1. Chapter I

To seek, to know and to wield
that which shall return the balance of the darkness and the light,
One must bear the Burdens of Eternity.
Wisdom, love and truth are often sought and almost never truly known.
Shades of these are well known to man and yet the true meaning of each is lost to all,
But those who seek to return harmony to the world.
To achieve balance is know intimately all sides,
And to understand the necessity of one to the other.

Eternal wisdom is to know that peace is blindness,
That to know all is to never rest.

Eternal love is to be treated to the absolute best,
And also to the absolute worst.
It is to love unconditionally.

Eternal truth is to know loyalty,
And to know greed.
It is the ability to see through,
To the heart and soul of all that is.

He who shall wield the power to right the world,
Shall be willing to carry the burden of that world.
To carry that burden means to allow always for the
Balance of the darkness and the light.

Chapter I

July 14, 2003

Hermione Jane Granger stared at the wall. It was a rather nondescript wall, definitely not worth any extra notice on her part, but nonetheless, it held her rapt attention. There was a slight crack in the off-white plaster, about four feet from the ceiling, six feet from the left wall and right over the center of her desk. She knew its exact location, had already figured its approximate length and depth and recognized that if it was not soon fixed, she would hex the plaster right off the wall.

A solid knock shook her thoughts from the offending crack and she waved her hand gently at the door of her office. “Come on in, Mum.”

“Hermione? What are you doing in here?”

Hermione turned her head slowly to look at Carole Granger, who was standing just outside the door of her office with a worried look on her face. Carole Granger was the inspiration for her daughter’s looks. Their eyes weren’t the same color, and Hermione had her father’s fair skin tone, but Carole’s face was the same shape, with bright, inquisitive eyes, an understated nose, and an expressive mouth. Hermione often felt as if she was looking at a more perfect version of herself, unmarred by too many years of sadness, hurt and just blatant fear.

Carole Granger knew only bits and pieces of her daughter’s harrowing school stories and knew that if she really understood the reasons behind Hermione’s worry-lined forehead and the subtle lines that formed around her mouth when she frowned, it would give her nightmares and restless nights for the remainder of her life. It could not be denied that Carole Granger had experienced a sudden hurt so drastically that it threatened to tear her mind to pieces, but there was a deeper knowledge in her daughter’s eyes. The brown irises betrayed wisdom beyond her years, perhaps beyond everyone’s years.

“I’m just…sitting here, Mum.” Hermione’s eyes were now downcast and her tone was from a faraway place.

“Well, I don’t recall you telling me that would part of the plan. It’s a long trip this far north, Hermione, and you’ve done nothing but sit in this office and stare at that crack in the wall since I arrived.”

The frown lines appeared on Hermione’s face and she sighed, finally turning her attention fully to her mother. “I know. I’m sorry, I really am.”

Sitting on the long sofa that stretched opposite of Hermione’s desk, Carole looked carefully at her daughter before speaking again. “Can’t you tell me what’s wrong? You used to be able to tell me everything when you were little. I know you’re twenty-three, but surely there’s not some rule that says you can’t tell me about your problems past age eighteen.”

“Mum…”

“Is it Harry again?”

. Hermione looked at her hands. “Yes.”

“What’s happened this time?”

“Oh, it’s just- he responded to my letter, about Ron. He can’t, or won’t, come to the Burrow. He still thinks it’s too soon.”

“Too soon for what, exactly?”

“I guess, to be there, to be a part of everything again.” Her gaze had shifted first to Harry’s letter, a crumpled piece of parchment on her desk and then to the picture frame just behind it, holding a candid shot of Harry, Hermione and Ron after a Quidditch game in first year. They looked far more innocent than she could even imagine.

Carole’s followed her daughter’s eyes to the same photo and she looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. “I wish that you could tell me what happened to tear you all apart like this,” she held up a hand to stop Hermione interrupting her, “and I know that your Professor McGonagall has her reasons for forbidding you to tell me anything about it, as she can be a very compelling woman, but I can’t possibly imagine what has…changed you so much. It’s like – like I hardly know you anymore.”

Hermione felt as if her heart was breaking at the look on her mother’s face. There was a part of her that wished desperately that she could curl up next to her mother, tell her the whole story and have a good cry, but the bigger part of her knew that she would die to spare her mum the pain of the truth. At that thought, Hermione steeled her resolve and stood abruptly from her spindly desk chair. After all, Carole was right in one thing: sulking about in the office during her mother’s holiday had not been a part of the plan.

“Mum, if I could put any of it into words, I would. But I can’t and you’re right about it being too long of a trip to sit round the house and do nothing. Get your cloak, and we’ll walk to the village.”

A wide smile crept over Carole’s face and Hermione matched it as best she could. Carole knew better than to dwell and wonder over the causes that wouldn’t allow that smile to reach her daughter’s eyes, and she wordlessly left the room to retrieve her things.

***

Braeridge Village was nestled along the rocky coast of the North Sea and hidden from unknowing Muggle eyes. It was far enough off the beaten path that her face was anonymous and untouched by the modern world enough that Muggles and wizards co-existed inside its stony walls. The village had once been a castle, its origins long forgotten and all that remained were three of the outer walls that formed a sort of crescent and butted against the Scottish coast. Passersby, the few that there were, along the winding sea road saw only stone ruins and quickly lost interest in the surrounding coastline. The cliffs that dropped off into the choppy coastal waters were dramatic and dark and fit Hermione’s mental state quite well. The villagers were kind to the young brunette witch who lived in the cottage full of books at the edge of the town and minded their business.

It had been the safest place the Order could find for Hermione that was well away from the goings-on of the wizarding world, but also within their sight. They knew that she was safe and well-taken care of; many of the local village women often left various local dishes on her doorstep. She had tried several times to thank them for their kindness, but no one ever acknowledged the gifts. The women waved her away, shaking their heads and avoiding her gaze.

Hermione was as happy as could be expected. Research commanded a great deal of her time. The Order had long ago set her the task of studying the foundations of magic. She spent her time poring over ancient tomes, usually covered in cryptic runes whose meanings were long forgotten. Slowly, a timeline was beginning to emerge in her research and each day, she was closer to understanding the very essence of that which had so shaped her life.

She often exchanged owls with the Weasleys and her own mother often wrote via Muggle post. There was a friendly pub in the village and she enjoyed her cottage garden, full of useful herbs and wildflowers. Her day was a balance of her research, long hours working with potions and time spent learning how to cook. Her world was almost wholly domestic and its simplicity brought her unexpected comfort.

It was never enough, however, to take away the pain of being alone and only one-third whole. After the expulsion of Voldemort’s powers from their world and the Last Battle, Harry had hastily left everything and everyone behind, retreating to a place that only McGonagall and Professor Lupin knew about. Hermione was relocated to her cottage by the sea. Only Ron had walked back into the world. His family surrounded him and brought him back into a regular life. He offered no excuses for his best friends, but simply ignored the reporters’ questions as he began his adult life and tried to live as normally as possible.

The Trio led quiet lives after That Night: they were not super stars or celebrities. They shyly moved away from the public life, where no one could possibly understand everything they had given up and more importantly, the burdens that they had willingly taken up.

When Hermione had received the wedding invitation only a few months prior, she began to wonder if it was about time that she left her hiding place and resumed her life. The nightmares that had plagued her were now few and far between. She no longer jumped at any little sound. She no longer spent useless hours contemplating the thoughts that bounced endlessly through her mind. Slowly, she was beginning to strengthen her resolve, and each day, she wondered if the world wasn’t a little bit lighter than it had been the day before.

Ron Weasley was marrying a colleague, Andromeda Dickens. He affectionately called her Andie and professed his undying love for her in a long, personal letter that accompanied Hermione’s invitation. It was finally seeing what allowed Ron to live his life that made her decide to go. The memories that his scratchy handwriting had evoked made her hope that some of his normalcy would rub off on her and she could finally survive in the world she’d given so much to save.

***

The Wand & Witch sat nestled between the local chemist and a small witch’s apothecary shop. A husband and wife owned the building that housed the three storefronts and lived in the small, upstairs flat. She ran the apothecary shop and he had been the village’s chemist for over thirty years before training his son in the science. Their joint pub was run by the old man and he spent his day cooking homemade food and passing round steaming mugs of butterbeer. Hermione was aware of the legal gray area the establishment resided in, but no one else seemed to mind the clash of cultures. The couples’ daughter kept the books for the three businesses at night and spent her day teaching Arithmancy at a school in Ireland.

“Good day, miss, what’ll you and your mother have today?” Rupert Kingsley smiled at Hermione and Carol kindly.

“I’ll have the fish and a butterbeer, “Hermione responded with a grin. Her order was the same each time, as Wand & Witch had the best fish and chips she’d ever tasted.

Carole placed an order for the roast beef and a pint of pumpkin juice before following her daughter to one of the tables that looked out over the lane.

“Tell me what you know about Ron’s fiancée.”

“Well, not much really. She teaches at Hogwarts with him, Defense against the Dark Arts, I’m told.”

“How long have they known each other?”

“Since he started at the school in the fall. She’s been there four years though.”

“Seems awful fast. A little over nine months is a short time to know someone.” Carole frowned slightly, as if the idea of such a speedy courtship didn’t settle properly with her.

Hermione just shrugged and looked into the golden frothiness of her butterbeer. “I suppose. A lot in our set seem to be marrying young. Dean Thomas married that American witch and they’d only known each other for three weeks!”

Carole shook her head. “I can’t imagine.”

Again, Hermione just shrugged. “Maybe it was everything we saw. There was so much death and sadness. I think a lot of them are just looking to reaffirm life and be happy.”

“What about you? What are you looking to do?”

“I’m just happy to exist, Mum.”

Carole looked at her daughter sadly before taking her hand across the table. “Don’t you have to have a reason to exist, Hermione?”

Hermione was delayed from answering as Rupert brought their meals to the table. She was thankful for the distraction and began to quickly eat her food in the hopes that Carole wouldn’t say anymore on the topic.

Carole looked at Hermione carefully a moment before clearing her throat and cutting a piece of chicken. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment and spoke again. “I’ve decided to take a holiday.”

Brightening, Hermione smiled and asked, “Where to?”

“Italy, to Florence.”

“Any reason why?”

“Well, your father and I always said we’d visit Florence for our thirtieth wedding anniversary. Seeing as that’s in May, I’ve decided to go.”

“He’d want you to go.”

“I absolutely agree. It’s just… time. I need to do this, for me. And for him, I think.”

Hermione just nodded. She admired her mother’s ability to smile as she talked about Jerald Granger. Hermione’s own heart ached at the very thought of her father and it had taken her years before she could think of him without feeling immense guilt.

“So you’re really going to the Burrow?”

“Yes, Mum. I’m really going to the Burrow.” The look on Hermione’s face was one of pure steel and resolve. Carole knew in that instant that the pending trip was requiring her daughter to take drastic steps inside of her own mind. This was not just a reunion; it would be a milestone in the healing process.

“You’ll need something new to wear, is there a place you can buy clothes here?”

“There’s a small shop a little further down that carries robes. I could go there.”

“We’ll go after we finish eating. I want to help you.”

The smile on Hermione’s face finally reached her eyes.

***

“Yellow is simply an awful color on you.”

“Mum! What a right terrible thing to say!” Hermione was laughing as she hung the offending garment back on its rack.

“Well, I’m just being honest. What about this one? Blue is nice.”

The light blue gown was sleeveless and of a medium-weight cloth. It would be perfect in the warmer environs of the Burrow. Her own little village was still quite chilly, but she expected that the weather in Ottery St.Catchpole would be lovely.

“I like that.” She took the robes from her mother’s outstretched hand and quickly walked to the small dressing room in the corner of the shop. She undressed quickly and the silkiness of the fabric sent a shiver down her spine as it slid over her bare arms. She smiled slightly as the cloth began to tug and settle itself until it fit her perfectly. The self-tailoring cloth would be expensive, but as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she decided it was worth every penny.

“There are shoes to match!” Carole called through the door. Hermione grinned as she slid out of the robes and changed.

“Will I need something to cover up with?” she called back.

“I’ll see what I can find.”

Opening the door, Hermione trailed her mother as she flitted about the store, looking at long scarves and cover-ups. Finally, she settled on a flimsy, silky bit of blue cloth that shimmered as she moved it through her fingers.

The wedding began at dusk in just four days. As she paid for her new clothing, she felt a small boost of confidence. This would work after all.

July 16, 2003

Despite the warm temperature outside, Harry Potter couldn’t help but light a fire in the grate of his small home. He liked the light it gave off better than regular lamps and something about a cheerful fire reminded him of Hogwarts. Was it all the long hours studying in the Gryffindor common room? Was it the conversations that occurred when his friends gathered around the large hearth? Was it the promise of warmth and goodness in a place where he felt safe?

Potter, tone down the sentimental bullshit. The thought came from nowhere and the voice sounded distinctly like Ron. That was definitely something Ron would say.

Frowning, Harry settled himself deeper into the sofa and stared into the orange flames. He was beginning to suspect that perhaps Hermione was right and he’d been cooped up here for far too long. Sure, he got out plenty. Work against dark wizards stateside was no easier than it was in Britain. They organized; they planned supposedly cunning, supposedly devilish and supposedly disastrous schemes, but mostly they got caught. After Voldemort’s power and core group of Death Eaters had been scattered to the wind, the Dark Side (as Harry had come to think of it- he was rather fond of Star Wars) was mainly disorganized and dispirited. There was a balance restored; Harry and his friends had seen to that. For once in his life, Harry thought the world was mainly as it should be. At least, the world outside of him was as it should be.

The house by the ocean had been a rare sanctuary when Professor McGonagall had first brought Harry to it over five years ago. It had been remote: it was a good four or so months before Harry saw another living person and the closest town was a good thirty-minute drive. He was lulled to sleep each night by the surf crashing on the beach and he’d walked up and down the coast to settle his nerves almost daily. It was only a two-room house, plus a toilet, and sparsely furnished. Best of all, the house and its environs looked nothing like Hogwarts or Great Britain.

Harry had not set foot in Great Britain, let alone at Hogwarts since May 24th, 1998. That had been the last night of a long battle and an even longer war. When Harry, Hermione and Ron took down Voldemort on May 8th, 1998, the wizarding world had celebrated with greater enthusiasm than anyone had ever seen. It had been a Friday, and Saturday and Sunday were filled with endless celebrations. The shooting stars and flocks of owls from so many years ago seemed fairly mild against the antics over those two days.

On May 11th, seventeen school children were killed in a Death Eater attack in East London. A mediwizard clinic outside of Newcastle had been leveled by another group, killing four doctors and thirteen patients. Various other attacks, on libraries, primary schools and even the Knight Bus resulted in over 350 casualties in a single day. It was by no means the largest death toll of the war, but it was the one that hurt the most.

Havoc broke out, families fought in the streets and neighbors hexed each other over imagined slights. Once again, Harry and his friends rushed into the fray. It took just two weeks for the Death Eaters to be destroyed, but those two weeks changed everything.

A light tapping at the window drew Harry from his reverie. A familiar owl bobbed outside, looking excited and irritated at having to wait.

Rising from the couch, Harry moved to the window to let the spastic bird into his house. The infamous Pigwidgeon stared at him as it hopped around on the kitchen table. There was a piece of parchment tied to his left leg and it took a great deal of coercing from Harry to get Pig to settle down enough to let him untie it. He handed the tiny owl a treat from the center of the table and settled down to read the letter.

Harry,

I’m writing to you as a last-ditch effort. Ron and everyone have given up hope that you’ll attend the wedding. Hermione has finally agreed to come; we expect her sometime before tea tomorrow. I know that it’s been a long time and that there’s a lot here you don’t want to come back to, but won’t you please reconsider? Andie is really great – I know you’d love her and you’d make Ron very happy if you were there.

I’m sorry if I’m out of line writing you, Harry. We just miss you. This is the biggest family event since Fred married Angelina and it didn’t feel right without you there. I can’t imagine Ron’s wedding would be any different – it’d probably be far worse.

I’ve enclosed a Portkey if you change your mind. It activates tomorrow at midday your time. You’d arrive here just after five, right in time for tea. We love you Harry and hope to see you sooner rather than later.

Your Friend,

Ginny

Harry felt, surprisingly, very little reaction to Ginny’s note. She was right, of course she was right. But did that make it any easier? Of course it didn’t. There were a thousand reasons why he couldn’t go back and the biggest were his two best friends. The guilt he felt over what they had been through had in no way lessened over the years. It had probably worsened. Ron was working at Hogwarts full-time now, but it was only two years ago when he’d worked in his father’s division, hiding out behind stacks and stacks of reports. Hermione lived in the bloody middle of nowhere, for crying out loud. She hadn’t gone on to any university – she’d simply gone into hiding like he had. And everything with her father…

Down that road lies madness, Potter.

Harry shrugged off the Ron-voice in his head and read over Ginny’s letter once more. Hermione’s letter was on the sofa end table and it wasn’t that different from Ginny’s. He held them both in his hands and looked at each carefully.

The answer was still no. How could it not be? He’d put these people through enough pain. They didn’t need him at the wedding – it was supposed to be a happy occasion.

You’re wallowing in your guilt, Harry.

The unbidden voice of Hermione popped into his head and Harry let out a low sigh. Four thousand miles away and five years distance over time, but Ron and Hermione were still the voices of his conscience.

The answer was still no.

July 17, 2003

A large retriever/collie mix tore down the stairs to the kitchen of the Burrow and out through the open back door. Three young children followed quickly on her heels, laughing and screaming as they darted through the adults’ legs and collided with each other as they ran through the door.

“ANDIE! CONTROL YOUR DOG!”

Andie Dickens and Molly Weasley laughed as Ron stumbled down the stairs, looking dazed and not a little annoyed.

“She’s just excited Ron. Can you really blame her? Everyone’s excited.”

Ron grinned and came up to Andie to wrap his arms around her. “As they should be, I mean, what’s not to be excited about? I convinced the woman I’m madly in love with to marry me. It’s definitely reason to celebrate.”

She laughed at him and kissed his freckled cheek as she ruffled his bright red hair. “Been practicing, Weasley?”

“I can’t very well let you regret it, can I?” He smiled as he bent to kiss her softly on the lips.

“Oh, you two.” Molly Weasley had tears in her eyes as she beamed at them. “It’s good to have something to be happy about.”

Ron nodded and hugged Andie tighter to him. The Weasley family had been through too much and lost too much and therefore, sought happiness at every possible opportunity. Family, friends and home meant more with each passing year, as the family expanded to include spouses and children. Molly Weasley was a happy matriarch over her six children and six grandchildren. The future promised more grandchildren and comfort as she and her husband of thirty-four years settled into middle age.

The Sisters, as Andie had come to call them, were scattered throughout the kitchen, helping Molly prepare the large evening meal. Ron had been getting dressed so he could meet his brothers on the pitch when the dog and her followers had exploded into his bedroom. It had become a ritual at family gatherings that the women worked in the kitchen preparing the meal and the men worked at staying as far away from the kitchen as possible. At this moment, there were six women, and several of their babies, in the kitchen and he knew that both Ginny and Hermione would be arriving within the hour.

“Anyway, I’ll see you soon,” Ron said as he quickly released Andie back to the other women in the kitchen. “Fred and George are waiting on me.”

Andie just grinned wickedly at him, undoubtedly understanding the reason for his hasty departure. Ron kissed his mother’s cheek, and nodded at his sisters-in-law as he hurriedly went out the back door towards the Quidditch pitch.

His four brothers were awaiting him, on their broomsticks, at the edge of the old paddock. In recent years, they had cleaned it up and enlarged it to make room for a bigger Quidditch pitch. It was now about half the size as the pitch at Hogwarts, which was more than suitable for the Weasley men to play a pick-up match now and again.

Fatherhood definitely suited the oldest Weasley brothers. Charlie had begun working full time in Britain during Ron’s final year of school. He had met his wife, Annabelle, shortly after Bill and Fleur’s wedding and their son, Isaac, had turned four in May. Fleur had recently given birth to twin girls, Adelaide and Elise, and parenthood had forged a deeper bond between Bill and Charlie. The two families lived in Hogsmeade.

Fred and George were also fathers now, but seemed to take to it with a far different attitude than their older brothers. Indeed, they had not settled down much at all, but had rather taken up parenting as a great and fun adventure. Ron has personally seen Fred’s wife, Angelina, and George’s long-time girlfriend, Katie Bell, look on wearily as the twins invented some new game for their young toddlers, Sadie & Beatrice. Fred’s son, Colin, was still far too young to partake in his father’s antics, but Angelina seemed resigned to the fact that this would not last.

Ron jumped onto his broom and flew up to meet his brothers. Charlie would be playing seeker for both teams. Ron and Bill would alternate between chaser and keeper as Fred and George did the same. It had become their standard method of play over the years, especially after Harry left and Ginny moved to Paris. Fred grinned at his teammate as George released the snitch into the air. The tiny gold ball had been a gift from Harry right before he, Ron and Hermione had set out on their final adventure as a trio.

Fatherhood kept Charlie Weasley young, as evidenced by his flying. Fred and George shouted jokes across the pitch and made smart remarks as Bill missed an easy goal against George’s keeping. Ron darted easily between his older brothers, loving the rush of wind in his ears and the feeling of his hair being pulled back wildly. He had no doubt that Andie would have a good laugh at him once he was on the ground again. His shoulder-length hair had a tendency to get pretty crazy after flying on a broomstick.

“Oy! Weasley, you look like shit up there!” A loud, female voice rang out through the pitch. All five brothers looked down as their sister rose into their air on her own broom.

“Who are you talking to, kid?” quipped Fred, grinning at his cheeky sister.

“All of you, of course. You’re flying around up here like a bunch of old men! I’m pretty sure my hair grows faster than you can chase a Quaffle, Bill.”

“Ouch, Gin.” Ron was laughing as he flew closer to his sister. He grasped her hand in mid-air and grinned at her. “It’s so good to see you, just the same! I see that Paris hasn’t left you any less blunt, or mouthy,” he added with a smirk.

“Of course not. Growing up with you lot was just practice for what I have to deal with everyday.” Ginny worked as an assistant curator for a wizard’s museum in Paris. All day long, she dealt with moody artists and even moodier artwork. A particularly annoying statue had been grating on her nerves for the last week – it was never in the same place twice.

A furiously fast match commenced as Ginny settled into the game. She played opposite Charlie’s seeker and her brothers seemed to be flying much faster than they had been when she had first flown up. Ron laughed as they soared around each other, throwing more taunts and jabs as the game progressed. He was delighted to have his younger sister around, as her job left her little time for visiting.

“Ronald! You have a guest!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice cut through their loud game, even though Ron couldn’t immediately see where she was. As he slowed down and began to sink towards the ground, his mother came into view. She was walking briskly towards them and waving enthusiastically.

“Who’s here, Mum?”

“You’ll just have to come inside. Tea will be ready soon and I need help setting the table anyhow,” answered Molly, looking at Fred and George as she added the last part.

The twins groaned as they followed behind Molly and Ron. Ginny, Charlie and Bill brought up the rear, Ginny talking excitedly about the gifts she had brought for her nieces and nephews.

As Ron approached the garden, he heard a familiar voice and quickly matched it to a bushy-haired female standing and talking to his father.

“Hermione?”

The bushy-haired female turned, grinning widely. “Ron! Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

Without a moment’s pause, Ron was holding Hermione in his arms, threatening to hug the life out of her. She was laughing as she clutched his shoulders and as he set her down, he noticed that she brushed tears away from her eyes.

“Has it really been five years? You look so good, Ron. So much, well, older,” Hermione finished, laughing slightly as she looked at him.

“Thanks, I think. You look great, Hermione. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything, Ron.”

“And this has to be Hermione, or else there’s some unknown woman with her hands on my wizard.” Andie stepped next to Ron and smiled at the both.

“You must be Andie,” Hermione said, returning the smile and extending her hand.

Andie merely laughed and pulled Hermione into another hug. “I can’t just shake your hand. I’ve heard so much about you; it’s as if I’d known you as long as this one has.”

Hermione’s reply was lost as there was a loud thump from behind Mrs. Weasley’s rosebushes. Ron watched as the bushes shook violently and a body-less voice floated to them from the plants.

“Damn it, Ginny. Whoever heard of a Portkey throwing someone into shrubbery?”

“Um, hello?” ventured Andie.

A red-faced Harry jumped up from the offending rose bush to face a rather large group of people staring at him. Right in the center of the whole group, Ron and Hermione were simply gaping at him.

He pulled a twig from his messy hair and stepped from the flowerbed, brushing dirt from his robes. He looked right at Hermione and Ron before raising his hand.

“Hi.”

2. Chapter II

Chapter II

July 17, 2003

“Hi.”

It was really a very simple greeting, but Hermione felt as if someone had hit her across the face with a cauldron- to say she was shocked would be an understatement. Her best friend for half her life stood only ten feet away from her, looking slightly disheveled after his crash landing. She hadn’t laid eyes on him for over five years and for some silly reason, she assumed he’d look exactly the same as he always had: skinny, even scrawny and definitely quite geeky. But the person that stood before her was no longer a boy, but most definitely a man. He was still thin, but his shoulders were broad and there was an air about him that betrayed a great deal of inner strength. Right now, however, his shoulders were slightly sagged, as if he was very tired and carried a heavy load on his back.

“Harry?” Hermione found that she didn’t trust her voice to not betray her utter shock at seeing him standing there.

“Hermione, Ron. It’s well, I should say that it’s good to see you, but it’s really just surreal.” Harry grinned now, stepping towards both of them so that they were only a few feet apart. They stood awkwardly, none sure what an appropriate greeting was at this juncture. Finally, Hermione let out a laugh and threw herself against Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Harry, I can’t believe you came.”

“Neither can I, really,” he admitted, chuckling. “I’d really made up my mind that I wasn’t going to come, but Ginny wrote me this letter and well, I had to be here.”

Hermione pulled back and looked at him happily as Ron pulled Harry into a hug as well, albeit with far less exuberance than she had demonstrated. They were interrupted as news of Harry’s arrival spread throughout the Weasley household. Shortly enough, the garden was filled with family as everyone crowded around the trio. Hermione and Harry were introduced to each of the children, whom they had known only by name and the myriad photos owled regularly. Isaac, being the oldest of the group, seemed very serious about finally meeting them.

“Aunt Hermione?”

“Yes?” She smiled down at the strawberry blonde boy standing in front of her.

“My dragon broke.”

Momentary confusion set in before Hermione realized he was talking about the birthday gift she had sent him in April. She laughed and kneeled down so that she was eye-level with him.

“Well it was just an accident, wasn’t it?”

Isaac nodded sadly.

“It’ll be alright then. Maybe you’ll get a new one for Christmas. St. Nick is usually pretty good about things like that,” Hermione winked at Charlie as Isaac brightened up considerably.

“Well, is anyone hungry?” Molly Weasley asked, beaming at the group assembled in her garden. The chattering stopped as soon as she’d spoken and it was with great gusto that everyone went into the house, ready to attack the meal the Weasley women had laid out for them.

As usual, the large meal was full of boisterous conversation and laughter. The twins talked a great deal about new jokes for their company, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Bill and Charlie traded stories about newborn babies while Ron and Andie talked about their honeymoon plans. Hermione found herself overwhelmed by all the people and noise and one glance at Harry saw that he was feeling the same way. She smiled weakly at him as Mr. Weasley rose from the head seat and looked down at all of them. He still commanded silence and respect from everyone at the table and conversation quickly died down as they turned their focus to him.

“Tonight is a very special night, indeed,” he began, smiling jovially at them, “for it is the eve of my son’s wedding and because we are so fortunate to have old friends join us after so long apart. I am truly thankful to be here, surrounded by my family. Each day is a blessing and I’m reminded of that when I look at all of you. We’ve come so far and been through so much – it’s simply wonderful that we’re all here and so happy. I’d like to propose a toast tonight, to the happy couple. To Ron and Andie!”

“To Ron and Andie!” Everyone at the table echoed, clinking glasses.

It wasn’t long after the toast that dessert was passed around and following that, the large group separated, with many of the Weasley women taking their children up to bed. Harry and Hermione found themselves being drawn into the garden with Ron and Andie.

“Ron, you must tell us how you met,” Hermione said, grinning at her red-headed best friend over the rim of a wine glass.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, “I definitely want to hear Andie’s side of this as well. I mean, what happened? Did you lose a bet?”

Hermione laughed and slapped Harry’s arm, relishing the feeling of having him, and Ron, so close again. She took a sip of her wine and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as Harry grinned widely at her.

Andie was laughing as well and shaking her head. “Well, of course I lost a bet. Who knew the Cannons were going to beat the Harpies? That’s never happened before.”

Ron scoffed. “Oh, you lot think you’re right funny. I see how it’s going to be. Same as it’s always been: everyone against Ron, except now my wife has joined the fun!”

Andie laughed and patted Ron’s shoulder gently. “There, there, Ron. It won’t always be just us against you. Someday, we’ll have children and they’ll join right in with us. The more, the merrier, right?”

Hermione and Harry both laughed again as Ron’s face turned red. He stuck his tongue out at Andie (which only caused more laugher) before crossing his arms over his chest and staring out into the garden.

Andie tried to contain a smile as she looked at Harry and Hermione again. “Well, in all seriousness then, Ron and I met at Hogwarts, at the start of autumn term. On the first day of flying for the first years, actually - one of his students flew a broom through the open window of my classroom.”

Harry whooped. “That’s brilliant! Was it on purpose?”

“It bloody well wasn’t,” Ron replied, smiling again as he wrapped an arm around Andie’s shoulders.

“I guess you could say we’ve been inseparable since then,” Andie said as she kissed Ron’s cheek.

“You teach Defense against the Dark Arts, right?” Hermione asked.

Andie shook her head. “Transfiguration, actually. I took the DaDA position the year after Hogwarts reopened but Minerva had full-time headmistress duties to attend to once enrollment was full again and she offered me her post.”

“Ah, Ron didn’t mention what you taught and Minerva had talked about you once immediately after you were hired, so I guess I just assumed…but that’s just wonderful! Transfiguration was always my favorite subject.”

“Transfiguration was always my favorite subject.”

Harry snorted. “Every subject was your favorite, Hermione, except divination.”

“Well, that’s not true at all. Divination isn’t even a real subject.”

It was Andie’s turn to snort. She swallowed a gulp of wine and began laughing. “My third years utterly hate their new divination teacher. Trelawney looks like the genuine article compared to Sully Biffmore. I swear, I have no idea how he even got that job.”

“What’s the wedding to be like? Are you going to have a lot of guests?” Hermione asked, changing the subject. She tried not to let on that she hoped it would be a small affair.

“It’ll be small – only fifty or so people. The men are changing the pitch over tomorrow to host the whole thing and it’ll start at five. We leave on honeymoon the morning after.”

Hermione smiled, feeling content at just being in the Weasleys’ garden again. “Who’s officiating?”

Ron lit up at this. “Dad, of course. I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing it.”

“That’s about right, I think. It sounds like it’ll be very nice.” Harry smiled across at Ron and Andie, who were still cuddled together. They chattered for awhile longer, about jobs and just about any other neutral topic that could be covered. It was five minutes until midnight when Ginny appeared.

“I hate to break this up, everyone, but it’s time for the bride to disappear.” She grinned at Andie, who was now beaming.

