A/N: Holy crap, it's a holiday miracle!
Well, here we are, folks, the last chapter of Final Battle. It's been fun, and I really appreciate the support and the readership. I'll keep this note short, but bear in mind when I post the epilogue following this, there will be a MUCH longer note accompanying it. Also, major apologies for how long it's taken me to get this out. My life has been absolute insanity since late September and I have been trying to work on this in between everything but, well… I've been going quite spare. I've been writing this in the Laundromat, at work, and to and from Toronto on a coach bus not to mention when I really should have been sleeping, so I've been trying, really! I'm just incredibly anal retentive over this chapter as it is technically the last one and it seems like no matter how much I fix it, I still don't like it.
Three notes on the last chapter.
Yes, I am now aware that June doesn't have a 31st. I went back and fixed that, please forgive my idiocy.
I used acronym where I should have used anagram when relating I Am Lord Voldemort to Tom Marvolo Riddle. Again, I am an idiot. Error fixed.
A few have said that Harry and Hermione's first time seemed rushed. Honestly, it was. Really, who has a perfect first time with rose petals and candlelight and swooning and whatnot? First times are often awkward or quicker than one hopes. I really don't have much to base it on anyway-I barely remember my first time but what I do remember wasn't romantic at all. I was aiming for reality rather than flowery sweetness. It wasn't a `pretend it's our wedding night' thing for Hermione with the ring. It was more of an `I know I wanted to wait until we were married, so let's just pretend we are because you could very well die' sort of thing.
And with that said, on with the show!
Disclaimer:
"Didn't you promise me that I could be myself for the last disclaimer?" asks Lang-Stewie.
Crystal shrugs. "Eh. So I lied. So what?"
"Damn you, you vile woman!"
"Oh keep your diaper on. I've got something better in mind for today's disclaimer."
Suddenly Lang finds himself swathed in an ominous black cloak, with a high quality tux underneath to accompany it.
"Not this Snape crap again," he mutters.
"Try checking your face."
He raises his hands to feel across his forehead and cheeks, and discovers that half of his face is covered by a white porcelain mask.
"You're way too obsessed with this musical," grumbles Phantom-Lang.
"I could've turned you into Fiyero or Boq from Wicked, y'know. I think you'd prefer being the Phantom to a Winkie Prince with blue diamond skin or a lonely Munchkin. Now get on with it." Crystal conveniently leaves out the part where Fiyero gets all the girls.
Phantom-Lang takes center stage and begins to sing to the tune of one verse and the chorus of the title song.
Those who have read your work
Know the end is near
They wait for the last chapter
Though the ending, they fear
Your plotline is all yours
But the characters you don't claim
J K Roooooooooooooooooooooooooooowling owns Harry Potter
Though HBP was lame.
"Thanks Will."
He glowers and with a sexy, dramatic swish of his cloak that has all the Phangirls in the audience swooning, he disappears.
As he vanishes from sight, a body comes swinging down from the rafters a la Joseph Buquet. Upon closer examination, it is Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps Phantom-Lang is good for something after all.
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It was dawn, 30 June 1997. The early morning mist shrouded Hogwarts in a haze, giving it an eerie appearance. Within the castle walls the only people remaining were sixth and seventh year students, faculty, Order members, and nearly the entire Auror corps complete with arsenal. All students fifth year and under had been sent home shortly following Harry's broadcast on the WWN, despite their many protests.
Every day leading up to this one had been spent training in every spare moment. New spells were practiced, potions brewed and stockpiled, and the Aurors even pitched in to train the more advanced students in combat. They had brought with them supply kits that Harry would have sworn came from Agent Q himself. Filled to the brim with every field medicine Healing potion, various bandages, an Invisibility cloak, and several shrunken weapons such as swords, the Auror kits were more useful than Harry would have ever imagined. There was even an assortment of products from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, such as shield hats and Peruvian Instant Darkness powder. He had even found an ingenious magical version of a walkie-talkie that worked much like the two-way mirror Sirius had given him. All he would have to do was tap the communicator with his wand, and clearly speak the name of the person he wished to talk to. It was rather like a portable Floo, but without the fire. A kit had been distributed to every former DA member, and the Aurors did their best to train them in the short time they had. Everything was terribly rushed but it was the best that could be done.
Harry stood in the Astronomy tower looking out from the parapet, his face stony and his mouth a grim line. It seemed fitting to him that he waited there. Dumbledore had died here, beginning his next great adventure. And on this foggy morning, Harry was about to embark on a great adventure of his own. If all went well, a Voldemort-free adventure. The next several minutes were spent silently contemplating the upcoming battle, and how he and his fellow students would fare. It was all he could hope that his teachings in the DA had some effect on them as he thought of the battle preparations going on below in the Great Hall.
He trained his gaze on the horizon and the grounds of Hogwarts, his eyes carefully searching for any sign of Tom and his followers. His heart, oddly enough, was beating steadily rather than like a Bludger just released as he'd thought it would on this day. He felt prepared. It was an odd feeling, as nearly every other time he'd come in contact with Riddle had been entirely random or unexpected. Harry found that he liked it, in its own strange way. Though he couldn't guarantee the outcome of their final battle, he knew that he was going into it with all he had. Hands rising to his neck, he began to fiddle with the silver chain hanging there. Dangling from the end of it was the small vial of potion Hermione had given him, the Elixir of Eternal Rest. He had complete faith in her potion-making abilities, but the effects of the Elixir made him fairly nervous. There was such a small window of time for their plan to be executed flawlessly, and he couldn't help but dwell on the negative possibilities. He trusted Ron and Hermione to get the job done if his four to six minutes passed with no luck, but he wasn't entirely sure that their efforts would render Voldemort permanently extinguished. After all, the prophecy had said that it was kill or be killed, and if he died as a result of the potion or faulty resuscitation he was fairly sure it wouldn't count as Riddle's doing.
No, it was by Harry's hand that the vile man had to die, he reminded himself fiercely. And he would be the one to do it. Damn the potions, and damn the odds. It came down to him and Tom, and it would be Harry that came out victorious. It just had to be.
A pair of arms encircled themselves around his waist from behind; small feminine hands pressing flat against the planes of his chest. He leaned back into Hermione's embrace, never taking his eyes off the grounds. Her warmth was comforting against his skin, as was her breath on his neck. She pressed herself firmly against him, savouring the contact.
