Shattered Illusions

PROLOGUE

January 1st, 2001

People always said that strange things happened on full moons. Forbidden lovers held hands and jumped over cliffs to their death, opting to never live without each other. People who weren't known for being sleep walkers, woke up in their gardens. Your grandmother who was as fit as a fiddle suddenly died in her sleep. You name it, they happened, and all on a full moon. Tonight was no exception.

As Molly Weasley stared out her window remembering nights when her children would play a game of Quidditch under the tell-tale moon, a shadow emerged at the top of her lane. Minutes later, when the kitchen door opened and she reached for her wand, she would let out a scream that would cause her husband, Arthur to come running down the stairs.

The full moon made strange things happen all right. It made Harry Potter, dead to the wizarding world for four years, suddenly come back to life. It opened a barrel and spilled out heartache, loss and irreversible damage, and it made a man feel as if he were ready to forget about his horrible past and try and make amends so that he'd have a chance at a decent future.

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Greetings. Merci beaucoup pour les revues! Anyhoo, a quick bit of randomosity. When you finish this chapter, you'll still be confused so don't worry. I'm not going to reveal everything in chapter one, or there really wouldn't be any point for my story. Healing doesn't happen overnight, and you most certainly can't take happy pills and swallow your fears in an instant either. It takes time.

Chapter One

There's Always Tomorrow

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected such a reception. After all, he was supposed to be dead. Of course Molly would scream. Of course Arthur would proclaim, “My God Harry, is it really you?” Of course Molly would reach for his face with shaky hands, and faint once she realized that she hadn't lost three of her children during the Second War. There were however, a few things that he hadn't expected.

He hadn't planned to look towards the stairs as he drank the soup that Molly had thrust in his direction once she recovered, hoping that Ron would smell its mouth-watering scent and wander down. Waiting for Molly to call for Ginny to help her with the dishes. Hearing bangs and shouts from the attic as Fred and George invented something that would undoubtedly be a bestseller. He knew that none of those things would happen, and yet he found himself waiting, only to be sourly disappointed when he remembered that they were in the past.

“Fred and George have expanded, you know,” Molly sat before him beaming proudly. “They're in France right now for the opening. It's tomorrow.”

Harry smiled in return. He'd read in the paper that Fred and George had recently opened a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Paris. There was one in Hogsmeade as well and if he wasn't mistaken, one in Ireland. In the four years since the War, the twins had done nicely for themselves, which is why they weren't home. They were far too busy living their lives, not letting the past dictate their future. Something that Harry was still struggling to do.

Arthur sat beside Molly and watched patiently. Everyone knew that Molly was only making polite conversation because she wasn't one to pry. But sooner or later, the questions would be asked and Harry would have to give them answers. He owed it to them.

“How are Bill and Fleur?” He asked politely.

Molly's eyes twinkled as she thought of her eldest son. “They're doing well. They have a son now.”

“Really?” Harry had read articles about Bill and his role in helping the Ministry break several dark curses in the aftermath of the War but he hadn't read a birth announcement. That was something that he wouldn't have missed as Harry read the paper zealously in hopes of hearing news about his friends.

“Oh yes.” Molly tapped her wand on the table and immediately, a picture appeared. She pushed it towards Harry. “His name is William and he was born in December.”

“December?” Harry whispered faintly. He stared down at the picture of a glowing, but tired-looking Fleur Delacour as she held a baby with strawberry blonde hair and smiled into the camera.

“December 26^th.” Molly replied.

Harry looked up sharply. Molly's eyes looked sad and Arthur suddenly shifted rather uncomfortably in his seat. He immediately lost his appetite.

“Thanks for the dinner, Mrs. Weasley.” He stood.

She jumped up. “You're not leaving already, are you, Harry?”

“I'm not going to disappear again, don't worry.” He smiled at her softly.

“Won't you come to lunch tomorrow? With everyone gone, it almost gets lonely around here.” Her eyes were pleading.

Harry hated seeing her like this; she was like a mother to him.

“Of course.”

She smiled. “Well goodnight then, Harry.”

A hug and kiss later, and Harry was tossing Floo Powder into the fireplace. “The Leaky Cauldron.”

With that, Harry headed back to his flat in muggle London where he'd spent the past four years hiding away from all things magic, chastizing himself for a night gone wrong.

Still, he thought as he hailed a taxi. There's always tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he'd do better.

*~*

Hermione Granger believed herself to be a rather pragmatic person. She never did things on impulse, but rather thoroughly thought things through. She was always able to account for her actions and she did things slowly, knowing that it was the only way to get through the day with some semblance of sanity. Above all else, practical people didn't allow themselves to easily their cool. But now, as she slipped on a rug and fell on her arse, she couldn't help but let out a scream of frustration.

The source of her anger peeped around the corner and let out a little squeal before hightailing away, laughter following her tiny footsteps.

Sighing, Hermione struggled to get to her feet and marched off behind her daughter, determined to not snatch her up and deliver a slap, which was exactly what she felt like doing.

“Lily Renée Potter quit this instant!”

Hearing the tone of her mother's voice, Lily froze in her tracks and waited to be scooped up. This was a regular occurrence in the Granger household and so it wasn't as if she didn't already know the upcoming speech by heart.

“Honestly, Lily, you really are a handful sometimes!” Hermione bent and picked up the little girl. “Why can't you just be like your sister?”

Lily looked over towards the corner of the bedroom that she shared with her sister and scowled. She may have been three years old, but there was no way that she'd ever aspire to be like her twin. However, her mother chose that moment to yank her pyjama top over head, and so her reply came out muffled.

Despite the fact that they were identical, Lily and Jane didn't have much in common beyond their looks. Having learned to read at the age of two, Jane preferred sitting on in a quiet corner and reading. She didn't always understand what she read, and so always had a dictionary on hand and never turned the page until clarity was achieved. Lily however, was more outgoing. Whether she was giving tea parties in the Queen's honour or dazzling her relatives with her ballet, she made it her personal duty to be the center of attention. For Lily, life was too short to stay still for too long, which was why she gave her mother hell every morning when it came to getting ready.

Hermione told her that she reminded her of the twin's father, a man who was stuck in the pictures that decorated their modest home, someone called Harry Potter. Jane had come across his name a couple of times in her reading and the twins had gathered that when he'd been alive, he was famous in his own right. Knowing that she was like her father made Lily proud, because one day she too hoped to be famous.

The fact that both her daughters had above average intelligence and were mature for their age made Hermione happy, but she knew that it would be the bane of her existence, especially when it came to being the practical person that she'd always set out to be.

“Mummy,” Lily said, trying her hardest to keep still as she had her hair combed. “Do you think that maybe I could learn to fly?”

“Fly?” Hermione's heart leapt in her chest. “You're only three years old, Lily. Why on earth do you want to learn to fly?”

“Because I'm like my father and he was a great flyer.” Lily said, giving her mother a pitying look. Sometimes, the most obvious of things flew by her.

“Well your father is dead,” Hermione replied. “Do you want to be dead as well?”

“I'm not going to die, mum.” Lily groaned. They'd also had this talk several times before. It seemed as if everything lead back to, “Do you want to be dead as well?”

She couldn't be taught to climb the apple trees out back because she'd fall and die. She had to return the tricycle that her grandfather bought her for Christmas last year because one day, she'd learn to ride a bicycle, fall and break her neck. She couldn't go with her uncle Charlie to see the dragons because one might get loose (from their high security facilities) and either eat her or burn her to bits with their fiery stouts. There were a million things that since the day Lily Potter was born, she'd been told that she couldn't do.

But sometimes, no matter how mature Lily was for her age, there was one thing that her maturity would never let her understand. Hermione Granger was just as scared for her children's life as the next mother, perhaps in this case, a little bit more. She'd lost her three best friends and her mother during the War so what was to stop the gods from thinking that she could stand losing her babies.

No, for all her practically and logical reasoning, Hermione would never allow herself to not be scared and just live. She'd lock all her doors as soon as she went through them (murderers killed people in broad daylight as well) and she'd forsake that Caribbean cruise (ships sank all the time). All this so her heart would have to break no more.

What Hermione needed was to learn how to start living again. Little did she know that the gods weren't going to take her babies from her, but rather, had so much more in store.

*~*

Molly Weasley could hardly believe it. Harry Potter, her Harry, her son (so what if she never carried him for nine months, she was sure that Lily and James wouldn't mind) was back. Like the dead come back to life, he had walked through her door and was back for good. It was almost too good to be true, she had told herself, but when he showed up for lunch earlier that afternoon, she knew that it wasn't. Miracles did happen after all.

Even though it had been four years since the Second War, there was still a lot of cleaning up to do. A lot of healing.

Today, Arthur didn't mind so much that he'd be visiting Gregory Goyle's house. He didn't feel like vomiting when he thought of the dead bodies that he knew would be waiting in the cellar, decayed and maggot-filled. There were still Death Eaters on the loose and people in the Ministry still worked for them. Slowly but surely, Arthur and his fellow Aurors (he'd been promoted after his work in the War) were getting the warrants needed to search houses and throw them all in Azkaban where they belonged.

The day looked brighter, and the world looked more promising now that Harry had returned. Maybe he really was a hero, his presence alone made people feel safe.

Molly waited all morning, and when one o'clock came, she was ready. Everything that she remembered Harry gobbling down at her table—from the onion soup to the treacle pudding—Molly made. All throughout the meal she watched him, silently trying to read into his thoughts and tell what he was thinking, and when it was over, she got the slightest of rewards.

“Are you mad at me?” Harry asked, eyes begging her to say, `No.'

Even if she had been, she couldn't bear to be the reason why tears would form in his eyes. And so, with a kind smile, she replied, “Of course not dear. A little surprised, but not mad.”

“I thought that everyone would be mad at me for what I did.” Harry accepted the cup of tea that she offered him. They had retired to the living room after lunch.

“I don't think that anyone would be mad, so much as a little upset that you made them think that you were dead.” Molly never lied. “Quite a few people were hurt when you disappeared right after Voldemort. The Ministry did an investigation for about six months before they gave you up for dead. They've turned you into a National Hero, you know. The first ever for the wizarding world.”

“I know,” Harry whispered quietly. “I've read all of the papers.”

Molly couldn't hide her surprise.

“I didn't cut myself off entirely from the wizarding world, you know.” Harry smiled faintly at the matriarchal figure. “I just needed some space to think things through.”

“I understand dear.” Molly reached over and squeezed his hands softly. “Everyone deals with pain in their own way.”