“What do you mean, disappear?” Ron asked, nonplussed.

“Well, you can’t see her, you git. Not until the ceremony tomorrow.”

“But that’s seventeen hours from now!”

Andie smiled and leaned down to whisper something in Ron’s ear. Whatever it was caused him to brighten immediately and he pulled her face down to his to kiss her softly on the lips. “Love you, Andie.”

“I love you too, Ron. See you tomorrow.”

Ron nodded. “Tomorrow,” he paused and kissed her fingers. “I can’t believe it’s all tomorrow.”

Andie’s eyes teared up at this and she kissed his cheek softly before heading into the house. Hermione’s eyes followed her in and there was a strange pang in her chest. It wasn’t jealously over what had just transpired. Not exactly, anyway. She loved Ron, always, as one of her very best friends but there was nothing romantic between them any longer. She contemplated her own mind for a minute before realizing that she was simply jealous over what they had. Her life over the last five years suddenly felt quite empty. Not just of love, but of everything. There had been work, to be sure, but what else?

Hermione’s thoughts were interrupted as Ginny took over Andie’s old spot. She was extremely elegant looking, even in a long sleeved shirt and jeans. Her bright red hair had darkened considerably as she’d grown up and now hung in long, auburn curls down her back. She had the worldliness of someone who’d left home and hadn’t looked back, but rather had taken up her new life with gusto. She smiled at everyone before centering her attention on Hermione.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow, Hermione?”

Hermione shrugged. “Um, not really. I thought I might help everyone set up.”

“Oh, but you mustn’t. That’s wizard’s work! You have to join us girls tomorrow.”

Hermione was suddenly apprehensive. “What are you doing?”

“Well, we have a reservation for brunch tomorrow in London. After that, there’ll be a bit of shopping and then we’re off to the spa. We’ll have lunch there and then return here to get ready for the wedding.”

“But I’m not in the wedding.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve employed a small army of stylists and we can squeeze you in. You’ll look amazing, I promise.”

Hermione looked at Ginny doubtfully. She had hoped tomorrow would be a quiet day. Even though there were only to be fifty or so guests, she suspected she was feeling a bit anxious nonetheless. She’d seen no more than three people that she knew very well over the past five years and if the dinner just a few hours ago was any indication, fifty people was an enormous number.

“Hermione, you should go,” said Harry gently, looking right into her eyes. “It’ll do you some good to get out with girls.”

Hermione looked at Harry carefully before turning to Ginny and nodding slowly. “I’ll go.”

“You’ll have a wonderful time, I promise. If you’re the least bit nervous, there will be plenty of mimosas at brunch tomorrow.” Ginny grinned at her wickedly before standing up. “It’s late, all. I think I’ll turn in myself.”

Ron nodded. “I’m coming right after you. Tomorrow is a busy day.” He leaned down to kiss Hermione’s cheek and pat Harry on the shoulder before heading into the house. “Don’t stay up too late, you two! Remember, you’re back among the living now, can’t be night owls!” He called over his shoulder as the door closed behind him and Ginny.

Hermione and Harry were left alone in the warm summer evening. She turned slowly to look at her best friend, who was staring at the ground around his feet. His black hair was longer and he was considerably taller than the last time she’d seen him. It was enough that she felt remarkably small just sitting next to him. She looked at his profile a minute before letting her gaze travel down his arms and to his hand. His fingers were as long and graceful as they had ever been. Those fingers were made to wield a wand. Inexplicably, Hermione wanted to bring his fingers to her lips.

“Hermione?”

He was now looking at her as she stared at his hand, so very close to hers. She felt her cheeks burning as she dragged her eyes to meet his and thanked Merlin for the darkness.

“Sorry, I must have spaced there for a minute.”

Harry chuckled. “I think I know what you mean. I just – I just can’t believe we’re here. After all this time, I swear to you that Mrs. Weasley’s lemon tart tasted just the same as it did ten years ago. This garden even looks the same. I’d bet a thousand galleons right now that the rustling noise coming from behind that bush right there is a garden gnome, just like when I was twelve. Has any time really passed at all?” He blinked momentarily, suddenly aware that he had just said that all out loud.

Hermione just nodded and touched his hand gently. Harry immediately wrapped his fingers around hers. “I know. It was almost too easy, wasn’t it? Seeing everyone again?”

Harry seemed relieved not to be alone in his thoughts. “I never imagined I could just show up here again. Everything is just so…normal. It makes sense, in a way, that everything is ok here. This place isn’t why I left. It’s everything out there, beyond those walls that make me want to hide again.”

“Where have you been, Harry?”

“In the States, North Carolina, actually. My house is right on the beach and it’s so, so quiet there.”

“My cottage is quiet too. There’s this really great bay window in the parlor, with a window seat. My bookshelves are along the whole front wall. I feel like I’ve spent half a lifetime in that window.”

“Where is it? Your cottage, I mean?”

“Scotland. Nobody bothers me there.”

Harry nodded and sighed softly before looking out over Mrs. Weasley’s garden. He stared ahead for a few minutes before looking directly at Hermione again.

“Are you sorry you left, Hermione?”

Hermione just looked at Harry, unsure of the answer she should give him. Finally, she sighed too. “I’m not sure. I think I needed to. There was, well, there was just too much, wasn’t there?”

Harry nodded and then instantly shook his head. “Listen, this isn’t why we came, not to talk through all this. We need to enjoy this now. Everything else can wait, can’t it?”

Suddenly, Harry looked like that little boy on the train from so many years ago. Hermione nodded, almost imperceptibly. “You’re right of course. It can all wait.”

“Maybe, after this is over, we can spend some time together, catching up? Just us.”

“Well, of course we can. After all, we’re not the ones sailing off on some gorgeous honeymoon in the Caribbean.”

Harry looked oddly at her then. “Right you are. Well then, I think I’m off to bed. And you?”

“Bed sounds so nice right now.” Harry stood up and pulled Hermione after him, their hands lingering together a few moments. He gently kissed her forehead as he wrapped her in a hug.

“Goodnight then, Hermione.”

“Goodnight Harry.”

He walked into the house and she trailed behind after extinguishing the soft candles that had been burning since their small group had began talking. Slowly, she trudged up the stairs feeling as if the entire day had been weeks long, but she realized as she crawled in to bed, that maybe that wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling.

***

July 18, 2003

“Damn it, George! You know full well that is not how you wear your tie!” Ron sputtered as his brother came waltzing into the bedroom on the fourth floor. Most of the Weasley men were crammed into Ron’s old bedroom, getting ready for the ceremony that began in just thirty minutes. George Weasley was wearing the tie for his dress robes in his hair like a ribbon. He had settled the bow just over his right ear and had brushed his red hair back carefully.

“Well, why not?”

“Because it looks bloody stupid!” Ron answered, glaring.

“Well, I rather like it. It makes him stand out – there’s just something so…elegant about it,” Fred said, grinning wickedly at Ron.

George bowed, with great panache, to his twin brother. “Thank you, good sir. I knew that you would tell the truth as it’s obvious that young Ron here is just wildly jealous. That Weasley charm we inherited obviously did not extend to the end of the line.”

It was instantly difficult to decide which was more red – Ron’s hair or his face. Luckily, Arthur wandered into the room at the moment, straightening his own tie.

“Love your tie, George. Looks a lot like the little pink bow that Fleur put in Addy’s hair,” he said absentmindly as he crossed the room to Ron.

George quickly snatched the tie from his hair and began tying it in its proper place.

“Well, son, are you ready?” Arthur had a hand on each of Ron’s shoulders and was absolutely beaming.

Ron nodded, his father’s tone settling him almost instantly.

“Then we need to get this show on the road. Most of the guests have arrived.”

Ron stood once more in front of a long mirror situated next to his old bed. He straightened his tie, smoothed his hair down, tugged on the sleeves of his robe, shook his shoulders slightly, shifted from one foot to the other, turned to his left side and then to his right and finally reached up once more to straighten his tie when Charlie grabbed his hand.

“Come on little brother.” With a typical Weasley grin, Charlie patted Ron on the shoulder and gently pressed him towards the door. In a single file line beginning with Ron and ending with Arthur, three generations of Weasley men started out of the room and down the stairs. Harry met them on the landing for the third floor and smiled at Ron, who suddenly felt incredibly nervous.

Fred, George and Harry would be standing with Ron. Charlie, who had given up his role in the wedding party to Harry, and Bill, would act as ushers and young Isaac would be the ring bearer. Arthur would be leading the ceremony. They marched quietly down the stairs and were immediately drawn into the living room by Molly. She was positively glowing in a cream colored set of dress robes. Andie’s mother, Diana, had stepped from the kitchen, where the ladies were assembled, to help Molly with any finishing touches for the men. Molly went to each of them and straightened their boutonnières, whispering a spell that would keep each flower fresh and Diana followed after, adding a charm that would prevent their robes from wrinkling and had the added bonus of keeping them cool. Molly stopped at Ron, with tears in her eyes. She kissed him on the cheek and quickly wiped her face.

“Oh, won’t you just look at the whole lot of you? All of my favorite wizards. Well, nearly.” This last statement brought another round of tears from Molly and a palpable sadness from the group of men standing in front of her. Ron, thankful for the charms on his robes, pulled her into a bear hug.

“It’s ok, Mum. Percy’s here you know – he can see us and he’s happy to know that we’re all a family again,” Molly Weasley’s youngest son whispered in her ear. She smiled softly and kissed him again before taking a step back and was suddenly all business once more.

“Well, out with you then. Ronald, you and your groomsmen will move to the archway. I want you ready to go as Bill and Charlie begin to bring the guests round. Isaac, you’ll stay here with Gram and Arthur, if you could check on the wards once more –“

“Absolutely, my dear,” Arthur smiled at his wife of thirty-four years with all the love he had felt on the day he married her. “It’s all taken care of.”

Molly grinned as one more tear rolled down her cheek. She touched Ron gently on the cheek and retreated to the kitchen with Andie’s mum.

“Well, sirs, shall we?” Arthur looked at his sons and smiled warmly. They all nodded and he led the way into the garden, pointing to where each group should go.

Charlie and Bill started to the front of the house, where the guests had gathered amongst good food and comfortable chairs, as Ron and his groomsmen moved up the long, white aisle towards an archway situated amongst Molly’s rosebushes. There were white chairs settled on each side of the aisle. Each end chair was adorned with lilies-of-the valley, violet roses and apple blossoms. Andie had explained each flower’s magical meanings, which Ron had promptly forgotten. He thought it was a miracle that he even remembered what they were called, rather than merely identifying them as those bell-looking things, the flowers that they sold in February and the little pink-looking bits that also bloomed everywhere in his mother’s garden. The arch trellis was covered in the same flowers. Ron was beginning to seriously doubt the wisdom that said it was good to cover every square inch in little dead flowers that people might very well be allergic to.

Harry prodded Ron gently towards the archway. He knew his part very well – they had rehearsed where everyone was supposed to stand and how they were supposed to hold their shoulders and what sort of look they were supposed to have on their faces. As a fresh bunch of jitters worked its way through Ron’s body, he began to rethink this whole wedding thing. The American Muggle idea of getting married by someone dressed up like a dead pop star in a white jumpsuit at three a.m. was suddenly immensely appealing.

The guests, composed primarily of family and very close friends, were quickly seated. Hermione was seated next to Ron’s mum and dad in the front row and he vaguely noted that she looked pretty in the pale blue dress she was wearing. He nudged Harry gently as Charlie led Hermione to her seat and Harry only nodded.

It felt like at least a hundred years since they’d been forced to stand up under this silly flower arch. Ron shifted nervously from foot to foot and began a very similar routine to that which had been performed in front of the mirror earlier. Casually, Harry kicked his foot against Ron’s and they both stood still as music from a small quartet to the left started up and Arthur appeared in the center of the archway, seemingly from nowhere.

Colin and Sadie were starting up the aisle, both dressed in dress robes that mimicked the bride and groom. Colin had a very serious look on his face and was staring straight at the ground. Sadie, however, was skipping slightly ahead of him, clutching a small basket full of the purple rose petals. She seemed to have forgotten Ginny’s edict that she was to scatter the petals and was simply carrying them under her arm like she would a bunch of school books. Colin looked at her, rolled his eyes and tossed the satin pillow over his shoulder like a backpack.

Ginny followed in a sage colored set of robes and she cleared her throat loud enough that Sadie heard and turned. Blushing slightly, the toddler unceremoniously dumped the petals into a pile at the end of the aisle and moved to stand over by her mother’s chair. Ron noticed Ginny roll her eyes and it took his entire concentration to prevent himself from laughing. Andie’s sister, Janie, and her best friend, Emma, followed shortly after Ginny and they quickly took their places on the opposite side of the trellis. Shortly thereafter, the music changed to the wedding march and there was a large rustling noise as the entire congregation stood to watch the bride walk down the aisle.

Andromeda Dickens was very regal in snow white dress robes. Her shoulders were bared and a fitted bodice flowed into a full skirt. The material was soft and whimsical and her deep, chestnut colored hair was covered by a silky veil that covered both her head and face. In her hands, she held a simple bouquet of violet roses. Even under the veil, it was obvious to all that she was both smiling and crying. Her father held her hand tucked against his arm as he walked her up the aisle.

In no time at all, Ron and Andie were hand in hand, standing in front of Arthur and grinning as if they had some huge secret. In Ron’s memory, the ceremony was really a lot of flowery words, some wand waving and finally, a big kiss at the end, which was met with great applause. Before he knew what was happening, he and Andie were moving down the aisle, arm in arm, and each with a band of shimmering gold on their left ring fingers. He was married, without a doubt. The witch on his arm and the ring on his finger proved it and Ron wasn’t sure if he’d ever been happier in his entire life.

Soon enough, they were in the kitchen, grabbing and kissing at each other, laughing around each kiss. The guests were being moved around to the side garden as Harry and the twins set up the tables and dance floor for the reception. The rest of the wedding party joined them quickly and a photographer friend of Ginny’s was snapping candid shots of the whole group. Setup for the reception was completed speedily and Harry and the twins wandered into the kitchen, followed by Hermione.

Ron pulled Andie towards Harry and Hermione and pulled them all into a group hug. Everyone was laughing and the girls were crying and once again, Ron thought that he had probably never been happier in his whole life.

“Oh, Ron, that was beautiful. I’m so happy for you,” gushed Hermione. Her eyes had that shrink-wrapped look that Ron had seen in Muggle movies.

Before he could respond, however, the photographer was grabbing people, pushing them to the pre-determined photo spot, and arranging them in groups. After approximately fourteen thousand pictures (It had to be at least that many, Ron thought), the photographer was asking the bride and groom if there were any additional shots that needed to be taken.

“Well, I know two that I’d like,” Andie supplied. “There needs to be one, right over here, actually, of myself, Ron, and his two best friends here. After that, I want one of just the three of them.”

“Andie? Wh-“

Andie cut him off with a kiss. “Don’t worry about it, Ron. It’s my wedding day, after all, and you have to do whatever I say.” She grinned innocently at him and flounced towards the fireplace, where she had directed the first photo be taken.

Shrugging, the trio followed her and lined up for the photos.

***

Harry was suddenly struck with the thought that he felt very grown-up. Sure, he had spent the last few years working with the Order to take out a lot of dark wizards in the United States and had lived on his own the entire time. He was no longer in school and the Muggle driver license said that he was twenty-two years old; he was definitely an adult by all acceptable standards of measurement, but there was something about this night that made him finally feel like an adult.

After all, his best friend had just gotten married. Married. It was a distinct reminder that Ron was no longer that little boy on the train, trying to turn his pet rat yellow. A handful of old school friends and plenty of teachers were at the wedding and they were all older as well. Dean Thomas also had a wife, an American witch named Heather. Neville Longbottom had married Luna Lovegood three years back and they had a baby with them. A baby. Some of his old professors had retired and there were a group of Ron and Andie’s friends that had taken over those positions at the wedding as well. Harry had absolutely no idea who any of them were and it was this thought that made him realize how much he’d left behind.

“Harry? Are you ok?” Hermione took one of the empty seats at his table and looked at him carefully. She had no doubt caught the somewhat stricken look on his face.

“Yeah, I guess I’m okay. Just thinking about everyone here and how different they all are. I mean, did you see that Neville is a dad? The kid who lost his pet toad every two or three days is a father, Hermione.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s much harder to lose a baby than a toad, Harry. They don’t move as quickly,” Hermione answered with a completely straight face.

He chuckled softly before his face was serious again. “I mean it though. This is all so indescribable. We’re all adults.”

“Well, of course we are Harry. After everything that happened, we weren’t really given a choice were we? There wasn’t any other option but to grow up.”

“You’re right.” Harry shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He then smiled broadly and looked at Hermione. “We said now wasn’t the time for all this, was it? Let’s dance then, shall we?”

Hermione just grinned in return as she stood up and allowed Harry to lead her out onto the dance floor. It wasn’t long before they were dancing comfortably to the jazz music that was coming from a band perched on a small stage next to the dance floor.

There had been several toasts throughout the evening and the champagne and butterbeer had been flowing since dinner. Harry realized he was feeling a bit light-headed as he held Hermione, swaying with her to a slower song that had just started up. His hands were resting on her back and he felt the cool silkiness of her dress robes beneath his fingers. She had charmed her hair into tight curls that fell to mid back and it took every ounce of his being to not run his fingers through them. Oh yes, everyone at the wedding was very adult indeed.

The dance ended and everyone applauded as George Weasley stepped up to the mike. “On behalf of the bride and groom, I’d like to thank everyone for being here tonight. If you would please follow the wedding party out front, Ron and Andie are about to depart.”

Harry and Hermione set off with the rest of the guests towards the lane. Once there, they saw that Ron and Andie were tucked safely inside a white carriage, which was being pulled by two chestnut-colored, winged horses. The guests began applauding and cheering as Ron waved his wand and the horses set off into the air. The bride and groom looked down on all of their guests, smiling and waving, as they disappeared into the night.

Turning to Hermione, Harry asked, “Now what?”

“I’m not sure. Are you going back to North Carolina?”

“I don’t think I want to. What about you? Back to Scotland?”

“Well, I’ve got a lot of work to do but you could come stay with me there for awhile, if you’d like. I’ve got a spare bedroom,” Hermione said, not feeling the least hesitant in giving up her solitary lifestyle. The idea of her best friend coming to stay with her, even for awhile, was infinitely pleasing.

Harry just nodded. “That sounds like a plan, Miss Granger.”

Author's Note:

In my previous chapter, I forget to say thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter I. After this chapter, postings will probably occur every other week. Thanks for reading!

3. Chapter III

Chapter III

July 28, 2003

Hermione was ensconced in darkness. There was a loud, demonic cackle somewhere to her left and she was vaguely aware of pounding footsteps coming closer and closer to her. She did not have her wand, so she began running in the opposite direction. Her fingers sought the wall next to her: it was hard and cold against her hand and the rough stone was tearing the skin away from her fingertips. She urged her legs to move faster as the cackling laughter was joined by terrifying screaming. Abruptly, the hallway she was moving through turned a corner and her shoulder smashed against the wall as she followed it.. There was a flash of red light and she saw a snake-like face loom up in front of her. Screaming, she turned and ran back the way she had come.

Another corner, another flash of light. This time, Harry was writhing in pain on the ground. There was a hooded figure looming over him and Harry turned his head up to look at her. His green eyes were electric looking and he mouthed one word to her, “Run!”

She obeyed, pushing further into the stone labyrinth. Finally, she saw a glow of green light ahead of her and she moved towards it, slowing to a walk as the laughing and screaming died down. There was a body on the floor, its limbs all akimbo. She shuffled over silently, as she had lost the cover of darkness upon entering this room. That same green light bathed the entire space and she felt her skin prickle. Bending down she took in the lifeless body, one whose face and eyes she had known all her life, and which bore a striking resemblance to her own. The scientific thoughts of inspection left her mind quickly. She screamed and screamed, the noise echoing in the stone chamber and in her own ears, as a flash of green light brightened everything around her.

***

Hermione was barely able to muffle her cry as she jolted awake. That particular nightmare was old and almost as familiar as her skin. She knew it well, having had dreamt it countless times over the last five years. She had evaluated it scientifically. She had written it down, judged every second of it. Two years ago, she had gone so far as to consult a dream divination therapist about it. The woman had merely looked horrified, offering no advice, and the experience had only further cemented in Hermione’s mind that the whole of divination was merely crackpot theories and scare tactics.

Shuddering, Hermione left her mind travel along the scientific breakdown of her dream. She was freezing cold and hugged her arms around herself to stop the shivering. Scientific breakdown aside, the dream was haunting and too familiar for her comfort. She felt tears come to her eyes after a few moments as she wondered if she would see her father, dead like that on the floor for the rest of her life. The dream’s stone corridors were reminiscent of the stone castle of a Death Eater, where Hermione and Ron had fought along side Harry to destroy Lucius Malfoy. It had been earlier that same night that Hermione had found her father, dead, in the kitchen of her parents’ house in London. Her mother had been blessedly absent when Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange broke into the house and tortured and killed her father. Fresh, hot tears sprang to Hermione’s eyes as she further reflected on that night. Anger had overridden sadness and she had accompanied Ron and Harry to the castle. They had met with Bellatrix Lestrange and two other Death Eaters. Hermione and Harry stunned and bound the other two as Bellatrix seemed to focus her energy on Ron. He had kept his spells fairly simple, stunners and light hexes, but she had admitted to him as they fought that she had killed Percy Weasley. Ron had cursed her violently and her body had been thrown back against a wall, cracking her skull and killing her. He had fallen right after his spell had hit her, having sustained several nasty hexes in their duel. After helping Ron Apparate to safety, Harry and Hermione had pressed forward to find Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione had been taken down by another Death Eater in the castle. She had blacked out, but McGonagall told her later that Harry had taken care of the Death Eater, and finally, had destroyed Malfoy. It was one of her biggest regrets: she had never faced down the man who had killed her father.

Deep, shuddering sobs ripped through her chest and she fought to keep quiet so as not to wake up Harry. The whole thing had been her third nightmare this week, but prior to that, she hadn’t had any for six months. The memories it brought to her mind were as fresh as if they had happened only yesterday. Curling in on herself as she laid down once more, Hermione willed the tears to stop and finally, fell once more into a fitful sleep.

***

The morning dawned bright and warm. Hermione had eventually gotten out of bed to take a light sleeping potion that she kept stocked for such occasions and had rested well into late morning. Harry was moving around in the cottage, she could hear his footsteps and the sound of pans moving against each other. Guessing that perhaps he had slept late as well, she pulled herself out of bed and went into the hall bath. She turned the shower on and then stood looking at her face in the mirror.

There were circles under her eyes, but they weren’t as bad as she thought they might be. Sighing, Hermione began the long ritual of dental hygiene she had developed as a young girl before finally getting under the hot spray.

The nightmare would not leave her mind. She saw Harry in pain again and the image of her father was burned into her eyelids. A salty tear ran slowly down her cheek, mingling with the water from the showerhead. Hermione refused to indulge another cry. She wiped the tear away angrily and reached to turn the water temperature higher. Gasping as the hot water temporarily scorched her skin, she took up her bar of soap and began washing the nightmare away.

***

“Morning, Harry,” Hermione called, trying to keep her voice bright. The long, hot shower had settled her nerves considerably and the smell of bacon and sausages lifted her spirits even further.

“Good morning.” Harry’s head appeared around the corner of the kitchen. His smile instantly faded away and he looked at her seriously. “Are you ok?”

Hermione was momentarily stunned that he’d seen what she’d tried so hard to wash away. She shook it off and smiled at him, waving her hand as if to brush his comment off. “Bad dream, but I’m fine now. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as she walked into the kitchen.

Shaking her head, Hermione looked into the pots and pans, she grinned. “You made a full breakfast! Oh, Harry, I haven’t had a full breakfast since Hogwarts.”

Harry blushed. “I was famished for some reason this morning, so I used that owl delivery service from town. Everything arrived a bit ago.”

“I love that here. I can’t stand going to the market... Oh! Tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, you really made everything. My mum always hated beans but my dad and I could both live on beans on toast.”

Harry laughed. “I used to have to make this all time when I was a kid. Dudley always ate all of the bacon and sausage, but he didn’t like beans either.”

Hermione began to set the table as Harry talked about meeting Rupert Kingsley the day before. “He rode in the broom race in Sweden sixty years ago, you know.” “Oh, I’ve heard that story at least a dozen times. The threat of Grindelwald was over everyone, and it was considered heroic that year to even brave the distance, not to mention that there was quite the nasty snowstorm. ‘Course, I don’t care anything about flying, so hearing it just the once would have been enough.”

“Bullocks,” Harry said, laughing, “I could listen to him talk about flying all day.”

Hermione carried the last of the breakfast dishes to the table, practically drooling over the sheer amount of food. She had grown to love cooking, but usually only ever made food for herself. The last week had seen her adjusting to having someone else in the house and whenever Harry complimented her cooking, she found herself feeling absurdly pleased.

“So what have you got planned for today?” Harry asked, once they had both managed to fill their plates.

Hermione swallowed a bite of the heavenly sausage before she answered. “I’ve got research to do today. I’ve spent entirely too much time over the last few days letting you distract me,” she teased.

Harry looked hurt. “Surely, a bunch of books isn’t better than your very best friend in the whole world?”

“Well, there’s this particularly interesting theory I’m working on at the moment…” Harry threw a bit of toast at her as he laughed.

“That’s alright, I suppose. I’ve got my own research to do if you wouldn’t mind me looking through your books?”

Hermione gasped mockingly. “Surely not! Harry Potter has never willingly researched anything in his life.”

He replied with his own smart remark and Hermione merely laughed at him before taking another mouthful of fried eggs. She had come to enjoy the easy humor that they managed; the first few days had been awkward. Even after the fun they’d had at Ron’s wedding, both were unsure of how to act one-on-one, in daily life. Hermione had been slightly aggravated at having someone around, disturbing her routine, and she was bothered by the memories his nearness evoked. There had been the nightmares and frequent flashbacks of the events leading up to that final night against Malfoy and Bellatrix. She had left for Scotland only three days later. After the initial month or so of contact that the trio had kept up, they had lost touch with each other. There were Christmas cards and gifts every year, birthday presents and notes to the Weasley family, but Hermione had mostly kept to herself.

Finally, when Hermione thought she was probably going to have to ask Harry to leave, just from the shear nervousness she felt at having him around, he had brought home food and a couple bottles of wine, promising to make her a thank-you dinner for having put up with him for a whole week. The homemade pasta sauce had been utterly divine and the soft garlic bread had reminded her of food from Hogwarts. Harry had gone clear to London for the wine, and she appreciated that he’d gone so far just for her. She’d had far more than was wise, however, and they had ended up playing Exploding Snap. It was like being thirteen again, and Hermione was finally happy to have him in her home. Since that night, laughter had been easier and they had talked about a great deal. They explored the village and the outlying countryside. One of the older witches had told them old ghost stories about the castle ruins a few miles away and they told a few of their own stories from the Hogwarts ghosts.

“I’m full,” Harry announced. He had pushed his plate back and was looking at her thoughtfully.

“I am too, Harry. Merlin, that was so good though. Thank you for making me breakfast.”

“It’s nothing. I felt like I hadn’t had a proper meal in ages before I came here. It’s just good to have someone to enjoy it with.”

“Indeed. Are you ready to work then? We’ve got a later start than I’d like.” This was an understatement. Hermione usually rose at 6a.m. to begin her day, but they hadn’t even started breakfast until after 10:30.

In response, Harry flicked his wand to start the dishes cleaning themselves and followed her into the living room. It was easily her favorite part of the cottage. Three of its walls were filled floor to ceiling with books and the furniture was all grouped in the middle. There was no television, but the fourth wall held doors to the kitchen and back hall and a large worktable, which had been moved out of the spare room to make room for Harry. There were books stacked around in corners and over the surface of her desk. Stacks and rolls of parchments covered the available workspace. Here and there, white plaster walls peaked behind the bookcases and underfoot, there were aged pine floors and lots of throw rugs scattered around.

“Is there something you need my help with?” Hermione asked.

“If you could point me in the general direction of your magical theory books, I’ll –“

“Well, actually, they’re almost all magical theory books. The books on the window wall cover just about everything from magical history to current Muggle studies curriculum. Um, over there, is all light magical theory and the wall behind you is entirely dark magic.”

“Entirely?”

“It’s half our history. And half the battle. You ought to know better than anyone that you can’t accomplish anything in this fight without understanding the other side.” She herself knew this all too well, as did Harry and Ron. They had studied dark magic their seventh year, not just how to defend against it, but how to use it, for only then could they defeat it.

Harry just nodded and moved towards that wall. Once she felt that he would find whatever it was he needed, she settled into her desk and began looking through all the rolls of parchment.

***

As if on cue, there was a loud clap of thunder. Harry, Hermione and Ron had just landed in a graveyard, but it was not the same graveyard that Voldemort had been resurrected in almost three years prior. A Portkey had brought them to this place, after the Death Eaters had attacked Hogwarts, and it was the last place they all expected to be. Hermione could see the gravestone that marked where Harry’s parents had been buried. It was less than ten feet away.

Before the trio could even get their bearings, rain began to pour down from the sky, obscuring their vision. A loud cracking noise and the smell of burning wood pulled their attention to the scene behind them. Lightening had struck not fifty feet from where they stood and Hermione could still feel an electric charge in their air. Beyond the tree that had fallen stood a group of hooded figures that seemed to have no knowledge of their arrival. Hermione felt the back of her neck begin to tingle and she felt goose bumps spring up on her arms. They had prepared for this all year long, but she was still terrified.

Ron had grasped her hand tightly as they moved between tombstones to find a better hiding space. From their new vantage point, they were able to discern the number of hooded figures: seven in all. Hermione figured that one of them had to be Voldemort, as he had not showed up at the castle with the other Death Eaters. Professor Snape had slipped the Portkey to Harry, warning him that all three of them needed to use it, and that it would activate just before midnight. He had not told them where it would take them or what would happen, but it was a testament to how much he helped them over the past year that they used it.

“I believe that we are once again given the dubious honor of having guests at our proceedings,” a loud voice rang out through the graveyard. Hermione was positive in that moment that it was the voice of death.

There was a rushing, swirling wind and Harry, Hermione and Ron found themselves dumped unceremoniously at the feet of the seven cloaked figures. Scrambling to get up, they moved several feet back from the group, wands at the ready.

“Why, Harry, I see you’ve bought friends. There are ten of us here, now, far too many for what I plan to do on this night.”

“Yes,” Harry had agreed, boldly. “By my reckoning, there are seven extra.”

Hermione was too terrified to speak, even if there had been anything she had wanted to say. Witty bantering with devil-incarnates was admittedly not her specialty. Ron had moved away from her so that they now flanked Harry. She tightened her grip on her wand, trying to settle herself down and remember their purpose. Her mind careened from thought to thought, spell to spell, as everything she’d studied over the past year seemed to flee her mind.

There was more evil cackling and Hermione watched as Voldemort rose into the air, high over the heads of his Death Eaters. There was a flash of light and Hermione felt pain rip through her entire body. It was her whole being – she had never known anything before or since. Her world turned black and she felt as if she was spinning wildly. Someone was screaming her name, she’d been here before. This pain, this not knowing, she did know what this was. She knew how to escape this. A guttural scream escaped her throat, not one of terror or of pain, but of anger and righteousness.