They stood like that for a few minutes before she came to face Harry, and pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss before returning to his right side. No words were spoken; on this morning, there was no need for them. They had always been comfortable together in silence and today was no different. It would have been difficult trying to find the appropriate words to say, anyway. It was such a strange occasion, and waiting for Riddle to appear seemed to render Hermione's extensive vocabulary useless.
Five minutes later Ron joined them, unusually quiet though it wasn't surprising giving the circumstances. He stood on Harry's left, surveying the grounds in front of them.
"At least it's not raining," commented Ron gravely, desperate to break the quiet tone of the room. He had never been comfortable joining in their moments of silence, and was far too nervous to try it now. The sky was fairly cloudy, but no storms had broken through yet.
Hermione nodded in agreement; Harry didn't move but he shared the same sentiment. Rainfall would be an issue, making it difficult to see during the battle and the conditions of the ground rather slippery. He was silently thankful that the weather was fairly decent that day, though he knew that an Impervious on the lens of his glasses would take care of part of the problem. He thought that perhaps the cooler air was better for battle conditions than a dry or muggy summer heat, but the rain that might come with that air would most definitely be a problem.
Abruptly, he turned towards the stairs leading back to the rest of Hogwarts. "Let's get this over with,
shall we?"
Ron nodded, and headed down the stairs first. Hermione moved to follow him, but Harry grasped her wrist and pulled her to himself in a searing kiss. One hand snaked into her hair and held on tightly while the other encircled her waist and pulled her close. He poured every feeling he'd ever had for her into the kiss as his tongue swirled around hers, burning her lips into his memory. Just in case.
"It'll be okay, Harry. I promise." Said Hermione softly as he released her, her eyes locked on his own.
"I know. I trust you," he replied, kissing her gently once more. "Let's go."
They met Ron at the bottom of the stairs and ventured to join the rest of the battalion in the Great Hall where everyone was waiting. Overnight the Hall had been transfigured into an infirmary. It was rather morbid, but precautions had to be taken and Madame Pomfrey was certain that her Hospital Wing wouldn't be large enough to hold all the injured they were expecting. She had called in several favours over at St. Mungo's for medical equipment and supplies, and in doing so had gained several volunteer Healers. They were all huddled in a corner in one giant lime green mass, occasionally sipping at pumpkin juice with a calming draught mixed in. They were nervous. They all were, and the Healers especially didn't want to be suffering from their tense state.
"Ahh, there you are," said Doctor Lang as he approached; his face serious and his wild hair surprisingly tamed for the occasion. He dug into his pockets and held out two folded squares of fabric to Hermione and Ron. They immediately recognized them as Invisibility Cloaks, and nodded in thanks. Harry had his own safely tucked into the pocket of his pants. Hermione and Ron opted to do the same. Though they had each obtained a Cloak in their Ministry-issued Auror kits, it never hurt to have a spare. It would be much easier to grab the cloaks from their pockets in the heat of the moment rather than to pull out the Auror kit, un-shrink it, find the cloak, and then put it on. They spoke quietly with the professor, going over last minute details of their battle plan and ensuring that they had all their necessary equipment. With a conjured chalkboard and some chalk they quickly outlined their required formations and several back-up plans should Riddle come at them in an unexpected manner. When he was questioned lengthily by Hermione, the eccentric older man patted the pockets of his cargo pants in reassurance that he had everything they would need. He prepared for the battle just as he prepared for class, and wasn't planning on failing their trust by arriving unprepared.
The trio, along with several of the Aurors, students, and anyone generally planning on participating in combat, had opted to wear something similar to Muggle army fatigues. They were all sporting dark green cargo pants and matching cotton long sleeve t-shirts. It was just cool enough out to warrant long sleeves, and the pants were a bit heavy, but the extra pockets they provided would come in handy. Each DA member wore two wand holsters; one on their wand arm and one on their thigh, each for convenience. All of the students carried a miniature version of the Auror kits that had been given to the Gryffindor trio, with enough shrunken vials of potion to supply four or five injured parties. Fred and George had sent a special batch of products for the students, including several choices of Skiving Snackboxes. Harry wasn't entirely sure what good a Puking Pastille would do in the heat of battle, but he could see the merit of a Nosebleed Nougat or a Fainting Fancy. It would be a fairly easy way to trick a Death Eater into thinking you were heavily injured or dead before hexing them senseless and then snapping their wand.
Every witch or wizard had several Blood Replenishing and Pepper Up potion vials tucked away inside their pockets, and many of them also had a second wand. Upon the arrival of the Aurors, they had immediately insisted on obtaining a second wand for the three Gryffindors, and any DA member who showed promise in fighting double-wanded. Ollivander had been happy to provide them, and had been quite receptive when the Ministry suggested supplying group Portkeys to bring the students directly to his shop in safety rather than having the master Wandmaker shrink his entire stock and bring it with him. While there was not much time for practice with the new wands, they would serve their purpose. The use of two wands was not a skill that had to be especially honed to be effective. Harry's wand especially came in handy; to prevent his primary wand bonding with Voldemort's once more. He had also been practicing with Hermione's first and second wands, just in case. Their emotional bond seemed to extend to their magical equipment, and they weren't taking any chances. The Aurors had graciously taken on the roles of teachers without complaint, and were spending the days leading up to the battle working tirelessly with every willing student. Their lives were on the line just as much as everyone else's, and like good soldiers, they had accepted their duties and performed them exceptionally well.
The assembled group was fidgeting nervously, waiting the arrival of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Though they were all not looking forward to the task at hand, several of the more experienced fighters knew that the wait was the worst part.
Unable to take the anticipation anymore, the Trio marched out the front doors of the castle and into the morning mist. The sun had risen shortly after four in the morning; Harry knew, he had watched it from the parapet of the Astronomy tower. He'd not slept all night, and he doubted Hermione and Ron hadn't either. It was nearly half gone five, and they were nervous. Ron supposed perhaps Riddle's perception of dawn was different from their own (something about evil Dark Lords and vampires loathing sunrise, he had muttered), but soon his concerns disappeared.
Moments after they took their positions on the castle steps, a sea of black cloaks began to appear on the walkway from Hogsmeade. It amused Harry to know that the Death Eaters still couldn't Apparate into the castle, and were forced to trudge up the pathway like Muggles. In fact, he was surprised that they had not arrived by Portkey or Apparition directly outside the gates; perhaps they were going for the dramatic `strength in numbers' appearance. He spotted Tom heading the procession, in elegant black robes trimmed in silver and emerald green, much like those he had worn at the rally in Diagon Alley. His skin was paler than ever and his eyes were blood-red slits set high on his bony face. His nose was still nearly non-existent, and his thin lips were curled into a sneer. He was flanked by Lucius Malfoy on his left and Bellatrix Lestrange on his right.