Harry nodded. “I think that Dumbledore told me that once.”

Silence fell over them as they remembered the great headmaster who'd fallen during the War. To Harry, it seemed as if he lost everyone that he loved. That was part of the reason why he'd waited for so long to return. He was scared that he'd only come back and cause more destruction. He didn't really know why he'd decided to come out of seclusion. He'd just woken up one morning and known that it was time.

“Dumbledore was a very wise man.” Molly sipped on her tea.

Harry nodded in concurrence. “The papers never told me that Bill and Fleur had a baby though. What else did I miss?”

Just because he'd decided to reveal himself, didn't mean that he was ready to start pouring out his heart and soul. He wasn't that recovered.

“Well,” Molly smiled, glad for a reason to brag about her family. “Arthur got promoted.”

“I saw that. I never imagined Mr. Weasley as an Auror.”

“It's only until they get everything sorted out.” Molly said. “He plans on retiring afterwards.”

Harry thought that was a good idea. Mr and Mrs. Weasley weren't getting any younger and now that they're children were out of the house, it was finally time for them to start to unwind. He knew that War heroes had received money from the Ministry, and he figured that with the wages that Arthur was making as an Auror, he'd be able to retired comfortably and maybe even travel a few times if he so decided to before he died.

“Bill wanted him to retire after the War, but Arthur refused to.” Molly went on. “Bill's an Unspeakable now. He gave up his job at Gringotts to work for the Ministry and help. Charlie and the twins are the only ones who didn't join in on the effort.”

Usually, Molly would say such a thing with a look of disapproval on her face, but Harry could tell that like others, the War had changed her as well. If her sons wanted to do what they loved for a living, then so be it. Life was too short.

“I don't think that the Minister of Magic would like it very much if his seat turned into a rubber duck when he sat on it or if Charlie showed up for work in his leather pants.” Harry quipped.

Molly laughed. “No, he wouldn't.”

After the War had ended, a lot of wizards had called for Minerva McGonagall, Dumbledore's right hand to be Minister, but she politely turned down the offer, knowing that her place was at Hogwarts as Headmistress. The title had been awarded to Gawain Robards, former Head of Aurors.

“Did Fred ever asked Angelina to marry him?” Harry asked.

Molly nodded. “They wed in March of 1998. George and Alicia married as well. Not to anyone's surprise, they had a double wedding.”

Harry most certainly wasn't surprised. He had a feeling that the twins would die on the same day and probably at the same time. He didn't tell this to Mrs. Weasley of course, she'd already lost two children and he didn't want her thinking about losing two more.

“Any children from them?” He asked.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. “No.” She looked a bit wistful. “I'd always imagined a house full of grandchildren. Still, three's enough for now.”

“Percy and Penelope?”

Harry had read that they'd married in the past year, not to his surprise, as Penelope was the only person who could ever put up with Percy's cauldron thickness reports. However, he'd never seen Percy as the type who'd ever break protocol. They'd been wed in September of last year, which meant that the children would have had to be born before their parents got married. Fred and George must have given him hell for not being married before they had children.

“Where are you staying, dear?” Molly quickly changed the subject. “If it's the Leaky Cauldron, I'd be happy to offer you one of the spare rooms.”

Harry was too deep in thought to notice the sudden change. “Actually, I'm staying in Kennington.”

Molly nodded, not asking the questions that were firing away in her mind.

“Well, the invitation is still open.”

Harry nodded and for a moment, silence engulfed the room. He was afraid to ask after Hermione, knowing that he'd probably hurt her most with his disappearance. Visions of their last night taunted his mind and he cringed at the way that he'd handled things. He couldn't blame her if she threw him out when he saw her. If he ever got the courage, that was.

“So what have you been doing all these years?” Mrs. Weasley finally asked. “Are you working in Muggle London?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I haven't been working.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Weasley said.

How could Harry explain that he'd been spending the past four years doing the square root of nothing? He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, forgot how to speak, woke up on Friday when he'd fallen asleep on Sunday, he couldn't function really. He was a piece of mass floating through space, waiting for his saving grace. It was just last year that he started eating on a somewhat regular basis and had been bothered to shower on days when he didn't actually have to go to the grocery store.

“What about you?” He asked. “What have you been doing?”

“Oh you know,” Mrs. Weasley began. “It was hard the first year of course, but you've got to move on.”

Moving on. That was something that Harry was trying to do and could see that he was still failing miserably at.

"I agree."

He couldn't very well tell her that he was still stuck in the past.

The old grandfather clock struck three and both Harry and Mrs. Weasley looked up. Lunch was over and they knew it. Harry was the first to rise.

"Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly smiled in acceptance, wanting to beg him to stay, but knew that she shouldn't. Whatever it was that held Harry back was something that she couldn't help him face.

"My pleasure dear."

A few minutes later, she watched as he left with the promise that he would come to dinner the following Sunday. She didn't know much more than she had before he walked through her door the night before but still, it was a start.

*~*

Harry stepped out of the taxi and stared up at his London Road house. A little girl ran by, squealing happily as her mother chased behind her. He wondered briefly about what it would be like to have someone to come home to and quickly shook the thought from his mind. People like him would never be able to have someone waiting eagerly for his return. He was far too messed up for that and there was no saving a person like him. If anything his trip to Mrs. Weasley taught him that.

She got over the death of her two children in a year. It had been six years since Sirius' death and he still wasn't able to get over it; how was he ever supposed to tackle Ginny and Ron? Dumbledore, Seamus, Mrs. Granger, Madame Pince, or any of the others that he'd seen fall in the War?

No, there was no hope for a person like him at all.

But as he walked through his four-bedroom home with its spacious rooms and large windows that invited light, Harry knew one thing: it would be nice to have someone to share it with.

You didn't contact Mrs. Weasley for nothing, mate, he thought entering his office. You want to be saved.

And maybe he did. But as he reached for the Daily Prophet and read that day's headlines, he most certainly didn't think so. But there was hope yet for Harry; he didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

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

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Chapter Two

Remembering

Harry couldn't sleep. After glancing at his clock every minute for the past ten minutes, he could tell the time without looking. Like now for instance, he knew that in ten seconds it would be three a.m. Four hours since he'd closed his eyes to go to sleep, two hours since he realized that he wasn't sleeping and was in fact staring at his ceiling. It was white with something called popcorn sprayed on it. Harry liked the popcorn, it had glitter on it and when the moon shun in this room, the place looked magical. What Harry didn't like however, was the fact that the insomnia was back. Like everything else that was happening recently, he took one step forward and ended up taking two steps back.

He visited Mrs. Weasley twice and still hadn't found the words to explain why it was that he disappeared. He lay in his bed and tried to clear the haze, tried to understand for himself why he did it and he couldn't. He knew why though, he just couldn't find the words and grab unto to them. In the dark of the room, Harry snorted. So much for being brave.

When at a quarter past three, Harry accepted the fact that sleep just wouldn't come, he kicked off the covers and stepped into his bed slippers. They were well worn with holes in the bottom, and he could feel the cold from the tile beneath. Harry didn't care though, the slippers were a gift from Ginny and he'd wear them until they fell apart.

Ginny, he thought, staring out the window. Ginny was gone, and so was Ron. Outside, the snow fell and Harry felt his heart break into tiny pieces and fall along with it.

They'd been in love. For her own safety, he'd pushed her away at Dumbledore's funeral only to end up back into her arms a few weeks later at Bill and Fleur's wedding. She cornered him at the reception and demanded that he stopped the foolishness. She pointed out that by pushing her away, he was giving in to Voldemort. She asked him when he was going to start allowing himself to have a life and to stop letting it be dictated by others. She dared him to brave.

He kissed her. Right there during Bill and Fleur's first dance and he'd been so overcome with emotions that a nearby chair had soared into the air, only to shatter into pieces when it crashed to Earth. That was how powerful the kiss was. How powerful he was. And then she died. Because of him.

Ron died too. He said that he'd stand by Harry's side until the very end and he had. Harry watched as he died, shaking in Hermione's arms, tears running down his face as he choked out that he loved her. It had been the first and only time that he'd ever said those words and before Hermione had even gotten the chance to reply, he was dead. Harry robbed her of the chance to tell the boy that she'd always loved, just how she felt.

Ron had suffered under the Cruciatus for a good five minutes for him and then when Nott had his full, he whispered, “Sectumsempra.” Like a coward, he'd Apparated afterwards. Harry remembered it like it was yesterday because that was when his wandless magic finally kicked in. Never had he been so angry in his life. If Nott had stayed for ten more seconds, he'd have felt Harry's wrath as he used his powers to free both himself and Hermione from their magical binds.

For days afterwards, neither Harry nor Hermione could get rid of the blood. It was under their fingernails. It was pasted to their scalps. It was the scent that the wind brought through the trees. It was the red that they saw at his funeral. That was the last time that Harry had been able to see red. He couldn't even see the colour of Ginny's hair. Not that it mattered anyway; a week after Ron's funeral, Ginny was dead.

It had all been Harry's fault.

What right do you have barging back into their lives? He chastised himself as he closed the window. He hadn't even noticed that it was open until the wind caused an old newspaper to blow in several directions. He'd stopped feeling when Ginny died, willed himself to stop caring. That had been the only way to survive, the only way to make sure that when it came time to say, “Avada Kedavra,” there would be nothing holding him back. By the time that he finally killed Voldemort, he'd forgotten entirely how to care. Four years of seclusion only served to cement his apathy and he was no longer sure that he was able to learn.

Just give up mate, he sighed, falling unto his sheets. You're only going to cause more damage. There are still people out there who hate you; they'll hurt those that you still love.

But as Harry feel asleep, it was to dream of Ginny, index finger stabbing his chest as she asked him when he was going to start being brave.

He still couldn't tell the colour of her hair.

*~*

“Mummy!”

Hermione pulled the comforter over her head.

“Mum!”

Hermione rolled over.

Retching sounds filled the room.

Hermione jumped up out of her sleep and sprang out her bed. On the floor, obviously bent over in pain was Jane, shaking uncontrollably as the pink clumps forced their way up her throat.

No! Hermione thought. In an instant, she was by Jane's side. The little girl collapsed in her arms and Hermione could see the tears.

“Mummy,” she said weakly.

Hermione wasn't seeing her though; she was seeing Ron. It was he who shook uncontrollably in her arms, it was he who has messed himself because of the intensity of the pain. It was he who would soon die in her arms.

“No!” She screamed.

Jane didn't say a word; she was too scared to.