Shaking her head, the pain left her body. Ron and Harry were still on their knees, unearthly screams escaping their mouths. Gripping her wand, she muttered a spell that Snape had taught her shortly after Christmas. It was a dark spell, to be sure, but she didn’t care at that moment. A flash of red light ripped from the tip of her wand and exploded in a ball of light around Voldemort. He was thrown to the ground like a rag doll and Harry and Ron immediately stopped writhing around. In an instant, they were at her side again and with a look saying they understood that it was now or never.

It fell to her to begin. The words were Greek, pre-dating the magic of Rome. She found quickly that forgetting the words was as impossible as forgetting her own name. She spoke her memorized incantation, focusing her magical power as she never had before. Ron followed and then Harry. A bright burst of light issued forth, not from her wand, but from her heart. Head thrown back, Hermione sighed deeply as warmth seeped through her body, overtaking pain and fear. The shouts of the Death Eaters were drowned out as Harry and Voldemort were caged in the light that she saw was also coming from Ron.

Harry’s wand was a glittering gold color and Hermione saw that he was wielding it like a sword. Voldemort’s wand, which he had trained directly at Harry’s chest, was shiny, metallic black, visible only because of all the light surrounding them. It was Harry that struck first, stabbing at Voldemort’s torso.

Voldemort whipped his wand at Harry and a ghastly looking metallic light shot from it. There was a roar and Hermione vaguely felt the ground beneath her feet shaking. The metallic light struck Harry, but was repelled, shooting out from him and smashing against a tombstone. Harry took Voldemort’s surprise as his opportunity, lunging forward and running Voldemort through with his golden wand.

There was a shriek and Hermione felt the power coursing through her begin to stutter and shake. She cried out, and heard Ron do the same. Harry was unable to let his wand go and stood watching as Voldemort screamed and shuttered. Holding on for dear life, Harry twisted his wand once and wrenched it out of Voldemort’s chest. The same light that surrounded them burst out of the wound and the ground around them shook even more fiercely. Hermione felt the wind whipping through her hair and watched as a bolt of golden lightening struck the Dark Lord. There was a smell of burning flesh and Hermione knew then that they had succeeded.

In a fury, the other Death Eaters had attacked them. All of the light had vanished suddenly and there was only moonlight to see by. She had fought then for her life, striking blow after magical blow against the other six Death Eaters. They had fallen fast.

***

“Hermione?” A hand touched her shoulder gently.

She shook herself out of her memories. Somewhere in the course of reading, for the umpteenth time, about the witch burnings, she had fallen to remembering that fateful night in Godric’s Hollow. She attempted to smile at Harry, but instead merely yawned.

He laughed, “Maybe you need a nap, Hermione.”

“You’re probably right. I don’t know why I feel so tired,” she lied. It was past three in the afternoon, but she’d been unable to shake away the drowsiness caused by her uneasy night.

“If you’d like, go lay down and I’ll make sure to rouse you for tea.”

“Alright. I’ll see you in awhile then. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Harry just hugged her and she wandered to her bedroom, where her bed welcomed her into a deep sleep.

***

Hermione was walking down a very familiar hallway. Harry and Ron were walking a few steps behind her, talking about some Quidditch match or other. She wondered how they could be talking about Quidditch at a time like this, for today was their final test. They had studied, prepared, dueled and had sustained countless bruises and even a few broken bones in their quest to destroy Voldemort. All the Horcruxes were gone. Now all that was left was this last spell.

It would take the three of them to cast it, but it would both protect Harry and give him a weapon to destroy Voldemort. Professors Snape, McGonagall and Lupin had trained Harry, Hermione and Ron respectively to use the spell. Now, Lupin had told them, they must prove themselves worthy to wield the magic they sought to use.

Their footsteps echoed in the stone hallway, which was deep under Hogwarts. They came to an imposing wooden doorway and it was Hermione who knocked. Predictably, there was a creaking noise as it opened.

“Please enter,” a smooth voice spoke to them from out of the darkness. As they entered a circle of torches in the center of the room flared to life and they found themselves in the company of a group of robed figures. Hermione’s confidence faltered then, for she knew the figures were not physically present – they were merely spirits of those who had come before to use this magic.

The spell had been passed down through a small group of wizards who guarded its ancient magic. Dumbledore had once been a member of the group.

“Ms. Granger, if you would, please step forward and draw your wand.” McGonagall looked at her piercingly and Hermione hesitated only briefly. She took a deep breath and moved into the circle. There was a stone basin set into the floor, which was filled with a golden liquid. She was reminded of a pensieve filled with Felix Felicis.

“Please speak your incantation, Ms. Granger,” Snape instructed her.

Hermione closed and aimed her wand towards the stone basin. She spoke the words that had echoed through her head for a fortnight.

Hermione felt as if she was floating. There was nothing but inky darkness, above, below and all around her. There was only nothingness and Hermione wondered if she even existed here. At this thought, she felt a small thread of fear wrap around her heart. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was desperately unsure of everything around her. There were no clues, no signs and definitely no books to give her any information. There was no light, no sound and she was obviously alone. She felt time drag on and her fear only grew. Something was wrong and she was trapped, had to be. But where?

She would not have time to ponder this as the blackness began to dissolve into an odd gray light and she felt her body begin to spin. Closing her eyes against the blur of motion, she choked back the sickness moving up from her stomach. There were tears leaking down her face now and for some reason, this gave her the tiniest glimmer of hope.

She slammed into the ground with a dull thud and blinked a few times before looking carefully around her. Under her feet was what appeared to be solid, gray stone, it was featureless – dull and impossibly smooth. It was surrounded completely by violent, black water. Hermione had landed on her stomach and she quickly pulled herself up to a sitting position. There was an unexplainable fear in her mind that told her it would be impossible to stand up and not fall into the water. She looked into the distance and saw storm clouds looming on the horizon. Instinct told her that if she was still on the rock when the storm passed over her, she would not survive. She stared at her hands as hot tears once again pricked her eyes and desperately, she tried to think of a plan over the endless churning and roaring of the waves.

“Hermione!”

Her head shot up and she looked around her in a full circle.

“Hermione!” A familiar voice, Harry’s voice, was screaming her name, but it sounded as if it were all around her. There was pure and utter terror in that sound and she was immediately petrified of what that meant.

A loud wind roared up from her left as the screaming continued and Hermione saw that the storm clouds were already upon her. There was brilliant lightening flashing between the clouds, which were as dark as the blackness she had felt only minutes ago.

She was quickly shrouded in the rain that fell from the dark clouds and she could not see more than a few feet in either direction. Hermione was soaked to the bone and freezing cold. Her teeth chattered and her body shuddered violently as the rain continued unabated. Falling to her knees and clutching her arms around her legs, she pressed her forehead against the cold stone and knew without a doubt that she would die here. The wind howled in her ears and the rain traveled in torrents down her neck, through her hair and into her face, but despite this noise, she could still hear the screaming. It was no longer her name, only a wordless shriek.

Without warning, everything went silent and the rain stopped. Raising her head, Hermione saw that Harry’s face was floating only inches from her own. She looked into his eyes and felt a sudden surge of strength. Those green eyes looked back at her, serenely.

“Harry?” she managed to choke out. Her mouth felt dry and her throat was scratchy.

A smile appeared on her friend’s face and quickly widened. A flash of relief passed through Hermione, but was cut off as the smile turned from friendly to wicked. The green eyes that had given her so much relief turned to a vile, blood red color and the friendly face twisted into a black, scarred visage that would forever haunt her. It loomed up until it surrounded her, opening its mouth.

She screamed. The face screamed and Hermione felt as if her whole body would burst apart. That scream snaked itself inside of her and twisted her insides. She was enveloped in complete fear and pain and the only thought that could break through her mind as she began to fall was a simple prayer her mother had taught her as a young girl.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

For she was now, indeed, falling through the blackness once more – only this time, there was an eerie red light everywhere and it was highlighting the scenes spinning wildly before her. There were people all around her, but they weren’t falling as she was. They appeared as if she was watching a strange movie. Straight ahead, she saw something that she knew must haunt Harry: there was a redheaded witch clutching a toddler to her chest as a dark shadow followed her into a back room. To her right, she saw Harry and Ron, alone in a dark cell. They were stretched out on the floor, unmoving. She craned her neck and the scene loomed closer. She saw that they were both dead, killed viciously, as evidenced by the countless stab wounds all over their bodies. The blood shimmered in the moonlight filtering in from somewhere off screen. She didn’t even have time to react as the scene changed to her parents being tortured by Death Eaters. Again and again the pictures changed, showing her gruesome scene after gruesome scene. She saw friends, family, even people she didn’t know meeting their deaths and experiencing everything she had ever feared. It wasn’t only death, but sickness, hunger, torture, rape, loneliness, madness, and just pure and simple pain. There was lots of blood and sometimes none at all. Occasionally, people deserved what they got but usually they didn’t.

She saw everything, finally for what it really was, evil- and not only that, but evil born of fear. For every act she saw was rooted deeply in fear and betrayed some weakness of the perpetrator. In that moment of understanding, something else became immediately clear. There was no way she could fix any of it. There was no way she could stop fear – it was the seed for hate, for malice and for evil. It had been the cause of everything she had just witnessed and also of everything she had just felt. She was powerless to stop it. Her actions were often prompted by fear, even this – this spell they had chosen. Hermione had sought out a way to end Voldemort’s campaign of horror simply because she was afraid. There was nothing behind her actions but that. To see good prevail, to save the world, that meant nothing. She didn’t want to be afraid anymore. There must be a way.

At this thought, everything stopped spinning and the red light disappeared.

***

“Hermione! Hermione, please! Wake up, please.” Harry cried out as he pressed his hands to Hermione’s shoulders, trying to stop her shaking. She blinked and inhaled sharply before looking at him. She was obviously startled and watched him without speaking. “Are you ok? What was that? What happened?”

She gave no answer as tears started to roll down her cheeks. Without thinking, Harry moved next to her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling his friend to his chest. She settled down, but he could still hear her soft crying.

“Please, Hermione, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

She sighed and pulled back, wiping her eyes. “I saw… what I saw that night, Harry. Of everything I’ve dreamed, I’ve never seen that and it just… god, I feel so…I don’t even know.”

Harry instantly felt guilty. “Have you been having nightmares?” He barely detected her nod, but still felt angry with himself.

“This is my fault. You said in your letter that you were feeling better, that they had stopped and that you thought it meant you were ready to see everyone again. It’s my being here that’s making you have those nightmares again.”

She didn’t deny this and looked at him with an incredible amount of sadness in those brown eyes. Harry was stunned at everything he saw there. “God, Hermione, I’m so sorry. I need to leave. You can’t go through this all again – it was my fault that you did it in the first place. I should have just listened to Snape. He said I should keep you and Ron safe-“

“That’s not true, Harry. It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I shouldn’t have let you do what we did.”

Hermione jumped off the bed and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Please, that’s just an excuse, Harry! It’s why you went away, to keep us safe and it didn’t work, you know. I was haunted, I was terrified by everything I saw, and everything I felt. Of course, I was, Harry, I was young. But I didn’t do it because of you, or even for you, I just did what I had to do.”

“It wasn’t your job, Hermione, it was mine.” He was clenching his teeth, feeling angry that she had convinced herself that all of this was her burden to bear. “You could have had a normal life, you could have gone to school and you could even be teaching now. You’d have a life, Hermione, not just your cottage and your books!”

“I like what I’ve done here, Harry. It gave me a place to work and to think. I couldn’t have gone back anymore than you could have. My father was gone and my mother thought it my fault.”

Harry looked startled as she said this, and also knew that it couldn’t possibly be true. “She never felt that way, she couldn’t have.”

“I saw it in her eyes, Harry. She was hurt and alone and it was entirely my fault.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that. If it weren’t for me, your parents would have been safe. Don’t you see? I can’t stay here with you. I thought I could be here, with you, and we could work together and I could start to build a normal life. I’m never meant to have that, it’s not even right for me to be here with you.”

Hermione sobbed, tears running down her face. “No, no, you deserve it, just like I do. That’s why I wanted you here, why I even went to the wedding in the first place. I wanted to see what I’d saved, wanted to live in the place that I’d given so much up for and see everyone that helped me do it. You should have that too.” Without hesitation, Harry stood up and gathered Hermione into his arms, crushing her against him.

“But-“

“No, I can’t have you blaming yourself for this. The nightmares will pass. It’s unreasonable to think that I could just jump right in without any adjustments. But you have to be here, Harry. We have to do this together – that’s why we couldn’t do it the first time around. Ron had his family, and now he has Andie, but I have no one Harry. I can’t do this without you.” She was still within the circle of his arms and he felt her relax slightly as she finished her tangent. Her breath was heavy and he could feel her pulse racing, but she took several deep breaths to calm down.

He kept his arms firmly around her awhile longer as a rush of memories came back to him. All the hugs, and the friendly kisses and the times she brought him food to eat. She had taken care of him always, and now it was time that they took care of each other. It was time to give her everything she had given him.

“Come on then. It’s time for tea and afterwards we can talk some more.” He kissed the top of her head gently and pulled away. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze before following him to the kitchen.

They made dinner together that night, side by side as she sliced potatoes and he cut up tomatoes. They made seasoned pork chops and roasted potatoes, with a salad on the side. Over dinner they talked about her work, what she had been researching and what she planned to do. Harry told her about reversal charms he was working on and how he had been developing a way to eliminate the AK curse. She was fascinated at the implications and offered additional information.

They retired to the living room after their meal and talked about friends from school (“Lavender Brown dated Colin Creevy?” “Oh yes, and he broke her heart”) and the wedding. Hermione told him about her mother’s trip and Harry updated her on Professor Lupin. The fire had died out and the night had grown late when they finally retired to their separate bedrooms.

***

Harry awoke the next morning feeling rested and content, feeling admittedly better than he had in a long time. The small cottage was still quiet at this hour and he decided that a walk into the village was in order. He quickly showered and was out the door in twenty minutes, strolling down the lane that connected Hermione’s cottage to town. There were wild flowers on either side of the road, and to the East, he saw the North Sea shimmering in the early light. A tingling sensation settled in his stomach as he breathed in the salty sea air and his step lightened somewhat. He felt at home, which he hadn’t felt even in his last year at Hogwarts. They had spent considerable time at Grimmauld Place that year, rather than the castle. But here, he felt like he had gone back to something after far too long.

***

July 29, 2003

Ron Weasley was stretched out on a deck chair aboard the HMS Neptune and enjoying the lovely view of his wife drying off after a swim.

“Will you stop staring at me, Ron? You’re going to give me a complex.” Andie turned to look at him, grinning, before tossing her towel over his head.

Ron laughed and pulled the towel away. “I love you; so what if I can’t stop watching you? Better than other women, right?” Andie just smirked as she took a long draw from his rum punch.

“We arrive in Little Cayman tomorrow, you know. One of Ginny’s friends was telling me at the wedding that the entire magical quarter is underwater. She said it’s amazing to shop there- sea turtles and fish are all around you,” Andie said as she settled into her chair.

“That sounds nice. Can’t say I care too much about shopping, but that’s just Ginny’s friends for you.” He took her hand gently in his and looked at her shining wedding ring carefully. “I can’t believe we only have two nights left on the ship. This honeymoon has gone by far too fast.“

“Oh, I could live on a cruise ship,” Andie sighed, smiling at him, “When I retire, I want to travel around on the wizarding ship that goes to a different port every single day, all over the world. You know, Tahiti on Tuesday and Antigua on Wednesday.”

“I hate to break it to you then.”

“What’s that?”

“You shouldn’t have married a teacher if that’s how you plan on spending retirement. I’ve got this friend that’s loaded and he’s available. He’s a bit skinny though, has goofy glasses and bad hair.”

Andie’s only reply was to pull him to his feet and whisper in his ear, “Come with me, and I can show you why I married a teacher.”

Ron grinned and without another word, followed his wife back to their cabin.

***

Later that night, Ron and Andie had ordered room service for tea and were settled in their cabin, snuggled deep into ship-provided robes. Andie was carefully assembling a plate from the dishes and platters scattered around as she listened to Ron talk about the upcoming school year.

“I think it’s time I petition McGonagall to make Muggle Studies a required course. There’s too much that’s not being taught and with the way things are right now, I think the students need to be more aware of the world around them.”

“Do you think she’ll agree to it?”

“There’s no way to tell. Hermione wrote to me about some of the research she’s been conducting. I’m hoping some of her theories can be stepping stones for the course structure.”

“What is it that she’s been working on?”

“Some theories about why magical genes aren’t more prevalent. It’s pretty heavy stuff. Genetics, I think.” Ron made a face – genetics wasn’t something he’d really managed to wrap his head around. Muggle science was not his strong suit. “The outline was pretty far over my head but she rambled on her in letter that she could probably explain it better if given proper time to prepare.”

Andie snorted. She’d heard enough about Hermione to know that one of her favorite things was talking about what she’d been learning. There was no doubt that Hermione was a smart one, but Andie wondered if she wasn’t a bit obsessive.

“What about you? Any plans for this year?”

Andie shrugged. “Nothing much new, it should be a pretty typical year.”

Ron was concerned over her disinterest in school – it was usually one of the things they talked about most. “What’s wrong? Are you not looking forward to the new term?”

Andie was now considering him carefully, and seemed to be weighing something. He knew better than to pressure her further and just waited patiently for her to speak. “Well, see, the thing is, even before we got married, I realized my focus had shifted a bit. I think it started when Fleur had Adelaide and Elise…”

“Are you saying you want a baby?” Ron cut her off, feeling a mix of pleasure and surprise at the turn of conversation.

Andie looked doubtful as she nodded.

“That’d be good, I think. It’d be nice to start a family.”

“Really?” asked Andie, quietly, looking down at her hands.

Ron was surprised over her apparent shyness over this topic. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers gently against her cheek. “Of course, Andie. We’ve talked about a family before.”

“I know – I just didn’t think you’d be ready.”

At this, Ron laughed. “I don’t think we’d ever really be ready you know. I kind of got the impression from my dad that nothing could really prepare you for what it’s all about. But now, now is perfect. We’re both young and healthy, with plenty of available babysitters.”

Andie laughed at him, turning her head to kiss his fingers. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll probably have to beg for them to let me take her home.”

“Oh, is it to be a girl first? I always rather fancied a son first.”

“I think there are enough Weasley males running around. I think I ought to do my part to even things up a bit.”

Ron laughed. “There are only two boys in the current round of kids. How will the Weasley name ever carry on?”

“Oh, that seems like a real problem so far.”

Ron laughed his agreement. “I suppose it doesn’t matter which it is, as long as it’s not twins.”

“Oh, lovely that. You’ve gone and jinxed us now.”

“But twins skip a generation!”

“Is that a Weasley Standard Tactic to get women to have your children?”

“I can’t very well give you all my secrets, can I?”

Andie stuck her tongue out at him before taking another bite of dinner. He returned the favor before his face softened and he reached across the table to kiss her mouth. “You’ll be a good mum, you know,” he said after a few moments, whispering the words against her lips.

***

Of the five islands they’d visited, Ron liked Little Cayman the best. Their cruise had been to small islands scattered through the Caribbean, all with extensive magical populations. The magical ships were permitted limited access to ports (something about the disappearing and reappearing liners bothered Muggle tourists), so the cruises offered were far different than the typical fare. Ron knew that the Muggle population was under two hundred, but the magical quarter was home to nearly one thousand witches and wizards. The quarters were indeed under water, obscured magically by what Muggles thought was an undersea wall.

There were dozens of shops, restaurants and other tourist traps underneath the crystal blue waters. Each passenger aboard the ship had been given a Portkey to take them to the welcome center; the ship would be out of view of the small island, with the additional security of obscuring charms. Immediately on landing in the welcome center, Ron and Andie were accosted by wizards dressed up like pirates, pressuring them for a photo. Ron, feeling like a seasoned pro by now, declined the photo opportunities and pulled Andie out into the quarter.

Immediately, Ron was stunned by the sight that met them. Rather than the sky, he saw shimmering water, filled with marine life darting about. There were thousands of little, brightly colored fish and Andie pointed out a sea turtle swimming overhead. They gawked openly for a few minutes before Andie pointed out a small gift shop, saying that they could at least pick up a few souvenirs.

Nearly forty minutes later, they emerged from the shop laden with packages.

“Do you think Hermione really needs a beach towel? I mean, I’ve never known her to go to the beach,” Ron asked, shifting myriad bags so that he could reach his wand.

“It’s the thought Ron – and besides, it isn’t like Harry needs all the rum you bought. Whoever heard of mermaid rum, anyhow? Last time I checked, no one grew sugar cane under water.”

“It says here on the bottle that mermaids stole it from pirates, who had stolen it from a naval ship. And besides, you’re the one that picked out that creepy floating sea turtle. It just… swims, in mid-air. Who’s that for anyhow?”

“Isaac. I got one for Sadie too, sort of as thank you gifts.”

“I’m sure that Charlie and Fred will both be pleased,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Andie shrugged and began the process of shrinking down the bags into something a little easier to carry. She opened her purse and Ron helped her place the shrunken parcels inside. After that was finished, they began to move once more down the main thoroughfare. There was more shopping, followed by lunch and a trip in a magical bubble out in the water, where they were able to better see all the wild life.

Dinner was to be held on the island for the final night of the cruise. There was a huge space cleared out in the center of the busy street, with café tables set up sporadically. A local band played soft music as waiters bustled from table to table, bearing trays laden with local specialties. They sampled turtle soup and a local fish dinner, followed by soaked rum cake.

Finally, the tables were cleared to the sides and the band became the center of the show. They switched gears to livelier music and Ron felt himself being pulled up to dance. The rum left him feeling rather carefree, so he obliged Andie with several dances.

After several fast-paced songs, the band began to play a slower song, and Ron pulled Andie against him. The quarter’s lights had been dimmed and all around them were shimmering candles, which mirrored the moonlight that filtered through the water above. Ron kissed his new wife as she wrapped her arms around his neck and they danced that way, pressed up against one another, until the music died down and people began moving towards the welcome center again.

Author's Note:

Thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter II. This chapter came out sooner than I thought it would, so I realize that may just happen from time to time. To the reviewer who asked which Weasley kid belongs to who, I'll be clearing that all up in chapter four, where we head to the Burrow for awhile. Thanks for reading!

4. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

August 15, 2003

Soft, bluesy music drifted out of the wizarding wireless propped on the sink in the hallway bathroom. Hermione’s head rested against the edge of the large claw foot tub, and her eyes were closed as she lazily drew circles across the top of the water, humming softly along with the music. The room was lit only by the candles she had scattered around the room and she felt pleasantly light as she sipped from a glass of red wine. Sighing deeply, Hermione slid deeper into the hot water, feeling her whole body relax.

Harry was gone for the night, visiting Remus & Tonks. She had declined to go along, desiring instead some quiet time to herself. Harry and Hermione hadn’t been apart much in the last few weeks. They had talked at great length each day, slowly rehashing everything that happened in seventh year, and the years following. There were tears, and even some shouting as they fought once more over Hermione’s seclusion and Harry’s guilt. Hermione soon found her nightmares abating and they began to talk slowly about the future. Harry had gone to North Carolina one day and had closed up the house there. His remaining possessions were still in boxes, stacked in the spare bedroom.

The night that he had brought back all of the boxes, Hermione had fallen asleep with mixed feelings of pleasure and agony. Whatever path they were on in their separate lives, they were now on it together. Harry was through with hiding across the pond and Hermione felt stronger as each day passed. She now longed to be out of her cottage, enjoying the weather and prowling through the shops in the village. They spent long hours walking down near the water and had even gone into a Muggle town about forty minutes away to do some shopping. Tomorrow, Saturday, would be spent at the Burrow, where a casual summer picnic was planned. Afterwards, they were heading to London with Ron, Andie and Ginny for a night out. Her social calendar, as she had started calling it, was rapidly filling and more and more of that time would be spent out of the small, protective cottage she had spent so much time in.

Much to her surprise, this didn’t bother her in the slightest. Her slight agony, however, came in the form of the same friend who had done so much to bring her out of her self-imposed prison. Harry was around constantly and he was completely relaxed and comfortable around her. Therefore, he acted completely relaxed and comfortable around her. Hermione stared into her wine glass as she thought back to the morning a few days prior. She had risen early, expecting to have the cottage to herself for a few hours while Harry slept. Much to her dismay, however, she’d discovered him sitting at the kitchen table wearing only pajama pants. He had blushed upon catching her gaze moving down his lean torso. Her heart had fluttered at the sight and she’d thought herself horrifically cliché for swooning over her best friend. After much careful thought, Hermione had put her responses up to sheer lack. She had been alone in this cottage, with few friends. The last person she’d dated was Ron and was feeling as if she’d missed out on something. It was obvious that her reaction to Harry was simply because she was out of practice. A girl couldn’t be practically celibate for so long and not be expected to have odd…feelings crop up now and again.

Indeed, Hermione was much relieved to have the house to herself for a night.

***

Hermione rose early the next morning, determined to get some work done. She felt as if she was on the brink of something important and longed to see if her instinct was right or if she was merely being egotistical. She made herself the usual cup of tea and a few slices of toast before settling at her worktable in the living room. There were still books stacked everywhere. In fact, Professor McGonagall had sent over several fresh tomes for her perusal; there were books heaped in large stacks in a semi-circle around the table. She felt overwhelmed by the mess suddenly. Perhaps Harry could help her with some sort of magical expansion for the room as floor space was rapidly disappearing under her work.

A large thud, followed by a mumbled curse cued her that Harry had arrived home.

“Harry, really, I never knew you had a thing for such dramatic entrances,” Hermione said, not looking up from her notes. “When did you become such a klutz?”

“Well, I suppose it was when you left a stack of books in the apparition point.” Harry sounded annoyed; it was the tone of his voice that finally caused her to push her notes away.

“I’m sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “Professor McGonagall apparated those to that spot yesterday and I haven’t had a chance to move them yet.”

Harry looked around before gazing at her with wide eyes. “Where were you going to put them?”

Hermione looked around. They had moved everything out of her office into the living room to make room for Harry; there was only her room, the kitchen and the bathroom after that. She finally just shrugged. “I hadn’t quite figured that out yet.”

***

“Hermione?”

“Hm?” she responded softly, not looking up from her work.

“It’s time to leave; Mrs. Weasley is expecting us at two and I’ve got the fire built.”

“Just…” Hermione scanned her eyes quickly over the page she was reading and jotted a note down on a long scroll of parchment. “There. Had to finish that.”

“How is it going?” Harry asked as he watched her close up books and shuffle her papers around.

“I think I’m nearly there. I want to go talk to a muggle geneticist soon; there are a couple of things I need to verify.”

Harry just nodded. “Is there anything we need to take with us?”

“Other than the cake? No.” Hermione was grinning now and looked at him mischievously.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “I can’t believe you made a birthday cake.”

“Well, this is partially for your birthday, isn’t it? All we did here was have a nice dinner. You have to have a cake for your birthday, Harry.”

He seemed to have no answer for this, because he didn’t speak again until they had flooed safely to the kitchen of the Burrow, a covered cake in hand.

“Oh, Harry! Hermione! How lovely to see you both.” Molly came forward, grabbing them each into a hug and kiss before taking the cake from Hermione. She was strangely alone in the kitchen.

“Where is everyone?” Hermione asked.

“I suspect they’re all outside, dear. Fred and George have brought some sort of new game along.”

Harry’s eyes gleamed at this: he had always been a big fan of most things the twins came up with. He kissed Molly once more on the cheek and strode from the room, obviously heading to the back garden.

Hermione heard a brief commotion in the hallway as a stampede of footsteps moved towards the kitchen. Isaac burst into the kitchen, followed closely by Sadie and Bea. Angelina was behind them, holding baby Colin in her arms. Hermione chuckled softly at all the noise they made as she looked each of the kids over carefully. She had received regular owls from Molly over the years, detailing each of her grandkids and they always included fresh snapshots.

Isaac was the oldest of all the grandkids, at four. He looked a lot like Charlie, but had his mother Annabelle’s green eyes and complexion. The Weasley red hair could not be missed, but he had escaped the Weasley freckles. Fred and Angelina’s kids had their mother’s dark complexion, with black hair. Angelina kept Sadie’s hair charm-curled and used the most adorable ribbons she had ever seen in it. George and Katie’s daughter, Bea, was the same age as Sadie (which Hermione had been told amused the twins to no end) and looked like an exact replica of her mother, with the only difference being that her blond hair was slightly strawberry.

Hermione surmised that the fun outside had grown old to the point of driving the Weasley women into the house. Angelina was followed by Katie, Fleur, Ginny, Annabelle and Andie, who was holding one of Bill and Fleur’s twin girls. The noise level in the room instantly rose and Molly Weasley pushed the oldest of the kids to a small table in the corner of the kitchen that had obviously been set up for their use. Hermione saw charmed crayons that changed colors and sheets of brightly hued paper that brought the crayon drawings to life. The other ladies settled around the table while Molly levitated various snacks and things to rest in the middle of it.

“Hullo, Hermione,” Andie said as she sat, cuddling the baby against her and smiling. “How’re things?”

“Well, thanks. I’m keeping plenty busy with my research. And you? Are you ready for school to begin yet?”

Andie made a face before shaking her head slightly. “I’ve enjoyed this summer far too much to really be ready for school.”

“I, for one, can’t wait for school to begin. Isaac is starting at a primary school and I’m looking forward to a quiet house,” Annabelle said, looking over at her son.

“Primary school seems like a luxury,” Molly said reproachfully. “You’re positive you don’t want to teach him yourself?”

Annabelle shook her head. “I won’t have the time. I’ll be starting a job in September, after Charlie returns to Romania.”

Molly obviously disapproved of this, but kept her mouth shut as the ladies started debating working versus staying at home. Hermione was struck by how out of place she felt here and let her gaze wander. She eventually settled on Ginny who made eye contact and a quick motion with her head. Without disturbing the conversation, Hermione and Ginny slipped into the living room.

Ginny gagged as they sat on the long couch. “I hate those hen fests. All they ever talk about is kids and being married. Blech.”

Hermione laughed. “I felt so out of the loop in there. All I could think was, ‘is this the life I’d have had?’ and I really hope it wouldn’t have been.”

“Oh please. You would have to marry my brother for that to have happened and that - I just can’t wrap my head around anymore.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Ahh, to be young again, eh? So innocent, so clueless.” Ginny snorted as she stretched her long legs out next to her on the couch. She, like Hermione, did not make a habit of wearing full wizarding dress all the time. They were both clothed in jeans and light, cotton tops. Hermione couldn’t help but notice how much more glamorous Ginny seemed.

Hermione laughed. “I don’t know much about innocent anything. Clueless maybe, but never innocent.”

Ginny nodded her agreement. “By the way, how are things with Harry? Is he driving you crazy yet?”

“Only slightly. The cottage certainly seems smaller than I ever thought it to be.”

“It’s amazing how men just seem to take up more space that you’d think. It’s not like any of them have more than three or so pairs of shoes.”