Ron turned and ran back into the castle, shouting as he went that the time had come and the Death Eaters were on the path to Hogwarts. Inside Harry could hear the students and Aurors scrambling towards the great oak doors, grabbing kits and weapons as they ran.
As the swarm of darkness neared the gates, the heavy wrought-iron flew open and Death Eaters began swarming the castle. The warriors for the Light side spilled out of the doorway behind Ron and directly into their oncoming opponents. Curses were thrown, several combatants were resorting to hand-to-hand fighting, and there were even several swords clashing. Harry watched as Ernie MacMillan took a long sword to a Death Eater's wand, cleanly slicing it in two. He silently applauded the Hufflepuff, watching with pride as he Stunned and tied up the now unarmed Death Eater. He saw several other students winning one-on-one battles with the dark wizards and witches, taking them down in various creative methods that would have earned them house points in a Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom duel.
Throughout the entire first five minutes of the onslaught, despite their best efforts, not a single Death Eater came anywhere near the golden Trio. Voldemort had disappeared within the sea of black robes, and Harry's visual search for the Dark Lord turned up nothing.
Behind the Death Eaters came legions of trolls and giants, many waving clubs haphazardly through the air. The Dementors that hovered above them were not pleased with their behaviour and swooped down to let their frigid presence be felt among the giants and trolls, bringing them back in line.
The evil soul-suckers flew over the battle, grabbing anything they could find in green and ensnaring it in their icy clutches. They were rarely successful, though their first swarm caught several witches by surprise. Hannah Abbot had frozen in terror the moment she saw them approaching and was the first victim to be kissed. The others quickly learned from her sad mistake and began casting Patronuses any time they felt the slightest chill. Better safe than sorry, and the ethereal creatures seemed to have a negative effect on the Death Eaters anyway. Harry supposed that all that positive energy was like poison to their dark souls, and was pleased to know that they were affected by a Patronus.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ron spotted Luna fighting with Rodolphus Lestrange. He was casting several Cutting charms at the quirky Ravenclaw, and she was bleeding profusely as a result. She struggled to bring up a Protego shield but the blood loss was impeding her magical abilities. Ron tore across the battlefield, away from his fight with another Death Eater, screaming at the top of his lungs as he pointed his wand at Lestrange's head and yelled "REDUCTO!"
With a sickening pop and a spray of blood and brain matter, Rodolphus's head exploded. Ron, having shown his true strength in the face of danger, muttered several Healing charms over Luna's wounds and tipped a vial of Blood Replenishing potion down her throat followed by the Pepper Up he had stored in his pocket. She stood shakily, and her clear blue eyes met Ron's. He swore that she had never looked so beautiful in her life, even with the crimson droplets and pulpy grey matter randomly stuck to her skin and clothing. He hastily escorted her into the Great Hall, used a cleaning charm on her face, and kissed her fiercely. "Love you," he whispered.
"I know you do, Ronald," she replied as Madame Pomfrey approached.
The MediWitch nodded at Ron and shooed him out of the Hall. "I'll have her back to you soon enough, Mr. Weasley, now go!"
Ron returned to the steps to find Harry and Hermione back-to-back, firing curses at Death Eaters coming at them from every angle. He quickly joined in the fray and insinuated himself between them, so that his back was to the great oak doors with Harry on his left and Hermione on his right, and began returning the fire from the Death Eaters.
Far across the battlefield Harry noticed a swarm of shiny metal and dark skin coming in their direction, and his heart leapt into his throat. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but as he looked more carefully he saw that the mass of on comers was a Goblin army. He smiled inwardly, recalling Ragnok's long-ago promise that the Goblins would help him in any way they could. He supposed they had heard his call-out of Lord Voldemort on the Wireless, and came to join in the fun.
As the battalion neared, he saw that their pointy teeth were exposed by their lips twisted into a sinister grin, and he shuddered inwardly, thankful that he was not on the receiving end of the Goblins' ire. It was incredible watching them as they gladly took on Death Eaters, almost happily, slicing into their jugulars and other vital body parts with their broad swords. Heaving a great sigh as he deflected an oncoming curse, Harry was grateful that they had come to join the fray.
Harry, Bellatrix is coming at you, Hermione informed him as she took out the cloaked figure nearest to her.
He turned and aimed to fire, but Bellatrix held up her hand. "Aww, Potter wants to play," she taunted, grinning. All the other Death Eaters fell back as the heavy-lidded witch approached, clearly as fearful of her as they were of their Master. Harry supposed he couldn't blame them; Bellatrix was nearly as vile as her master, and equally sadistic.
"What do you want," growled Harry, his wand pointed directly between her eyes and a curse on the tip of his tongue.
"The Dark Lord wishes for you to fulfill your promise to him," she said, cackling. "He wants to finish it. Once and for all."
"And you're telling me this why?" he retorted, wishing the crazed witch would leave him alone and let him get on with the battle. "In case you haven't noticed, I have other slimy gits to take care of before I can go finish him off." Ron and Hermione stood at his side, wands trained on her.
A sneer curled her lip as she threw back her head and cackled once more. "Little Potter is too silly to understand! He thinks the Big Bad Death Eaters are all he has to deal with!" she mocked in that oh-so-annoying baby voice. "I am to lead you to him," she said seriously. "He'd hate for you to be injured on your way to your death. The Dark Lord would prefer you healthy and uninjured, so that he may kill you properly. Wouldn't want to leave any doubts about his supremacy over you. You understand, of course."
Get your cloak ready, love. Ron, too. "Lead the way," said Harry, stepping towards Bellatrix but still keeping his wand out.
She smiled maniacally and turned her wand on her fellow Death Eaters. Though most seemed unfazed, as they were used to her insanely odd behaviour, quite a few still found their lips forming a round `o' of surprise. "Some of you weren't listening when Master said the boy was to be unharmed. Crucio!"
The small pack of Death Eaters surrounding the trio fell to the ground, writhing in madness. Bellatrix laughed and turned her back on them.