“Mum what are you doing?” Lily, who had heard the commotion, pushed her head through her room door. She had to jump out of the way as Hermione sped by, almost knocking her over as she did so.

“Mum!” Lily shouted.

In Hermione's arms, Jane closed her eyes and tried her hardest not to cry. Children never had anything to fear as long as their parents were in control. But Hermione was not in control, and Jane would simply not believe it.

Ron was going to die. Hermione wasn't ready to let him go again, not when he finally came back. She wouldn't let him leave her again.

“Mum!”

Hermione tossed the Floo Powder into the flames. She had to get to St. Mungo's or Ron would die.

“MUM!”

And they were gone.

Lily stood in the living room and watched as they disappeared. She didn't quite understand what was going on, but based on the look in her mother's eyes, she knew that something was wrong. Her eyes were glazed over and they didn't look normal.

Without hesitation, Lily scooped some of the powder from the floor and bravely stepped into the fire.

“G-Grandma Molly's!”

She'd travelled by Floo Powder before with her mum, but nothing could prepare her for this. It was dark, it was scary and she was dizzy. By the time that she tumbled out of the fireplace at The Burrow, she was screaming for her dear life.

Arthur, who'd just returned from a late night raid, heard the screams and came running towards the living room. By the time that he found the little girl covered in soot, Molly had already hastily descended the stairs.

“Arthur, wha—” She froze as she took in the sight.

“Lily dear, what's wrong? Where's Hermione?” Arthur bent down so that he was at her level.

“I-I don't know!” Lily cried. “She stole Jane from me and ran!”

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Oh Merlin!” Molly shrieked. “You don't think that's she's under the Imperius, do you?”

“What?!” Lily screamed. She heard about that curse and she knew that it would be a very bad thing for her mother to be under it. She'd be taken away from the conversation before she could understand what it was, but she was smart enough to know that children were only shooed away from dangerous things.

“Molly calm down.” Arthur pleaded.

“They warned us, Arthur!” Molly raved. “Zabini warned us that they would rise again and they did!”

It was true, before he'd been taken away, the Death Eater had warned that there were still those who were faithful and that they would once again rise up. Voldemort's work was never done until there were no more loyal followers left.

“Molly!” Arthur warned.

She looked at Lily who was looking paler by the second and immediately shut up.

“Mum and Jane are going to die?” She asked, barely above a whisper.

“Of course not dead,” Molly bent and tried to reach out to her.

Lily jumped away. “Don't touch me!”

Molly backed away frightened.

“Lily,” Arthur tried. The head that appeared in the fireplace cut his speech short.

“Excuse me.”

All eyes turned towards the fire. Luna Lovegood peered back at them, dreamy expression once again on her face.

“Yes dear?” Molly asked.

“So sorry to bother you, but we've got a bit of a problem.”

*~*

This wasn't how he'd played things out in his head. Catching her as she fainted. Ducking so that the book that she'd undoubtedly be reading when he appeared, wouldn't hit him square in the head. Covering his ears as she screamed and trying not to fall as she jumped into his arms. Telling her not to cry when she realized that it really was him and not his ghost. All different scenes, but undoubtedly how Hermione might react. He hadn't however, pictured flooing into St. Mungo's from the Leaky Cauldron after Pigwidgeon nearly nipped his ear off trying to deliver the very important note.

Please come to St. Mungo's, Harry. It's Hermione.

-Molly.

Harry didn't need to read the note twice to know that now was not the time to panic and cower away in his room. He always worked best under pressure. In less than three minutes, Harry was dressed and ready. His house wasn't connected to the Floo network, he was after all, hiding out from all things magical, and so he couldn't go directly to the hospital. The only way to get there was by Apparition. He didn't trust himself to get there safely, since he hadn't Apparated, or thought of the hospital in four years. His best bet was to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron and floo to the hospital from there. If he didn't get spliced before he got there, that was.

The pub was empty; a strange sight for the Leaky Cauldron, but Harry didn't have time to ponder that. He was there on a mission. A girl that he didn't recognize was tending the bar and her eyes went wide when she recognized Harry's scar.

“I need some Floo Powder.” He looked her square in the eye. He'd never admit it out loud, but Voldemort wasn't the only one who knew how to control people's minds. That was another gift that he'd gotten from the Dark Lord but hadn't recognized that he had.

He always assumed that people did his biddings simply because they were in awe of who he was. But now, as he stood before a clearly overzealous fan, he knew that it was not the time to just hope that she'd keep her mouth shut. He was going to make sure that she did and that Rita Skeeter's article on his reappearance wouldn't be the headline in that morning's Daily Prophet.

Nodding, the girl's eyes glazed over and she reached behind the counter for one of the jar's that held the green powder. Wordlessly, Harry tossed some money unto the counter and made his way over to the fire.

“St. Mungo's.”

The bright lights blinded him and he stumbled as he made his way out of the fireplace. The nurse who was duty was thankfully absent from her chair, and Harry made his way out of the room without being spotted. It seemed as if everywhere was having a slow night.

“Harry thank goodness!” Molly flung herself at him. Mr. Weasley sat on a chair beside them and stared wordlessly at the ground.

The last time that Harry had seen the man like that was at Ron's funeral. He never made it to Ginny's funeral; he was too busy seeking vengeance to attend.

“Where's Hermione?” He asked, panic in his voice.

“In here.” The door to the hospital room opened and Luna Lovegood of all people stepped out.

Harry's mouth dropped.

“Hullo, Harry.” She smiled.

Harry couldn't believe that that was the same Luna Lovegood that he'd gone to school with. If she hadn't had the dreamy look on her face, he would have never guessed that she was the woman who stood before him. That was the only way to describe her really. Woman. She had filled out nicely over the years since he'd seen her and there was an air of confidence around her. If he weren't scared for Hermione, he would have been jealous.

“Hullo, Luna.”

“It's good to see you again.”

She didn't look surprised to see him. She didn't shriek and ask where he'd been. She was just happy to see him. Harry had always admired that about Luna. Even when people had called her Looney, she was always far mature than those her age, even if she did believe in a few odd things.

He nodded. “How is she?”

“I'm afraid not very well.” Luna replied. She motioned for him to come closer and led him into the next room.

“Hermione's in a state of shock right now.” Luna whispered.

“What?”

“She's in shock. She rushed in here about half-hour ago screaming that Ron was dying and that someone had to help her.”

“What?”

It was all his fault. They'd probably brought him down there to tell him so.

“Ron wasn't dying, but she mistook Jane for him. Something must have set her off. We don't know what it was though, and until we can figure it out, we can't help her.”

Jane? Who is Jane?

“I'm not understanding…”

“Mrs. Weasley thought that you might be able to help us.”

“Who is Jane?”

Luna looked unsure of what to say next.

“Luna.” He knew that he didn't have to control her to get what he wanted. His tone of voice alone made it very clear that he didn't want her feeding him rubbish.

“Her daughter.”

Hermione has a daughter?

“Jane was sick and Hermione mistook her for Ron. She just had a stomach bug, but even though we explained all this to her, she won't calm down. She just keeps telling us that we have to save Ron.” Luna continued. “Do you know what could have possibly set this off?”

Harry shook his head. “I haven't seen Hermione in four years.”

“Mrs. Weasley insists that you're the only one who can help.”

Harry screwed up his face in confusion.

“Maybe you should talk to her,” Luna said. “Sometimes, when victims see a familiar face, it helps them to resurface.”

“You don't understand, Luna…” Harry began.

How could he begin to explain to her what had happened? Seeing him was not the thing that Hermione needed to snap out of her zone. If anything, it might just push her further.

“Please, Harry.” Luna's eyes were pleading, a very strange sight to behold. “She has two children to live for. She can't stay trapped in her mind.”

“She has what?” Harry was even more confused. Since when did one child become two?

“And where is their father? Why isn't he here by her side?” In an instant, he'd jumped from confusion to anger. How dare he abandon Hermione at a time like this? What kind of a man just abandoned someone that he loved?

You…

“It's really not my place to tell who the father is.” Luna said. “If you go and see Hermione, you'll immediately recognize their father when you look at them.”

Something about the way that she said it, made Harry know. But it couldn't be. He turned and ran. Ran past Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and burst open the door to Hermione's room. He almost fainted at the sight.

Two pairs of green eyes turned to meet his and three pairs of green eyes widened when recognition occurred.

They were identical, Harry could tell immediately. They both had curly jet-black hair that looked slightly unruly and green eyes. Hermione's hair curled when it was short, and his hair was always unruly, even when he used magic to try and tame it. And those eyes, they were his eyes; he'd recognize them anywhere, having stared at them enough times when looking in the mirror. There was no denying it, from the identical expressions of shock on their faces (mirroring his), to the look of fright that appeared a couple seconds later on one their faces (resembling Hermione's). The little girls belonged to both him and Hermione.

“You're supposed to be dead.” One of them piped up. She was accusing him really; eyes narrowed as if she were cross with him and already knew his secret. His inner coward. She reminded him of someone; he just couldn't put his finger on it.

“He's a ghost!” The frightened one shrieked.

“Jane!” The accusing one screamed.

Harry rushed forward and caught the girl as she fainted and fell off the bed. Thank goodness his Seeker reflexes were still sharp or she'd have burst her head and possibly gotten a concussion.

Seconds later when Luna, Molly and Arthur rushed in, the one on the bed screamed and cemented his paternity.

“Daddy killed her!”

The whole time, Hermione remained silent. Trapped in the past an unable to rescue her babies from the ghost that had come back to haunt them.

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

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A/N: Made a slight mistake in Chapter One. Harry doesn't live on London Road; he lives on Kennington Park Road. Also, there's something in here about the twins' schooling that I know that people will doubt, but it is very much possible as I know children like them.

Thanks for the reviews!!! And as for the questions and confusion, read on and everything will be clarified in due time. Harry and Hermione will not be stuck in the past forever, they have to start learning to live in the future.

Chapter Three

Baby Steps

Lily and Jane. Lily Potter and Jane Potter. His children. His children with Hermione. He had missed their births. He had missed their first birthday. He had missed their first words (“No!” for Lily and “Mum!” for Jane). He missed their first steps. The first time that they smiled. Their first day of school (last September. Hermione had managed to get them into a local primary school after several letters to the ministry and tests that were done because of their age). All the things that a father should experience in his children's first few years, Harry had missed and he'd never be able to get them back. All because he'd cowered away.