“See, that’s not what gets me. It’s little things – like how he usually leaves his breakfast dishes on the table until he’s ready to clean them up. Or the worst – after he shaves there are little flecks of shaving cream all over the sink. And hair of course, which is just disgusting.”

“To true! I hate it when they do that.” Ginny made a face as she said this, causing her to laugh.

Hermione stopped giggly and looked at her wickedly. “Know all about that do you?”

Ginny raised her eyebrow. “Houseguests of course. And all these brothers!” Ginny shouted as the Weasley men stumbled into the living room from the garden, laughing about some crude joke George had told. Harry had joined them in the laughter and Arthur looked distinctly torn between laughing and scolding.

“Hey, Gin, Hermione.” Ron was the first to notice them and waved. “Is lunch ready yet?”

Ginny just shrugged and waved them into the kitchen, but Mrs. Weasley was already coming out to the living room to call everyone in to eat.

Ron whooped before leading the way into the kitchen. For the second time in less than a month, Hermione found herself sitting at the enlarged table in the Burrow. She was surrounded by Weasleys and was actually completely content. The nervousness she had experienced a month ago had disappeared rapidly and she desperately hoped that it stayed a thing of the past. She sneaked a look at Harry, wondering if she would see any of the unease that had been so apparent at the wedding. He was, however, looking right at her and she saw instantly that he had the same feeling of happiness that she did. He grinned widely at her and winked, causing her to blush lightly and turn quickly to take the basket of bread from Ginny.

The meal flew by, as Hermione found herself engaged in a discussion about, of all things, Quidditch with the twins. Fred and George both wanted to teach their daughters to ride brooms, but both Angelina and Katie were strictly against it.

“I just can’t imagine what would happen if she were to fall, Fred. You know enough about magic to control it so that you can protect yourself. She can’t do that!”

“Actually,” Hermione interrupted, setting her fork down and crossing her hands in front of her. “There’s a lot of support for the idea that children can better intuitively control how magic protects them.”

“How’s that then? If they can’t control it?” Katie asked, looking at Hermione imploringly.

“Well, magic is an instinctual part of us. We can use it at a very young age. Fortunately, wizards have kept medical records for much longer than Muggles have and over history, magical children sustain far fewer of the accidents that befall Muggle children. Muggle adults, however, sustain fewer injuries than wizarding adults. It’s almost as if we train the magical instinct that keeps us safe right out of ourselves.”

Angelina and Katie just gaped at her while Fred and George snickered. Ginny nudged Hermione gently. “You’re tipping the balance,” she whispered, laughing behind her hand.

Hermione smiled sheepishly at her old housemates and shrugged her shoulders. “Not to say, of course, that I in any way condone putting your young children on racing brooms. No need to tempt fate.”

“Ha!” Angelina laughed and patted Fred on the shoulder, while George looked at her crestfallen. Hermione merely winked at him and went back to her food.

Shortly after the meal, everyone scattered to the living room for awhile. Molly and a few of her daughter-in-laws cleared up the kitchen before calling everyone back in. The lights had been dimmed and Hermione’s large cake was set up on the table, ablaze with candles. Ron and George manhandled Harry to the edge of the table, and everyone crowded around him, singing the happy birthday song. Harry was ready to blow out the candles, but the twins launched into a rather crude version of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” that had Hermione quite glad all the children were all out of the room.

Harry looked amused as he was clapped on the back and jostled about before bending down to blow out the candles. As he did so, his gaze locked with Hermione’s across the table and he smiled strangely at her in the instant before the room went black.

Hermione was grateful for the momentary darkness, for she was blushing for the second time that day. Molly must have flicked her wand, however, because the lights quickly came back up.

“What did you wish for mate?” Ron asked as his took a piece of cake from Molly.

“Now, Ron, he can’t tell you that,” Molly admonished, passing around additional slices.

“I wished that I would never have to hear that bloody ‘Jolly Good Fellow’ song again,” Harry interjected. He caught Hermione’s eye once more and winked at her. She was suddenly wondering what all the winking was about and her stomach did that annoying flutter again. It was becoming all too familiar and she made a vow to see about stopping it as quickly as possible.

They passed around cake and the ladies split a bottle of wine before everyone once again split apart, this time for the evening.

Hermione and Harry found themselves readying to floo with Ron, Andie and Ginny to London, where they were going to a play and out for a late dinner. They made the rounds quickly, saying goodbye to everyone and taking leftover cake from Molly. Ron led the way through the fireplace and they exited in a small parlor filled with cardboard boxes. A large dog came bounding in from another room; Hermione recognized it as the dog that had been running around at the wedding. It took turns greeting each of them before bounding onto the couch and settling down to watch them all intently.

“Sorry about Scout and for the mess,” Andie said. “We’re moving on Monday, so there’s just sort of all this stuff around.”

Hermione shrugged it off. “You ought to see my living room. Harry nearly killed himself on a stack of books this morning.” Harry poked her in the side as she said this before following Ron out of the room.

“A lot of this is books. The house in Hogsmeade has a small library off the kitchen and I’m absolutely in love with it. I’m in love with the whole house really; I can’t wait to start painting and decorating. These boring old white walls do nothing for me.”

“How’d you manage to get Ron to agree to a house with a library?”

Andie’s eyes just twinkled as she led Hermione to a spare bedroom. “I honestly have no idea. Call it my feminine wiles.” She opened the door for Hermione and waved her into the room. “I hope you don’t mind, you and Ginny will be sharing in here tonight. Harry has the couch.” The sparsely furnished room had two twin beds and a chest of drawers. Hermione spotted a long mirror and mentally went over their plans for the evening. “This’ll be fine. What time should I be ready?”

“Seven-ish ought to do. The play starts at eight-thirty.”

Hermione nodded and closed the door after Andie. She pulled the small garment bag from her pocket, whispering a quick charm to return it to full size. As she pulled the zipper, there was a knock at the door, followed by Ginny opening the door.

“Are you getting ready? What are you wearing?” Ginny had her own garment bag in hand and was quickly unzipping it.

Hermione held her dress against her, swirling slightly.

“Oooh, Hermione, how pretty!” The dress that Hermione had chosen was a cocoa color, with skinny straps and with a slightly flared skirt. She had made a special trip to London for it and had splurged on the entire outfit, complete with shoes and matching bag. There was even a simple bronze necklace that she had picked out. Ginny fingered the soft material between her fingers, smiling. “You’ll look great in this, I think.”

“What about you? What did you get?”

“Oh, I had this, wore it once to an exhibit opening, but I haven’t had a chance to wear it since.” She held the gown up to her chest, mimicking Hermione’s motion. This dress was various shades of pale gray, with flimsy material that was almost ethereal. The gray brought out her blue eyes and seemed to make Ginny’s bobbed chin length hair (she had recently taken off about six inches) look brighter. Hermione looked from the dress to Ginny’s face to see her friend considering her carefully. “You should let me do your hair tonight.”

Hermione had trimmed her own hair last week. It now brushed a few inches below her shoulders and she had been amazed at how much lighter her own hair felt. “Alright.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You’ve always been much better at this than I have.”

“Ah, you had more important things on your mind when we were at Hogwarts.” Ginny winked at her and pressed the garment bag into her arms. “Go get showered and dressed. Meet me back here.”

Hermione quickly stepped into the shower, adjusting the unfamiliar controls to a comfortable temperature. She lathered her hair with shampoo, scrubbing it into her scalp until thick bubbles had formed. She twisted it up and placed on her head before reaching for soap. After forty-five minutes, she was clean and powered. She had used some makeup potions on her face, adding light color to her eyes and a bronzing potion to her face. Now, her hair hung damp around her shoulders as she stepped back into the bedroom.

Ginny was ready for the evening. Her hair was dry, makeup in place and her dress hung perfectly. Hermione nearly wondered aloud at her ability to get ready so quickly, but decided to let it go. She must have made a face, however, because Ginny shrugged slightly before looking down at her dress.

“Practice.”

Hermione just nodded and Ginny directed her to a chair, immediately beginning to work with her wand. The long curls that Hermione had worn for so long were being quickly straightened. Ginny seemed to be far more adept at achieving this than the potion Hermione had last used in fourth year. The straightening went quickly enough and Ginny began tucking on the long strands, pulling the hair off of Hermione’s neck and into a loose up-do. With several waves of her wand, Ginny had secured the hairstyle and was adding the bronze necklace to Hermione’s outfit. Another wave of the wand and shimmery powder dusted her exposed shoulders.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, Ginny grinned. “You look gorgeous, Hermione. I swear it.”

Hermione felt suddenly and inexplicably nervous. She had sat through Ginny’s ministrations with a sort of detached amusement, amazed at herself for allowing such silliness as what she thought basically amounted to a game of dress-up. Now, however, she was serious. She was getting ready for her first night out in, well, forever. Ginny looked at ease in her designer dress, perfect makeup and expertly styled hair; Hermione felt like she was walking around in someone else’s skin.

Ginny drew Hermione from her perch and pulled her towards the mirror on the wall. Gasping, Hermione trailed her gaze down its full-length, trying to comprehend the figure in front of her. She was twenty-three, not far off from twenty-four, but looked better than she ever had. Her figure was slightly curvy and she was shorter than Ginny, but the dress she had picked complimented her coloring well. Her skin was rosy, much better than the paleness that had robed her for the past few years; all of the sunshine she had been getting had definitely improved her overall appearance. Ginny had pulled her hair back, exposing her neck, but had left a few strands loose to frame her face. Hermione was somewhat astonished by the entire effect and wondered mildly if it was actually her own reflection.

“You’ll knock ‘em dead,” the wizarding mirror said, in an oddly misplaced American accent. Hermione and Ginny both giggled and picked up their handbags for the evening.

Ron and Harry were waiting in the parlor. Ron had on a black suit with a white shirt, but no tie. Harry was wearing charcoal slacks and the darkest green shirt Hermione had ever seen. They were standing in front of the fireplace, chatting easily but hadn’t noticed Hermione and Ginny yet. With a little “ahem” noise from Ginny, they both turned to look in the direction of the hallway.

With a sharp intake of breath, Hermione allowed her eyes to travel over the full length of Harry’s form. The shirt and pants were both tailored, with the green shirt making his eyes stand out and the gray pants making him look very tall. She felt that damned flutter once more and quickly averted her eyes to the floor.

“Wow, Hermione. You look fantastic.” It was Ron who spoke first, crossing the room in a few quick strides to kiss Hermione gently on the cheek. Harry, she noticed, was still standing by the fireplace and was gaping at her. She smirked slightly, feeling relieved that she apparently wasn’t the only one who was speechless.

“And what about me? I suppose I should have picked something other than this old rag,” Ginny added jokingly.

“Well, you’re my sister. If it were up to me, you’d go everywhere with your cloak buttoned to your chin.”

“Oh, how very Victorian of you, Ron.” This remark came from Andie, who had just wandered into the room. She was wearing a violet dress and her dark hair was down, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Ron left Hermione’s side and grabbed his wife into a hug, kissing her gently. He whispered something to her and Andie only blushed before disentangling herself from her husband’s arms and moving to talk to Ginny.

The little scene between Ron and Andie seemed to jolt Harry out of whatever sort of state he had got himself into and he quickly moved to Hermione’s side.

“You really do look amazing, you know,” he whispered.

Hermione grinned cheekily at him. “Thank you.”

Harry’s response was lost as Ron pushed everyone towards the front door. Huddled together, they each apparated to a small service alley next to the Leaky Cauldron.

The old tavern hadn’t changed since Hermione’s school days, but she knew from the Daily Prophet that Diagon Alley wouldn’t be much like she remembered it all. Many of the war veterans had been shaken by what they’d seen, but the wizarding world had bumped right along, enjoying a great deal of post-war prosperity. Diagon Alley, Hermione knew, had been on the receiving end of vast improvements. They made their way quickly through all the hubbub of the Leaky Cauldron, waving at Tom as they passed through.

Ron held the door for the rear courtyard, letting the ladies pass ahead of him and Harry moved to open the entrance to the alley. The site that met Hermione’s eyes dazzled her. There were countless little fairy lights strung up on the store fronts and wizards and witches dressed up for a night out pushed to and fro on the street. Knockturn Alley had been dismantled immediately after the war and a few enterprising witches had turned it into a favorite nightspot. There were a few restaurants, a club or two and a large theatre that was right across from Gringott’s, which was the group’s primary destination for the evening. Inevitably, the store owners in the main part of Diagon Alley had latched onto all the partygoers and kept their shops open on weekend nights. Many couples and groups of young witches and wizards flitted in and out of these shops, carrying bags and comparing purchases.

Ron and Andie were leading the group, with Ginny following close behind, but Harry and Hermione were hanging back and taking in all the sights. This was Hermione’s first trip back into the heart of the wizarding world since before her seventh year at Hogwarts. She had a longing to just sit right down at Florean Fortescue’s and just watch everyone move by. Certainly the people she was seeing were much younger than the traditional group that milled around during the day. There was a definite electricity and excitement in the air. Seizing the moment, Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand, giving it a squeeze and laughing.

“Can you believe all this?” he asked her, seeming to sense what she was laughing about.

Hermione shook her head. “Definitely not. A few years ago, this place would have been deserted this time of night. All the little shops closed at five on the dot. Now look! I’ve never seen this place so busy.”

“It was all those little old witches around all the time, I think. Always made me want to toe the line, have dinner right at five and bed by eight. This is definitely the influence of the younger set.”

“Absolutely. They earned it didn’t they? This whole new world?” she felt odd for a moment, wondering if she had earned this as well.

“We earned this, Hermione.” Harry’s tone was very serious and he seemed distant once more. Hermione squeezed his hand gently again, before letting it go and increasing her pace to keep up with everyone else. They were both somewhat subdued the rest of the walk to the new theatre, which seemed to be the focus of all the evening’s activities.

There was already a long line snaking down the street from the entrance to the large building. The architecture mimicked one of Hermione’s favorite buildings: The Globe Theatre. It too was an open-air theatre, but the area around it was charmed so that it would remain open year-round. The walls were a smooth stone and there wasn’t any thatch roofing to be seen. The shape, however, was still the same and Hermione was reminded of summer plays with her parents in Southwark. Tonight was opening night for A Midsummer Night’s Dream and the long line let Hermione know that it was undoubtedly sold out.

A flash of light brought Hermione’s attention round to a group of reporters clustered around the entrance, snapping photos of the gathered crowds. There was a shout and she noticed some anonymous person pointing directly at their small group. The reporters rounded on them and a spew of questions erupted from them.

“Miss Granger! What brings you to Diagon Alley after all these years?”

“Mr. Potter, have you returned to England for good?”

“Mr. Weasley, is this your wife? Ms. Weasley, have you brought a date with you tonight?”

Instantly, Hermione felt her whole face flush and was grateful when Harry and Ron pulled her, Andie and Ginny closer together and began pushing back the reporters. It was Ron who stepped up to answer the questions being fired at them.

“We’re just out for the night folks – hoping to enjoy a great play here tonight. No need to cause a fuss.”

“Mr. Weasley, what do you have to say about the accusations that you all deserted us after the final battles?”

“I have no comment for that. Really, we’re just here for the show.”

“Mr. Potter, have you been living as a muggle all these years?”

“Of course not.”

“Ms. Granger-“

“Oy!” A loud voice echoed out of the theatre behind them. Dean Thomas was pushing his way through the crowd that had squeezed around them, obviously coming from the direction of the theatre’s doors. “These are my special guests tonight, you’d do well not to harass them or I’ll have you all removed from these grounds.”

A few reporters had the decency to look sheepish, but more than that continued to fire questions. Dean just kept pushing them back, trying to make room for Hermione and her friends to get off the street. A familiar face stepped forward and Hermione found herself grinning at Colin Creevy.

“How about a photo of you three, just for old times’ sake?” he asked kindly, holding his camera at the ready.

For their old schoolmate, Harry, Hermione and Ron were happy to oblige and they stepped closer together for a pose. Hermione slid her arms through Ron and Harry’s and smiled earnestly for the picture. Colin thanked them and they were released to follow Dean into the lobby.

“You could have warned me you’d be here!” Dean accused. His smile was a dead giveaway however. “It’s great to see you all together again.”

“It’s great to be here. Do you work here Dean?” Harry asked, beaming at his old dorm mate.

“I built it, actually. Was all Heather’s idea...”

Hermione was taking the in lobby, which was adorned with elegant decorations. The outside may have been Elizabethan, but the inside was strictly modern. There were glass doors leading into the main theatre and a contemporary looking bar set off to the side. The lights were low and everything seemed decked out in blues, silvers and purples, eschewing the typical reds and gold so prominent in many theatres. The ceiling above them twinkled with thousands of little stars and a large fountain trickled on the far wall.

“…we decided there needed to be something a little more elegant here. The clubs and restaurants are nice, but there needed to be some real entertainment.” Dean apparently had continued to talk at length about the theatre. He was leading them through the lobby and up a staircase that led to the upper galleries. They were soon being ushered into a private box above the large round stage.

“We had tickets, you know. Seats all picked out and that,” Ron said jokingly as he took a seat next to Andie. Harry settled himself between Ron and Hermione and Ginny sat on the end, at Hermione’s left.

“Oh, now that I know you’re here, I could never let you sit anywhere else. These are the best seats in the house, I guarantee it. Stephan here will be your host this evening. He’ll bring you drinks and something to eat, if you’re hungry. I hope you enjoy the show.”

Dean bowed gracefully before backing out of the box and closing the dividing curtains. Their “host” took drink orders and scurried away, leaving them all alone in the box as the theatre below and around them began to fill up. They chatted easily and looked for familiar faces down in the throng. Hermione, for her part, remained distinctly distracted at Harry’s closeness. He turned often to look at her, his green eyes focused on her so intently that she felt her cheeks flush every time. After half an hour or so, the lights dimmed and a gentle song began to float through the theatre. Hermione was immediately and gladly captivated as the stage brightened, bringing her into what was easily her favorite play and one that she knew almost line for line. As the scene in Athens began, she became absorbed and let her thoughts gladly drift away from Harry.

Intermission came too quickly for her tastes, but they left the private box and wandered into the main lobby, where waiters were circulating trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Hermione snacked on a lobster puff and sipped her champagne as she listened to the conversations going on around her. Harry and Ron were discussing something about houses in Hogsmeade while Ginny and Andie debated the merits of the show.

“I simply love how modern it feels. The scenes in the woods have been so open and so…sexual,” Ginny said.

“Ugh. I much prefer something a bit more chaste. I mean, really, it seems as if they’re all just running about, high as kites and all sexed up,” Andie replied, shaking her head.

“Ah, but that’s the fun of it. It’s a comedy, after all.”

“I think one of my favorite things about it, actually, is that it is so timeless. It can be done in a fairly contained manner, or it can be a bit racier,” Hermione interjected. “It’s just an easy play to enjoy. But anyway, don’t you just love the sets?”

Andie and Ginny both agreed on this. In fact, the theatre specialized in providing realistic sets for all of its plays and magic made all of the changing around much simpler. If she wasn’t mistaken, Hermione was positive that the trees in the forest were real and she knew for a fact that the fairies were actually flying. They talked further about the costuming and the music and intermission was over quickly enough.

The play was over much too soon and they were exiting the theatre again, heading for a late-night dinner. A handful of restaurants had opened in Diagon Alley and there was one that specialized in exotic fare and magical entertainment. A group of artists walked through the restaurant, performing real versions of Muggle magic tricks. They sat in a corner booth, surreptitiously arranged by Hermione so that she wouldn’t spend the dinner at Harry’s side and in agony, watching the acts and sampling fare from all over the world. It was the wee hours of the morning before they finally made it back to Ron and Andie’s, exhausted but happy.

***

August 20, 2003

“Damn it, Hermione!” Harry Potter had once again been blocked into his bedroom by a stack of boxes. This was the third morning it had happened since getting back from London. The Monday morning following their trip, Hermione had begun packing away some of her research materials in an attempt to neaten up the cottage and reduce all the clutter. So far, she only succeeded at piling boxes in front of his door and getting distracted by something she’d come across.

A fuzzy head appeared over the boxes and Hermione looked at him from the floor only a few feet away. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and she had a pair of reading glasses pushed on her forehead. She was looking frazzled and was now blushing. “Sorry, Harry. I got distracted.”

“By what?” he asked incredulously as she began to help him shift the boxes around to clear a path.

“An article in the Daily Prophet.” She handed the paper over to him and he read the front page as he walked into the kitchen.

Famous Trio Makes Surprise Appearance in Diagon Alley
By Desdemona Nyx

Harry Potter and his equally famous friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, made their first public appearance together in over five years. This trio is best known for their defeat of Lord Voldemort the spring of their final year at Hogwarts. They are also credited with the destruction of Lucius Malfoy and a band of loyal Death Eaters that caused mayhem throughout Britain after the death of Voldemort.

After their celebrated defeats, they shied from the spotlight, withdrawing from our world nearly completely. Ron Weasley eventually took a job in the Ministry of Magic but Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter disappeared entirely, amidst rumors of their whereabouts and mental states.

On Saturday night, opening night for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Diagon Alley’s Apollo Theatre, Mr. Potter arrived with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, as well as Ginevra Weasley, long-time friend of the group and Mr. Weasley’s sister, and Professor Andromeda Weasley nee Dickens. The group was VIP guests of theatre proprietor Dean Thomas.

Speculation as to the sudden public appearance has raised countless questions from local wizards and witches.

“Where have they been all these years? After the war, times weren’t easy and we needed them!” Lacy Lurman, of Mayfair, is quoted as saying.

“I always thought they were too good for the rest of us. A private box at that show goes to prove that,” said Baxter Paddington, of Whitechapel.

“Actually, it’s quite nice to see them back again. They should be allowed to enjoy themselves,” argued Hortensia Adams, a self-confessed Potterist, from Kent-

“What’s a Potterist?” Harry asked, looking up from the Daily Prophet.

“Well, I suppose it’s a bit like a royalist,” Hermione answered, making a face.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, see, in the continuation of the article, it talks about the differences of opinions of everyone when we left. Some people thought it was nasty that we walked away, that we were deserting everyone. Others, well, they were okay with it. And those people are Potterist.”

“That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Harry answered, looking somewhat pained. “Why would anyone care?”

Hermione shrugged. “We were, well, we were like heroes weren’t we? Dumbledore kept you at the Dursleys for this reason. He knew what sort of problems you might have if everyone treated you differently because of what happened.”

“But still, I just don’t know why anyone would care that we were out at a play.”

“That’s not true. You know exactly why they care. That’s part of the problem, after all. You know that they care because they rely on you. You’re why they feel safe. It’s the burden you chose, Harry.”

Harry folded the paper, with the headline picture of them face down on the table. He crossed his hands over the paper and stared at his finger tips. He knew that Hermione was waiting for him to say something, but he couldn’t look at her. That face would be too much to stand right now because she was, of course, absolutely right. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before finally looking at her.

Hermione was looking at him with the strangest face. He didn’t even have the chance to study that look before it changed into just a general mask of sadness.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I wish… that I could take it away from you,” she said softly, bending her own head to look at the surface of the table.

He didn’t answer her, but instead got up and leaned over her to kiss the top of her head, pulling her into a partial hug. He kept his lips pressed to her hair for a few moments longer than was really necessary. He heard her sigh ever so softly and backed away from her. He quickly set about making breakfast and boiling water for tea. She sat at the table a few moments longer before taking up the paper and heading into the living room. He could hear her moving about as she packed more books away. When he knew she was out of sight, he smiled to himself, thinking of the look that had been on her face that had caught him so off guard.

A breakfast of bacon and eggs came together pretty quick and before long Hermione was back in the kitchen and setting the table. She began talking suddenly, about her project and about an appointment she had that afternoon with a Muggle geneticist.

“You see, there are two different kinds of genes, dominant and recessive. The genes required to perform different types of magic are all recessive genes that require that both parents have the genes, or at least some of them, for a child to be magical. The problem is that these genes are rare enough that people frequently get only one set of the genes. But there’s another factor involved. There are test subjects that have both sets of genes, but no magical abilities, like squibs. It seems as if there’s some sort of, oh I don’t know, trigger. That’s what I’m stuck on.”

“You don’t know what the trigger is?” Harry asked, feeling a bit out of his league for this conversation. He knew that this was mostly Hermione talking herself through something. She had done this frequently throughout their entire friendship. He was a frequent soundboard and thus understood that he was mostly expected to be quiet and just let her talk. Over this particular topic, he was more than happy to do so.

“I think I almost know what it is. I feel like - like it’s right there. I can almost sense it, but it’s just beyond my reach.” She had stopped setting the table and was just staring off into the distance, turning a plate in her hands. “There’s a key to it and I think it’s something to do with squibs. Anyhow, I want to talk to this geneticist because my knowledge is imprecise. We didn’t study this at Hogwarts and I have a lot of questions for him.”

“What time is your appointment?”

“Four o’clock. I’m going by floo to London and I suppose I’ll have to take a taxi from there. Should probably leave around three to give myself plenty of time.”

“Do you want butter and jam?” he asked, setting a plate stacked with toast on the table in front of her.

“Yes, please. What about you? What do you have planned today?”

He speared eggs on his fork and answered her between bites. “More counter-curse stuff. Ron has some notes for me at his house, so I’ll leave after lunch to go get them.”

“Are you any closer than before?” Hermione asked as she spread jam over a piece of toast.

“Not really. I think I’ve hit a dead end with the lead I had. I’m hoping these notes will get me to think in a different way.”

“Listen to you. How do you like all the research then? Was this a career that you imagined for yourself?” She was grinning at him, nearly smirking.

“Err, not quite, no. I think if I really thought about it, I expected something a bit more action packed.”

“Hah! Well, at least you finally understand that books have their uses.”

“Well, I always knew that. I just always thought they were better when you used them. My gut reaction probably always will be to head in both barrels blazing.”

“Jolly good then, I always like to hear it was me that prevented you from some terrible death.”

Harry just grinned at her as he was beginning to really relish this easy bantering in their relationship. He felt completely in his own skin around her, in a way that was even missing between him and Ron. There was something about her friendship that was comfortable and instinctual.

After breakfast, he offered to clean the dishes while she returned to her work in the living room. Before long he had showered and was sitting at a small table in his bedroom. His own workspace was fairly clean at the moment, because he’d spent yesterday filing away notes that he no longer believed would be helpful. On the table, there was only a pad of parchment (he hated scrolls and snapped the pads up as soon as they became available via owl order from Diagon Alley) a few quills and a large book on counter-curses and magical theory. It was a book that Fred and George had loaned him, as they’d used it back during the war to make true protective objects.

Several hours had passed when Hermione was knocking on his door, letting him know that lunch was ready. He walked out into the living room and mock-gasped.

“Look, Hermione! There are wood floors in here. Who knew?”

“Ha-ha.”

“Nice work, though. Where’d you put everything?” He looked around in a circle, wondering where all the books had disappeared to.

She blushed slightly and pointed at her desk. Underneath a small side table, dozens of miniature boxes were stacked haphazardly.

He laughed and turned to face her. “How will you ever find anything?”

Her blush deepened. “I, erm, numbered everything and catalogued it.”

“Well, do you at least feel as if you can work now?”

“Oh, absolutely. I couldn’t get anything done in that mess.”

“Good.” He waited until she’d seated herself at the table before sliding into his own chair and taking a cheese toasty from a plate in the center of the table. There were big bowls of tomato soup at each of their places. Lunch was eaten in mostly silence, as Harry had his mind lost in the state of the cottage. He was internally agitated that Hermione had to rearrange her workspace just so that he could stay there. For not the first time, he wondered how much he was really intruding upon her.

True to his word, he was readying to leave for Ron’s house when an unfamiliar owl tapped at the kitchen window. He cast a wandless spell that checked the owl for any potential harm before opening the latch to allow it entrance.

It fluttered past him and must have delivered a letter to Hermione, for it quickly came back through and went out the window. He looked into the living room and saw her reading a piece of parchment with a blank look on her face. He reminded himself to ask her about it later and slipped out the door to apparate to Hogsmeade.

***

Ron was standing in the parlor of his new home, adjusting a picture frame over the fireplace with his wand as Andie directed him.

“To the left Ron. Your other left - your other other left.”

“Damn it, woman. You have a wand, help me out here.”

Andie chuckled and flicked her wand, thus satisfying herself with how the picture was aligned. Ron stepped back and greeted Harry.

“Harry, whenever you get married, get the hell out of the house when your wife starts redecorating, that’s my advice.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll remember that by the time I get a wife.”

“It’ll come back to you some day, I’m sure. Hopefully, it won’t be too late.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and led him into the library off the kitchen. Upon entering, Harry let out a low whistle.

“Andie could give Hermione a run for her money with all these books. Looks like you’ve got a thing about bookworms.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Ron said distractedly as he dug through a pile of parchments. He pulled out a thick folder and handed it to Harry. “These are some reports we got in for months after the war ended. There were all these raids going on at old Death Eater homes and hideouts. These reports specifically mention any protective or defensive charms found, both light and dark magic.”

“These will be perfect, thanks.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“Actually, do you think you’d walk around the village with me? I want to take a look around.”

Ron nodded and they headed to the living room to let Andie know where they were headed. After Harry used a shrinking charm on the file and stashed it in his pocket, they went out the front door and onto the small road that led up to Main Street. Ron and Andie’s house was a two minute walk from downtown Hogsmeade and about ten minutes from the school. There were a number of small cottages lining their street and Harry knew that there were others scattered through town.

They turned up the lane by the Three Broomsticks and walked down past Zonko’s and Gladrags. A small dirt road ran past Madam Puddifoot’s and it was towards this street that Harry aimed his footsteps. There was a large house at the end of the street, angled away from the street. A low stone wall ran in front of it and Harry immediately noticed the thatched roofing and lead-mullioned window panes. It was light yellow in color, two stories tall and had two chimneys coming out of the roof.

“I remember this house from when we were in school. Why are we here?”

“It’s for let. I saw it in the Daily Prophet yesterday.”

Ron peered at Harry curiously, but didn’t speak. He waited patiently as Harry stood looking up at the house, his hands in his pockets.

“We need more room, see. I almost killed myself tripping over books the other day and now Hermione has everything shrunk down in these impossibly small boxes. We both need a place to work and I think maybe it’s time Hermione get out of that cottage.”

“Does she agree with you?”

“I haven’t mentioned it yet – it was just a thought.”

“I see. Well, I don’t envy you being the one to ask her about all this. There’s no telling how she’ll react.”

“Will it be bad?”

Ron shrugged. “You never can tell with women. Has she said anything about moving?”

“Not really. She seems unhappy with everything being all squished in the cottage though.”

“But will she move here with you?”

Harry had a very serious look on his face when he finally met Ron’s steady gaze. “I feel like I’m intruding on her life. I want to fix that and this is the only thing I can think of. She said that – that we have to do this whole ‘getting back to the real world’ together, that that’s what friends are for.”

“Well, it’s a really fantastic house. I mean, it’s huge and there are those little flower boxes everywhere. I’ve got on good authority that women like flower box things.”

“Oh you have? Well, aren’t you just the expert on all things women now?”

“Ha! I wish. Come on; let’s head back to the house so my wife can tell me what back-breaking work I have to do next.”

***

Harry was simultaneously nervous and excited to ask Hermione about the house. He had no idea if Hermione was ready to leave her cottage yet and he didn’t think she’d take too kindly to him being the one to suggest it. He checked his watch, and seeing that it was nearly five o’clock, wondered if Hermione would be home yet. He seriously doubted it, but opened the door quietly so as not to disturb her in case she was working.