Harry followed her as she walked away without a trace of regret for causing pain to her colleagues. In the hustle and bustle of maneuvering through various skirmishes and stepping over bodies (Thankfully, most of them dressed in black and not green), Harry lost Hermione and Ron as they disappeared under their cloaks. As he passed McGonagall taking down a particularly scarred Death Eater he spied Doctor Lang being tugged by some unseen force in his general direction. Moments later he disappeared from view as well, and Harry resisted the temptation to breathe a sigh of relief.
As he followed Bellatrix he spied the Patil sisters distracting a particularly stupid troll as Lavender Brown levitated a large rock over its head and dropped it directly on his skull. Cho Chang and Michael Corner were simultaneously casting their Patronus charms in the direction of most of the Dementors, keeping them at bay as long as possible. Bill and Charlie Weasley spied their attempts, and rushed over to help. Soon other wizards and witches came to help, and with ten Patronus charms at full blast, the Dementors couldn't get anywhere near the battle.
Harry passed Ginny, standing bravely before Draco Malfoy who was crumpled on the grass with his leg broken beneath him and his wand snapped in front of him. She was staring down Lucius Malfoy, who had shown no love for his son when he had hit him with the Bone-Breaking Hex and rapped his wand over his broken leg to snap it.
"I'll not let you!" she was shouting at the platinum blonde, and Harry was proud of her defiance in the face of death. "If you want Draco, you'll have to go through me!"
He lost sight of her for a moment as he passed another fight, and as he caught another glimpse he saw Lucius Malfoy surrounded by the distraction Bat Bogeys as Ginny was shouting "REDUCTO!" in his general direction. The power of her spell was driven by her love for Draco, and it slammed into Malfoy Sr. full force. As she fell onto Draco and activated an Emergency Portkey to bring him into the Great Hall, she didn't even notice that there wouldn't be anything left of Malfoy to bury when the battle was over.
Harry silently congratulated her, along with Ron from earlier, for not resorting to use an Unforgivable Curse. The Reductor hex was just as deadly if well-aimed, and nowhere near dark magic. He was proud of both of them, especially Ginny for standing up to Draco's father. Not even Draco had been able to do that. He had stopped questioning their odd relationship long ago, and instead was happy for the redhead. She had succeeded in bringing Draco over to the light side, and for that he was grateful.
As they vanished with the Portkey he hurried to keep up with Bellatrix, who seemed to be leading him away from the battle. He looked around frantically for the warping of an Invisibility Cloak when he heard Hermione's reassuring voice in his mind.
We're right behind you, Harry. Don't worry about us.
He resisted the urge to smile as he carried on, and nearly tripped over Terry Boot's leg. The unfortunate Ravenclaw had been felled by an unknown Death Eater, so Harry quickly knelt to slap a Portkey on his robes before continuing to follow Bellatrix. He didn't have time to feel guilty for his senseless death; he'd do that after Voldemort was gone.
He passed another former DA member, Justin Finch-Fletchley, who was bravely facing Nott Sr. He was shielding and deflecting the heavy Death Eater's many curses, while still managing to fire the occasional hex. Harry smiled proudly as Justin slipped a Stunner past his shield and knocked the Death Eater over. He silently congratulated Justin as he bound the large man and Stunned him several more times for good measure. His fellow students had learned well.
Soon enough Harry realized that Bellatrix was leading him away from the battle, around the back of the castle and towards the cliffs by the Great Lake. He began to entertain ideas of tossing Voldemort over the edge and feeding him to the Giant Squid or the Merpeople, but decided it might give them indigestion.
"Enjoy your death, Potter," said Bellatrix nastily before heading back to the battle.
Nervously Harry stepped around the corner of the old castle, and spotted Riddle waiting for him.
"Well good morning, Potter. How nice of you to join me! I see you have come for our duel?" said Riddle in a snide tone.
Ready?
Ready, Harry! We're here!
Rather than dignify Tom with a response, Harry took hold of his holly and phoenix feather wand, and cried "Expelliarmus!" at the exact same moment Voldemort cast the Killing Curse.
Apparently some things never changed.
The red and green beams of light from their wands connected and a golden light exploded from where they emerged, spreading out around them in a circle thirty feet in diameter. Exactly as it had happened in his fourth year, Harry was trapped inside the golden cage of light with Lord Voldemort. This time, however, he did not have to struggle to keep the green light from hitting him. He stood there, calmly holding his wand as he kept the light in the middle of the circle.
"I know, Tom," said Harry cryptically, surveying the skeletal wizard through his glasses. "I know about the Horcrux. And I know Nagini wasn't one. Remember Nagini? Giant snake, twelve feet long, used to follow you around? I killed her. Right under your nose."
Riddle was furious, he remembered coming across the body of his beloved pet, but as his wand was connected with Harry's, there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. All of his magic was focused on the pending Killing Curse, and he couldn't spare any of it to wandlessly stun the boy. He wanted him dead once and for all; diverting his magic to a second spell would not accomplish that.
"But you had everyone fooled, didn't you? We all thought you had seven Horcruxes, that one of them was Nagini. We were right about how many they were, but even you didn't realize that you had seven until you tried to make Nagini into one and failed. There wasn't enough soul left in you to split again. You overlooked something serious, Tommy boy. When you set out to make your Horcruxes, your soul didn't know there would be seven. Each murder you committed split your soul in half. First Horcrux, you were left with half a soul. Second Horcrux, one quarter of a soul. So on and so forth until you made your seventh Horcrux unknowingly, and were left with one sixty-fourth of your soul in your own body. How was one one-hundred-and-twenty-eighth of your soul to sustain you? That was when you realized your error. That you'd inadvertently made me your seventh Horcrux the night you killed my parents.
"You went into Godric's Hollow that night intending to make a Horcrux from my murder, probably with some long-lost item of Ravenclaw's that we have yet to discover. You'd already done the Gryffindor shield which my parents somehow ended up with, Ravenclaw was the only founder you had left. But when my mother's love prevented you from killing me, you evaporated on the spot along with your clothing and anything else you brought with you. The Ravenclaw artifact disappeared along with the rest of you, so the piece of your soul that was expended went looking for the nearest host: me. I am your seventh Horcrux, Tom."
Tom Riddle had never been so frightened in his entire life. The boy knew that he had made a mistake. And he was foolish enough to kill himself in an effort to kill Tom. His death was almost imminent and with his wand bound he didn't have the ability to perform the refined magic necessary to stop the boy. He was just this side of pissing his pants in fear when Harry began to speak again.