After Luna had revived Jane, it had taken another five minutes for her to calm down. The whole time, Lily sat on the bed, lips pursed as she gave Harry a dangerous glare. If she weren't obviously Hermione's child, he would have sworn her to be Ginny's. She had the Weasley temperament and if she ever came in possession of a wand, he was sure that the Bat Boogey Hex would be aimed at him. It was she who finally got Jane to calm down.

“Stop being an idiot, Jane!” She demanded. “He's not a ghost, see?”

Before Harry knew what was happening, she reached over and pinched him. To say that his skin was set on fire was an understatement. She had some powerful fingers. It worked though, because Jane stopped screaming and looked over at the two as Lily held his flesh within her tiny fingers and Harry felt his eyes water.

“That's enough, Lily.” Molly warned.

Lily let go, but not before she delivered another Look and curled up with her mother. The fact that Hermione wasn't responding to her touch didn't seem to bother her in the least.

“I want to touch him!” Jane demanded.

“Are you sure that you won't scream?” Molly asked.

Jane nodded. “I want to touch him.”

Molly looked over at Harry and he nodded, mentally preparing himself for another pinch. Molly put the girl down and she bravely walked over to Harry. When she reached him, she looked up at him expectantly and for a moment, Harry stared down at her confused.

“You have to lift her up.” Lily informed him.

Oh!

Feeling stupid, Harry leaned over and picked up the little girl. He'd never held a child before and this was all too new to him. He was afraid that he'd accidentally drop her, that she'd scream once again at his touch, just plain scared for her. He also felt something else, and he realized what it was when he looked into her eyes and felt her shaky hand caress his chin. Love.

He didn't understand how he could love someone so much, especially when he just met her, but Harry knew what he felt. He wanted to protect her and make sure that nothing ever happened to her, and it scared him to know that he wouldn't always be there to do that. There was some hurt that he couldn't prevent, things that she would have to learn on her own. When finally, he looked up, it was to see that Molly and the others had left the room.

“Why are you crying?” Jane whispered.

Harry didn't realize it, but he had her locked in a fierce hug and her cheeks were pressed against his. She didn't seem to mind the fact that he hadn't shaved as yet and rubbed her face against his stubble.

“I don't know.” Harry replied.

Over on the bed, Lily eyed him suspiciously. “I don't cry; I'm a big girl.”

Harry looked towards her and if he wasn't mistaken, something resembling a chuckle emerged from his throat.

“It's not funny.” Lily said rather crossly.

It wasn't, but Harry hadn't found anything to chuckle about in years and he'd thought that like everything else, he had forgotten how to. Maybe it was the new feeling that had somehow managed to make its way through his cold heart. Whatever it was, Harry knew how to chuckle and he took it as a sign.

“I'm not laughing at you.” Harry replied.

She just stared at him.

“Leave him alone, Lily!” Jane said.

Leaning closer to Harry's ear, Jane whispered. “She's upset with you.”

“I know.” Harry whispered back.

“I know that you're talking about me.” Lily remarked.

“Would you like to join in our conversation?” Harry asked. He could tell that Lily would be the hardest one to break.

“Where were you?” Lily asked.

He was right.

“Kennington.”

“Why?”

Harry stared at her. How could he begin to explain? Would she understand what he was going through? Knowing that your best friend and your girl friend were dead and it was your fault? Knowing that so many others had died because of you.

He wished that she never had to know what it felt like to have the weight of the world on her shoulder. To know that the safety of the wizarding world rested in her hands. To wake up one day and realize that this is what you were born to do. Kill, and possible be killed. To have no other purpose but to destroy. To be scared to let others in because you didn't know if your time was short. To finally allow someone to love you and to love someone freely, only to have that person snatched up from before your eyes.

He remembered how Ginny died. He told her to stay at The Burrow. He was on his way to get the last horcrux. He was going to destroy it and kill Voldemort. For Ron. She promised him that she would stay, and then she turned up at his hide out. She knew that he was lonely, hurt and scared and she told him that she couldn't bear for him to be left alone like that. He should have pushed her away, been rude to her, anything to let her go back to The Burrow. Back to safety. But she was right.

He was lonely, he was hurt, and he was scared to death. Ron was dead and Hermione wasn't talking to anyone. The three of them had discovered the final horcrux the day before Ron died and Hermione had helped him locate it, but she didn't go with him to destroy it. He told her to stay and she did, too depressed to do otherwise. He'd been alone for the past two days and no one was there to help him get through the pain. He needed her and she knew it. So instead of sending her away, he allowed her to hold him. And when she started to kiss his jaw, he let her.

For the first time, they surrendered themselves to each other and for a fleeting moment afterwards, Harry felt as if everything would be okay---that was until he'd fallen asleep. He woke up early the next morning to Pigwidgeon picking at his ear, a note attached to his leg. Ginny had Apparated home as he slept. Because of the heavy wards that had been placed around The Burrow, she had to Apparate a few miles away from it and walk the rest of the way. Lucius Malfoy had been waiting for her and had performed the Avada Kedavra before she'd had a chance to react. She died because of him; just like everyone else.

Three days later when they buried Ginny, he went to Voldemort and he killed him. Killed him for all the lives that were robbed. Killed him for all the people that would never be the same. And strangely enough, once Voldemort was dead, he felt nothing. No relief, no joy; no emotion whatsoever. He was dead. And he was also lost. He no longer had a purpose, no longer knew who he was. And so before others had a chance to reach him, he Apparated. Went back to his hideout where he and Ginny had made love and promptly fell asleep. Harry couldn't explain to anyone what happened next.

He decided that he needed some time to think---some time to figure things out. And then when he could come up with no answers, he panicked. He was scared of the Weasleys rejecting him for stealing their youngest. He feared Hermione pushing him away because of what he did to her. He imagined the owls that he'd get from those who thought that he took far too long to get rid of Voldemort. Imagined the howlers from those who'd lost loved ones. Knew that he would be harassed and made some icon by the magical community. He didn't want to be a hero. Voldemort was dead, he wanted a normal life. He wanted to be Harry James potter, whoever that was.

That was how the first week went. Thoughts, panicking, fear. He decided that he needed to be alone for a while to see if he could fix things on his own. But you can't get rid of mental and emotional barriers by hiding away and so what needed to be mended only became worse. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into a year and then Harry became even more scared; scared of what would happen if he showed up after a year of hiding out. That was when he bought the house in Kennington and accepted defeat. There was no helping someone like him.

How could he tell her all that? Even if she wanted to, her little brain would never let her be able to understand.

“I needed some time to think.” He said at last.

“Mum said that you died before I was born. That means that it's been four years. Do you still need to think?” She replied.

Jane looked on silently, but it was obvious that she agreed.

Harry took a deep breath and looked at his two daughters. He couldn't look at their innocent faces and lie. So he told the truth.

“I honestly don't know.”

*~*

It was obvious that Hermione wouldn't be coming back to them tonight, and the twins had started to tire. Molly offered to take them home but neither would hear it, immediately grabbing hold of Harry's jeans and begging him to take them. Luna, being the brutally honest and oblivious person that she was, told them that the twins feared abandonment, specifically from their father. Since he'd done it once, what was to say that he wouldn't do it again? Harry never felt worse.

If he'd known about them, he would never have left but if truth be told, the reason why he hadn't known of their existence was because he left. What was done could not be undone (Harry had learned in his third year that time was a thing that was best left alone) and so he had to set about making things right. He had these same thoughts last year on December 31^st, the day that he'd defeated Voldemort, but now that he stared at his scared daughters, he knew that he had to be more aggressive with his evolution.

“I'm keeping them.”

Simultaneously, Molly, Luna and Arthur smiled. The twins were beyond elated and screamed for joy to let him know this. No one noticed that Hermione hadn't even so much as flinched.

*~*

Shock was the only word to describe what everyone felt when seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger broke the news that she was pregnant. Confusion was the look on their faces when she told them that the baby wasn't Ron's. Within a month of his `death,' Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Saved, had become the Boy Who Procreated.

Hermione offered no explanations as to how she could have possibly been carrying the Saviour's child (children as it turned out) and people knew better than to ask. Other than members of the Order of the Phoenix and her family, everyone else assumed that Ron Weasley had somehow managed to let himself live on. When the twins were born with black hair and tell-tale green eyes, they didn't need the birth certificates (which did in fact name the father) to know who he was. The media had a field day but Hermione refused to speak.

During her pregnancy, she studied for her NEWTS and after receiving the excellent results that everyone had expected, took a year off from school to raise her daughters. From a combination of the money that both her mother and grandmother left her, she bought a modest house in Hogsmeade, politely declining offers to live with her father or Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. In order to avoid their complaints about her living alone with babies, she rented the spare bedroom to Luna, who was in fact their godmother. She was going to raise the girls on her own and everyone left her alone, knowing better than to argue with her. They would visit with the Weasleys and her father but Hermione refused to see anyone else or have them come near her children.

After a year of being ignored by Hermione, even Rita Skeeter stopped knocking. Oxford University had a branch for wizards and witches and a few months shy of the twins' first birthday, Hermione enrolled in their three-year programme. She took morning classes and Mrs. Weasley babysat for her. Those two years were the only ones in which she accepted help from others and it was only because it couldn't be avoided. She'd gotten a scholarship to Oxford, and only asked her father for money when Luna's rent wouldn't suffice. To no one's surprise, she finished Oxford in two years and when Minerva McGonagall came knocking on her door, she accepted the post of Charms professor. Everyone was stunned because the Minister of Magic had personally met with her to recruit her for work in his office. Still, Hermione gave no answers. She got her daughters into primary school before they were due to start (thanks to her home schooling when she wasn't at the university, they were placed in the second grade) and went off to Hogwarts every morning after seeing them off to school.

To onlookers, Hermione was an inspiration; an example of how a person could get through adversity with grace. If you knew her however, you'd know a different story. You'd know that she was really operating under autopilot mode and that she'd meticulously built up a wall around herself so that no one could get in and she wouldn't have to get hurt. You'd give up trying to set her up with nice fellows and you'd find subtle ways to suggest that she release the tight grip that she had on her children. You'd go out of your way to free the twins from her every once in a while and you'd fear the day when she finally snapped.

You can only pretend for so long that things are perfect and the time had come when Hermione finally snapped. Now all that they had to do was find a way to bring her back and when they did, find out what they needed to help her.

Hopefully it wasn't too late.

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

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My sincere apologizes for taking so long with the updates. I'll try and update as soon as it is reasonably possible for me to do so. Once again, merci beaucoup pour les revues and to those who asked, no, I do not think that it would be cruel to have Hermione remain in her vegetative state so that Harry and his children can bond. But just a warning, she has to wake up eventually and I want no pouts or tears when she does.