As luck would have it, the cottage was empty and strangely silent. He made himself a cup of tea and settled down at Hermione’s tidy desk to go over the notes from Ron.

A few hours later, Harry was jolted out of his work when a large thud sounded behind him. He turned in his chair to see Hermione standing in the apparition point, surrounded by more boxes.

“What’s all that?” he asked, taking in everything she had brought with her. “And how did you get it here?”

“Sheer willpower,” she answered, chewing on her lip. “This is all stuff from that doctor. Some of it is books, but the rest is some stuff so I can put a small lab together to analyze the samples he gave me.”

“Uh, Hermione, this might not be the best time to bring this up, but-“

“Where am I going to put all of this?”

“Err, yes.”

“Well, Harry, I was thinking. I love having you here, with me, you know I do. But this is just…not working. We have no room, and we have too much work to do.”

Harry’s heart was sinking. “Do you want me to leave?”

Hermione laughed at this and Harry brightened a bit. “Of course not! What I was thinking, and I can’t even believe I’m suggesting this – you’ve only been here a month and yet, here I am- Harry, we should move.”

It was Harry’s turn to laugh. “That’s exactly what I was going to say to you.”

“You were?”

“Yes. I just think it’s time to get out of this cottage, Hermione. I know it’s beautiful here and I hate the idea of not seeing the ocean everyday, but this is just silly. We won’t be able to get anything done if we stay cooped in here like this.”

Hermione sat down on one of the soft easy chairs and looked squarely at Harry. “I’m so relieved you think so. I need to be somewhere less remote right now. I’m at a point in my work where I just can’t be so far from everything.”

“Was there anywhere you had in mind?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not really, what about you?”

“Well, I did see this one house, in Hogsmeade.”

“Hogsmeade? How close is it to Ron and Andie?”

“At the opposite end of town.”

“I see. What’s it like?”

“I’ll tell you over dinner,” he said in lieu of an answer, for he had decided he’d rather just show her than try and describe it.

He told Hermione as much and they tucked into a quick dinner, getting through clean up with lightening speed. Once back in the living room, Harry helped Hermione into a light summer cloak and tugged at her hand, pulling her out the door and into the yard. Once there, he called for his Firebolt.

“You want to go by broom, Harry? Won’t that take ages?”

“Of course not. Is this ok?”

Hermione looked doubtful.

“Just trust me, ok? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As they climbed onto the broom, Harry tried to think of a time he had flown with Hermione just for the sake of flying. In the past, they had only flown together in the face of some sort of danger. During seventh year, she had been dating Ron and had flown with him whenever they all needed to travel. Harry adjusted his position slightly so that she could more comfortably wrap her arms around his chest. She let him know when she was comfortable and they pushed off, aiming the broom due south.

The night was cool and breezy and Harry was glad he’d insisted on cloaks. They flew quickly, skirting along the forest’s edge and occasionally flying out over open water. Hermione kept her face firmly planted against Harry’s back until he convinced her to lean back.

“Oh, Harry,” she let out slowly, her voice just a whisper in his ear. “This is amazing.”

They were flying over the sea, which was surprisingly calm and reflected the bright, nearly-full moonlight. The evening sky was dotted with thousands of glittering stars and the night was cloudless.

Harry felt his face flush as she spoke and pulled herself tight against him. He was aware of her entire body pressed against his, from where her arms were wrapped around his chest to where her breasts pushed into his back. She was warm and completely calm. Her breath was close to his ear and every so often, it tickled his neck. Goosebumps jumped out on his arms as they soared quickly towards Hogsmeade. Harry edged the broom to fly faster suddenly wondering what on earth had possessed him to suggest this method of travel. His whole body was in agony, as he had a strong desire to turn right around on his broomstick and kiss Hermione, safety be damned.

Shit, Potter. You have got to get out more.

Truth be told, he had probably been sending entirely too much time with his best friend. He had had a fling or two while hiding out in North Carolina, but that felt like ages ago. His entire existence lately had been dominated by Hermione’s presence. Of course he was keenly aware of what parts of her pressed against him – she had been his entire focus for nearly a month! Of course, none of this meant anything. It was just a natural reaction, especially for someone who had barely touched another human being in far too long.

As promised, the flight to Hogsmeade was relatively quick. They alighted a few feet from the stone wall that ran in front of the house. Hermione let out a soft gasp as she took in the house.

“Oh, Harry. This is just like my grandmother’s house.” Harry had to admit that the house certainly made a good impression. Every window was lit brightly from within and smoke curled slightly from both chimneys. Moonlight highlighted the flower gardens and the stone path leading up to the front door.

“Have you been inside it yet?” she asked quietly.

“No, but there were some pictures in the newspaper. It looks nice inside, hardwood floors and really big rooms.”

“What does it cost?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean, don’t worry about it? You’ll tell me what it costs, Harry Potter.”

“It’s not much, Hermione. But any expense would be worth it. There’s even an outbuilding that you can have your lab in, do you see?”

He could tell that she knew he was avoiding the question. He was determined that he would bear the costs of this place. It was his fault she didn’t have a job and that she’d lived under the Order’s watch for so long. He needed to make it up to her.

“You’re feeling guilty again, Harry. I know that look. I insist on paying for half of this and you’re going to allow it.”

“Oh, you just know that do you?”

“I won’t move if you don’t let me.”

She had her arms crossed and was staring at him. He withered instantly and just nodded. She grinned and threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, I love it. I really do. When can we get it?”

Harry laughed, hugging her back tightly. “I’m not sure. I’ll owl about it first thing in the morning.”

She nodded and they climbed back onto the broom, taking one more look at the house before setting off.

The trip home was only marginally less painful than the first one, simply because Harry had decided he might as well enjoy all the closeness. They talked most of the trip back, able to hear each other perfectly using a couple of simple charms. As they reached the air above the village, they fell silent once more, taking in the twinkling lights of the homes and watching as a storm advanced from the east. When fat raindrops began to fall, Harry quickly pushed his broom downward, rushing to get inside before they got too wet.

***

The watch on his bedside table read 3:24 a.m. He had been unable to sleep so far, anxious as he was for the next day. There was more research to do and he felt already that he might be on a better path as far as that was concerned. There was also the note to write about the house in Hogsmeade. He hoped the news would be good: that the house was still available and that they could move soon.

Harry pushed back the covers, deciding he could at least read until he felt tired. He lit his wand and wandered into the living room, letting the light glide over the titles of all the different books. He picked a crimson covered one, with gold gilt letters reading Howard the Half – Strange Magical Accidents and Other Bizarre, yet Entertaining, Stories. Tucking the book under his arm, he swung his wand light around. On Hermione’s desk, he recognized the parchment that had been delivered earlier in the day. He couldn’t recall whether or not he’d seen it there earlier and his curiosity got the best of him. His eyes flicked to Hermione’s bedroom door, which was still firmly shut. Picking up the parchment, he unrolled it silently.

H-

I see that you’ve decided to meet your public after all- you should have listened to me when I said you needed out of that suffocating cottage. You look well in the photo, but as usual, your choice in companions leaves much to be desired.

Be wary; I’ve been hearing a lot about you and what you’ve been up to. You need to keep a lid on this as long as possible.

-D

Thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter III. Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you so desire - I really appreciate your comments and thoughts!

5. Chapter V

Chapter V

August 21, 2003

Harry Potter slammed the front door of Ron Weasley’s house. Ron’s owl had assured him that Andie was out shopping, they’d be able to talk alone.

“Harry?” a familiar and comforting voice called from the kitchen.

“You won’t bloody believe this!” Harry strode into the kitchen, Hermione’s letter clutched in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked, as Harry turned into the doorway and stopped, holding the parchment outstretched towards his friend.

Giving him a curious look, Ron took the parchment and read it slowly. His eyes grew large as he reread it twice. “Is this… this is from Malfoy. It has to be.”

“Yes, that traitor! He feeds us information all through the war, and at the end, when we finally need him to testify, he disappears. He cost us months in those cases! And let’s not even mention Dumbledore.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. You can’t get ballistic over this Harry. You don’t even know it’s from him for sure.”

“Oh, who else could it be? ‘Your choice of companions,’ you can almost hear him say it in that whiny little voice of his.”

“That may be, but you’re overlooking one important fact.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” Harry asked, fuming.

“It’s not your letter. Does Hermione know you have that?”

Harry shook his head, but it did nothing to waylay the anger burning in his stomach. “I left while she was in the shower. She won’t miss it.”

“HARRY POTTER!” A very unwelcome voice was coming from the living room. Harry groaned and followed Ron out of the kitchen. Hermione’s head was floating in the fireplace and Harry could tell, even with the flames, that she was furious.

“How dare you, Harry! I know you have my letter.”

“So what if I do? What’s Malfoy doing writing to you anyhow?”

“That’s none of your business and you know it. If I wanted to tell you about it, I would have. You give me that parchment right now.”

“No,” Harry answered stupidly. He stuck the parchment into the pocket of his jeans, crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Hermione defiantly.

Instantly, her head disappeared and they heard a loud pop! Within seconds, Hermione was striding into the living room; her own furious glare matching Harry’s.

“What is wrong with you, Harry Potter? I can’t imagine what is making you be so rude.”

“It’s this letter, Hermione. Don’t you remember what he did, what he promised to do?”

“Of course, I remember. But that has no bearing on this situation right now.”

“Why are you getting letters from him?”

Hermione sighed and looked down at the floor for a moment before lifting her head. “Because he doesn’t have anyone to talk to where he is and he writes me letters from time to time.”

“Why you?” he relaxed his stance somewhat, letting his arms fall to his side.

Hermione sat down on the couch and ran a hand through her hair. “Does it really matter, Harry? It’s just Order business.”

“What Order business? Draco Malfoy has nothing to do with the Order.”

“But of course he does, Harry. He’s a member, and a protected member at that, just like we are.”

Harry and Ron both sat down, staring at her. She must have taken this for an urge to continue, because she plunged right in.

“He’s a sworn member of the Order. He took an oath just like we did, right before seventh year. He fed us information all year, including, might I remind you, that which led to the demise of the people responsible for killing my father, and your brother, Ron. He paid a steep price for all that and has been in hiding ever since.”

“So what’s this got to do with you?” Ron asked, speaking for the first time since Hermione had arrived.

“Well, he had to be moved around quite a lot. McGonagall asked if he could stay at my cottage for a few nights while they arranged a new place for him. I had one of the safest locations in Britain, it just made sense.”

“You had that man if your house?!” Harry cried, feeling horrified.

“Well, yes. If it helps, I really didn’t want him there and it was a miserable couple of days.”

“No, that doesn’t help at all!” Ron cried incredulously.

“How could you possibly let him there, Hermione? He could have betrayed your location,” Harry stated.

“No, he could not have. There were protections in place against that and he didn’t even know where he was.”

“I don’t believe this,” Ron answered, tugging his fingers through his red hair. Harry had been repeating this same motion for several minutes and his own hair was standing out wildly in all directions.

“Well, it’s long past, isn’t it? We’re not friends or anything, but he occasionally sends those letters and I occasionally reply. You should both know how lonely it is when you’re all by yourself all the time.”

Harry refused to answer her, instead choosing to stare at his hands. She didn’t offer any further explanation, but stood up and crossed the room. She kneeled down in front of Harry.

“You can’t be mad over this, Harry. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” Harry asked quietly, meeting her steady gaze.

“I couldn’t. You know how it works; that sort of information isn’t just passed around.”

Harry just shrugged and went back to looking at his hands. He heard her stand up and walk from the room. There was another pop! and they knew she was gone.

“Blimey, Harry. I can’t believe-“

“I know. I just don’t get it. She’s just using that “classified information” nonsense as a scapegoat. She just didn’t want to tell me about it.”

Ron shifted uncomfortably next to him, causing Harry to look at him.

“What?” Harry asked.

“This whole situation makes me so uneasy, Harry,” Ron said quietly. “She could have been hurt any number of ways. So what if he fed us information during the war? It was all just to stay alive, wasn’t it? Didn’t he just pick the side he thought most likely to win?”

Harry shrugged and let out a sharp breath before standing up. “I need to go talk to her.”

“I suppose one of us had better and I’m glad it’s not me.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Ron walked with Harry to the apparition point in the front hallway and looked at him sadly before he disappeared.

In a blink, Harry found himself standing in the middle of the living room at the cottage. He heard the shower running and what was undoubtedly crying in the hall bath. Feeling completely powerless to do or say anything, Harry sat down on the couch to wait.

Hermione emerged from the bathroom after 30 minutes or so. Her hair was dripping wet and her eyes were red. She looked at him blankly before turning quickly and heading into her bedroom, slamming the door shut. Harry sighed and stood from the couch to go knock on her door.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“You don’t have a choice, Hermione. We need to talk about this.” He placed his hand on the doorknob, but was only rewarded with a sharp pain in his fingertips. Furiously, he banged his fist against the door. “I’m coming in there!”

True to his word, he wandlessly crashed the door open and stood, framed in the doorway, staring down at her. “I don’t think you understand, Hermione. This is not a ‘no-big-deal’ situation!”

“It is, Harry. Malfoy is by no means a dear friend of mine, but he is someone with an ear to the ground. Occasionally, he sends letters with updates and such. I’m his contact, Harry, that’s really it. I send most of his letters onto McGonagall.”

“Most of?”

“Yes, Harry, most of. Sometimes, his letters are just personal. Why can’t you understand this? He’s not a bad person.”

“He’s an arse and a traitor. He’s dangerous!”

“He is not! You weren’t here, Harry, you don’t know what it was like. When he stayed here, he was hiding out, and he was broken. He wasn’t the same spoiled little kid from Hogwarts. That person doesn’t exist anymore.” Hermione was curled in on herself, refusing to look at him. For his part, his jaw was clenched and he kept his fingers curled into the palms of his hands.

“That may be, but it’s not right for you to be corresponding with him.”

“Don’t you dare issue such judgments with me, Harry! You’re not my father, you don’t control my life. You left me, Harry. You went away and left me here, without a single letter. You left me here to pick up the pieces of my life after you took me through hell. I won’t sit here and listen to you judge me and tell me how to live my life!”

Her words fell like heavy bricks. He blinked several times and saw that she seemed stunned by her own outburst. “Is that how you feel, Hermione? That I deserted you?”

She didn’t respond, but merely let her head drop into her hands. She was crying again and his resolve cracked with each shudder of her shoulders. He stood watching her for a moment before settling himself next to her on the bed and pulling her against him. She instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, crying on his shoulder.

“No, I don’t think that. I’m sorry, I really am.”

He didn’t respond, but instead just held her, willing that to be enough. They were silent awhile before he squeezed her against him gently. “I’m sorry too. You’re an adult witch and I’ve known that you’re capable of taking care of yourself as long as I’ve known you. You just, well, it just scared me, ok? I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

She sniffled in response and settled herself deeper into his embrace. With this movement, the mood shifted wildly and he found that he was moving his hands up to frame her face. She watched him intently, her eyes still damp with unshed tears. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped away one that slipped slowly down her face before leaning forward to press his lips against her cheek.

She stiffened and pulled away from him. “We mustn’t do this,” she said quietly, before disentangling herself from his embrace and leaving him alone to figure out what in the bloody hell he had been thinking.

October 13th, 2003

Time passed quickly in the little cottage. They packed boxes, organized books and research materials and finally moved to the house in Hogsmeade. Harry gave Hermione the largest bedroom, which had its own bath, and she also took a large, bright room at the back of the house to use as her study. Harry took a smaller bedroom and used its formal sitting room as his office. During the day, Hermione alternated her time between working on her research and working in the large garden in the back. October rolled around and with it, preparations for Halloween at Hogwarts. They spent most evenings with Ron and Andie, making plans for the upcoming Feast and activities. Professor McGonagall had allowed extras this year, as Halloween fell on a Friday.

Their life together was pleasant. They worked together, cooked together, watched Muggle movies and even danced to some of the records that Hermione had from her father. They worked hardest to studiously ignore anything that didn’t fall into a neat little package of friendship.

Harry, for one, loathed almost every minute of it. He found himself completely caught up with her and over the oddest things. She frequently chewed her lip as she worked and he could tell when she had stumbled across something that worked well with her theories: she would crinkle her eyebrows together and stop taking notes all together.

He memorized the tiniest details about her; he knew how she liked her tea in the morning. He worked to make her laugh and to make her smile. He tried to force himself to forget what it had been like to hold her as he had done. They limited any physical contact to the occasional touch on the arm and on a good day, he got a strictly platonic hug. He had no way of knowing what was going through her head and was terribly afraid to ask her.

“Harry!” A delighted cry pulled him out of his thoughts. He heard rapid footfalls on the stairs and Hermione bounded into the kitchen, barely slowing as she threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the cheek. “I’ve done it! Everything just fell right into place.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve found it, I’ve found the allele!” she crowed, throwing her head back and laughing. “I’ve got exactly what I need. There is a witch, Doctor Tyler, who has studied both magical and muggle medicine. She’s specialized in magical diseases, but also in muggle genetics and she wants to publish my findings.”

“She knows you’ve found it already?” Harry asked, trying to latch onto at least part of what she was saying.

“No, not as such. She’s aware of what I’m working on and has already offered to publish my reports once my work is complete. She has a fantastic medical journal.”

“Hermione, that’s amazing,” Harry said, hugging her once more.

“Isn’t it? Here, come with me and I’ll show you!” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him up the stairs to her study.

Her study was impeccably organized. There were large whiteboards on the wall, covered in her neat handwriting. She pointed to the board closest to her desk; it was covered in complex diagrams that made his head spin.

“The answer should have been obvious to me, but there it is. Magical proteins only exist because of these genes that code for them. Those genes are coded for by a certain type of allele, which is only present in Muggles, but they can last generations. So, you see, we can’t survive without Muggles. It’s over-simplified to say it that way, but there it is.”

Harry looked at her board, astonished. “This is mind-boggling, Hermione. This could change all of the magical theories about superiority and purity of blood. What else does it mean?”

“The implications are nearly endless, actually. But to begin with, it partially explains why some witches and wizards are more powerful than others. If these genes have been recently introduced to a bloodline, data shows that for a period of probably seven or eight generations, you’re going to have some very strong magic.”

“And if it’s been too long since these genes were prevalent, then you have families with weakening power?” Harry ventured.

“Absolutely. It explains why squibs happen as well. And on a more personal level, it explains why you’re as powerful as you are, and why Voldemort was as powerful as he was. And even Dumbledore had Muggle grandparents.” Hermione said, rambling slightly. She was gesticulating wildly, pointing at various notes on her boards.

“What about you? Your parents are Muggles.”

“Right, and by my reckoning, my children will be far more powerful than I am. They’ll have a very potent combination of magical and Muggle genes.”

Harry’s head was spinning as he took all of her information in. He knew that the ramifications of all her hard work would hit many in the wizarding world very hard. It shattered the beliefs of a lot of people.

“I can’t believe you did all this, Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “This is just… unbelievable. What’ll you do now?”

“Publish this, of course. I want to study it further, see what the boundaries are, and what sort of medical value could be gained from this. Think about it – what if Muggles hold the cure to some of the worst magical diseases of our time?”

“We should celebrate,” Harry replied. He had forgotten his own uneasiness with Hermione over the past few weeks and was simply bursting with pride for his best friend’s accomplishment.

She beamed at him. “That would be wonderful. Can you be ready in twenty minutes?”

“Of course I can; I’m a guy.”

She laughed. “Right you are. Meet me downstairs in twenty then.”

He showered and changed into nicer clothes than he had spent the day in, lounging around. Much to his surprise, Hermione was waiting for him in the living room, dressed in black pants and a red top. She grinned as he walked in and stood up, walking over to him. He took her cloak from the peg by the door and held it out to her. Arm in arm, they headed out to Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks.

They settled into a booth at the back of the pub and placed orders for stew and butterbeer.

“I can’t believe we’ve been here over a month and haven’t stopped in to eat yet,” Hermione said as she leaned against the booth and sipped her butterbeer.

“No kidding. I guess we’ve been too busy.”

“I think that after I publish this paper, I’m going to take a bit of a break. I’ve been focused on it for so long, I deserve it.”

“Well, I’ll drink to that,” Harry replied, tipping his butterbeer towards her.

She clinked her own drink to his and laughed before swigging it down. “Mmm, wonderful.”

Harry realized his was grinning stupidly at her, but she didn’t seem to care as she smiled rather goofily at him.

“I feel a bit punchy,” she admitted. “This has been my whole life for so long and now it feels as if this enormous burden has been lifted. Harry, I can’t even begin to imagine what this all could mean.”

“You’re going to change everything, Hermione.”

“Do you think it’ll be well received?”

“Of course not. This is the wizarding world, after all; but it doesn’t matter, it’s very important information. Can you imagine what would happen if people didn’t know about this? If your theories are tested and proved to be right, you’ll change the course of history. With information like this, people can’t be scared into thinking that pure blood is so important.”

Her eyes were wide. “You make it sound so huge, Harry.”

“But it is huge! You’ve talked about the scientific and medical possibilities, but what about society in general? Voldemort wouldn’t have gained the power and control he did if he hadn’t played so well on the prejudice against Muggles and Muggleborns.”

Hermione blushed slightly and shook her head. “I never meant for all that,” she admitted. “I wanted this for medical reasons. I’ve learned some amazing things and I have new ideas about the very foundations of magic, but I guess I just never intended…”

Harry reached across the table and laced his fingers through hers. “It doesn’t matter your intention, you’ve done a great thing, Hermione, for all of us.”

She bowed her head and he felt her hand squeeze his as she stared at their hands. Further conversation was prevented as Rosmerta delivered their bowls of stew and chatted with them for a few moments.

“Has Ron asked you about costumes for the Haunted House?” Hermione asked after they’d eaten in silence for several long minutes.

“Yes, he asked if I would play some sort of crazy surgeon. I don’t know where he got this whole idea in the first place, but I was even more surprised to hear that Professor McGonagall approved of the whole thing.”

“I can’t believe she’s allowing the guising especially. Although I think it’ll be fun to see what costumes and tricks the kids come up with,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“What about the older kids? I can’t imagine anyone above third year doing it.”

“Well, that’s what the Haunted House is for. And I think Professor What’s-His-Name wants to do a séance.”

“The Divination teacher? Is that a joke? Won’t the ghosts be offended by that?” Harry asked.

“I doubt it. It probably won’t even work,” Hermione said, obviously disgusted by the very idea of success at such an activity.

“What caused Ron to come up with all this?”

Hermione just shrugged. “I think he wanted a reason to dress up.”

“What are you going as?”

“A mummy. He wants me to do this whole bit where I rise out a sarcophagus and start stumbling around groaning at everyone.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Are you going to make your hair stick out from the bandages? I think that’d really add to the affect.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed again as he pictured a mummy-Hermione with that brown, bushy hair sticking out every which way. This mental image proved to be too much to handle and he began to laugh harder, clutching his stomach.

“Oh, ha ha, Potter. Just keep it up.”

“Or you’ll do what?” he finally managed.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something. I’m the brains in this friendship anyhow.”

Harry rolled his eyes mockingly at his best friend and took a spoonful of stew into his mouth. “So what are you plans this week? Now that your research is wrapping up.”

Hermione sighed and smiled. “Those are such lovely words,” she said, laughing. “But I’d hardly say this is close to being wrapped up. I suppose I’ll try and get that paper at least sketched out. It shouldn’t be too bad, maybe ten days’ worth."

“Ten days! Hermione, that’s insane!”

She shrugged. “I feel like I need to get it out while it’s fresh.”

“Don’t these papers usually take months, even years?” Harry asked, looking highly nonplussed.

“Usually. But I think I can handle it,” she replied defensively.

Harry knew it wasn’t a good idea to press this further and merely sighed, letting his shoulders sag. “If anyone can do it, it’s you,” he said quietly.

Hermione winked at him and tore off a chunk of bread from the loaf they were sharing. She began talking excitedly about the Quidditch game they would be attending that coming weekend. Harry became fairly certain the world must be ending if Hermione was looking forward to a match.

***

November 14th, 2003

Hero of Voldemort’s War Publishes Findings; Shockwaves Felt throughout Wizarding Britain

By Ebenezer Wilkes

Hermione Granger, one of the great Trio that was responsible for the defeat of Lord Voldemort, will be publishing her controversial findings on the genetics of magical persons. Ms. Granger has recently returned from a self-imposed exile from the wizarding world. Her research was primarily completed during this absence. It is rumored that her work theorizes how magic is actually the chemical reaction of two types of genes. Magical Healers have come out as greatly opposed to this reasoning, as they say there is no physical manifestation of magic in one’s body. It is also rumored that Granger’s work suggests that it is necessary to our future that interaction and intermarriage be encouraged. There is great outrage even beyond the medical community- CONT., c14

Sighing, Hermione pushed the Daily Prophet away from her. The research hadn’t even been published, but as usual, the whole damn wizarding world was up in arms about something they had absolutely no understanding of. She had even received a handful of nasty letters about her work, one which rather rudely stated:

This is just another way for your type to feel superior, Ms. Granger. Your side won the war and Muggleborns are being granted the same freedoms as everyone else. You are single-handedly destroying our way of life! We can’t be too harsh with you, however, because you’re simply too naïve to understand what pride and honor are.

Harry had made a big show of lighting the letter on fire in mid-air, without even using his wand. She knew, however, that he was actually quite worried about her safety. She had angered many without so much as a published word being available; there was no telling what would happen when the full report was public. They had received summons to meet with the Minister of Magic later this afternoon. Harry had at first tried to convince her to let him go alone, but she was bound and determined to defend her work.

“Hermione?” She heard Harry calling out to her as he walked down the stairs to the living room. He entered as he was fastening his robes properly. “Are you ready?”

She stood from the couch, smoothing out her own gray robes. “I suppose.”

“Alright, to go over it one more time, we’re sitting in on a department head’s meeting. The Minister’s advisors will discuss several issues and will want to go over some of my reports. Following this, they’ll want to talk to you about your paper.”

“Will you be there through all of it?” she asked, feeling a bit nervous.

“Absolutely,” he responded, crossing over to her and giving her a hug. “I’m always here for you during times like this.”

She hugged him tightly and nodded. “Let’s go then.”

He held out his arm to her and together they apparated to the Ministry of Magic. They went through the motions of gaining entry and were quickly in the Atrium, going through the security checkpoint. They entered the lift and went to Level One, where Harry clutched Hermione’s elbow as he led her through a plush seating area. There was a dividing wall fifteen or so feet from the lifts and in front of this stood the receptionist’s desk. A small, round witch with a large red beehive and round, thick-framed glasses on a beaded chain was seated there and looked at them disdainfully as they crossed over to her,

“May I help you?” she sniveled.

“Yes, please, my name is Harry Potter and this is Hermione Granger, we’re here to meet with the Minister.”

“Did you have an appointment?” she replied, flipping through a large appointment book.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The Minister is currently off the floor, but he will be returning shortly. If you’ll please have a seat over there, I’ll announce you when he’s ready.”

They took chairs opposite the desk and sat silently, waiting. Before long, the lift doors opened and an entourage of people exited onto the level. Minister Scrimgeour was at the head of the group, followed by his department heads and several assistants. They were all talking rapidly:

“Sir, there’s been four deaths reported in Birmingham. Two Muggles and two witches, Muggle police cannot identify the cause of death-”

“In addition, a child has gone missing down near Kent. He vanished in thin air, sir-”

“And sir, down in Wales, a duel broke out between a local wizard and a man that is a suspected Death Eater, three bystanders were injured. They’ve been brought to St. Mungo’s for treatment-”

“Enough! This will continue in my office,” the Minister said sternly. “Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, if you’ll please follow me.” He waved at them and quickly, Harry and Hermione joined the group heading into the Minister’s Office. They all took seats around a large conference table that had been set up especially for this meeting.

“Now, that we’re all here, I’d like to begin,” said Scrimgeour, standing as he motioned for everyone to sit. “I realize that it seems odd, Mr. Potter, to invite Ms. Granger to our meeting today, but I feel that it is of utmost importance that she understand all that is happening in our world. If you please, Mr. Potter, would you share with us your report?”

Hermione saw Harry squirm out of the corner of her eye; she reached over and squeezed his arm gently, urging him to go forward.

“Minister, it is my belief that Dark activity has experienced a spike in behavior over the past six months. Prior to my arrival in England, I observed troubling activities in the States, and there was no shortage of cooperation between American and British wizards. In addition to the instances that were mentioned by this group out in the lobby, there have been nine other instances of Dark activity in Great Britain. That averages approximately two instances a month, the level at the beginning of the last war against Voldemort.”

“What do you feel is the cause of this activity, Harry?” asked some unfamiliar wizard. Hermione didn’t have the mental faculties to identify him; she was still reeling from what Harry had said.

“There is an unknown wizard gathering supporters, on both sides of the Atlantic. At this point in time, we do not know of his identity or his motives.”

“Do you think these attacks will continue?” asked a blonde witch wearing emerald green robes.

Harry looked down at his hands a moment before meeting the witch’s steady gaze. “I do.”

A rash of angry murmurings spread across the table and it took the Minister three attempts to quiet everyone down. “Now, listen. We will not make the same mistakes we have in the past. Shacklebot, I want you to ready the Aurors. Using Mr. Potter’s reports, you need to locate any cells of this person’s supporters. I want to know who it is as soon as possible. The rest of you need to follow the plans outlined in a memorandum that I will be sending out this afternoon. We need to be united and we need to strike early.” He paused and looked at the group of people surrounding him. He turned his stern eyes to face Hermione, who involuntarily shuddered. Despite her role in helping Harry to defeat Voldemort, she had avoided nearly every opportunity to have an audience with the Minister.

“Ms. Granger,” he said, with a commanding tone is his voice. “You will remember well how divided many people were in the last war. I think you can agree that it would be disastrous for everything to fall apart after such a short period of peace, yes?”

Hermione nodded.

“Then you can understand why I must ask that you delay publishing your paper, Ms. Granger.”

She supposed that she should have suspected this, but for some reason, she had not thought of the possibility at all. “With all due respect sir, that’s just not possible. This is an important theory and it’s necessary that the medical community is aware of it.”

The Minister frowned at her. “Is it true, Ms. Granger, that your paper states that it would be impossible for magickind to survive if it weren’t for Muggles?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered simply, without a trace of apology in her voice.

“Do you really believe that?” His hard gaze bore into her, but she held her ground, staring directly back at him.

“Absolutely, and sir, if you had read the paper, I have no doubt that you would agree.”

The Minister scoffed. “I highly doubt that, but my feelings are not important. What is important, however, is that I do my part to maintain peace. Your paper will do nothing but stir up trouble and further divide us. Do you have any idea how much of an insult this would be to old wizarding families?”

“As well it should be,” Hermione replied tartly. “They’ve been acting just short of incestuous for millennia. The consequences of such actions must be known.” She knew she sounded flippant, but her heart was beating quite rapidly. Truth be told, she honestly hadn’t realized her paper was going to cause such a stir. Harry’s reaction and words about changing wizardkind had seemed over the top at the time, but now she wasn’t so sure he’d been far off base.