"So you see my dilemma, Tom. For you to die, I have to die. Otherwise I'll spend the rest of my life chasing down your shadow with one sixty-fourth of your soul stuck inside of me until I find another way around it. Here's the kicker though; pay attention, you'll like this one. You're afraid to die, Tom. That's why you made all these Horcruxes in your desperate grasp for immortality. You want to live forever, to rule the Wizarding World for all eternity. Dying would put a big kink in those plans, wouldn't it?
"But me? I'm not scared of death. You've been trying to kill me since I was a baby, I've kind of gotten used to the idea. So while you're just now confronting your greatest fear, I'm ready for this. I'm ready to die. Are you?"
Before Riddle could say anything, Harry used his left hand to pull the chain from his neck and pop the cork from the potion vial. "Bottoms up, Tommy boy. See you in the afterlife."
I love you, Hermione.
See you soon, Harry.
He tossed the potion down his throat and snapped his wand upwards, breaking the connection. The green jet of light harmlessly slammed into a rock as Harry's disarming charm hit its mark and Riddle's wand went flying. He was too busy convulsing on the grass to notice however, as the potion began to take hold of his heart and squeeze like a hot iron band. As Harry twitched and the blackness overcame him, his last thought was Hermione's smiling face.
Twenty feet away, Riddle collapsed on the grass, hunting furiously for his wand. He looked up to see the wispy fragment of his soul float out of Potter's mouth and upwards in the cool morning air. "No!" he shouted angrily, becoming more frantic in his search for his wand. "Get over here!" he demanded of the soul fragment, wishing that for once wandless magic would serve him some greater use than showy effects to frighten his followers into obedience.
As he raised his head to search within his vicinity for his wand with his long, bony fingers clawing at the grass, he saw the blood traitor and the Mudblood throwing off Invisibility cloaks. And they were not alone.
The red-headed boy took a step towards Potter's body, aimed his wand at the wisp of smoke, and yelled "DESTRUCRUX!"
Voldemort screamed in agony as he felt the piece of his soul being ripped apart, and the one sixty-fourth of the soul remaining inside of him calling out to its counterpart. It was a greater torture than he had ever felt, and through the haze of pain he vaguely wondered if there was some way of harnessing the sensations he was feeling and creating a spell with them to keep his followers in line. It was a credit to his sadistic nature that he was able to form such a thought despite the fact that he felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.
Through his pain he saw the Mudblood girl was crying over Potter's body. The leonine man that had come with them was pushing her out of the way, and madly pounding his fists on Potter's chest in some absurd rhythm. Another sweep of pain greater than his strongest Cruciatus washed over him, and he passed out.
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Back on the battlefield, Ginny and Luna were staring down Death Eaters. They were accompanied by Lupin, Moody, and McGonagall as they fired off hexes and curses. Just on the other side of the field they could see Professors Sinistra, Vector, and Flitwick valiantly doing the same thing they were. There were bodies everywhere, most of them clad in black but far too many in green, and from her last trip up to the Great Hall to bring an injured Anthony Goldstein Ginny knew that there were twice the number of injured as there were dead.
Suddenly a piercing scream rang out over the battlefield, causing everyone who still had two working hands to cover their ears.
The Death Eaters looked disheartened as the scream died. Ginny took this as a good sign and valiantly charged forward. "It's Riddle!" she shouted to the Light side. "He's in pain! Harry's winning!"
With her proclamation, the warriors for the light began to fight even harder than before, many of them calling upon adrenaline and emergency magical reserves they didn't even realize they had. Black-robed figures fell left and right, and soon Ginny's group had cleared a path towards the three professors fighting on the other side of the field.
Smiling inwardly, Ginny's fierce determination lead to her felling the nearest Death Eater as her thoughts turned to Draco. She would win this battle for him.
Luna was having similar thoughts, having been healed by Madam Pomfrey and determined fit to return to the field. She and Ginny together would win the battle. She knew they could do it. When she had woken up that morning she had seen the shadow of a Barnacle-Crested Dingbat in the morning mist; a well-known symbol of victory. There was no doubt in Luna's mind that the Light would be victorious.
The Creevey brothers came running breathlessly towards the girls, bringing Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas with them. "We've got all the ones closer to the lake," explained Colin between breaths, his ever-present camera hanging from his neck. It had scorch marks on it; Ginny supposed he used it to deflect a curse as he had back in their first year with the Basilisk.
Fred and George followed several feet behind them, dragging their father with them. "What was that blasted screaming?" asked Fred.
"Sounded like a banshee," commented George.
"It had to have been Riddle," replied Ginny, sending several curses at the Death Eaters approaching them warily.
"Harry did it? He really did it?" asked Arthur hopefully before turning to deflect a Stunner coming at his daughter.
Ginny shook her head. "Not yet, they're still alive. Draco told me that the Mark binds them to him, when he dies they will too."
Several more jets of light flew at the group, but the fighters kept on retaliating. The stronger witches and wizards held up a shield while the weaker ones fired from beneath it, which ensured casualties to the Dark side while keeping them safe.
"He never took the Mark, did he?" Mr. Weasley asked his daughter tentatively.
She shook her head as she fired a Jelly-Legs Jinx over her father's shoulder at an approaching Death Eater. "Dad, Draco's safe. I promise. If he'd succeeded in his mission he would have been forced to take the mark, but you know how that ended."
His curiosity satisfied, albeit at a rather odd time, Arthur refocused his attention on the few remaining Death Eaters as the Hogwarts staff, DA members, and various Weasleys fired every spell they knew at the oncoming men and women in black robes.
<><><><><>
Ron stood guard over Voldemort's unconscious body as Hermione and Dr. Lang performed cardio-pulmonary resuscitation on Harry. He checked the time piece Hermione had given him the night before, just for this occasion. Three minutes. They had one more before Harry would enter dangerous territory and potentially suffer from brain damage. Or not come back at all.
Dr. Lang let out a cry of frustration and thrust his hand deep into his white lab coat, pulling out another vial and an ominous looking syringe with an equally ominous needle. It reminded Ron of just why Muggle doctors terrified the hell out of him.
"Hermione, listen to me. I need you to force this potion into Harry, and then hold him still while I use this." He gestured with the syringe, and Hermione's eyes widened.
"You said that CPR would work!"
"I WAS WRONG!" screamed the doctor angrily, his eyes betraying how guilty he felt. "This potion is the antidote to the Elixir. I brewed it last week just in case this happened."