Chapter Four

Inadvertent Betrayal

People always wondered about how it came to be that Hermione Granger was indeed carrying Harry Potter's children. Whispers spread throughout the wizarding world of a heated affair between the two, which ended in offspring, thankfully, they said, when both Ron and Ginny had departed and so wouldn't live in shame.

If truth be told, even the Weasleys had their own initial doubts as to whether or not Harry and Hermione had truly loved their family members. And how could they not?

Harry had seemed so devoted to Ginny. On the mornings when she'd come down to breakfast bleary eyed and tired, it was obvious to them that he had paid her another visit, as few and far between as they were. When he'd actually been brave enough to sneak into The Burrow during family dinners (not for fear of the Weasleys, but rather of those who might be lurking nearby to harm the one person that he was so fearful of admitting that he loved), he seemed hypnotized, surviving only on the breath that Ginny was finished with, and needing to keep her in eyesight and hear her voice in order to make it from one moment to the next.

Hermione was no better herself. She went off with Harry not only because she was his best friend and felt it her duty to stand by his side, but also due to the fact that she was so fiercely in love. Love made her do strange things, including giving up being Head Girl and all dreams of a fabulous career, and go against all rules of sanity and her parents desires, just so that before she fell asleep at night, she could hear him whisper, “I love you,” and wake up in his arms. She knew, as she watched Ron die that day, that it could have just easily been her. She lived it and breathed it with each passing moment, but it was the life that she accepted if only so that he would always be near.

With two people so obviously in love and devoted, it was no surprise that people didn't quite understand what was going on, or how Harry and Hermione could have ever did what they had done. If only they had known that both Harry and Hermione were just as confused as them, not quite able to comprehend how they had managed to have that first kiss, much less ended up shedding their clothes in haste so that they could find release for that ache that was burning deep within their chests. But they had no regrets.

Harry, most certainly, had absolutely none as he watched his daughters fall asleep that night, and when Hermione held them in her arms for the first time and stared into their deep green eyes, she had none either. Out of confusion and despair, they had created love, if only the love that they could manage to have for their children since the rest of their hearts were buried underground with the dead.

As Harry kissed his daughters on their foreheads and turned out the lights, he took a deep breath knowing what was to come. Attacks from the press demanding answers on behalf of the people about what happened. Why he had faked his death and how he had come to father Hermione's children? Jeers from those who didn't understand and would call him names. Possibly more icons erected in his name, invitations to important events and parties being held in his name. Explanations that would have to be made to those who he had hurt. Waking Hermione up and facing her wrath when he did. In short, he would have to account for his actions and the unwanted celebrity status would once again take claim of and rule his live.

He knew that he had to face everything though. Even if the price to pay was one that didn't sit well with him, Harry knew that he couldn't keep running forever. Summoning all of his Gryffindor courage, he knew that he was ready.

*~*

“Daddy,” a little voice whispered.

Harry groaned.

“Get up!” Another voice demanded, this time more aggressive than the first one.

“Lily!” Someone scolded.

“What? I'm hungry!”

Harry opened his eyes and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw two little girls seated on his chest. They were too busy arguing to acknowledge the fact that he had woken up, and he lay there calmly as the memories of the night before came flooding back.

Pigwidgeon almost pecking him to death. Seeing Luna again. Meeting his daughters for the first time. Seeing Hermione in her comatose state. Agreeing to take the girls home. Tucking them in bed and falling asleep beside them (he never did get around to furnishing more rooms than his office and bedroom). And now, waking up to their bickering. Almost like waking up to Hermione and Ron's incessant bickering.

Ron…

He couldn't do this to himself. Not now at least. It's easy to be selfish and self-pitying when you live only for yourself, but not when you've taken on responsibilities such as your daughters. And especially not when you know that thinking abut the death of your best friend would once again have you sleeping away the days and starving yourself because of depression. In any case, he most certainly didn't have the time to think. The girls had noticed his presence.

Lily, the one with the messy ponytail and obviously the bossier of the two, noticed him first.

“He's awake,” she told her sister.

“We need food.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she turned to him. “You can't starve us; I'll tell Grandma Molly.”

“Lily!” Jane scolded. She reminded Harry of her mother, compliant not out of fear, but because she prepared a peaceful existence. He didn't let this fool him though because he knew that underneath that mask was a person who would snap if pushed too far.

“You need to quit!”

Seconds later, Harry was proven right and for the first time ever, Lily actually listened to someone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

She reminded him of Ginny. Stubborn to the point of frustration, but completely loveable all the same. There is always at least one person that the most stubborn of people will listen to, and once upon a time; Harry used to be that person for Ginny.

It wasn't because he used his powers to possess her either. There was just something about her that calmed him and made him susceptible to things that he never thought that he could be, and vice versa. It was as if the love their shared was a magic unto himself. How else could he understand some of the things that took place? Things such as thinking about her smile and suddenly having no fear or reading her letters and suddenly getting out of the worst of depressions. Those had to be magic; a mere emotion couldn't do that.

“We didn't mean to wake you,” Jane spoke up.

Harry smiled. “It's alright, I'm hungry as well.”

“See. He would have gotten us food anyway!” Lily quipped.

“That's why your rudeness wasn't necessary!” Jane backfired.

“Whatever.”

“Don't you whatever me,” Jane warned.

“Or else what?” Lily gave her a Look.

Harry cleared his throat. “Girls.”

They both turned to look at each other. If he hadn't had Hermione and Ron for best friends, he would have sworn that they hated each other. He knew however, that despite their bickering, there was a fierce love between them that nothing could destroy.

Holding unto them so that they wouldn't fall, Harry sat up in the bed and they made themselves comfortable in his lap.

“What would you like to eat?”

It wasn't as if he had something for them to eat either; anything that they requested would have to be bought. He usually went for days before realizing that he was hungry and after a few month of seclusion, realized that buying groceries was a waste.

“I want—” Lily began.

“Mum says that we have to take our baths before eating.” Jane cut her off.

“Mum also said that we're not supposed to let strangers touch our privates.” Lily retorted.

“I'm not a stranger, am I?” Harry calmly replied. “I'm your father.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jane's tiny smile.

For a girl who was pleading for him to not leave her the night before, Lily had a most unusual way of treating him. He recognized that she had her defences up and that unless he found an approach, he'd never be able to break her barriers.

“I suppose not,” she said eventually.

“We haven't any clothes.” Jane pointed out.

As if on cue, an owl tapped on Harry's window. Lily and Jane scrambled off his lap and squealed in delight.

“Hedwig!” Harry couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen her since his sixth year at Hogwarts. He figured that it would have been too risky to have his owl seen delivering his mail and so to avoid possible interception, he'd sent her to live with the Grangers. He thought that she'd be safe in the muggle world.

When he opened the window, the bird dropped the package at his feet and flew into his arms. To Harry, it felt as if he were reuniting with a long lost part of his soul and having her there made his being a little more complete.

As happy as Hedwig was to see her owner, was as upset as she was for being abandoned. No sooner than she flew into his arms did she deliver a sound bite to his arm. Startled, Harry yelped and her response was to rub her face against the area. No matter how angry she was with him, she still loved him.

“Sorry.” Harry managed.

Hedwig flew out of his arms and perched atop his bureau, clearly not interested in a half-dead excuse.

“Aunt Luna must have sent her.” Lily piped up, pending down to examine the scrawl on the brown paper.

Harry sat down on the floor beside the girls and reached for the package. He immediately recognized the handwriting to be Luna's and unrolled the parchment that had been attached to the top of the package.

Harry,

I figured that you'd be needing these. Just don't forget to stop by the hospital tomorrow. We can't have Hermione like this forever.

Luna.

P.S: Lily will come around eventually.

Harry looked up and met the gaze of his daughter. Lily raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to say something and Harry raised one in reply. She smiled.

“Bath time?” Lily asked.

Harry nodded.

However, when they got to the bathroom, a disapproving scowl from Jane told him that bath time would not be happening anytime soon.

“This place is disgusting.” She exclaimed.

Harry turned red, embarrassed at the state of his tub. It was obvious that the room hadn't been cleaned in quite a while, or used much either.

“Not showering isn't a healthy habit.” Lily informed him, sounding very much like Hermione.

“I don't plan on keeping it up.” Harry informed her, turning in the doorway. A few moments later, he returned with his wand, not really forgotten but rarely used.

A quick scourgify and disinfecting spell later and the room smelt of lemons, with the bathroom sparkling. He had forgotten that the house had come with different colour bathtubs and that the one in his room happened to be off-white, and not the yellow that up to a minute ago, it had seemed to be.

“Much better.” Jane smiled approvingly.

Lily nodded.

For a moment or two, Harry stood there, not really knowing what to do. He'd never had to bathe two children before; in fact, he never had to interact with them in his life.

“Mum usually fills the tub first.” Jane offered.

Harry nodded.

“But you've got to test the water to make sure that it's not too hot.” Lily said.

“And not too cold either.” Jane added.

“Yeah and the tub must be about half-filled and with lots of bubbles.” Lily finished.

“Bubbles?” Harry asked confused.

“Bubbles,” Lily nodded in confirmation.

“We have bubble baths.” Jane said.

“Err,” Harry scratched his head. Bathing two toddlers was harder than he thought. And where on earth was he going to find bubbles?

Thankfully, Hedwig chose that moment to fly into the room. Harry's long forgotten Seeker reflexes kicked in as she released a large bottle with blue liquid from her beak. Looking down, he realized what it was.

“Yeah!” The girls cheered at the sight of the bubble bath.

Thank Merlin for the women in my life, Harry thought.

Within ten minutes, he'd tested the water, poured the bubble bath and had the girls seated comfortably, yellow rubber duck to complete the equation. Watching them splash about the placed, he realized now why girls always got weepy at the thought of children. Having them really was a miraculous thing. Just a glance from the twins made him feel warm inside and his chest almost burst with the love that was pumping furiously from his heart. He couldn't wait to find out what else lay in their future.

He planned to be a part of their futures of course. He'd only known them for a few hours, but he knew that he couldn't live without them.

“Daddy, I'm hungry.” Lily whined, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Less than an hour later and Harry had showered and dressed. Usually he'd fear walking in the broad daylight with two little girls that resembled him (thankfully not 100% as he couldn't imagine that he'd be a pretty girl), but he didn't live in wizarding London.

