu"; the canyon "Waimea"

Harry fell off a cliff in Ch. 35

Valley of the Lost Tribes = Honopu

Sun angle means it set/rises quickly in the tropics

Umbrella-sized flowers are in CoS Ch. 6

Frutopia is no longer sold in the US; Beachside Blast is a flavor

Spam (canned meat) is popular in Hawai'i

Harry watched Hermione pack in DH Ch. 6

My wife and I share H/Hr's sleeping attire

The pregnancy offer was in Ch. 47

Sod's law is British for Murphy's law

Tahiti and New Caledonia are French

The Kalalau double waterfall and Honopu arch exist; I've seen both

Metal = gravel

Like beef = wanna fight?

Offshore wind helps surfing

Hermione saw the shaka in the Mirror of Erised in Ch. 33

Pandamus looks something like pineapple but is a tree

The Na Pali coast is overrun with tourist helicopters

Hermione's Mum confronted Harry in Ch 39, but vowed to be at her wedding in Ch. 45

The Menehune of Hawai'ian legend resemble goblins

The first H/Hr swing-around was in Ch. 7

The phallic rock was mentioned in Ch. 47

Manongia O Kaeaea appeared in Ch. 63

Moa were mentioned in Ch. 77

Mithril is a magical metal from Tolkein fantasy

In Hawai'i mongoose are pests

Harry got the vorpal sword in Ch. 74; lost it in Ch. 85

Red feather capes were worn by Hawai'ian nobility

The musical rescue was in Ch. 42

Use of ti leaf-wrapped rocks is accurate

The Kalalau Lookout, accurately described, is Hawai'i's best land view

The Southland Times is real

The Omnioculars came from Harry in Ch. 17

Invercargill, the southern New Zealand, is as far away from England as physically possible

Beach and mountain naupaka flowers lack opposite halves of their circle of petals

That's the "grow old" line from the 7th movie

Ch.1 used the same messaging method

This final upheaval was presaged in Chs. 51 & 77

Bills of Attainder figured in the War of the Roses and the civil war of the 1640s; the US constitution explicitly bans them

At one point JKR said the last book would end with "scar"

83

C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\HP & The Fifth Element.ch51 Padfoot's legacy.doc 5/5/2012

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