"And the needle?" asked Hermione as she frantically worked Harry's jaw open, pouring the potion down his throat.
"Adrenaline. Epinephrine. Same thing. Hold him still. It'll shock his heart into functioning again."
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and looked away, and a moment later Ron understood why. He watched in horror as the crazy Defense professor raised his arm high over his head, and sank the frighteningly long needle into his best mate's chest, directly into his heart. A crimson stain began to spread from the needle's entry point as Dr. Lang depressed the plunger, delivering the Muggle chemical to Harry's bloodstream, and then resumed CPR.
Ron was fairly sure that, had he been born a Muggle, he might've preferred dying to being treated by a doctor. Watching that shiny steel penetrate his best friend's skin and sink to the hilt was enough to make him thank Merlin for the gift of St. Mungo's.
As he pounded his hands on Harry's chest, the doctor silently cursed magic and its interference with Muggle electronic devices. What he wouldn't give for a defibrillator at that moment? He prayed with every fiber of his being that he would be able to bring Harry back; having the death of the Boy Who Lived on his hands was not something he was looking forward to.
Seconds later Harry began coughing and wheezing as his lungs began to pump air again and the antidote to the poison began to flow through his blood. The epinephrine energized him better than any Pepper Up potion ever could and after thirty seconds of deep breathing he was on his feet with his wand pointed at Voldemort's head. He felt a bit of a head rush at his sudden vertical status, but after a moment to regain his senses he was prepared to do what was required.
With tears of relief slipping from her eyes, Hermione rushed up to him and he turned to kiss her, all the while keeping his wand trained on Voldemort. "You did it," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers momentarily as he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now it's your turn," she replied, stepping backwards. She had done everything she had set out to do, and now it was up to Harry.
"Ron, on with it!" demanded Harry, focusing on his enemy's unconscious body.
"Ennervate!" said Ron before retreating with Hermione.
Riddle began to sit up, his head feeling rather foggy. He checked to make sure all of his body parts were intact, and was relatively surprised. He was still alive. As he opened his eyes he found himself faced with the business end of Harry's wand, and actually did soil himself. Oh, he was alive alright. But not for much longer.
"I could give you great things, Harry," he pleaded, trying to lure him with dark magic. "We could rule the world together. My knowledge and power combined with yours; imagine the possibilities."
"You've taken far too much from me for that. I don't care about taking over the world; I just want to live my life. Now it's your turn to die. Avada-"
Before Harry could finish the Unforgivable incantation, a sharp cry was heard overhead. He looked upwards and flying towards him out of the sun was a scarlet and gold bird.
"Fawkes!" The Trio cried in unison, recognizing their late Headmaster's familiar.
Swooping down over Harry's head, the regal phoenix alighted on Harry's shoulder. In his talons he carried a ruby-encrusted sword, like he had so many years ago.
Recognizing what the phoenix was there to do, Harry nodded in thanks and slipped the sword of Godric Gryffindor from the mythical bird's talons. He had left it in Gryffindor tower that morning, planning to Summon it if he required it. Fawkes certainly was a much faster mode of transportation than an Accio charm, and it would save him the temporarily forgotten issue of accidentally splitting his soul by murdering the evil Dark Lord with magic. He was thankful that Fawkes had at least remembered.
He swung the blade heavily at Riddle's neck and stopped just a hair's breadth from his skin. Voldemort's face was contorted in preparation for the strike; he slowly opened his eyes to look up at Harry in confusion. The cold steel was biting into his neck, and the tiniest rivulet of blood was leaving a trail along his jugular.
"I want to see the lights leave your eyes when I kill you," said Harry gruffly.
As Riddle's eyes went wide with the shock of his words being quoted back to him, Harry swung the sword again and didn't pause this time. Steel connected with pale white flesh and bone as it sliced through Riddle's neck like a hot knife through cold butter. As the very last fragment of the Dark Lord's soul rose into the air while his head bounced several feet away, Hermione stepped forward and cast the Horcrux Destruction spell for the very last time. Each person present covered their ears as the agonizing scream came from the wispy fragment, waiting for it to dissipate.
Moments later the cliffs were silent once more.
Harry conjured a bag and levitated Riddle's head into it once he placed a freezing charm on the gruesome skull. Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously. "Proof for the Ministry. Just in case," he shrugged.
Turning to face the body of the man who had hunted him for his entire life, Harry wandlessly cast a fire charm at the body and stood there with Hermione's arms wrapped around his waist and Ron's hand on his shoulder as they watched it burn away to nothing but ash. A wind picked up and carried the remains of Tom Marvolo Riddle away with it.
"We could've buried him, you know," mentioned Ron offhandedly as the last of the ashes were carried away on a wisp of smoke.
Hermione snorted. "Yes, and pollute the ground with his evil? What a brilliant way to insult the planet that sustains us. Besides, that would leave the option of Necromancy in an attempt to revive him. With nothing left, there's no chance at all. It's safer."
Dr. Lang smiled somberly at the Trio as he came to join them. "Shall we go meet up with the others then?"
They each nodded silently as they trudged from the back of the castle to the front, none of them feeling the complete and utter joy that they should have at the victory. Riddle was dead. The world was safe. But something didn't feel right.
As they rounded the corner they were greeted by the sight of hundreds of Death Eaters laid out on the ground. Not a single one was left standing. Guarding their bodies were several Order members, as well as Ginny and Luna, and the other Hogwarts professors. There were several trolls and giants interspersed with the black hooded robes, and Harry could see shredded black and grey shrouds puddled on the grass. He would worry later about how someone had killed Dementors. In the meantime, he wanted to make sure that everyone he cared about was okay.
Ron's heart swelled at the sight of Luna; a smudge or two of dirt on her cheek and her hair windblown from the battle, but her eyes still shone brightly. He ran to her and swept her up in a hug, kissing her for all he was worth. Now everything felt right to Ron. It really was over. And they had survived it.
Ginny smiled at her brother and her friend, and then ran over to Harry and Hermione, enveloping Harry in the traditional Weasley bear hug.
"Thanks, Harry," she said, kissing him on the cheek. She hugged Hermione also, proving that the girls were no longer at war. "I'd better go check on Draco," smiled the redhead, and she tore off towards the Great Hall.
Harry turned to look at his girlfriend, and entwined his fingers in hers. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but Ron chose that moment to return with Luna.