He'd chosen Kennington simply because of its location. Wizards never went in that part of the world and they most certainly wouldn't think that the famous Harry Potter would live there. Kennington was anything but famous.

He avoided the West End and Central London like the plague on the rare occasions that he left his neighbourhood and had an arrangement with the goblins at Gringotts (who were known for their client confidentiality) regarding his affairs. All his bills were paid by direct deposit every month and a money was mailed to his home every month. The money had accumulated over time since he never used much of it, which he was glad for. He didn't quite like the idea of having to face Diagon Alley in order to get some muggle money. He wasn't quite ready for the wizarding world as yet.

Kennington was the perfect place for seclusion, and so it was without fear that he and his girls stepped out into the day. And what a day it was.

They had breakfast at a charming café that was located around the corner from his house. The waitress gave the girls extra jam on their scones because of how charming they were and winked at him when she exclaimed that he must have been so proud to have such well-mannered daughters. Without hesitation, he replied, “Yes,” and it seemed as if the day just kept getting better from there.

Luna had only sent a change of clothes for that day, and so they had to go shopping for more. Harry was amazed at how tiny the clothes for toddlers were and even more so at the fact that despite popular acclaim, twins were not exactly alike.

Jane preferred pretty dresses and sandals while Lily liked things called `halter tops' and skirts that were a bit on the short side. Harry wasn't so sure about how he felt regarding the fact that his three-year-old wanted to show so much skin at such a young age and allowed the salesclerk to convince him that little girls dressed like that all the time, and no, he shouldn't be concerned. To please Harry, she bought a few dresses that went just below her knee, but they were all sleeveless and without the cute designs that Jane liked. Her taste was similar to that of a teenage girl. No baby chicks or sunflowers for her. She liked t-shirts that said things like, “2 cute 4 u” and “I make little cry.”

Jane wasn't so innocent though, she got a few sleeveless tops and skirts as well, but she wasn't as extreme as Lily. Her daring came out slowly, while Lily wanted it to be broadcast for the world to see. He didn't know if he'd have to keep an eye on her more or on Jane because she could easily get away with sneaking. And they both insisted on fur coats! He once saw a movie about women who loved fur coats and were dripping in diamonds.

Having daughters was stressful!

After they exhausted the early part of the afternoon shopping for clothes and shoes (they had enough to dress themselves for a good few months without ever repeating an outfit), Harry took them to a nearby park where they had ice cream while watching a puppet show. During the show, the youngest puppet complained that she was too big for her bed and wanted one for a `big girl,' which made Harry realize something; if Lily and Jane were to live with him, they would need beds of their own. In fact they'd need a room and closet space for their small collection.

He still hadn't forgotten about the fur coats either. Nor did he forget the particularly pointy-toe boots that they both also insisted on getting that went a decent way up their calves and those Jackie-O sunglasses that they would have died if they hadn't gotten. In fact they were prancing about in them just now and looked quite the site. Not a funny picture, but very much like young, sophisticated girls. As they'd say in the fashion world, they were very chic.

He wondered where they got their sense of fashion as Hermione had been known to dress rather plainly. And then he remembered the Yule Ball and how she had easily ousted the most beautiful and sophisticated girls in the room. Maybe they'd gotten it from her but just weren't afraid to appreciate their love of fashion and to express themselves. The saleslady was certainly fascinated with them.

After the puppet show, he brought up the idea of going shopping for a bedroom set for them and they squealed so loudly that they frightened more than a few of the passer-bys. When asked if they wanted their own room or preferred to share, both girls immediately announced that they wanted to share. Harry smiled, knowing that it meant that they didn't hate each other as much as they sometimes seemed to. They instantly began chatting about what they wanted and by the time that they got to the furniture store, everything was settled.

Apparently the world really was a beautiful place when you had a little money. Not only was the furniture delivered that very afternoon, but calls were made to different stores for certain sheet and towel sets, curtains, bathroom wallpaper, etc. to be delivered as well. Only the best would do for clients like Harry, it seemed and carpets were waiting to be laid down in the room by the time they got home as well. By the time that dinner time rolled around (Hermione made the girls eat dinner at six every evening apparently and they were tucked into bed by nine p.m. so that they had their well-needed nine hours of sleep by the time that they had to wake up at six for school) , their room was ready.

“C'est parfait!” Jane breathed.

“Oui!” Lily clapped excitedly as they entered.

Harry didn't know that they could speak French, but he wasn't surprised given the fact that Hermione was their mother after all. He had to admit however that everything was perfect.

Everyone had left a half-hour before and Harry had made the girls write up the cards that they'd purchased for their mother, while he made the final touches to the room. There was no way that painting could have been done in time for bed and so he had owled Molly about a few spells.

The walls of the room were covered in a mural of a castle on an almost cloudless day, but that was where the similarities ended really. You could easily tell which side belonged to Lily and which side was clearly Jane's.

Lily had a four-poster bed with heavy, red velvet drapes that had gold piping. Her sheets were also red, but not as deep as the drapes and in the centre was a hand-stitched L in gold thread. On the wall above her pillows was a gold crown and her name was written in cursive on it. Clearly she was a little princess. She's insisted on a vanity table that had a large mirror so that she could sit and watch herself brush her hair and Harry had acquiesced. The customary chest of drawers completed her side of the room.

Jane also had a four poster bed, but her curtains were a colour that Harry didn't quite catch the name of (the salesclerk had used fancy talk that only the girls seemed to understand), and he decided to just call it gold as he only needed to know the name of the basic colours, he felt. Her bed sheets were something called cornsilk (Harry remembered that much) and they had gold piping. In the centre of her bed was a “J,” and above her sheets, her name was spray-painted with blue shading around the letters and butterflies taking flight.

Unlike her sister, she wanted a small bookshelf, which she planned to fill with books as soon as possible and a comfortable chair for reading. Lily rolled her eyes at this request and exclaimed that it was to be kept as far from her side of the room as possible. She told Jane that while she was inside getting pasty, her father would be teaching her to fly, and Harry beamed, glad that there was something that he had passed on to his daughter, and a love of flying at that!

In the centre of their room was Persian rug and Harry bit his tongue, choosing not to comment that Hermione would die of convulsions after she'd lectured them about the child-labour that was surely involved in the making of it. He had to admit that it really was a beautiful rug. Maybe she'd look at it that way. A voice in his head told him that she wouldn't.

The hardest part was the closet. Even with two chests of drawers, it was still tricky when it came to fitting all their clothes—not to mention the several pairs of shoes and boots! In the end, he used magic to enlarge it, but only on the insides. From the outside, it still looked the standard sized closet. Both Lily and Jane loved what he'd done with the closet.

“It's like a dressing room for models!” Lily exclaimed.

And it was. Both sides had built in shelves for their shoes and the girls' names were atop each shelf in case they ever forgot who bought what. He'd learned from Ginny that shoes were important and so felt that they should be the first thing once the girls entered. Further down were customized racks. Each held only dresses, skirts, pants, jeans, tops or coats. He thought it best to leave a little room because come spring, he knew that the girls would want to get more clothing even though they barely bought things with long sleeves besides their winter coats and so could easily wear their clothes during that season.

The casual, everyday wear filled their chest of drawers and so everything inside their magnificent closet was for more formal occasions. In the centre of the closet was a white chaise and further down at the end of the small room (that was exactly what it turned out to be when he finished the modifications) was a mirror that took up the entire wall. In the centre was a decent-sized dressing table that had two chairs in front of it. On either side of the wall, at the very end of the clothing racks, was a small changing room. It was more like the stalls that one would find at the beach, but a little larger and with a mirror and built in seats. Not quite the department store dressing room, and obviously modified to be small on the outside and big enough for toddlers to dress comfortably on the inside.

It really was a model's dressing room and their room was their fairytale kingdom. While the movers shuffled about their bedroom earlier, they went into the room next door and made plans for a playroom for the girls. Harry magicked a door that adjoined both rooms so that they'd have easy access.

It was agreed that there would be a computer, television (Hermione didn't encourage television watching, but the girls were allowed a certain amount of hours per week), a comfortable sofa, a mini-fridge (at Lily's insistence). They wanted a build-in shelf where they could put up their books on ballet and various figurines, below it would be an antique dollhouse that was really for display more than anything else and Lily insisted that they get a glass case put on one of the walls for Harry's legendary Firebolt and Jane wanted a small table for her tea parties and two life-sized dolls to join her at said events.

Both girls agreed that Harry needed to find space for a small closet where they could put clothes for dressing up and he instantly got a headache thinking about the shopping trip that suggestion would surely bring and the scolding that Hermione would give him for what it was that he was doing.

He wasn't trying to buy their love, but he certainly didn't know how to say “no,” either. He was spoiling them and there was no other way to put it. He quickly tore up all receipts after purchases so that she couldn't force him to return them and knew that he'd better be quick on his feet when the argument came about donating some to charity.

It would all be worth it though, the smiles on their faces was enough for him and later when he tucked them into bed, he almost cried when Jane grabbed him fiercely and told him that she loved him, even though he scared her the night before and made her think that she was dead. Lily wasn't quite so open with him, but whispered that she was glad that he was her father and not someone else's. It was enough for now.

They had to go to the hospital the next morning and Harry wasn't quite sure if he was ready for that. He knew without a doubt that he was going to find a way to wake Hermione, but he wasn't sure how she'd react to the change of event. Harry had formed a bond with the girls, one that he didn't intend on breaking. He wasn't a fool either; he knew that he had changed and that Hermione had most likely as well. He didn't think so, but there was no telling that she hadn't become the kind of person who refuse his being in his children's lives and hated to think of things getting messy between them when he went about taking the steps to ensure that he could legally see them, if only for half of the time.

He wanted desperately to repair the damage that he had done to her, both by taking Ron away from her and practically running away from her after their shared night instead of sticking around to talk things through. He made things even worse when he pretended to be dead and left her pregnant with his children. That situation was a horrible one on several different levels and he didn't even want to think about all of them. If he started to contemplate how hard a life she had to have led because of him, he might just find the strength that he'd been lacking all those years to end his life. But he couldn't do that; she needed him so that she could wake up and he had his daughters to live for.

Selfish people killed themselves because no matter how much they told themselves that no one would miss them or even care, they ruined a lot of lives with their passing. He ruined quite a few lives himself and even was the cause of death for some. It was time to stop the hurt and the suffering, and try to find a way to live in the light. He just hoped that it wasn't too late to mend things.