“Ms. Granger, I find you foolish and naïve. It is clear that you have no understanding of how our world works.”

Harry stood abruptly, his chair sliding back, and glared hard at the Minister of Magic. “That’s completely untrue, Scrimgeour, and you know it.”

“Mr. Potter, you are in no better position than your friend. You have been absent for five years and it is impossible for you to understand the delicate balance that we have achieved.”

“I don’t care about your balance; you cannot hide the truth from people. This is exactly what happened before!” Hermione cried accusingly.

“Ms. Granger, you mistake me for someone that values your opinion. I request that you delay the publishing of your paper so that I may work to prevent any further fracture of our society. If you choose to disregard this, you should not be surprised when we do not endorse your research. This meeting is over.”

Harry leaned across the table and stared menacingly at Scrimgeour. “We have acted without your support before, Minister. I assure you it’s not nearly as necessary as you seem to believe.” He helped Hermione from the chair and once again clutching her elbow, led her from the room without once turning to look back. They walked down the aisle of desks and into the lift, which took them speedily to level eight. From there, they left the Ministry of Magic and hastily apparated home.

Once back in their living room, Harry pulled Hermione into his arms and held her tightly. She allowed herself to lean against him, feeling slightly shaken up from all she heard. Her mind was spinning, trying to process what the Minister had said and how she had responded. She kept coming back to what Harry had first said: he expected that there would be further attacks.

“Harry?” she said softly.

“Yes?”

“Is it true, do you think it’s getting bad again?”

Harry pulled back to look at her closely and she vaguely wondered what look she wore on her face. “Yes, Hermione, I think it could get bad again. Please, don’t worry about it. I’ll never let anything happen to you or Ron.”

She looked up into his eyes and nodded her head, almost imperceptibly. As she let Harry hold her, she steeled her resolve, understanding that very soon, they would have to take up arms again.

She shuddered involuntarily as a horrible thought came into her head. “Harry?” she asked quietly.

“What is it, Hermione?” he replied gently, cupping her chin in his hand.

“Is this… do these attacks have something to do with-“

“Malfoy?”

Hermione nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Harry was looking at her carefully, hesitating to answer. “I have evidence that he may have been involved in some of them,” he finally replied.

She felt nauseas at his words and moved backwards to take a seat on the couch. She held her head in her hands and moaned softly, “Harry, what if this is somehow my fault? He knew what my-“

“Hermione, please stop. I don’t think this had anything to do with you.” He took her hands away from her face. “We both know that we can’t work with all this self-doubt and self-blame. It’s never worked in the past.”

She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “You’re right, of course,” she said as she leaned forward and hugged him. “Have you told Ron yet?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m going to owl him now.”

They waited around the house for Ron’s response. She made a couple of sandwiches for a late lunch and Harry lounged on the couch, reading some book or another. Hermione had sent her finished paper off two weeks ago and, true to her word, she had been relaxing. She indulged herself with a long afternoon nap and was awakened by the doorbell ringing downstairs.

By the time she had smoothed her clothes and hair and made her way downstairs, Ron was standing in the living room with Harry. They seemed to be waiting for her, because as soon as she walked into the room, Ron took a seat and Harry sat opposite him, leaving her to take a chair in the middle. She was oddly struck by being with Ron and Harry to discuss the encroaching darkness once again.

“So what do we know so far?” Ron started, looking between Hermione and Harry.

“Well, there have been 12 attacks in the past six months: various attacks, typical to the style of the Death Eaters at the beginning of the last war. There have been no Muggle targets to date and as far as we can tell, there have been no reports in the Muggle press about them. Everything is being kept fairly well under wraps, even for wizards.”

“What’s the Ministry’s plan?” Ron asked.

“I’m not really privy to that at this time. They are searching for any information on who’s orchestrating the attacks. As soon as new information is found, I’ll know.”

“Harry?” Ron interrupted, suddenly struck by something Harry had said.

“Yes?”

“Why are you gathering these reports? Are you working for the Ministry?”

This comment made Harry uncomfortable; Hermione watched as he shifted in his seat. “Actually, no. I’m doing a sort of freelance thing for them. I watch for dark activity and report it back. When I was in the States, I used to do round-ups of British Dark wizards trying to recruit. Seems to be the same group working here.”

This answer satisfied Ron, who just nodded. “What’s our plan then?”

“Well, I’m going to look independently of the Ministry, see if I can’t find out who’s doing this. We’ll work from there.”

Ron nodded again and stood up. “Unless there’s anything else, I need to get home to Andie; she wasn’t feeling well today.”

Harry shook his head and Hermione stood to hug Ron goodbye. “We’ll be in touch if we hear anything else,” Harry said, shaking Ron’s hand.

“Tell Andie that I hope she feels better and to call me if she needs anything,” Hermione added, kissing Ron’s cheek.

“I will. See you over the weekend for dinner.”

Hermione closed the door behind Ron and followed Harry into the kitchen. He went to the stove and turned the front burner on before slamming the kettle down onto the grate. Hermione jumped and walked over to take Harry’s hand away from the stove. He looked down at her, his green eyes filled with anger.

“It was only five years this time.”

“I know.”

***

December 5th, 2003

Peeking around the broom-closet door, Ron turned his head from side to side, checking for students, other professors or a pesky ghost. The coast was clear and he stepped into the light of the hallway, pulling Andie along with him. She was snickering wildly behind her hand and he quickly pulled her toward him, crushing his lips against her. She kissed him for a moment before stepping back and moving down the hallway. She wiggled her fingers at him and turned a corner, instantly out of sight.

Ron chuckled to himself and sighed happily before heading off to his final class of the afternoon. McGonagall had agreed to a test run for the mandatory Muggle Studies class and for this first term, Ron had all of the fifth years as his final class on Fridays. Third and fourth years had the option still, as did sixth and seventh. The fifth years were a small class and this final Friday group was composed of both Gryffindors and Slytherins. There was only one week left in the term and Ron thought that the trial had been a great success. The fifth years were old enough to ask a wide variety of questions about the Muggle world, but not so old that they had formed truly concrete opinions on it.

He whistled lightly as he walked, enjoying the Christmas decorations that had gone up around the castle. His second year of teaching had been just as much fun as the first: Halloween had been a huge success and only a week or so ago, he had a fantastic lesson with his Friday class about the psychological differences between Muggles and wizards. Christmas would be arriving in no time and he had scheduled the last unit of the term to be about the religion and ancient rituals surrounding this time of year and the Muggle interpretations of these rites. He hoped that the last lesson had been a catalyst for his students and they could move into the final unit with great ease.

All of his students were seated when he arrived in his classroom, but they were far from quiet. There were several copies of the Daily Prophet floating around and whatever the front page story was seemed to be causing quite a stir.

He sent a loud whistle out of the tip of his wand, quickly grabbing the attention of his pupils.

“Everyone, please take your seats. You can put everything away; we’re just going to talk today.” He waited patiently as they all shifted around, rustling papers and stuffing things into knapsacks. “Alright, then, in review, we’ve studied Muggles this year much differently than you have in the past.

“As you’ll recall, you spent third year discussing Muggle technology and inventions and last year, we covered Muggle society and history. This term, we’ve been covering the more psychological issues that Muggles face. We’ve studied the differences in how Muggles and wizards think; we’ve studied the differences in how they live. For these last few weeks, we will be talking about Muggle religions and spirituality. Christmas is a very important time of year to many religions, so we will study this thoroughly. You cannot have any real understanding of Muggles unless you truly understand how it is that they think. Spirituality is a huge part of that.”

Ron paused, rather pleased by his little speech. He was quite excited to begin this lesson and felt that his students should be equally thrilled. He noticed, however, that they were barely paying attention. Several had pulled Daily Prophets out again and others were leaning over shoulders to read. There was also a great deal of whispering going on. Ron frowned and let a loud bang issue from his wand.

“Oy!” he called it, causing several students to jump. “What’s the meaning of all this chattering? Yael, what are you reading?” He motioned for the brown-haired Gryffindor to hand over her newspaper. He looked at the head article and sighed inwardly; there were more outcries against Hermione’s research along with a full editorial describing her paper in full. The paper had only been published yesterday.

“Professor?” A young blonde boy named Desmond Previtt was waving his hand in the air.

“Yes, Desmond?”

“You know Ms. Granger quite well, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, Hermione Granger is a very good friend of mine,” Ron answered, feeling somewhat skeptical about this line of questioning.

“Then do you think her theory is right?” Desmond replied.

Ron hesitated and shifted so that he was sitting on the edge of his desk. “It has some very strong supporting evidence,” he finally answered, trying to keep his face noncommittal.

“But do you agree with it?” Desmond pressed.

Ron had always had a very open and honest classroom. He tried his best to answer questions truthfully and sensed that there was no way of getting out of this. He also remembered too easily what it was like to be lied to by teachers. “I do,” he answered. “I think that Ms. Granger’s paper makes some very convincing statements and I personally belief that her theory makes sense. I also think that her theory could do a world of good if studied further by our Healers. There are several afflictions and maladies that we simply can’t cure.

“What do you think about it?” he asked his students, speaking now to all of them instead of just Desmond.

A female Slytherin that looked very much like Pansy Parkinson raised her hand. “Yes, Hildie?”

“I think it’s a load of rubbish,” she stated. “Muggle blood is in no way superior to pure wizarding blood. In fact,” she began quietly, “I would say it’s the complete opposite.”

This shocked Ron, as well as the other students. It had been a long time since he’d heard anyone say something like that. It was common during the war, but nowadays it was simply taboo to suggest something like that. He knew that in many households, there was still some prejudice against Muggles and Muggleborns, but it wasn’t often spoken about. The words caused a fresh outbreak of chatter, some of it quite angry. Ron asked for silence and they quickly quieted down once again. He looked directly at the offending student and spoke evenly, “I think, Hildie, that that is a very inappropriate comment to make in this classroom,” he said, once he’d regained his speech.

“I’m sorry, Professor, I didn’t mean it to be,” the blond girl said, bowing her head slightly.

“There was too much of that sentiment in this world and it’s what got us into so much trouble during the Voldemort war. That belief is deeply rooted in the fact that too many of us know approximately nothing about Muggles. In truth, we fear them. They are far more advanced both technologically and in how they perceive the world around them. We understand that we can use magic, but we really don’t know why.” Ron paused, sensing that he was getting drastically off-topic from that day’s lessons.

“But, sir, isn’t this paper just creating more of that same sentiment?” asked one of the Gryffindors.

“I don’t believe so,” Ron replied candidly. “I think it goes to further our understanding of just how important diversity is. It shows that there’s a closer link to Muggles and wizards than we’ve known before.”

“My father thinks she’s out to make pureblood families look bad. He says this is all just punishment for everything that happened because of Voldemort,” said one of the Slytherin students sitting in the front row.

“Everyone is entitled to their opinions,” Ron answered neutrally. “In this case, however, I believe Ms. Granger’s aim is simply to further our understanding of nature.”

“Even if it’s incorrect?” asked another of the Slytherin students. Ron sighed inwardly again. He still generally disliked most Slytherins.

“It’s a theory. Nothing has been proven incorrect or otherwise. Now, as for further speculation on whether or not this paper is accurate, or whether or not it’s meant to offend people, I’m ending that now. However,” Ron paused, recognizing that if his experience at Hogwarts had taught him anything at all, it was to never waste a good lesson. “We’re not going to drop this subject. We’ve studied extensively how it is that Muggles think- how they deduct information about the things going on around them. To that end, we’re going to have an exercise. We’re going to be using the scientific method to discuss Ms. Granger’s theory.” The students all groaned. Half of third year Muggle Studies had involved using the Muggles’ so-called ‘Scientific Theory’ to understand about Muggle science. Ron suspected that several of his students were beginning to regret that they had even brought the whole thing up. Nevertheless, he had a lesson to teach.

He stood from his desk and walked to the chalkboard behind him. With a simple flick of his wand, it was wiped clean of all markings. He let the wand hover in mid-air as he began to speak, outlining what had been in Hermione’s paper for the students. The wand drew out some of the diagrams from the research paper and Ron talked about the Muggle science of genetics. No doubt about it, this lesson was so far off his original plan. The students, however, didn’t seem to mind. Ron knew that this whole thing had been a hot topic of discussion since yesterday, but as far as he’d heard, none of the other professors had addressed it.

They continued to ask questions and much of the original animosity towards the article faded. Soon enough, the lesson was over and Ron was dismissing the students, telling them he wanted a foot-long parchment about their discussion that day. That assignment had been an original part of his lesson plan.

December 9th, 2003

The weekly staff meeting was ending and the other Professors were filtering out of the lounge when Professor McGonagall waved him over.

“Mr. Weasley?” “Yes, Professor?” Ron asked quietly, coming to stand across the table from the headmistress.

“We need to have a talk in my office after lunch today. I expect to see you at one o’clock.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ron said and moved to exit the staff lounge; Andie was waiting for him.

“Is something wrong?” she asked quietly, as they began walking towards the Transfiguration hallway.

“Not sure,” Ron replied. “She just said she wanted to meet during my free period.”

This seemed to concern Andie somewhat and they walked in silence towards her classroom. He dropped her at her doorway, kissed her gently on the cheek and made his way to his own classroom on the first floor.

His morning went by quickly and before he knew it he was heading up to the Headmistress’s Office. He had been up here a handful of times and knew it hadn’t changed much. He uttered the password (“Glumbumble”) and followed the circular staircase up to the office door. He knocked twice before the door opened to admit him.

The silver instruments were still in the office, as were all the portraits. Dumbledore’s portrait now sat directly behind the desk and Ron noticed that he was absent this morning.

“Mr. Weasley, please have a seat,” said Professor McGonagall.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Do you know why I’ve called you here?” Ron shuddered involuntarily; he always figured that one shouldn’t have to hear that phrase after becoming an adult.

“No, ma’am.”

“I have received a number of owls about your class last week. Over half of which were howlers,” she said slowly, indicating a scorch mark on her desk. “Why don’t you tell me what your lesson was about?”

“Well, if you remember, that was the day that the most recent article in the Daily Prophet about Hermione’s paper appeared, and the students had several questions about it.” Ron was looking directly at Professor McGonagall as he talked.

“How did you handle those questions?”

“I turned it into a lesson. We used a Muggle method of solving problems to work through her theory.”

“And how did this lesson end up?”

“It didn’t get very far, because it took the students awhile to understand how to use the method, but it was a fun and informative lesson.”

“Mr. Weasley, there are several parents that disagree with you. The Governors of the school have issued an edict that we not discuss this matter in any of the lessons. Teachers reported as discussing this ‘unverified and insulting theory’ will be suspended.”

“And you agreed to this, Professor McGonagall?”

“I wasn’t really given the choice, Ronald,” she replied, irritated.

“You’re allowing it anyhow. Professor Dumbledore would have never-“

“Professor Dumbledore would have done what he thought best for his students!” McGonagall exclaimed. “I’m only doing what I think best. Don’t you understand how hard we’ve worked to achieve what we have in the past few years? You must.”

“Of course I understand. My actions weren’t without sacrifices or consequences, but I don’t find myself parroting the Minister of Magic. Dumbledore wouldn’t have allowed this, no matter what you say. He believed that first and foremost, this was a place of learning. I was being a teacher, Professor McGonagall.”

“That is your opinion, Ronald. I assure you that you do not know how Dumbledore would have handled this situation anymore than I do. But it is not your job to tell me how to run this school. You will do as I say, or you will suffer the consequences. Do you have anything else to add?”

Ron glared at her, wondering if he should say anything further. McGonagall seemed to accept his silence as agreement and stood to dismiss him. “Actually, Professor, I do have something else to add,” he said, stopping her. “Hermione Granger was one of your favorite pupils. You are her mentor. Do you really think her work so trivial that it shouldn’t be discussed in a classroom?”

Professor McGonagall sighed. In that single instant, she changed from Ron’s boss to the woman that had helped prepare him and his friends prepare for battle against Voldemort. “Ron, I personally believe that Hermione’s work could be the most important thing to happen in magical science and medicine in hundreds of years. But I am not the sole voice of authority here. Don’t you remember what happened to Dumbledore in your fifth year?

“You should know just as well as anyone what we’ve worked for. Many of the old ideas and traditions, which were indirectly responsible for what happened in the last war, have been systematically dismantled. Hermione’s work is vital to that effort, but it may be too much too soon. There are a lot of good pureblood families, many of whom have members that sit on the Board for this school, and her work is viewed as a slap to the face.

“I must be pragmatic and vigilant for my students. It is my job to make sure they receive the best education possible, but sometimes, the Board of Governors imposes their will and I have to do what they wish.”

Ron nodded slowly. “But they’re hiding the truth and I just can’t condone that. Isn’t the truth more important than a bunch of feelings? Especially when it comes to learning?”

McGonagall’s eyes twinkled briefly and Ron was reminded of Dumbledore. “I believe you know what my personal answer to that question is, but I also believe that not everyone has the same power of insight that you do, Mr. Weasley. Now, I have a busy afternoon ahead of me, so if there isn’t anything else, you may go.”

Ron pushed his chair back, not really caring about the scraping noises. He was still furious at the Headmistress, but he could hear Hermione’s voice in his head admonishing him to keep control of his temper. As he had no scheduled classes on Tuesday afternoon, he stepped silently from the office and let his feet carry him out of the school and down to the gates. From there, he apparated home and settled at the desk in his office to send an owl to Harry. He informed him of the conversation with McGonagall and sent Pig away with the missive. After the owl had cleared the window, Ron leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Taking several deep breathes, he allowed himself to settle down and let his thoughts wander over his conversation with McGonagall. A particular choice of words that she had used had been bothering him since he’d left the school. Not everyone has the same power of insight that you do, Mr. Weasley; her words echoed in his mind, dredging up memories he had worked long and hard to suppress.

“Truth. This is the burden that you have chosen, Mr. Weasley. It will grant you the insight required to see your quest through to the end, but you must understand the cost. Are you willing to accept this?”

“Yes,” Ron answered simply, not trusting his own voice much beyond that.

“ Please step forward and prove yourself worthy to know the absolute.” The voice issuing from Remus’s mouth was decidedly not the voice of his trusted mentor. Ron took a deep breath and pointed his wand at the stone basin.

He was instantly surrounded by warmth and light. There was a warm hand in each of his and he slowly recognized Hermione on his right side and Harry and his left. They were holding hands as well and he was struck by the perfection of their perfect, equilateral triangle. He grinned at Hermione who smiled sweetly at him. He grinned at Harry who merely winked. He watched as they looked at each other and flinched when he saw a spark between him that had not been there before. In an instant, they had both dropped his hands and were moving closer to each other, grasping at one another. In another moment, they had grabbed onto each other’s free hands and were completely closed to him. Only Hermione turned her head to look at him, but long gone was the glint of love that he had seen there for so long.

He fell to his knees, onto the floor, curling into the fetal position. It was not what was between them that was tearing him apart, but it was the betrayal of their friendship. They would never do this to him, there was no way that Harry and Hermione could treat him this way. He thought of how she had smiled at him and felt hot tears flow freely down his cheeks. Something was wrong, something was missing-

“RON!” A loud scream echoed off the walls somewhere behind him. He blindly ran towards the screams, answering with his own terrified yells and wiping furiously at his tear-streaked face, trying to clear away his anger and focus his energy. He had barely registered that wherever he was, it was not the same place it had just been when he turned a corner and found Ginny standing alone in a dark chamber. She was in the dead center of the room and the only light was coming from overhead, in a green beam focused directly on her.

“Ginny?!” Ron shouted. He ran towards his sister but as soon as he was within arm’s reach, a force snatched his body and flung him backwards. He hit the wall hard and crumpled to the floor. In a flash, his sister was hovering over him. The light around her had turned red and her red hair was blowing wildly around her head, each tendril looking like a long, crimson snake. Her eyes were the same red and her lips were as black as night. She grinned evilly at him and drew her wand, aiming it right between his eyes.

He opened his mouth to shout and something in his sister flinched. For a second, her eyes were their normal, bright brown. “NO!” he screamed, reaching out through the light-turned-flame, grabbing her arms. He shook her violently, and just as suddenly, everything was dark again.

He awakened slowly as a silvery light seeped into the room. A door creaked and there was the sound of feet and robes shuffling across the floor. Ron lifted his head slowly and nearly screamed when he came face to face with a snake. He threw himself back against the hard stone and tried to keep from screaming, for when he drew back, it was not a snake at all, but what had once been a human face.

“Ronald,” the face hissed.

“I know who you are,” Ron replied, his voice shaky.

“You think you do, but I assure you that I am not he.”

“Then who are you?”

“I am far older than he, older than time you might say. Voldemort is merely a pet, as were those that came before him. His time is ending in this world and I am ready for a new…friend.”

“So what do you want with me?” Ron asked, trying to keep from vomiting out of sheer terror.

“You are well-known to the Chosen One, the last in a long line of sons meant to guard the world against my followers. You would be a great ally in this battle to come.”

“I’d rather die than betray Harry.”

“Is that so? Even after how he’s betrayed you, betrayed your family.”

“How do you mean? Harry hasn’t betrayed my family,” Ron said, feeling more confused than afraid now. Obviously, this Big Bad Evil guy had the wrong person.

“He hurt your sister and now look what she has become. She has been the most helpful person over the past several weeks. And let us not forget, Ronald, that your friend has taken the woman you love.”

Ron worked to give this man’s voice out of his head, unwilling to listen to what he had to say. He could hear the voices of his best friends, urging him to clear his mind, to forget the anger that was beginning to bubble to the surface. His hands tightened into fists and he clenched his fingernails into the palms of his hands. They were pushing him to fight, telling him to think this through.

“You’re lying,” Ron spat out. He turned his head upward and looked into the face that had been speaking such ill words against the people most important to him. “That’s not who they are – what I saw, those weren’t my friends, that wasn’t my sister.”

The ashen, dead-looking face faltered slightly before the eyes went wide and turned blacker than anything Ron had ever seen. He felt himself momentarily focusing on those eyes, feeling entranced-

A roar issued forth from the deadly mask and the robed figure exploded into a thousand black flames. Ron screamed as the flames engulfed him and his world went black.

Thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter IV. Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you so desire - I really appreciate your comments and thoughts!

6. Chapter VI

Chapter VI

December 12, 2003

Bright orange flames licked the bricks lining the fireplace in the living room of 27 Hemlock Lane. A lone figure stood before the hearth, moving the logs around with a long poker. Her profile was forlorn, hair down and hanging limply around her face. She sighed and set the poker down before settling herself amongst a few pillows in front of the flames.

This is how Harry found Hermione when he returned from a day interviewing prisoners at the Ministry. He had been working overtime as a Ministry contractor and was still conducting his own private investigation with the aid of several Order members. He had left the Ministry just after five and had met Arthur Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron. Arthur had given him several parchment rolls of notes about potential suspects and it would take Harry a couple of hours work to get through everything.

“Hermione?” Harry said quietly, not wishing to startle her.

“Oh, hi,” she said slowly, turning to look at him. “How was your day?”

He held out a hand to help her off the floor. “It was busy. If you’re free tonight, I have some notes I’d like your help with.”

She nodded and led him into the kitchen, where a roast was waiting for them in the oven. She busied herself with the side dishes while he explained his newest information.

“We got a name today.”

She rested a large serving spoon on the counter and turned to look at him. “Who is it?”

“Oistin Beryan. He’s an American wizard with family ties in Ireland.”

“The name’s not familiar,” Hermione replied, returning her concentration to the mashed potatoes.

“It wouldn’t be. He’s only 25 and I’m pretty sure the only reason he has any power is because he’s rich. Something to do with Muggle investments in America.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very serious threat.”

Harry shrugged. “He really isn’t. I think he’s just taking advantage of the situation to wreak havoc. His methods aren’t very well thought out and his plans are very amateur.”

“That’s good news, I suppose," Hermione replied as she set a knife to chopping tomatoes for their salads. "I guess it means we aren’t going to have to do much else.”

“Probably not. We’ll keep watch as usual, but I think the Ministry can handle this one. I imagine that Scrimgeour is going to have to answer for all the uneasiness he caused. People have been pretty panicked.”

“What else is known about him?” Hermione asked as she floated the food over to the table. She settled across from Harry and they began to make their plates.

“Not much, really. I get the feeling that the Aurors don’t consider him a major threat.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Hermione said, slamming her water glass onto the table. “He’s caused some major incidents. He may not be the next Dark Lord, but he’s still responsible for the deaths of several people. That can’t go unpunished.”

“And it won’t,” Harry replied. “He’ll be found, captured and punished. Thankfully, this means the Ministry won’t be rolling out those damn safety flyers again. I couldn’t bear to know what Molly and Arthur’s secret questions are again.”

Hermione groaned and laughed for what Harry figured to be the first time in several days. Harry smiled at her. “What do you have planned tonight?”

“Not much. I need to go over some notes that Dr. Tyler sent today, but other than that, I’m open.”

“Excellent. I’m in the mood for a game of Exploding Snap later, before we start going over those notes.”

“Well that sounds like a whole bunch of fun, Harry. Are we going to put our old Hogwarts uniforms on and pretend we’re in the Gryffindor common room?”

“Sounds kinky,” Harry replied, grinning wickedly at her.

Hermione flushed and quickly took an oversized bite of her dinner roll.

Harry snickered and stabbed at a piece of meat with his fork. They ate in comfortable silence for awhile and had barely finished dinner when the doorbell chimed.

“Hello?” a familiar voice called out. “Anybody home?” Harry wondered idly why they even bothered to ring the doorbell; the wards were set to allow them immediate admittance.

“We’re in the kitchen!” Hermione replied, standing up to greet Ron and Andie. The pair occasionally dropped in unannounced, but neither Harry nor Hermione ever really minded.

“Hullo, Harry, Hermione, what’s going on?” Ron greeted them enthusiastically, picking up Hermione in his arms and giving her a huge hug. She laughed and patted him gently on the shoulder before turning to greet Andie. Harry greeted his friend and they went to the refrigerator to get beverages. Harry pulled out a bottle of wine to pour Hermione a glass and Ron took out two bottles of ale. Harry offered a glass to Andie, who refused immediately and grinned wildly at him.

Hermione noticed the look and smiled. "Oy, what's all the grinning?” she asked as Andie seated herself at the island in the center of the kitchen. Hermione stood on the other side, hands on hips.

It was Ron who answered. “She’s pregnant!” Andie rolled her eyes and slapped Ron’s arm.

“Way to keep the secret, Weasley.”

“Are you really?” Hermione asked, as Ron took a seat next to Andie. Harry moved to stand next to Hermione and rested his elbows on the high counter-top.

Andie nodded. “About six weeks, actually. I’ve only known a few days though.”

“That’s wonderful; congratulations, mate,” Harry said, reaching across the island to slap Ron on the back. Hermione repeated his sentiment and squeezed Andie’s hand.

“Cheers,” Ron replied, looping his arm around his wife’s shoulders and smiling goofily.

“Did you tell your mum yet?” Hermione inquired, smirking.

Ron laughed. “No way. I don’t think I’m ready for that much emotion just yet. You ought to have seen her when Charlie told her that they were expecting Isaac. She was crying and all this nonsense.”

“I wanted to keep it a bit of a secret until the pregnancy was further along,” Andie explained.

Hermione nodded, “That’s sensible, I think.”

“But we had to tell you, of course,” Ron said.

“Oh, come on, Ron, you have to tell everyone. You’re no good at keeping secrets,” Harry replied.

Ron agreed and took a swig of his ale. At this, Harry was prompted to toast Ron and Andie and they all clinked glasses.

"So, is anyone up for a game of Exploding Snap?" Harry asked, grinning. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Actually, mate, we can't stay too long. Andie just had a question for Hermione about a lesson tomorrow and I wanted to catch up with you on a couple of things."

Harry pouted mockingly before nodding his head. "Alright then, let's go into my office."

Hermione settled in to talk to Andie and Harry led Ron to his office. Ron shut the door behind them and sat in a chair facing Harry's desk.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, his voice low.

Harry's face was suddenly serious as he sat next to Ron. "We don't know an awful lot right now. We've a name, and I think he's the leader of the whole thing." Harry filled Ron in on everything he had told Hermione and his best friend listened carefully.

“Do you perceive him as a threat?” Ron asked, after Harry had told him the Ministry’s position on Beryan.

Harry considered his friend carefully. “I’m not sure yet, hence the extra notes. I don’t feel we have all the information required to make that assumption, so I’ll continue running a side investigation for the Order.” The Order remained together, albeit in fairly informal circumstances. Dumbledore had all but officially dissolved the group between the last two Voldemort wars, but Harry, as chosen successor, had opted to keep it running so that they could be more prepared the next time.

"When do you make a report?" Ron asked, after Harry had finished his explanation.

"Your dad gave me a list of possible suspects, Beryan's followers. I need to go over those and investigate any leads before I make any further assumptions," Harry replied, motioning to the notes he had brought home.

"Do you need help?" Ron asked, eyeing the stack of papers wearily.

"Not really. Hermione is going to help me go through them later."

Ron seemed relieved at this and Harry cracked a smile. "Do you think they're done yet?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't even really know what they're talking about. Just because my wife is a Transfiguration teacher doesn't mean I care anymore about the whole subject than I did when I was a student."

Harry laughed and patted Ron on the back. "Good to know some things never change," he said. Ron smiled at him and Harry felt a rush of warmth for his long-time friend. His amazement had not yet ceased over what a truly great friend Ron was.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" Harry asked suddenly, deciding there wasn't really any easy way to broach the topic.

"Do you mean in general or in regards to, well, you know, the other day?" Ron replied quietly, looking down at his hands.

Harry sighed, thinking of their conversation in Ron's office only a week prior. He had read Ron's owl and walked right over to his friend's house. He had discovered Ron sitting stilly in a chair, staring straight ahead and looking ghostly pale. He had roused him and coaxed Ron into telling him what was wrong.

It was the first time Harry had ever really heard Ron's full account of his role in the ritual preparations. Hermione had shared her story easily enough, considering all she had seen. Ron, however, hadn't mentioned it once. Apparently, something McGonagall had said sent him to remembering and the two best friends spent over two hours talking through everything. Harry had felt the familiar guilt settle on his shoulders, but Ron had recognized this and had admonished him to let it go.

"The other day," Harry said.

"Alright. Had a couple of rough nights of sleep, but I'm feeling better. It's hard to be upset when there's so much good happening," Ron answered, smiling slightly. The smile turned quickly to a frown, however, as his gaze met Harry's. "You didn't tell Hermione about it?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not my story to tell, is it?"

After a long, silent moment, Ron nodded once and stood up. "Shall we check on the girls then?"

Shrugging, Harry stood as well and followed Ron back to the kitchen.

Andie and Hermione were still sitting in the kitchen, their heads bent close together in quiet discussion. Hermione was mapping out something carefully on a roll of parchment and Andie was asking pointed questions about her spells.

"I didn't think that would work?"

"Well, it wouldn't if you were using the passive form of the spell, but if you use the active 'ire', you'll get the correct result."

Andie sighed. "Seems simple when you put it that way."

Hermione just smiled and turned to look at Harry and Ron. "Alright, boys?"

Harry nodded as Ron went to wrap his arms around Andie's shoulders.

"Are you about ready to head home, love? Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

"Ugh, you're right. We'd better head out then. Cheers, Hermione, for your help," she said.