"It was amazing," she breathed, looking out over the field. "I just knew that he was dead. And then a second later, they all just dropped to the ground. Not a single scream, no burning, it was like they'd all had Miniature Warbling Beetles infesting their brains."
"Well that explains all the bodies," said Harry, sighing as he contemplated what Luna had just said. "I guess we'd better start cleaning up."
"Entirely unnecessary, Harry," said Lupin as he approached with the Hogwarts faculty, Aurors, and remaining students. "I'd say you've done enough for the day. The lot of you best head on up to Gryffindor tower now, and get some sleep. We'll take it from here."
Nodding sullenly, Harry turned to the doors and began to climb the steps with Hermione and Ron following him.
"Oh, and Harry?" called Lupin.
The trio turned around to face the assembled crowd before them.
"Thanks."
<><><><><>
When they arrived at the Heads suite after dropping Ron off in Gryffindor tower, Hermione and Harry went straight into his room and collapsed on the bed. To them the fight had passed quickly, but it had been several hours. With numerous casualties and one standoff leading to the next, it had seemed like a short hour to the Trio. They ended up falling asleep moments within their heads hitting the pillow, and not waking up until late afternoon July first.
Naturally they found themselves securely ensconced in the Infirmary, under Madame Pomfrey's typical watchful eye. She had been pumping them full of potions during their rest, and nearly every battle injury they'd sustained had been healed. A few fractures were still mending as it was rather difficult to administer Skele-Gro to an unconscious patient, and it had ended up being spewed all over the sheets instead.
"Well, good morning to you three!" she said cheerfully as she performed several quick diagnostics to ensure their health. "Good to see you decided to grace us with your presence at last."
Hermione's observant eye caught sight of a calendar on the Medi-Witch's desk, and frowned. "You're acting like we've been out of it for days. It's hardly been twenty-four hours."
"Yes, well, with all of the potions I've administered the three of you since you came in here; I was expecting you to wake up eight hours after your initial Dreamless Sleep dose."
"So this isn't a dream, then," observed Harry quietly. "I really did kill Riddle."
"You did, Harry. My potion worked, Dr. Lang revived you, and you killed him. He's gone for good, Ron and I made sure. You can even view my memories in a Pensieve if you'd like," offered Hermione.
He shook his head. "Unnecessary. I trust you."
"It was bloody wicked, mate!" exclaimed Ron, having found his voice. "I never thought in my lifetime that I'd see someone talk to him the way you did. Absolutely brilliant. Tommy Boy!" Ron slapped his knee as he laughed, recalling the unimpressed look on the Dark Lord's face as Harry addressed him like a child.
Hermione had thought the taunting unnecessary, as it only served to aggravate Riddle further, but she wasn't going to argue with Harry's methods. Not when they'd been so successful. And not when he still hadn't kept his promise.
Ron continued to relive Harry's encounter with Tom Riddle, offering Madame Pomfrey a first-hand account of the experience. Harry seemed to want to hide underneath the pillows, pretending that his celebrity had now increased. Hermione, on the other hand, was silently contemplating the meaning of her boyfriend's promises. The battle was over, Riddle was gone, and not only had they had the entire walk from the battlefield to the hospital wing to talk, they had also been awake for quite some time and still his promise had not been kept.
Hermione Granger was normally a patient woman, but when it came to a promise of this serious a nature, she wanted results as quickly as possible.
As Ron further embellished his tale, Hermione silently slipped from her bed and with a nod of approval from Madame Pomfrey, took leave of the Infirmary. She ventured to the kitchens, obtaining some food from the house elves as quietly as possible. She was surprised that they had not bowed down to her in some sort as Harry Potter's Mione who had helped defeat the Dark Lord, but she was not about to complain. Perhaps all of her requests to Dobby that she not be addressed as anything other than her name had finally sunk in, and he had passed the word onto the other elves.
With a heaping plate of food she returned to the common room of her suite, and collapsed on the sofa. She was only afforded a few moments of solitude before Harry came cautiously through the portrait hole, carefully avoiding her gaze. Without making eye contact he crossed the room, kissed her forehead, and made for his bedroom.
"Harry, wait," said Hermione, standing up. "We need to talk."
"About what?" he asked calmly, almost carelessly. "I killed Riddle, the world is safe, what else do you want from me?"
She looked confused. "You make it sounds as though I expected you to do those things."
"Didn't you?" he countered.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I believed you could, but I never expected it of you. If you had really wanted to, I would've run away with you to some obscure place like Canada or Australia where they'd never find us. You were determined to do the right thing, and I accepted that."
He sighed, rubbing his temples, hoping it would ease the headache he was beginning to feel. "I just need some time to myself, okay?"
"Why?" asked Hermione petulantly.
"Does it matter? You asked me for time, you practically abandoned me for months, and now I can't have one night to just be alone?"
His words stung, especially as they rang true. Hermione had abandoned him in her quest to save him, right when he needed her most. "Is that what this is about?" she asked slowly, quietly. "You think I enjoyed that?"
He shook his head. "No, I know you didn't. But you did it nonetheless. I know that I said when Riddle was gone that I'd ask you to-well, it's not important now, is it? I haven't changed my mind, I still want to, but I just… there's trust involved, Hermione. And while I trust in your feelings, and definitely your potion-making abilities, I need some time to learn to trust you in our relationship again. I can't just pretend that the past few months didn't happen, that we didn't grow apart. As much as I'd like it to, one night can't change that."
Sitting back on the sofa, Hermione recoiled mentally. He was right, again, but she hadn't expected him to take it this hard. "What do you want from me, then?" she asked unsteadily, her voice wavering.
Harry sat on the cushion with her, and took her hands in his. "I want time. I'm not asking for a break in our relationship, I just need time to come to terms with what happened."
"How much time are we talking?" she whispered, almost fearfully.
"Days, weeks, months… I don't know, love, but all I can say is that if we take things one step at a time, we'll be okay."
She nodded, sniffling back tears as she looked into his eyes. "I love you, Harry."
"I know you do, and I love you too. I'm not questioning your love for me; I just need to figure it out for myself what happened these past few months. Just give me some time to come to terms with it."
They sat in silence for several minutes before Harry stood to go to his room. "I know we slept for hours in the hospital wing, but I'm knackered. See you in the morning?"