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

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Greetings! I suck at life, I know. I've been REALLY busy with school, hence the almost year-long gap between the last chapter and this one. Désolée. I'll try and end this story by the end of the summer, because I doubt that the next school year will lend much time to fanfiction writing.

After getting several comments about particular issues, I am going to address them once and for all.

Writers write what they know and I am writing what I know. I wrote the twins based on children that I know—based on my own childhood. They are mature, but you can also see the three-year-old in them as well.

I also do not write unrealistic stories, so I would appreciate it if people stopped commenting on Harry making references to Ginny and pressuring me to speed things along so that H/Hr can get together. It is unrealistic for them to have gone through so much trauma and then just jump into bed and live happily ever after in the space of a few chapters. If you haven't realized it, they are still hurt and living in the past. They are slowly learning to deal with what happened and move on. People need time to heal. Allow Harry and Hermione their time and you will have the ending that you want. I'm neither going to reveal everything from the get-go, nor am I going to drag out the past forever.

Cheers, and merci pour les revues!

Chapter Five

Overdue

Harry was scared. He had survived life with Vernon Dursley, escaped death every year at Hogwarts, defeated Lord Voldemort and his followers, and yet fear had not been the driving force in those situations. He survived his uncle because of the desire for freedom. Defeating Voldemort had started out as a civic duty and then had evolved into a means to avenge the lives of his loved ones that had been taken. But as he stood before the private hospital room at St. Mungo's Hospital, Harry Potter could safely say that he had never been so scared in his life.

The twins had been left with Mrs. Weasley since it had been decided that the situation was too traumatic for them. They'd spend the afternoon making Get Well cards and helping Mrs. Weasley bake Hermione's favourite cookies while their brave father woke their mummy up. Harry had arrived via Portkey ten minutes earlier to do just that, but there was one slight problem: he couldn't find the strength to open the door. As he stared at it, he couldn't help but wonder just how he had managed to be so victorious in school and even more so, what there was to fear right now. And then he blinked and saw the answer: Hermione.

Hermione had been there with him through everything: the Chamber of Secrets, nightmares about Voldemort, dealing with his bizarreness when puberty finally kicked in and his hormones were haywire, mediating arguments between himself and Ron, falling in love with Ginny, losing Ginny and Ron. She'd tried to help him after the deaths of Ginny and Ron, but she was too overcome grief to even help herself. Without his voice of sanity, he'd sunk way and disappeared from the wizarding world. After all those years of having Hermione as his shoulder to lean on, it was completely foreign to be the one in her shoes. He didn't know what to do, which was completely understandable.

“Hullo, Harry.”

Harry turned sharply and found himself face-to-face with Luna.

“Luna,” he breathed deeply, “You had me scared for a moment.”

She smiled softly. “I'm sorry.”

He waved her off.

“Would you like to come and check on a patient with me?” Luna asked.

“But what about Hermione?” Harry asked. It wasn't as if he were ready to go in the room, so he didn't quite know why he was asking that question.

“Hermione will be there when we return. I just have to give Mrs. Stewart her medication.” Luna replied.

“Who is Mrs. Stewart?” Harry suddenly got nervous. He still hadn't been spotted by other wizards and he wasn't quite ready to meet yet another fan.

“An elder patient of mine. She recently broke her hip, but don't worry Harry, she doesn't remember the past ten years of her life and hasn't been able to for a long time. She won't floo any newspapers about you.”

Harry nodded mutely and after glancing once more at Hermione's door before following Luna.

They walked a few doors door before turning into a brightly lit room. Harry's first reaction was to shut his eyes so that he wouldn't loose his balance. Not only was the room filled with the unusually bright sunshine of the winter's day, but everything was a shocking red.

“Hello, Mrs. Stewart.” Luna walked over to the red bed, completely unaffected by the startling room.

“Lovey!” Something screamed.

Harry rubbed his eyes (his eyesight had been permanently repaired shortly after Dumbledore's death, because glasses were considered to be a weakness). When finally, his eyes adjusted to the painfully red surroundings, Harry found a streak of silver amongst the red sheets; Mrs. Stewart.

“I see that you brought a delicious treat with you,” Mrs. Stewart eyed Harry hungrily.

“He's off limits, Mrs. Stewart,” Luna laughed and walked over to her patient.

“Pity,” Mrs. Stewart murmured. “We could have had some fun.”

Harry wasn't so sure how he should have interpreted that statement. He wasn't very comfortable being the sex object of a woman who was old enough to be his grandmother.

“My husband, Peter, looked just like you, you know.” Mrs. Stewart made herself comfortable as Luna checked her vitals. “We were simply wild about each other.”

“Er,” Harry replied.

“Peter never left my side,” Mrs. Stewart continued, “did you, Peter?” She turned towards an urn that sat atop her red side table. “No you didn't.”

“Your anniversary is coming up, isn't it?” Luna checked the heart monitor.

“Yes, in two days,” Mrs. Stewart sighed. “It would have been fifty years. We married immediately after leaving Hogwarts. Everyone was shocked of course…”

“Why?” Harry couldn't help but asked. He found it rather odd that people who were so mad for each other could cause shock when they finally tied the knot.

“Because I was marrying my ex-boy friend's best friend,” Mrs. Stewart replied, as if it were completely obvious.

Harry felt his stomach drop.

“But we didn't care. Harold had died the year before, skiing accident in Switzerland, and it was just Pete and I who were left behind. We helped each other get over a terrible loss and out of that bond grew a love that nothing could deter.” Mrs. Stewart sniffled a bit as Luna gave her the daily injection. “I don't regret a minute of our relationship though, and I know that Harold wouldn't have wanted any other path for us.”

Harry remained silent as Luna propped Mrs. Stewart's pillows and replied, “I don't think that Harold would have appreciated anyone else marrying his girl friend save for his best friend. At least then he could rest easy knowing that there was someone who remained in the world that truly cared about you.”

“I know,” Mrs. Stewart smiled and closed her eyes. “I think that I'll just have a little lie down now, if you both don't mind.”

“That's perfectly all right,” Luna replied. “We have another patient to visit. See you tomorrow, Mrs. Stewart.”

Silently, the two left the room. Harry knew immediately why Luna had dragged him along on her round.

“Are you ready?” Luna asked as they arrived at Hermione's room door.

“Yes.”

*~*

Hermione was lost. Lost in the dream of her final hours with Ron. Lost in the rapture that his kisses caused. Lost in the moans as his hands sought out places that they had been far too scared to seek before.

Harry had Apparated to meet up with Snape at remote location. He was to get critical information about the whereabouts of the final horcrux, an object of Godric Gryffindor, which Voldemort had hidden long ago. They had been left behind and had decided to use the few hours wisely, knowing that when Harry returned, they would have to leave and face the most brutal of all battles that they'd ever be involved in. They never got to actually make love, because Harry had returned earlier than expected and had needed them to leave immediately.

Those were the last good memories that she had of Ron, and she had stored them deep within her heart. She never allowed herself to ever revisit the past, because that would only prevent her from being a good mother to her daughters. But the night that brought her top the hospital changed everything and now it seemed as if she'd forever be stuck in the past.

*~*

Harry sat on the bed beside Hermione and gingerly took her hand into his. A thousand memories flooded his mind, but he did not pull away. She had been there for him on the night that she'd needed him most, and now he would be there for her.

“Hermione,” he whispered into her ear.

He remembered their second year of school when she had been in the hospital wing and how he'd gone to visit her there. Even in her own state of peril, she had managed to provide critical information that had helped him save Hogwarts and the future love of his life. She was always there for him.

“C'mon, Hermione,” he whispered. “Please don't leave me.”

And what had he done for her in return? Run away in her state of confusion. Leave her pregnant with twins and having to take all of the guilt for producing girls that bore his distinct features. How had she handled the pressure? He knew that had their roles been reversed, he would have been a permanent resident of St. Mungo's. Surely he would have gone insane.

But that was his Hermione—always able to handle even the most difficult of situation. There was no denying it, without Hermione by his side all of those years, he would probably have died during his first year at Hogwarts. He owed everything to her.

“I'm sorry,” he kissed her cheek. “I'm so sorry.”

He made a promise to himself then. He would become a better person, a better father, and a better friend. He would own up to his responsibilities, as painful as some of them were to think about. He would take baby steps of course—you couldn't learn to run without first walking—but in the end, Harry Potter would be a self-sufficient man. Voldemort was dead, and it was time that he got to live the life that had been stolen from him on the night that his parents had died.

*~*

“I'm so sorry.”

Hermione had heard him.

Harry…

“I'll never forsake you ever again.”

Harry…

Harry was standing before her, waiting for her to touch the portkey along with him and Ron. They would be leaving soon to face their destiny. She would go anywhere with him, fight any battle; he didn't even have to ask. She loved him that much.

“Please come back to us Hermione.”

Us? Who is us?

“Lily and Jane need you.”

Lily and Jane!

Her babies needed her. Harry needed her. But Harry was dead!

“Please Hermione, I'll never leave you alone.”

Or was he?

“Harry?” The words struggled to leave her lips as she tossed about in her sleep. She needed to feel him, needed to know that he was real and that she wouldn't be plunged into the nightmare again when she woke up.

She felt his hand, and a jolt of heat soared through her veins.

“I'm here, Hermione.”

She felt his breath against her ear.

“Harry?” The light was blinding as she opened her eyes, but she didn't care, she needed to see. Through the blur, she could make out his facial structure. She felt his tears against her skin.

“Oh, Harry!” Her own tears joined the mix as Harry pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I thought that you had died,” she whispered feverishly.

“I thought so as well,” he replied.

“I'm so sorry,” she croaked.

Harry hushed her. “I'm the one who should be sorry, Hermione.”

“Please don't leave me again. I can't bear to be left alone again.”

“You won't be,” Harry promised. “Everything will be all right in the end.”

And it would be. They would hold each other's hands, and take baby steps towards the sun.

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

A/N: I hope that you liked the chapter. The sun is about to rise, but I just had to finish it. Reviews are welcome, even if you are criticizing my work. Don't worry, I won't drag out their depressing memories forever; Harry and Hermione will have their happily ever after.

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Once again, merci pour les revues. The flamers made my day; they had my sister and myself howling for a very long time. Thank you for those as well, because they made what seemed to be a boring morning enchanting. Now that the house keeping's been taken care of, on with the rest of my lovely story…

Clarity

It was now or never; Harry knew that he couldn't avoid the topic for much longer. They'd been playing a game of don't ask, don't tell ever since she'd pulled herself away from him and demanded that she be immediately be discharged by Luna.