"Any time," Hermione replied kindly.

Harry walked the couple to the door as Hermione began to tidy up the kitchen. He wandered back in after checking that all of the wards were up properly. His heart leapt into his throat as he watched Hermione filling the sink with hot, soapy water. She was leaning on one hand against the counter and the other hand was rubbing at a spot on her neck. Her posture was tired and he could tell that her somber mood from earlier had returned.

Moving noiselessly across the room, Harry reached around Hermione and turned the water off. He lifted his hands to her shoulders and began rubbing them gently, feeling her immediately relax under his grip.

She moaned softly and let her head roll forward. Harry allowed his gaze to travel down to her bare neck and longed to kiss the soft, pale flesh there. She was suddenly too close to him, but he restrained the instinct to jump back from her. He settled on giving her shoulders a few more squeezes and stepping back slowly.

"I need to get started on those notes. If I don't get everything together tonight, I won't be able to look at them again until I return from New York."

"Do you still need my help?"

"I think you should sleep."

Hermione turned fully around to look at him. "I'm fine; I really want to help you with this."

Harry considered her carefully. "I'll make you a deal. You've been working a lot lately, so take a break for tonight and I'll leave you half the list to look at while I'm gone. I have the Greater Pensieve to use for the next long while, so you can work without me."

Hermione's face brightened. "How did you get hold of that?"

Harry grinned over her excitement of the new toy. The Greater Pensieve preserved memories of all Ministry records and reports. Any known information on Beryan's group members would be in it. "The Minister loaned it to me."

"Excellent. You've got yourself a deal, Potter, so I guess I'll head to bed after I finish these dishes." She leaned up and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "What time do you leave tomorrow?"

"After lunch. No sense in rushing off to the States so early when the time difference is what it is."

"Lovely. Then I'll see you at breakfast." She turned back to the sink and began waving her wand over the dirty dishes.

Harry took himself back to the office and settled down with the rolls of parchment.

***

Hermione waited until after she heard the tell-tale pop of disapparation before she hurried up to Harry's office and settled down at his desk. A large, carved stone bowl was resting there, filled with a multi-colored fog of silver, gold, copper, lavender and white. She had seen it only once or twice before, during their studies of Horcruxes in seventh year. It was still a new device then and had been full of bugs, but this looked like a newer bowl and had different runes. The individual colors in the fog gave her hope that the magic had been much improved.

She took out her wand and stirred the contents softly, watching the colors swirl. She concentrated her thoughts as she held her wand in the Pensieve and soon an onyx thread slipped from the tip, swirling opposite the other colors. Mesmerized, Hermione watched as the shimmering shades slipped away, leaving only the copper and onyx threads. She leaned forward and let herself fall into the Pensieve.

A large band struck up a merry little fanfare as the Trio entered a large Ministry ballroom. Foreign dignitaries, government higher-ups and countless friends and family members dotted the crowds edging the room. Harry looked dashing in black and burgundy dress robes. On his arm was Ginny, wearing a dark green gown. Hermione knew now that it was the last time they would be together for five years. She watched as a younger version of herself glided onto the dance floor behind Harry and Ginny, clutching happily to the arm of Ron. They were fresh from the war, still reeling with everything that had happened. For one night, however, they were happy and forgetful of everything that had transpired. For the last time, and maybe even the first, they were free to be young and innocent. The music changed to a dance and they were surrounded on all sides by countless witches and wizards, all fresh-faced and gleeful after such a spectacular victory.

Hermione was able to wander freely about the room, witnessing things she had missed the first time around. The Pensieve allowed for collective memories of an event and Hermione noticed how uncomfortable Ginny and Harry eventually grew in each other's arms. They hadn't been together, as Harry had so wished, since the previous June, but Molly prodded Harry to take Ginny to the Ministry Celebration Ball. He had agreed and thus, they were arm in arm and fairly miserable as the evening wore on. For her own part, she and Ron looked blissful, completely ignorant of the fights they would have over the coming weeks, as the other shoe finally fell. She remembered her own delight at the evening's events. Voldemort had fallen only two days prior and her whole future was stretching out before her. She was comfortable in Ron's arms and her parents were in view, dancing and occasionally turning to watch her dance.

Her father looked handsome in a tuxedo and her mother was wearing a long navy-colored dress. They looked much younger than she remembered them to be. Their only daughter was safe, the evil in her world vanquished for good. They didn't know the whole story, no one did, but it was enough to know that no harm could come to her anymore and that she was a hero.

It was a glorious night indeed; everyone was unaware of what awaited them in less than forty-eight hours. The overhead ceiling had been Vanished and in its place was simply the night sky. Owls zoomed across the starry expanse, carrying joyous words and loving missives far and wide. Shooting stars and magical fireworks blossomed like wild flowers. Reality could wait 'til morning, this night was theirs.

Hermione was crying softly as her feet touched the solid floor of Harry's office. Those few days of happiness had a steep price, as they soon found out. If only they had known, if someone could have told them that it was too soon to celebrate.

Sighing, she settled herself down to go through Harry's notes, trying to push the relived memory out of her mind.

Several hours later, a light tapping came at the window and Hermione moved to let the local delivery owl in. It dropped the latest copy of the Evening Prophet on the desk and held out a leg for her to deposit the fee. She fished a few Knuts from her pocket and dropped them in before picking up the paper and flipping through it casually. The front-page news was fairly mundane, but there was a long letter on the Letters Page that was about her. She sighed, debating whether or not she should even bother reading. Probably the same old drivel that it had been for weeks. She looked to the byline and paled slightly. Dr. Tobias Viridian was a renowned Healer at St. Mungo's and she had used a great deal of his research as a jumping off point for some of her own work. Knowing that she might regret it, she went ahead and read his Star Letter.

Dear Madam Editor,

Your continued coverage and editorials of the paper published by Ms. Granger on Magical Genetics is getting to be a bit repetitive. I personally do not agree with her tactics in publishing such a paper, as we are so fresh from a war fought largely over the differences between Muggleborns and Pureblood witches and wizards.

I believe her paper is unnecessary, as it should go unsaid that these two groups are anything but equal. Her paper eschews the importance of wizarding tradition and it is exactly the sort of thing that just stirs up trouble. By hypothesizing that wizards could not survive without Muggles, Ms. Granger has opened the floodgates for more animosity within our ranks. A careful balance has been achieved in recent years and I do not support this most recent attempt to usurp it.

Ms. Granger lost family and friends in the last war. Surely she of all people should understand the importance of maintaining the peace? We don't want a recurrence of the Last Battle so soon and if any of the recent attacks are evidence, it isn't likely that we'll get our wish. This is a time when we should be united, not divided. Shame on you, Ms. Granger.

Dr. Tobias Viridian
Healer and Keeper of General Well-Being
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Please note: Letters submitted via this forum are not considered the official opinions of the Evening Prophet, even if we happen to agree.

Hermione glared at the Evening Prophet briefly before she let her temper get the better of her. Picking up her wand, she blasted the paper, not really caring if Harry's desk was damaged. Her anger, frustration and hurt did not abate and she quickly left Harry's office, storming down the stairs and into her own study. She slammed the door, looking at all her papers and work materials. She had spent nearly five years working on this theory, hoping to better understand how magic worked. When she began working harder from a genetic angle, she had honestly believed her work would be for the better. It would prove once and for all that no particular group was better than any other. They were all pieces in a larger puzzle, each necessary for the other to survive.

Clutching her hands in her bushy hair, Hermione let out a strangled cry and began pushing all her papers into a cardboard box. She was done with this whole thing. If the whole damned world around her wanted to stay in the 16th century that was just fine by her.

Damn them all, she thought as tears slid down her face. Every frustration, every fear of the last five years was coursing through her veins as she placed files, rolls of parchment and loose notes into the box. She waved her wand finally, collecting the papers into a cyclone. She watched as her work spun wildly before shrinking itself and settling into the cardboard box. She shoved the whole mess into a cabinet and slammed the door to that as well. The tears continued unabated as she sat herself down on the floor, watching a few orphaned papers flutter towards the floor. She flicked her wand and each of the pages burst apart, scattering little white pieces of paper like snow.

Her mind skipped around; to the memory she had just watched in the Pensieve, to seeing her father dead in the kitchen, to Harry telling her goodbye, to her last fight with Ron. She remembered Dumbledore's funeral and everything that she had promised herself that day. She would stay by Harry's side and fight for this world. She would spend her life working to make sure that her own children and her children's children would never see what she had.

She knew now that it had simply been her age talking. She had been young and idealistic. Now, she knew there was no fixing any of it, not really. They may be magical, but they were still just humans. There was no fixing that. Sighing, Hermione trudged up to her bathroom and started the tub running as hot as it would go. She peeled her clothing off and sunk down into the hot water, hissing as it lapped at her skin, burning ever so slightly. The water singed at her nerves, stripping away her thoughts of anger and frustration. She was left only with sadness and a feeling of loss. All of that youthful idealism was gone and in its place, she was hollow. The last vestiges of innocence were finally gone and she was surprised at this, thinking it had all left her long ago. Her work had been a product of that innocence and Hermione felt a fool. Her feelings of anger and even betrayal slid away to make room for a new feeling. She wanted Harry. Her frustration welled further at his absence, and not for the first time, she wondered why. The memory in the Pensieve had been a reminder of what her feelings had once been like for Ron, but there was something different about this. She longed for Harry to swoop in and rescue her from her fears and regrets. She wondered when her life had become so complicated. Wasn’t it only a few months ago that she’d been living in seclusion, enjoying her work and her alone time? She had cherished her ability to find inner peace and sanctuary – she hadn’t needed it from anyone else. Now, she felt as if she might suffocate from the sheer need of Harry. She longed for his comforting embrace, knowing that his mere presence would calm her immensely. Her tears dried up and she let out a slow breath. It was by no means the first cry she'd had over the events of her life, but perhaps it was the first that had done any good. She lay in the tub until the water began to chill. It was late then and she was exhausted from her outburst. Sighing, she drained the tub and donned her pajamas and a pair of fuzzy slippers. Fifteen minutes later, she was making her way to bed with a cup of tea and a piece of chocolate, determined to wallow just a little while longer.

She awoke early the next morning to a gray sky and an eerie silence over everything. She walked across her bedroom to the window and pulled back the curtains.

"Oh!" she cried, looking out over the lane stretching to Hogsmeade. The whole area was blanketed in pristine white snow. As she looked out over the virgin, glittering expanse, she felt her frustrations and hurts of the past twelve hours slip away. Her heart softened and she felt herself smiling contentedly for the first time in several weeks. She heard Christmas carolers in the lane, singing "Jingle Bells" and laughed softly. Determined, she quickly went downstairs. In her study, she wrote a quick note to Ron, inviting him and Andie to dinner. She looked at her watch. 8 o'clock. Harry would be home close to dinnertime.

After a quick breakfast, Hermione went to her wizarding wireless and turned the dial until soft Christmas music floated out of the device. She showered and changed into jeans and a sweater. With her wand, she began hanging various Christmas decorations, all the while humming along to the carols. Quite simply, she was determined to enjoy the next few weeks. She pushed work from her mind, purposely forgetting her feelings and frustrations over everything. Her tears the night before had been cleansing and she actually felt lighter. It was her first Christmas among the living (as she had come to call it) and she would not allow events out of her control to ruin that.

She was satisfied with the decorations, including a real pine tree, adorned with various magical ornaments, before she headed out to Diagon Alley to finish her Christmas shopping. Harry, Ron and her mother were all that remained, simply because they were the hardest gifts. For her mother, she stepped in Madam Malkin's, looking for a self-tailoring cloak. She knew that giving it to a Muggle was a legal gray area but she wasn't worried about anyone finding out. She picked through everything on display before settling on a deep emerald green cloak of soft wool. It was practical but still had a luxurious feeling to it. Madam Malkin wrapped it up for her and promised to have it delivered by owl before the end of the day.

Harry's gift was harder still to find. She found him a book, published by Colin Creevy, of moving landscapes. Colin had started selling the series last year and his latest book was seascapes, complete with waves and jumping dolphins. It reminded her of some of the things Harry had told her about North Carolina, which apparently had a far more pleasant, or at the very least temperate, coast than Scotland.

Still, it wasn't the only thing she wanted to get him, so after grabbing a quick lunch, she decided to go after Ron's gift instead. She ended up in Muggle London, looking at men's watches. Ron had a watch similar to the one Dumbledore had carried for years; it had been a gift for his seventeenth birthday. She picked out a silver-banded watch with a sleek black face and headed back to Diagon Alley. She spent awhile longer searching for Harry’s gift before finally deciding to apparate home, leaving it to be purchased at a later time.

Harry greeted her at the door when she arrived on the front walk. He looked comfortable in old jeans and a sweater and she moved to hug him, taking him by surprise. She reached up and kissed his cheek

"Alright then?" he asked, smiling at her.

She nodded. "Absolutely."

"I saw that letter in the Prophet…"

"I don't want to talk about it. You're done working for the next few weeks and so I am. It's going to be Christmas soon and frankly, I deserve a break."

Harry's smiled widened. "Absolutely you do. Need help with anything around here, then?"

"Well, Ron and Andie are coming for dinner, so if you want to help with the food, that'd be great."

Harry followed her into the kitchen and lit a fire in the hearth. They set about preparing a chicken for roasting and Hermione put in a pumpkin pie to bake. After the preparations for the dinner were made, they settled in the living room, with more Christmas music on the wireless and another fire going.

As Harry chatted animatedly about all of the Christmas activity he had seen while in New York City, Hermione's heart fluttered. He was resting in a large easy chair with his long legs stretched out on the ottoman. Remembering her feelings from the previous night, she felt the desire to curl up in the chair with him. As he talked, however, she decided to shelve those thoughts for the next few weeks as well. This whole schoolgirl crush she was slowly developing on him would simply not do, especially since it was doubtful he felt the same way. To be sure, there had been some tense moments in the past few weeks, but those could be easily explained away.

A small tinkling sound issued from the fireplace, where the flames were beginning to turn green. Ron's head popped out of the fire a few heartbeats later.

"Hullo," he said.

"Evening, Ron. Is everything alright?" Hermione asked.

"We aren't going to be able to make it tonight. Andie came home from work not feeling very well, so we're just going to stay in."

"Tell her that I hope she feels better, please," Hermione replied.

Ron smiled gratefully. "Will do. We'll make it over in a couple of days, I promise."

"Alright, mate. Take care," Harry responded.

"Cheers," Ron said as his head disappeared and the flames returned to a normal color.

"Well, it looks as if it will be just us," Harry stated obviously. "Shall we open a bottle of wine then?"

"Sounds like a fine idea," Hermione said. She watched Harry pull himself out of the chair and saunter into the kitchen. He returned after a few minutes with an open bottle and a couple of glasses. He set the entirety of it down on the coffee table and flicked his wand at the bottle, chilling it to the perfect 15 degrees. He poured her glass first and handed it to her.

"A toast. To Christmas and good friends," Hermione said, her voice quiet and serious despite the gaiety of her words.

Harry nodded slightly and clinked his glass against hers. They drank in companionable silence for a while before Hermione stood up to show Harry Ron's Christmas gift. She sat on the ottoman and he looked over her shoulder as she opened the box.

"I like it. He'll get a kick out of it."

"I thought he might. I got Mum's present as well, but I can't figure out what to get you," she said, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"You don't have to get me anything."

"Don't be silly. I have to get you a Christmas gift. I've a streak to maintain."

"Having you here is enough," he said quietly, reaching up to gently brush his fingers against her cheek. She watched as his eyes traced a path from her lips to her eyes and she felt her breath catch in her throat. For the first time in several weeks, she allowed herself to look at him and what she saw in his eyes was a shock. Gone was the friendly love and camaraderie that had lived there. In its place was blatant desire mixed with a bit of fear and uneasiness. The last few weeks had been hard on her, trying to eradicate any thoughts of Harry that weren't purely friendly. It had been sheer agony; at many odd moments, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and snog him senseless, wherever they happened to be standing. She saw now that the time hadn't been very easy on him either.

Perhaps it was the wine, though she desperately hoped it wasn't, but Hermione felt a bit of the old Gryffindor bravery sweep through her. She turned her head ever so slightly to the side and kissed the tips of Harry's fingers gently. His eyes sought hers out again and he leaned forward, bringing his lips within mere centimeters of hers. She moved slightly and felt his breath against her lips. Their eyes met once again before she closed hers and moved in to kiss him.

His lips were soft and slightly dry and they yielded to her advances easily. She slid her tongue gently against them and his mouth opened, allowing her admittance. She smiled lightly around their kisses, reveling in the feelings of his lips, of his hands roaming over her back.

He pulled apart from her and looked at her, his eyes searching. “Hermione…”

She shook her head and kissed him again, for she was unwilling to speak right now, to try and make sense of any of this. She had been floating through her days before this, the last several months a strange blur of work and haunting images of those green eyes. Now, everything was oddly vibrant and she felt light-headed. The mood shifted just a heartbeat after she’d leaned in too kiss him and the intensity of their ministrations increased steadily.

After a few minutes he pulled her into his lap and she adjusted herself comfortably, wrapping her arms around his neck. The times that she had allowed herself to daydream about this moment, she had dreamed that it would be like a whirlwind. That it would happen quickly, without warning, and would tear her apart. This, however, was like a slow burn. She was heady and intoxicated by the smell of him, by the feel of him. Those long seeker's fingers of his were dancing softly over her back, tracing patterns that sent shivers up and down her spine.

She broke away from him for a minute, looking fully at him. His eyes were partially closed and were slightly clouded over. She leaned in and planted a few more quick kisses on his lips and was about to back away, perhaps ready to have a conversation about what exactly was happening, when he snaked a hand into her curls and held her there. They kissed awhile longer, complete with soft moans and whispers of nothingness as they explored each other, pushing their kisses deeper. After awhile, it was Harry who pulled back and looked at her carefully. There was a definite question in his eyes, though she was unsure of what it was. At that moment, she decided it didn't matter. For him, right now, in this moment, she would do anything. He stood up and pulled her after him. She sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned into his embrace, trembling slightly as his fingers traced over her lower back and he planted soft kisses along her cheekbones. She felt a telltale hardness pressing against her hip and the knowledge of its presence further intensified the desire that was forming in a tight knot in her stomach.

"Harry? Hermione?" A voice called to them from the fireplace.

Hermione stepped back quickly, blushing. She turned to face Ginny, who looked to be blushing as well.

"I'm sorry – to be busting in on you like this, but Ron wanted me to floo you."

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, worried deeply by the tone in Ginny's voice. Harry came around behind her and looked into the fire.

"Andie's gone into St. Mungo's. I don't know anything else – just that."

"We'll be right there," Harry replied. "Is there anything we need to bring?"

Ginny looked flustered. "I'm really not sure – I- I'm just relaying the message, Harry. You can ask Ron when you get here."

Harry nodded and the flames quickly cut back to their normal colors. Hermione turned and looked at Harry, who now looked very sad. He laced his fingers with hers and together, they moved to apparate to the hospital.

***

Ron perched on the edge of an uncomfortable, beige hospital chair. Wizards had the power of the universe virtually at their fingertips, but couldn't seem to advance beyond a hard, generic chair in the Emergency Waiting Room. The doctors were still in with Andie and he couldn't shake the image of her white face as she clutched at her abdomen.

"Ron?" a welcome and familiar voice echoed slightly in the large room. He lifted his head to see Harry and Hermione coming straight towards him. Harry's face was still and slightly pained. Hermione looked beyond worried and if the situation hadn't been what it was, he would have laughed over how much she looked like his mum at that moment.

Hermione reached him first and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Is everything ok? What's happened?" she asked, pulling back.

"Something with the baby, not sure what's going on just yet. I'm waiting for the Healer to come out."

"Do you need us to get you anything?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "Not yet. I want to wait to hear anything before I even…think, I guess. Have you talked to Mum?"

Harry shook his head. "Just Ginny, and only briefly."

"I imagine they'll all be here soon," Hermione added, keeping her hand clasped with Ron's as she and Harry settled on either side of him. Soon enough, a group of Weasleys arrived, minus Bill. Molly wrapped her son in a large hug and let her husband ask the questions.

They were quieted down by a Healer entering the room.

"Mr. Weasley?" he asked, looking at Ron.

Ron nodded at him. "Go ahead, sir. My family can hear any news."

"Your wife is stable; we've moved her to the third floor. She needs to be watched over carefully for the next few days, but she's going to be fine."

"What about- what about the baby?" Ron managed, panic shooting through him as he asked. No one in the room aside from Harry, Hermione and Ginny had even known that Andie was pregnant and the third floor was the ward for poisons and potion accidents.

The Healer frowned. "I'm afraid, sir, that we weren't able to save the pregnancy. We'll keep a watch over Mrs. Weasley for the next few days to watch for any permanent damage."

"Permanent?" Ron said, his voice low.

"It's a precaution we have to take. We're still unsure as to what caused the termination."

Ron's felt his face burning red and he felt Hermione's hands pulling him away from the Healer as his family closed in on the other wizard, rapidly firing questions at him.

She guided him to a chair and leaned against him, hugging him. He felt tears well up in his eyes and he swiped at his face with the back of his hand.

"Do you want to go up and see her?" Hermione asked him, keeping her voice quiet.

He only managed a brief nod and she instantly was pulling him from the chair and leading him towards the lift. Harry followed close behind and they entered the car, pressing the button for the correct floor. They rode up from the ground floor, where the five year old emergency ward was located, and exited the elevator into a pink lobby. There was a receptionist behind a glass window and she looked at them over thick-framed glasses as they approached.

"Patient name?" she sniped, her voice high and nasally.

"Weasley, Andromeda Weasley," Ron replied.

"Relation?"

"I'm her husband."

The witch looked at a partially rolled piece of parchment. "Ah, yes. Mrs. Weasley may only have one visitor at a time. The others may remain in the waiting room or in the hallway."

She dismissed them with a wave, directing them down a hallway to their left.

Ron led the group to a door about a third of the way down the hall. He pushed the door open gently, leaving Harry and Hermione alone as he heard the voice of his mother coming from the lobby.

Andie was lying in the hospital bed, her eyes closed. Two potion drips hung to the left of the bed and there was a small, ticking talisman next to her head. It monitored her heartbeat and was glowing steadily as he placed a hand on her forehead and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

She opened her eyes, confusion apparent. She looked at him questioningly for a few heartbeats before letting out a low moan. Tears sprang to her eyes and she took in a deep breath.

"Oh, Andie,” Ron whispered, clutching both of her hands between his.

"-so sorry," she mumbled, her speech slurred slightly from the medication coursing through her veins.

He shook his head and kissed her fingers. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you so much, Andie."

He reached up and wiped the tears from her face. She returned the favor and they looked at each other, each grieving in their own way. Finally, their hurt got the better of them and he curled against her on the bed, letting his own tears flow freely.

It was two days later, Tuesday, that Andie was released from St. Mungo's. She looked thinner and still quite weak as Harry and Hermione helped them get settled. Hermione left them with several meals, instructing Ron on how long to heat everything for, and promises that she and Ginny would be over the next day to keep Andie company while Ron went back to school.

After his friends left, he settled Andie in their large bed, making sure that her pillows were situated right and that she had enough blankets.

"I can fix my own pillows," she commented dryly, the agitation evident in her voice.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm just trying to make sure you're comfortable."

"I don't deserve to be comfortable," she mumbled, her hands pressing against her flat stomach.

"Andie-" Ron began, his voice tight.

"Just – can I be alone for awhile? Please?" Her voice was controlled, but he saw sadness in her eyes. He merely nodded and kissed her gently. He walked to the door and closed it behind him, hearing the short sobs erupt from his wife. Her tears were long overdue, as she hadn't displayed that much emotion after they took her off the pain potion; her room had a revolving door of visitors. Ron's very heart ached as he listened momentarily, fighting the urge to push the door up and gather her up into his arms. It wouldn't do her any good right now and that knowledge went against the grain of his being. He resigned himself to it and went silently to the living room, his heart breaking with each step away from the bedroom.

True to her word, Hermione arrived in the morning just as a delivery owl dropped an envelope in Ron's lap. Ginny entered the kitchen shortly following Hermione and watched silently as he opened the letter.

He read it carefully, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"The Healer says it was a poison, delivered via a drink of some sort, probably at Hogwarts. There's a – we might not be able to have children," he reported, his words catching in his throat.

Hermione gasped audibly and Ron felt the crush of his baby sister's arms around him. She was hugging him furiously as Hermione fidgeted nervously, unsure of what her reaction should be. He held Ginny tightly, feeling all his mental resolve crumble around him. Hermione was soon at the fireplace, calling Harry over.

Ron looked between the two women and realized that the next few minutes would be too much to bear. The questions would be like knives through his stomach and he couldn’t bear to see how Andie would take the news. He had said his goodbyes to her already, so he simply grabbed up his satchel and stormed out of the house, moving determinedly towards the school.

Ginny called after him, but he ignored her as panic raised fresh in his mind. His thoughts were reeling; his wife had been poisoned and they may never be able to have children. All of the events going on, between the Dark and Light forces, had seemed so distant. Once again, however, evil was hitting to close to home. Ron shuddered as he let off an accidental burst of magic, igniting a small patch of wildflowers in blue flames.

Hedwig was waiting patiently in his office, holding a rolled piece of parchment. He took it from her and unrolled the note.

R-,

Received news about poison – OP will reconvene to discuss the ongoing issues. Time and place will arrive in usual manner.

-H

Ron let out a sigh of relief. Harry would take care of this; he always did.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.

7. Chapter VII

Chapter VII

December 19th, 2003

The last Friday before Christmas was a busy day in Diagon Alley. Many of the stores stayed open longer and the Hogwarts students were back from school for a well-deserved Christmas holiday. Diagon Alley was renowned for its Christmas decorations and street vendors moved through the crowds of shoppers, peddling strange wares and unusual holiday food specialties.

A small magical art store existed at the corner of Diagon Alley and the entertainment district. Colin Creevy worked out of the store, selling his photographs side by side with art supplies and odds and ends of collected artwork. On this particular day, he was working to fill the final orders of family Christmas photos. The developing was always tricky for the photos that included younger children; they tended to leave the frame or make funny faces right as the potion finished working its magic.

Close to dinner time, a wizard in a dark cloak with his hood up entered the cheerfully decorated shop.

“Evening, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?”

The stranger cocked his hooded head and in a flash, the entire building exploded in a flash of purple flames and black smoke.

Harry, Hermione and Carole Granger were ten feet from the door of Colin’s shop when the magical shockwaves hit them. Harry recovered in time to see a cloaked figure rushing down Diagon Alley, heading for the Leaky Cauldron. Instinct kicked is as he gripped his wand, sending hexes after the figure. As he chased the cloaked figure, he heard another large blast and noticed several others in identical clothing scattering in different directions. He looked back and saw that the bookshop had caught on fire as well, but with green flames instead of purple. He located Hermione and saw her huddled over her mother, whom had been hit hardest by the shockwaves. Several other people were still scrambling madly to get to the injured and to put out the flames roaring from Colin’s shop and Flourish and Blott’s.

His main target was still sprinting ahead of him and Harry swore loudly as a miscalculated spell hit a cart of roasted chestnuts, sending the treats scattering across the cobblestones. The man slid comically for a few moments before regaining his balance and continuing the race to the Leaky Cauldron.

The wards around Diagon Alley had been triggered by the explosion and swarms of Aurors were entering the street from the surrounding stores. There were spells being fired from both sides and Harry sighed with relief as they began to overtake the criminals. He was focusing his attentions on the tall man ahead of him, who seemed to be some sort of leader and had been the person to come running out of the burning building. He was obviously the most powerful person in the group; the spells from the Aurors just bounced off. Harry watched carefully as yet another spell was rebounded and quickly transformed his own wand into a sword. He darted forward, slamming the hilt of the sword down onto the back of the man, the steel cutting right through the magical ward. The man collapsed and his shields fell, allowing Harry to bind him and remove his hood. He looked down into the face of one of the many Malfoy cousins and felt dread build further in his chest.

In his distraction, a slicing spell hit his arm and he gritted his teeth as pain rushed through him. He pressed his palm to his arm to staunch the bleeding, murmuring a healing spell. Looking to his left, where the spell had come from, he saw more cloaked-figures running in the same direction as the first. There seemed to be some sort of meeting spot that they were heading towards. Harry growled and launched a spell at the closest figure. It hit square in the chest and the body fell. He pushed forward, watching his opposite side as other figures darted around, additional spells flying. The gang of hooded figures had split once again, this time casting spells at standers by rather than the Aurors. Several people fell, screaming and crying out at the vicious hexes.

There were more screams all around as he caught up to a second cloaked wizard. Foregoing use of his wand, Harry tackled his target, knocking him to the ground. He quickly cast standard binding and anti-apparition spells before beginning pursuit of the additional attackers.

As it turned out, there was only one left, the others were wounded or had apparated away. Harry closed in on the feminine-looking figure and quickly cast a disarming spell. Two or three additional spells had her bound and secured with the others that had been captured. He back tracked to Colin’s shop, wand out and looking furtively from side to side. Hermione seemed to have taken control of the situation there and was ordering various people to several tasks. Even the Aurors seemed to be minding her as they collected the bound prisoners into a large group. Healers had finally arrived on the scene and were attending to those injured by the explosion. Additional mediwizards were arriving to deal with the people that had been hurt by spells.

Hermione saw him return and she bustled over, eyeing him for injuries. Wordlessly, she went to work on the cut on his arm, waving her wand in swirling patterns over the wound. When the cut had healed, she nodded at him briefly, her eyes betraying the panic and fear she was feeling. He touched her cheek briefly and gave her a small, worried smile before moving away towards a group of Aurors.

Arthur Weasley caught up to him, having been alerted by the old wards the Order had set up around Diagon Alley in the last war. There had been a period of time when the magical government had practically shut down and the Order had secretly set up the wards, monitoring for any Dark activity. Remus Lupin and Tonks were following him, occasionally stopping to talk to some wizard or another.

“Did you see what happened?” Arthur asked.

Harry nodded grimly. “We caught the man that triggered the explosion at Colin’s. He’s a Malfoy. What about the bookstore?”

Remus shook his head. “Not sure who set it off yet. When that second one hit, several people streamed out of all different places. We’re still trying to sort it out.”

Arthur frowned. “What about Hermione? Is she alright?”

Harry motioned to her. “I’d say so. She seems to be handling that area pretty well.”

“I’ll help her out,” Tonks said, cutting into their conversation. “The three of you need to go talk to Shacklebot, over there.” She gestured to the familiar wizard. “I arrived with the Aurors,” she added, unnecessarily.

Harry walked with Arthur and Remus to talk to Kingsley. He updated him on what had happened prior to the explosions and answered the rapid-fire questions with precision. No, he hadn’t seen any suspicious activity. No, he hadn’t sensed any Dark magic in the area. After Shacklebot had finished interrogating him, Harry pulled Arthur and Remus aside.

“We need to push up the meeting. Everyone needs to be ready with their portkeys at midnight.”

No reply was required for this directive. Harry went to get Hermione, convincing her that the Aurors were perfectly capable of handling the situation and that they needed to get to the hospital for her mother. He was actually a little scared by her complete tranquility. He grasped her hand in his and Apparated them both to a safe point near St. Mungo’s. They entered through Purge and Dowse Ltd. into the reception area of the hospital, where they were immediately accosted by a medical team.