Hermione nodded, and watched from the couch as Harry retreated to the safety of his bedroom. She continued to run through her head how badly she had screwed up, and what she could possibly do to regain his trust. It was nearly two hours later when she finally stood to head for her own bedroom, where she stumbled unceremoniously onto the mattress and fell into a fitful sleep.
<><><><><>
It took nearly three months before Harry and Hermione revisited the topic of their potential engagement. The aftereffects of the last confrontation with Voldemort had taken an obscene amount of time to get through. There had been press conferences, interviews, public appearances, statements to make… It was all rather draining, truth be told, and Hermione didn't know how much more she could take. Irritating didn't even begin to describe how the entire experience felt, but she could see how it was taking its toll on Harry and didn't like it one bit.
At first he had been acquiescent to the demands of the Wizarding world, active in his role as their savior and bitterly accepting the title of the Man Who Was Victorious as was proclaimed at the Ministry press conference a mere twelve hours after Riddle's death. He had held his tongue during interviews and posed with a smile plastered on his face for the cameras. He took part in the Victory Parade and shook hands with those who assembled to see him, waving to those who were too far to actually greet. Harry recounted for numerous people and publications the events of that Final Battle until his words began to blend together in one perfectly memorized monologue. He went on like this for ages until finally, Hermione stepped in and put a stop to it.
The Wizarding public was never satisfied with all that Harry had to give, they always wanted more but she wasn't going to stand for it anymore. Shortly after the battle she, Harry and Ron had rented a flat together in Muggle London, and that was where she sent him now. Harry had just taken part in an internationally broadcasted interview with the WWN, and it was the last straw for Hermione. The public had been hearing the same answers to the same questions from Harry for weeks now, and so the journalists were coming up with new, more invasive questions to ask him.
When the interviewer from the WWN had said, quote `So tell us, Harry, what did it feel like when you took Gryffindor's blade and sliced it through Lord Voldemort's flesh?' unquote, Hermione had lost it. She had been standing behind Harry the entire time keeping quiet but silently fuming, and this was the last straw.
Without a single word to the radio persona, she grabbed Harry's hand, dragged him out of the room, and instructed him to Apparate to their flat. He did so without question, leaving her to face the man from the WWN.
"Of all the nerve, you ask him that?! Are you not satisfied with his answers? Do you have to know the gory, intimate details? I suppose you'd like to know the exact angle at which the sword pierced his neck or the precise liquid measurement of the blood that gushed from the wound? Wouldn't you? Would you like to know every exact, specific detail? It's one thing to ensure that Tom Riddle is indeed dead and gone; it's another to ask the very man responsible for our safety how it felt to kill him!"
She spun sharply on her heel and slammed the door to the broadcast room behind her. It took her several moments to stop shaking before she was able to concentrate hard and long enough to return to the flat. When she arrived she found Harry sitting on the sofa, staring mournfully at the radio. The volume had been lowered but she could still make out the broadcaster's comments on Harry's interview and her sudden outburst.
His eyes were dull and unfocused; he was staring at the wooden coffee table, but he wasn't seeing that it was there in front of him. Hermione took light and careful steps across the carpet, lowering herself to her knees in front of him. "Harry, love?" she said tenderly, reaching out to clasp his hand in her own.
He shook his head for a moment, the light returning to his pupils. "Thank you," he whispered, his eyes meeting her own.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him and held on as tightly as she could. No words needed to be spoken; she knew that the media frenzy was now over. Harry would finally let her reject all of the invitations and offers to tell his story to the world. He was done reliving that nightmare day after day.
Slowly, gently, Harry scooped Hermione from her position on the floor to nestle with him on the sofa. He cradled her in his arms for quite some time, enjoying the feel of her body against his. "Hermione?"
His breath was hot on her ear and tickled, but she tilted her face towards his and pressed a light kiss to his lips. "Mmm?" She could feel his fingertips brushing across her outer thigh as they made their way towards his hips; she wasn't entirely sure what was about to happen but his hands were near his belt. Perhaps he was taking it off? Getting more comfortable? She began to overanalyze the situation in typical Hermione fashion when his hand carefully extricated itself from behind her and began tickling her side.
"Harry!"
"I could feel the wheels turning in your brain from here, love. Something on your mind?" He asked this casually, as though he hadn't initially broken the silence.
Hermione squirmed as his fingers continued to tickle her sides. "Just…wondering what your…hand was up to!" she managed between fits of laughter. He immediately went still, prompting Hermione to fidget until she was properly facing him. "Harry?"
His hand was making a tight fist around something, she could tell; it was almost as though he'd just caught the Snitch and was refusing to let it go. His knuckles were white and when she looked carefully at his face she could tell by the flicker in his eyes and the bead of sweat on his brow that he was nervous. Hands nearly trembling, Harry extended his hand to her, palm facing down. Motioning for her to open her hand for him, he waited until he realized that she was far too confused and nervous to comprehend. With a sigh of frustration he turned his hand over and slowly opened his fingers.
Hermione's eyes immediately flew to his, and then back down to his hand. The metal band that lay there glinted at her in the firelight, as did the diamond resting in its setting. It was a gold band with a fair sized diamond in it, though not ostentatious. Hermione noticed that it was emerald cut, and there were two smaller baguette diamonds on either side. She looked at Harry questioningly; longingly.
"It was my mum's," he said, twirling the ring between his fingers.
"I thought the Glitra diamonds were your parents' rings?"
"They were," said Harry slowly, "but not my mum's engagement ring."
Tentatively reaching out her hand to Harry's, Hermione paused with her fingers hovering mere centimeters from the golden band.
"I'm not going to give you a speech about the past and how we made it through together, because what matters is that we are here, in the present, together." Harry shakily slipped the ring onto Hermione's finger and it quivered as it resized itself to fit. "If you'll still have me, will you do me the honour of marrying me?"
She stared at the ring, speechless for a few moments, hardly blinking before she slowly nodded. Her eyes met Harry's as she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out in joy and flung herself upon him. "Oh Harry!"
"I'll take that as a yes?" he chuckled nervously, but his laughter was cut off as her lips descended upon his. "I'm sorry I made you wait so long."
Pulling back to meet his eyes, Hermione shook her head. "I'm the one who's sorry. I made you doubt me, and abandoned you when you needed me most. You know now that will never happen again."
Rather than respond Harry lifted her from the sofa and carried her down the hallway to their bedroom, casting various locking and silencing charms as they went.
After all, Ron was due home from work soon.
And he still hadn't grown comfortable to coming home to the sound of moaning.
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