They'd hurried to the Burrow where Hermione had thanked Molly for watching the girls and had proceeded to beg her daughters' forgiveness for her crazed behaviour. After being satisfied that the girls hadn't banished her from their hearts, she began inquiring on their health and wanted a full recap of their day spent without her.

She'd probably expected to hear that they had spent the day baking truckloads of cookies with Mrs. Weasley and making their Get Well cards. If she had been shocked to hear that they had gotten so acquainted with their father that they not only spent the night with him but also had a fabulous bedroom and exciting new clothes to show her, she was very good at hiding this fact. Instead, she spent the rest of the afternoon stuffing herself with white chocolate macadamia nut cookies and drinking hot chocolate. When finally, it was apparent that she could no longer hide under Molly's robes, she announced that she and the girls would be heading home and agreed to come round for Sunday dinner.

“Mum, could we please not go home tonight?” Jane asked.

“I agree,” Lily joined in.

“Then where do you propose that we stay?” Hermione asked.

Harry had wondered whether or not he really had disappeared into the corner that he had taken up residence in ever since they had arrived at the Burrow.

“Daddy's house!” Jane replied.

“And we can show you our fur coats!” Lily clapped her hands excitedly.

If Hermione had anything to say about the fact that her own flesh and blood actually owned real fur, she said nothing. Furthermore, why she agreed to return to Harry's house that night was also beyond him. Even more absurd was the fact that all throughout the grand tour of the twin's wonderland, she didn't have as much as wrinkled brow or show any other signs of disapproval. Whatever happened to his Hermione?

He never got his question answered though, Hermione put the girls to bed at exactly nine p.m. and after telling him that she was exhausted from everything, excused herself to the guest bedroom, which luckily, he had thought of decorating as well.

He was quite surprised when she came bursting into his room a few minutes later demanding that they talk. He knew that he shouldn't be however; Hermione never reacted like a normal person. She liked to keep things bottled up until they exploded; sort of like someone else that he knew.

*~*

Hermione stared at him as he stirred his tea. She didn't know whether to slap him or burst into tears.

“I'm sorry,” he finally managed.

“For what?” Her eyes darkened. “For having me believe that you were dead all these years? For leaving me all alone when I needed you the most? For making me feel like a dirty whore when everyone ridiculed me for carrying the Saviour's children and not his best friend's? Have you any idea what I've been through in the past few years because of you?”

Harry sighed. “For all of the above. If I'd known that you were pregnant, I would have come back. I read the Daily Prophet you know, I just didn't start until a year after I disappeared. You'd already had the girls by then, so I never saw a story about it.”

“Just forget all of that Harry, I've spent four years trying to get passed it.” Hermione pushed her tea away.

“And you obviously haven't,” Harry said to her.

“And who are you to tell me anything? You've been gone remember? You wouldn't know about the ways in which I have changed.”

“You haven't changed one bit, Hermione,” Harry calmly replied. “You've just made yourself distant and cold by bottling things up.”

“And can you blame me? My best friend was dead. My boy friend was dead. My mother was dead. Who did I have to lean on?”

“Hermione, I'm sorry.”

“Well sorry is not enough, Harry!” The teacup sprung up and smashed the wall. I an instant, Hermione had whipped out her wand and fixed the damage.

“Can we just please be civil?” Harry asked. “We can't be acting around our children like this you know.”

“My children,” Hermione said.

“What?”

“My children,” she repeated. “Donated DNA and fancy fur coats don't suddenly make you a father.”

“I didn't know that you were pregnant!” He screamed. “I would have come back if I had known!”

“Then why did you leave in the first place?!”

“Because!”

“Whatever Harry!” Hermione jumped up from the table and began to walk out of the kitchen. “I'm taking the girls, and I'm leaving.”

Harry used wandless magic to close the door and placed an anti-Alohomora charm on it.

“Alohomora!” Hermione screamed.

“You know that it won't open,” Harry replied.

Hermione turned and pointed her wand at him. “Let me out, Harry.”

“Or else what?”

“I will hurt you, I swear I will.”

Harry laughed and put his foot up on the island in the kitchen. “I guess that Lily and Jane will be orphans then.”

“You wouldn't dare hurt me,” Hermione replied.

“And neither would you.”

She said nothing. Instead, she lowered her wand and fell unto the floor. Sniffles emerged from her corner a few seconds later and to Harry's complete horror, she began howling as she shook violently.

Almost as if it were a natural reaction, Harry was down on the floor cradling her. To his surprise, she didn't pull away. She didn't hold him either.

“Hermione,” Harry began. “Please don't cry. I know that what I did to you was unforgivable, but I promise that I'll try and make things better.”

“You can't make me better, Harry,” Hermione sniffled. “I'm a horrible person.”

“No you're not.”

“Yes I am!” Hermione screamed. “I had sex with my boy friend's best friend.”

“Hermione, we didn't intentionally have sex and you know it.”

And Harry was right. The night before Harry had defeated Voldemort, Harry and Hermione had gone back to Grimauld Place. They were both depressed and fell asleep in the room that Ron and Harry had shared almost immediately. In the middle of the night, Harry had awoken to Hermione crying the same way that she'd been crying on his kitchen floor. Not knowing what to do, Harry held her until her sobs became controlled.

Eventually she seemed to go limp in his arms and thinking that she was asleep, Harry had bent down to kiss her cheek. She wasn't and when she turned her head towards him, their lips met instead. Both of them had been searching for comfort in the late hour of the night, and it wasn't until everything was all over that any of them had realized what occurred.

Harry was gone before she woke up, and Hermione never heard from him again. She knew that he had gone off to seek out Voldemort in his hiding place and when he failed to show up after the War had ended, she assumed what the rest of the wizarding world had. Harry had died saving them.

“That still doesn't make me feel any less of a whore,” Hermione moaned. “Everyone was right; thank Merlin Ron and Ginny had been dead.”

Harry had wanted to tell her to stop beating herself up, but he couldn't. He had spent many a sleepless night thinking the same thing. Guilt ate him alive whenever he reflected on the way that he had betrayed Ginny.

“I-I didn't want them at first you know,” Hermione whispered.

“What?”

“The girls,” Hermione said. “I knew that I was pregnant within less than a week. Women always know when they're pregnant; we carry ourselves differently and for some strange reason our hands always go to our stomachs. Anyway…I knew that I was pregnant and I-I…” Hermione dissolved into tears.

Harry held her, unable to do anything. He had no idea what it must have been like for Hermione, and he knew that his attempted words of comfort would fail her.

“What kind of mother contemplates not having her children?” Hermione wailed.

Harry knew the answer for this one. “The kind of mother who was frightened and faced with the things that I left you to deal with alone.”

“I could never have terminated the pregnancy though,” Hermione eventually whispered.

“I'm glad that you didn't,” Harry replied.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione cried into his chest. “Do you think that Ron hates me?”

“I think that if he knows about it, he probably got angry and tossed things around—”

Hermione cut him off by laughing.

“—but eventually he calmed down and looked at it from our perspective. I think he's at least happy that it was someone that he trusted that you had the twins with rather than some prat who only likes you now because you're part of The Trio.”

Harry wasn't so sure if it was Mrs. Stewart who was talking for him, or if he was doing the talking himself. He just knew that it felt right and that Ron probably thought the same thing if he'd somehow found out about how Hermione had gotten pregnant.

Hermione said nothing in response. Instead, she pulled away from Harry and stood up. Harry watched as she said a simple spell, which fixed her dishevelled appearance. She then walked over to the island and took up the teacups. He didn't move until a fresh pot of tea had been brewed and she was once again seated at the island waiting for him to join her.

“I'm sorry for the way that I behaved earlier.”

“There's no need for an apology,” Harry said firmly. “I couldn't have expected you to react any differently.”

“But I can't keep letting my emotions get the best of me,” she insisted.

“Would you rather bottle up your feelings for another four years and then never be pulled out of the past when you have another breakdown?” Harry asked.

Hermione didn't reply. Instead, she sipped her tea. Harry felt safe to do the same and neither of them said a word until their cups were drained. It was Hermione who spoke next.

“Why did you leave, Harry?”

“I was scared,” he replied. “I was depressed. I was confused. I didn't want to be figuring myself out and what to do with the rest of my life with the Daily Prophet pounding at my door for an interview. I wanted to take a week or two off to clear my head. But at the end of those two weeks, I was the same. I thought that you would hate me for what happened. I thought that Molly would hate me for getting Ron and Ginny killed. I thought that those who lost loved ones would hate me for taking too long for getting of Voldemort. I couldn't return. Then two weeks turned into a month, and before I knew it, it had been a year. I was scared to return after being away for so long, so I eventually bought a house in Kent and settled into a life of misery.”

When Harry looked up from his empty cup, it was to find Hermione with tears in her eyes. Before Harry could react, she had thrown herself across the table and was practically strangling him with her embrace.

“Harry!” She squeezed tighter. “I'm so sorry that you had to go through all of that on your own. Molly doesn't blame you for Ron and Ginny's deaths any more than I would have hated you for what happened! You do realize this, don't you?”

Somehow, Harry managed to nod.

“And as for the stupid prats who think that you too long killing Voldemort, I would love to see them do everything that you've been doing since the age of eleven no less!”

Harry wasn't so sure that he wished that on anyone.

“Hermione?” Harry eventually managed.

“Yes Harry?”

“I can't breathe.”

Hermione immediately released him and started to apologize.

Harry smiled. For some reason, she looked rather cute. “That's okay.”

“You know,” Hermione said. “That's the first time that I've seen you smile since Ginny died.”

Her hand immediately went to cover her mouth, but Harry shook his head.

“She's dead, Hermione. I've got to realize this eventually, don't I?”

“But don't you think that by moving on, you'd have somehow insulted her memory?”

Harry could tell that she was speaking more on her own behalf than his.

“If I forget about her, then yes, I'd be insulting her. But if I don't think that Ginny would want to see me miserable for the rest of my life any more than I think that Ron would wish the same for you.”

Hermione's eyes went wide, a thing that always happened whenever she was shocked that he'd been able to read her mind. It also meant that she was fearful.

“I don't think that Ron would want me to be miserable, but how would it look if I just up and fell in love with someone else so soon?”

“So soon?” Harry was surprised by what he said next. “It's been four years, Hermione. I think that it's time to put away the mourning clothes, don't you?”

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

A/N: I know the chapter wasn't super long. But I usually have chapters that approach different topics, and so now that I've gotten this point across, I've ended. Hopefully it wasn't terribly disappointing.

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