“We’re fine!” Harry eventually had to shout over their questions. “Who do we see about a Muggle that was injured in the explosion?” he asked of one of the intern Healers.

“Over there,” the intern gestured to another room on the right before going to the next explosion victim.

They found themselves in the Muggle intake waiting room. During the last war, hundreds of Muggles had fallen victim to magical spells and injuries and the Muggle government had demanded that the wizarding hospital treat the victims. Harry had not been to this place since Hermione’s father had been killed-

“Sir?” Hermione’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I need to see my mother, Carole Granger.”

A young nurse was lounging at the reception desk, but he was fully alert to Hermione’s presence. Harry knew the ward had been used very infrequently in the last five years and this young man seemed almost excited by all the activity.

“Oh, yes! She was brought in just a bit ago. Room 413.” He directed her to the fireplace behind the desk and they entered the Apparition portal silently. Carole Granger’s room was on the ground level of the new hospital wing (the additional wing, located in some other part of London, was added during the war,) that could only be accessed via this special transport. They approached the doorway cautiously and Harry was surprised to see a sole Healer in the room, bent over the bed and checking various Muggle instruments surrounding the bed.

Carole was sitting in the bed, looking perky and wide-eyed. She smiled as they entered and nodded to the Healer.

“Healer Marsh has been just lovely. Hermione, she treats both Muggles and wizards.”

Hermione smiled at her mother and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright; I’m a little bruised, but nothing too serious. What’s happening in Diagon Alley?” she asked, as the Healer began testing her blood pressure.

“Initial reports are pretty unclear at this point,” Harry answered. “We’ll know more specifics tomorrow.” He settled in a chair next to the bed as Hermione sat next to her mum. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Carole nodded and looked at the Healer, as if expecting her to answer any further questions on that topic.

“Dr. Granger suffered a few bruises from the impact of those shockwaves and her lower leg is fractured. We’ve put a cast on her and she’ll need to be on crutches for about eight weeks.”

“You’ll come stay with us,” Hermione stated. Harry nodded his support.

“Nonsense. I’ll be able to get around home just fine.”

“Don’t be silly, Mum. London is so dreary this time of year anyway. Stay with us, you’ll have plenty of company and you can enjoy Hogsmeade.”

“Ms. Granger, I’m not sure –“ the Healer began, looking worried over their plans.

“My mother has been privy to the goings-on of the wizarding world for over ten years. She has clearance from the Ministry to access all magical dwellings and places.” Hermione’s tone was firm, but Harry saw fire in her eyes. This Healer was quickly getting on her bad side.

“Of course, ma’am. I apologize.” She left after administering an injection of light pain medicine and warning Hermione that her mother would need to stay over night to make sure that there wasn’t any magical residue from the explosion. Hermione talked some more with her mother until visiting hours ended. Her expression had remained calm throughout the entire meeting and she had even talked cheerfully about the upcoming holidays. Harry found himself fidgeting constantly and occasionally checking in at the nurse’s station to see if any owls had been left for him. Finally, Hermione stood up to leave and kissed her mother goodbye. Harry also kissed her cheek and they walked out of St. Mungo’s silently. There were still people rushing in and out of the doors and Harry began to seriously worry about Muggles noticing all the fuss. He saw several Order members and even more Aurors about and a part of him wished that he could stay to help out. The claw-like grip Hermione had on his hand made him realize that it was definitely not a good idea to stay behind.

They Apparated from an alley to the Leaky Cauldron and from there, they flooed home. As soon as she stepped foot over the threshold of their home, Hermione’s calm and collected demeanor collapsed. He saw her face collapse and heard a sharp intake of breath as he gathered her to him, pressing urgent kisses against her lips. She responded in kind and he was pained to feel her hot tears against his face. He pulled back from her and panicked slightly at the look in her eyes.

He quickly began running his hands over her arms and face, checking for damage.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?”

A loud sob escaped her throat as she threw her arms around him again. “I’m – I’m fine. I can’t- she could have died Harry! What would I have done?”

He kissed her again, still feeling strangely panicky. He loved Carole Granger, but his Hermione had been so close to the explosion. She melted against him, pressing her own lips furtively to his. He wrapped his arms around her, thankful that she was whole.

“She’s going to be fine, she’s in good hands now and she’ll be here in the morning. You can fuss over her the whole time she’s here.”

Her expression was tender and she nodded, reaching a hand up to caress his face gently. It had been a rough week for them, between Andie’s poisoning and now this. They hadn’t spent much time together as Harry had begun working with Ron to find out who had poisoned his best friend’s wife and Hermione had been staying with Andie all day and most nights. They hadn’t talked about the kiss that had been interrupted by Ron’s news, but had done quite the spectacular job of dancing around it. It had been awkward and awfully tense around their house ever since. Tonight, somehow, none of that mattered. They had escaped unscathed once more and Harry felt an overwhelming need to possess her, to reaffirm life. She shuddered slightly against him, fresh tears welling in her eyes. For several long moments, they watched each other carefully, much remaining unspoken in their gazes. He was holding his breath, waiting for what would happen next.

“We need to go back to London,” she said finally, pulling out of his arms. In a matter of seconds, she was all business. “There’s a witness report to file at the Ministry and our Portkey is at Grimmauld Place. Is Ron-?”

Harry nodded, letting his own mask of calm detachment fall into place. “As far as I know, everyone will be there; they were all going to attend the original meeting, but I think Molly is going to stay with Andie.”

Hermione’s eyebrows knit together with concern. The poison that Andie had ingested still caused her a bit of trouble. She had been in near constant pain, suffered from lethargy and hadn’t yet regained full use of her magic. Ron and Harry had arranged for someone to be with her round the clock.

Harry checked the Muggle clock over the fireplace. It was just after 10pm. They would travel by Floo to the Ministry and eventually, Apparate to Grimmauld Place. Hermione tossed the powder into the flames and shouted out “Ministry of Magic!” before stepping into the hearth. Harry went in with her, his hand linked with hers.

As expected, the Ministry was a madhouse. The lobby was crammed with reporters and Aurors and Ministry officials were darting all over the place. They went to the wand checkpoint and from there, took the lift to Level Two. Auror Headquarters was actually fairly quiet. Limited staff was on duty, as most everyone else was needed in Diagon Alley. A receptionist greeted them and seemed to know why they were there. She smiled sympathetically as she handed over the parchments with the witness questionnaire. Both Harry and Hermione had been through this ordeal multiple times and quickly settled at a long table to begin filling out the form.

Hermione, of course, was far better at writing the statement and Harry just did his best to remember everything. These questionnaires were just a formality – they would also have to deposit memories of what had happened into a Greater Pensieve. She finished her writing before he did and watched patiently as he added a few details about the criminals he had chased down.

“All set then?” the receptionist asked as she led them into a darkened room. She motioned for Hermione to sit in an easy chair and handed her a small vial of sky blue potion, which would help the Ministry witch to remove an accurate memory. Hermione knocked the potion back quickly and grimaced at the foul taste. Harry watched as her eyes closed and the receptionist touched a wand to Hermione’s temple. A thin, silver thread clung to the tip and was placed quickly into the Pensieve. After a moment, Hermione’s eyes fluttered and she stood to allow Harry to go through the same motions.

“Right then, it looks as if Auror Wenlock will be handling your statements. I have all your information and he’ll owl if he has any additional questions.”

Harry nodded and thanked her before ushering Hermione back to the lift. They went to the Atrium and from there, flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. Tom had closed the floo in his pub for all but emergency travel, but they had been given clearance by the barkeep many years ago. Harry looked at his watch and noted that Ron ought to be waiting for them in the main bar. It was standard practice that they all attend the Order meetings together.

“Harry!” Ron’s voice called to them from across the noisy pub. Reporters clamored about and there were Ministry personnel going back and forth between Diagon Alley and Muggle London.

Clutching Hermione’s hand, he wordlessly made his way over. Ron just nodded in greeting and stood to lead the small group to the private back room used for Apparition. No consensus was needed on their projected point.

Grimmauld Place reeked of disuse, as no one had regularly inhabited the building in five years. The screaming portrait of Mrs. Black had been removed long ago, in a venting-session by the Trio after a particularly frustrating false lead on their horcrux hunt. Most of the other traces of filth and dark magic were also long gone. They had lived in Grimmauld Place on and off for nearly a year and had spent considerable time cleaning the place up.

After Dumbledore’s death a piece of property had been transferred into Harry’s name. Legally, the property did not exist; Harry merely became the owner through a series of complicated heirship spells. As far as they could tell, it was Unplottable and Unknowable by all but those deemed safe by the owner of the place. The headquarters of the Order had been relocated to the old castle that was situated on the emerald green and golden pastures of Dumbledore’s ancestral home.

The Trio arrived in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and looked at each other solemnly.

“Is everyone ready?” Harry asked evenly.

Hermione nodded and Ron just stared ahead blankly. Harry checked his watch and, satisfied with his timing, began waving his wand in a complicated pattern over the center of the long kitchen table. There was a gentle flick and a pair of spectacles appeared in mid-air, hovering six or seven inches over the surface of the table. Harry nodded at Ron and Hermione and they all touched their fingers to the glasses. Harry closed his eyes as the familiar hook behind his naval tugged at him.

They landed softly on a stretch of lawn leading up to a large, looming castle. The night was clear and icy cold and they moved quickly towards the warm sanctuary.

Several other Order members were making the familiar trek up the grassy expanse, where they would wait for Harry to open the doors to Idyllwild Castle. During the last War, they had meetings here weekly, if not more frequently. After the war Harry, as the leader of the group, had dictated that meetings were to continue on a yearly basis and that a rotating group of members would attend. Harry had never once attended a yearly meeting, working instead through Remus. Strangely, no one had objected to this, or to the fact that Hermione and Ron also did not attend. Instead, they were all protected by the Order and given room to live their lives peacefully for awhile.

That time for peace had now officially ended. Harry had called for the meeting as he had promised Ron. The entire membership was to be present. There were dozens of people waiting on the stone steps leading up to the huge wooden entrance. Harry shouldered through them and once again, drew his wand. Concentrating, he cast the spell to undo the enchantments on the locks and a large clunking noise told him that he had succeeded. With a feeling of dread, he pushed the heavy doors open.

Rather than the musty scent of Grimmauld Place, they were greeted by the sweet smell of sun-drenched wood and wildflowers. The inside of the place had been enchanted to smell opposite of the season outside, with the windows magicked to display the same. Harry had always been secretly thrilled when the whole castle smelled like Christmas in July and a blizzard raged in the windows. Tonight, however, it was just a clear, summer sky. He barely noticed as the group shuffled its way to the large meeting room. Various people scattered to begin putting things in order. There was coffee to be made and food to set out. Chairs and tables had to be situated and the final agenda had to be approved by the senior members. Harry hated this time most, as it felt like a huge waste, but it had been his decision to have all members arrive at the same time. He felt safer if they traveled in numbers and it made it far easier to coordinate the wards for the castle. It was, of course, Unplottable, and he had limited transportation to specially made Portkeys that all members had.

Hermione was following him closely as he led her, Ron, Professor McGonagall, Remus, Tonks and Arthur Weasley into a small office off of the large meeting room. It had been Dumbledore’s study in the years before he became Headmaster at Hogwarts. He faced the group grimly.

“Do we need to discuss the full agenda for the night or should we assume that this meeting will be only about the attack?”

“I propose we have a full meeting, Harry. There are several topics that need discussed and we need to have a plan of action for multiple situations,” Remus stated.

“I second that,” said Professor McGonagall, her voice hollow.

“Alright then, what are the topics?” Harry asked.

“Well, obviously, the Attack. And Oistin Beryan,” Hermione listed, ticking off her fingers.

“And Andie’s poisoning,” Ron added. Harry looked at his friend carefully and felt a lump rise in his throat as he saw the pain in his eyes. Harry nodded once in agreement.

“We need to discuss plans for handling further attacks,” Arthur said quickly.

“And we need to get in touch with international affiliates, to see if there’s any other activity,” Hermione added.

“We’ll need a task force looking into Beryan and his groupies,” Tonks said, frowning. “I’ll confer with Shacklebot after the meeting about Ministry cooperation.”

“Anything else?” Harry said, looking at each member of the assembled group.

They all shook their heads and Harry muttered a spell over a piece of parchment on the desk. He knew that on each chair in the outer chamber, there would be an identical parchment outlining the agenda for the meeting. Their processes for meetings had become much more formalized after Dumbledore’s death, largely due to Hermione’s influence. Their ranks had grown considerably in the last months of the war and more organization had become necessary.

As they all filed out of the office, Harry was pleased to note that everyone else was waiting. This meeting had the potential to go on for several hours and all the members seemed ready to go.

He took a seat at the head table, feeling relief wash over him at simply being able to sit down. He felt exhaustion creep through him slowly, but he staved it off and took a deep breath before beginning the meeting in a fairly informal manner.

“Evening everyone, thanks for being here,” he said, his voice amplified magically. “I realize that this has all happened on pretty short notice, but recent events have made this a necessary meeting. Before we begin moving through the official agenda, are there any questions regarding issues not listed on your sheets?”

A small witch named Fae stood up. “Harry, what’s going on? There are specific topics on the agenda, but when did it suddenly get so bad?”

Harry sighed. “That’s a question I believe we have yet to answer. This meeting is basically to discuss that very thing. Are there any other questions?” Harry waited several moments to see if anyone else spoke up before he pressed on. He looked out over the fifty or so Order members, a much higher number than during Dumbledore’s leadership. He saw Ginny at a table closest to the front, her expression dark and sad. He nodded once at her and she stood to address the group.

“Our first order of business this evening is the poisoning of Andromeda Dickens Weasley. Hermione and I have consulted and researched this situation since its occurrence. We have found substantial proof that the poison used was the fairly common herb used by witches for health reasons, dong quai.”

At this point, Hermione intervened. “Using Dong quai during pregnancy can cause a miscarriage. A strong enough dose – it’s an herbal alternative to abortion. We believe that the house elves at Hogwarts were bewitched to make the tea. A charm was then used to make it smell, look and taste like pumpkin juice.”

“The poison used has led us to conclude that it was not the intention that Andie die, but that she would indeed miscarry,” Ginny said quietly, averting her eyes from her brother’s gaze. At this, the strong murmur that had been building in the room erupted to full out chatter. Harry ignored it for a moment, taking the time to look carefully at his best friend. Ron was staring straight ahead, his face still and pained. His blues eyes were clear and dark and Harry felt a tremendous wave of guilt wash over him; Ron’s pain was too public here.

Harry whistled loudly and everyone quickly quieted down. He waved off the questions and moved right into the discussion of Beryan. He shared the information he had given to Ron, Hermione and Arthur. From that point, the meeting progressed naturally through the attack on Diagon Alley and what would be done for further attacks.

Frequently, several Order members stepped from the room to answer owls. There was still work being done by the Ministry and several employees had to beg off to attend the Order’s meeting. It was quite unusual, however, when a large, gray owl swooped right to Harry. It looked pointedly at him as it held its leg out. Harry took the thin roll of parchment and the owl took to air immediately. The entire group seemed nervous over the message and watched silently as Harry read the note.

The Order is powerless against us. Your work has been too dedicated to sullying the blood that keeps us so strong. The efforts of your members have destroyed our world and all will be made known.

Harry’s face paled and Hermione was soon at his side, reading the note. She made a strangled noise and handed the note off to Remus, who paused to look it over before reading it aloud to the group.

There was another breakout of chatter, punctuated occasionally by an individual voice breaking through. It was McGonagall, much to Harry’s surprise, who finally took control of the room.

“Silence!” she shouted, reminding him instantly of Dumbledore. “This is nothing but an empty threat and your arguing will do nothing to help. We must come up with a plan to buy more time, to find out whatever information we can.”

“We need to scale back our work, Minerva,” a witch named Eloise called out, her thin voice sounding pinched and agitated.

There were murmurs of agreement as Harry addressed Eloise, “How do you mean?”

Eloise shifted uncomfortably, but kept her head high and held Harry’s gaze. “We’ve spent a lot of energy and resources on the education plans. We need to scale back and move our resources to defense.”

It was immediately obvious that several other members agreed. Hermione shifted next to him, obviously agitated about what was being said. Harry turned to look at Ron, who typically handled strategy with Remus and Arthur. Ron was just staring down at the surface of the table, his mind obviously elsewhere.

“I’m not so sure I agree,” Harry finally said. “We’ve worked very hard, both at Hogwarts and in more grassroots-type campaigns, to increase Muggle awareness. One of our own members has made significant advancement in the science of magic and others have worked tirelessly to promote better cooperation with Muggle governments. We are entering a period of unprecedented growth and acceptance-”

“To stop now would be disastrous,” Hermione finally said, seemingly not caring that she had interrupted him. “The magical community needs help to get through this, to make sure that the fear of change doesn’t spread too far. One wrong move and it’ll be 1998 all over again.”

The only reply from the assembled group was silence. They seemed divided on a response and Harry felt his patience stretch even thinner. He ground his teeth and looked at several of his old classmates scattered throughout the room. They had been the heart of the last War. Voldemort’s war hadn’t been with their parents, but with his peers. Too many friends, too many students had been killed in the last battles for this matter to be taken lightly. They had seen first hand what prejudice would breed.

The older members of the Order seemed far more hesitant to embrace such open-mindedness when it came to the Muggle world. It was increasingly common for young witches and wizards to use computers, but Molly Weasley, and many like her, still used candles to light her home. Harry fumed at the hand wringing and the indecision. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping satisfyingly against the floor.

“Frankly, it’s even ridiculous that we’re having this debate,” he started, his voice deep and commanding.

“Now, Harry-“ came the arbitrating voice of Arthur Weasley.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I need to say this. This group has remained cohesive during the last several years because we agreed it was important to work for change. We were too complacent between the last two wars. We had a government that was unwilling to acknowledge any problems until it was too late and we had too many families identifying with the propaganda being spewed by the Death Eaters.

“Nothing has changed since then, not really, if we’re even considering pulling back and hedging our bets. We’re too comfortable and too afraid to make waves. This current group of Dark Wizards is nowhere near the level of organization required to be the same threat as Voldemort was. This attack on Diagon Alley is so miniscule compared to what he pulled at his most powerful. We need to take the offense, stop them in their tracks. If you think we can’t handle it…” he trailed off, the anger still evident on his face.

He saw several ashamed faces watching him and he was urged forward, feeling a surge of hope that his message hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. “We need to work closely with the Ministry and get in touch with our international contacts. I want to know what’s going on in America and on the continent. We need to better understand the cohesion in this new group. So, I’ll leave it up to you. Shall we sit here in the dark, holding our breath for them to strike first, or are we going to step up?”

Heated debate rippled through the room and Harry began to panic that he had overestimated them. Finally, after what felt like hours, Eloise stood once more. “I’d like to raise a motion.”

“Alright,” Harry replied wearily.

“I’d like to move that we set aside resources to be dedicated to information gathering. I myself would like to know who’s responsible for blowing up that darling little shop and who poisoned Ron’s lovely wife.”

Harry felt a surge of relief as others agreed and Charlie Weasley seconded the motion. It was simple and a large understatement of the current situation, but it was a prime example of the simple good-heartedness that had guided Dumbledore’s Order from Day One. This was the pure essence of it. He nodded his approval and began to draw the meeting to a close, noting by his watch that dawn wasn’t far off. His closing remarks were interrupted by Tonks.

“Harry?”

“Yes?” “The Daily Prophet’s in,” Tonks said loudly, waving the paper in the air. She passed it over to Harry and returned to her seat.

Harry unfolded the paper and looked carefully at the front page. “The Prophet is saying fourteen killed by the explosion at Colin Creevy’s shop and nine killed by the explosion at Flourish & Blott’s. Several others were injured. Creevy is being reported as dead, as is Melinda Heathcoat, an assistant at the bookstore. Numbers are confirmed by the Ministry.”

***

Christmas Eve day dawned bright and incredibly cold. Hermione bustled through the ground floor of her home, lighting fires and placing anti-draft charms on all the windows. She lit all the fairy lights on the tree and turned the wizarding wireless to Christmas carols once again. Her mother was settled comfortably in the downstairs guest bedroom and she checked in to offer tea.

When she finally made it to the kitchen, Harry was already standing at the stove watching the tea kettle begin to steam. She avoided his gaze as she set about getting heavy, ceramic mugs from the cabinet.

“Hermione…” he trailed off, his expression pained.

She turned to him and sighed. “I know, I know. We need to talk.”

Harry looked at her pointedly.

“I just – I can’t yet, Harry. There’s too much else going on and I feel so – so selfish to even be thinking about… you know.” Her stomach was fluttering wildly as she talked, her nervousness evident in her overzealous hand gestures. She had been putting off this huge monster of a conversation for nearly two weeks and he hadn’t been making it any easier on her. She was rescued from further confrontation by the charm ringing from the fireplace.

She rushed over as the flames turned green and Andie stepped from the hearth, her face looking slightly brighter than it had been only the day before.

“Hi,” Hermione said softly. “How are you feeling?”

Andie shrugged. “A bit better, not so achy today,” she replied. Hermione knew she was avoiding the real question but didn’t press any further.

“I’m about to take some tea into Mum, would you like a cup?”

“I’ll take it in to her, if you like. I swear, Hermione, your mum is about the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hermione smiled. “That’s fine. Is Ron coming by?”

“Eventually. I was up earlier than he was.” Hermione looked at Andie carefully again and was struck once more by how ghostly her eyes were.

She handed over the mug of tea and gestured Andie down the back hall. She watched as the tall figure retreated, her shoulders hunched and her long, chestnut hair hanging loose and lifeless over her back.

Harry and Hermione worked their way through a pot of tea and a hearty breakfast and Andie still had not reappeared in the kitchen. Harry made his excuses before heading out to the Ministry. Hermione knew there was a stake-out in progress on a suspected hideout of one of Beryan’s cronies and that Harry was anxious for any news. She kissed his cheek and waved goodbye and he stepped through the Floo.

She picked up three fresh mugs of tea and floated them behind her towards the guest room. The door was slightly ajar and she heard hushed voices spilling out. It became quickly apparent that someone was crying.

“I should have known, there had to be something off. How could I be so stupid and careless?” Hermione winced as she heard Andie’s strangled voice.

There were hushing noises before Hermione finally heard her own mother’s soothing voice. “No one can prepare you for what it’s like to be a mother. Even before your baby is born, you are responsible for its health and well-being. It’s easy to get caught up in it, to imagine your family and to picture those sweet little feet, with ten toes, covered in little blue socks, but it’s so, so fragile. It’s the simple feeling of loss, isn’t it? No one else seems to understand.”

Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat at her mother’s words and felt tears slip down her cheeks as her mother continued, “I lost my husband to all this darkness in your world, but before that I lost a baby. Before Hermione was born, I miscarried a little boy. We’d decided to call him James, but he died when I was five months pregnant. The doctors weren’t sure that he was actually gone, but I knew. They gave me some medical justification for it, but I don’t even remember –“ Hermione imagined that her mother had placed her thin, elegant hand against her breast. “It doesn’t really matter what caused it, does it? It’s not your fault though; you must know that. It doesn’t feel that way now, but it’s still the truth.”

Andie’s sobs grew louder at this and Hermione made a hasty retreat back to the kitchen, feeling as if she’d been witness to a conversation in which she had no part. She had never known there had been another baby and her heart was broken, thinking of her mother’s hidden pain. She took a seat at the large, round kitchen table and buried her head in her arms, her shoulders shaking with grief.

It was Harry that found her this way and he was hauling her up from the chair to gather her into his arms. She leaned against him, her tears quiet and controlled. He felt warm and was shaking slightly. She finally pulled back and took in his face, which was marked with fear and worry.

“What’s wrong?”

He seemed torn between answering and asking her the same question, but she waved his concern away. Finally, he took a deep breath. “The stake-out became a raid. It was exactly as we thought. They’re a bastardized version of the Death Eaters; they even wear the same masks. We captured several, but Cho Chang killed one of the dark wizards.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. “Who died?”

“Beryan.”

She gasped. “You’re joking! And you were right, the other night, weren’t you? You said they weren’t organized and look what happened.”

“She used AK, Hermione.”

This was stunning. Even uses of the Unforgivables during a state of duress were forbidden; the caster always ended up in Azkaban.

“Why would she-“

“We can only guess. There’s a report going around that her nephew was killed in Diagon Alley.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the stakeout was based on some information we actually received from Malfoy. About thirty minutes into it, it turned into a hostage situation. They had Narcissa Malfoy and when Beryan slit her throat, Cho took him out.”

Hermione cringed. “Do we know where Malfoy is?”

Harry shook his head. “No clue. He’s gone completely silent.”

Hermione sighed, feeling anguish slowly building in the pit of her stomach.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.

8. Chapter VIII

A Long Way from Home

Summary: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: My apologies to everyone for taking so, so long to get this chapter out! It's been a crazy-busy month. I hope to get the next one quickly, but it probably won't be before the 1st of the new year. Thanks so much for your patience - I hope you enjoy reading this Christmas chapter!

Chapter VIII

The Burrow was bustling with all the usual, cheerful holiday noise, which surprised Hermione. Hasn’t anyone heard about the raid? Where was the chatter about what was to be done, about what had happened with Cho? But no, Molly Weasley was happily directing the incoming traffic in her kitchen and smiled brightly as Harry and Hermione stepped through the Floo with Carole.

“Happy Christmas, dears! Settle in now, Ron’s in the living room.” She waved them away and scurried over to lift Sadie away from the counter; the toddler has been aiming for a tray of home made fudge. Hermione laughed uneasily, still feeling somewhat shaky over the conversation she had only recently shared with Harry, and waved at the other Weasley family members scattered through the room. After settling her mother into a chair, she headed from the kitchen in search of Harry and Ron, knowing that they would be discussing the Beryan issue.

Much to her surprise however, Ron was lounging lazily on the couch, Andie settled on the floor in front of him. They were talking with their heads close together, smiling conspiratorially. Harry was standing near the Christmas tree, talking to Ginny and a very tall, auburn-headed wizard. Her curiosity piqued, she made quick business of greeting Ron and Andie before moving over to introduce herself.

“Hermione!” Ginny said as she approached, “I’d like you to meet someone. This is Tynan Lahey.”

The handsome wizard extended his hand with a dazzling smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hermione.”

Hermione grinned and felt her face grow slightly warm. “And you, Tynan. You have such an unusual name.” She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Harry was frowning, but decided to ignore him.

“Yes, it was my grandfather’s name. I absolutely despise it, actually. You can call me Ty.” Tynan’s accent was mostly neutral, but Hermione detected a very subtle French accent.

Hermione laughed and returned his easy smile. She turned to Ginny. “So how did you two meet?”

“Ty’s family owns Lahey Publishing and he works at the Paris offices. They carry the exclusive contract for the Museum’s reading materials and I met him at a planning meeting in September.”

“Lovely,” Hermione replied and finally turned to look at Harry, who still seemed displeased.

“Where were you educated, Lahey?” Harry asked, his tone quite severe.

Ty seemed to take it completely in stride as he replied, “Beauxbatons. I still keep a residence in Marseille, actually.”

“Oh, I do love Cassis. My parents and I traveled there frequently when I was younger,” Hermione said, her voice brightening.

The conversation about Southern France continued on for several minutes until Harry sniffed and cut off Tynan in the middle of a sentence about a small bistro. He smiled tightly at Ginny and her boyfriend and clasped Hermione’s elbow, leading her over to talk to Ron. Hermione was annoyed by this, but refrained from saying anything as she noticed the twinkle in Andie’s eyes when they approached.

“He’s charming isn’t he?” Andie whispered to Hermione conspiratorially.

“Indeed,” Hermione replied, grinning. She reveled in the change in Andie’s mood in the past twenty-four hours. The effects of the potion were seemingly gone and she seemed far more upbeat than she had just that morning. Hermione knew that the talks with her mother must have helped.

“He’s a wanker,” Ron added, looking disdainfully at Tynan as the other wizard enveloped Ginny in a tight embrace. “Comes in here, all high and mighty, giving flowers to Mum and helping bring the tree in. Who does he think he is?”

Harry mumbled his agreement, “There’s definitely something off about him.”

Andie scoffed and waved them both away, “Go outside or something. We won’t have you lot in here spoiling the mood.”

Ron and Harry obliged her and they caught up with the twins in the hallway. There was much murmuring from Fred and George, punctuated by the occasional guffaw from Ron or Harry. Figuring they were up to no good, Hermione rose and followed Andie into the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley finish up dinner. She kept her ears open as they passed the group of men, but they all looked at her in stony silence as she passed. Only Fred was unable to keep a wicked grin off of his face. She gave them her best glare before lifting her chin and walking haughtily into the kitchen.

“They’re up to something,” she announced as she entered the room.

“The twins have wanted to torture poor Tynan since he arrived. I’m not sure what their problem is; I think he’s lovely,” Molly said as she waved her wand towards the cutting board, setting the knife to chopping potatoes.

“I’m sure it’s just that innate male jealousy popping up. They all think they need to protect their little sister,” Andie said, shaking her head.

“How are you holding up dear?” Molly asked her daughter-in-law.

“Well enough. I feel better than I have in days.”

“That’s wonderful,” Carole said, speaking up for the first time. She reached across the table to pat Andie’s hand before returning to icing the sugar cookies. Hermione took a seat next to her mother and began waving her wand over the iced cookies, adding magical sprinkles that she knew the kids would love.

“Where’s everyone else?” Andie asked, looking around the surprisingly empty kitchen. Hermione noticed the quiet for the first time and nodded. Fred and George had arrived with the children right before they had and she was pretty sure she’d seen Fleur in the kitchen when she’d come through the Floo.

“Charlie, Bill and Fleur took the little ones to the back garden to collect the Fairy lights and the other girls are doing some last minute shopping in Diagon Alley. I’m not sure why they insist on waiting ‘til Christmas Eve.”

Hermione shared a secret grin with Andie, knowing that Molly had her shopping done since at least November. The Weasley matriarch prided herself on both the gifts she bought and made for her grandchildren.

Further conversation was halted as several loud bangs issued from the living room. Molly, Andie and Hermione looked at each other momentarily, varying degrees of worry passing over their faces, before darting into the living room.

Dozens of small yellow and blue budgies were darting furiously around the room, chasing Tynan. Ginny was attempting to hit them with stunning spells, but every time one made its mark, the bird burst in a shower of glitter to ten more. Harry, Ron and the twins were huddled in a corner, laughing as Ty raced around the room. Hermione glared reprovingly at them before waving her wand. Each of the little, twittering birds quickly disappeared into the tip and Ty came to a halt in front of the stairs. He turned to look at the assembled group, his face as red as his hair.

Molly began hitting her sons about their heads with her wand. “Honestly, you’d think the lot of you were just children. I never raised you to treat guests this way…” Her voice trailed off as Harry, Ron and the twins darted down the hallway towards the back garden, Molly following quickly behind them.

Hermione and Andie looked at each other only briefly, desperately trying not to snicker. Ginny was waving her wand at Ty, cleaning away the feathers and smoothing his ruffled appearance.

“What happened?” Hermione finally ventured after being sure she wouldn’t start laughing.

“The mistletoe exploded into those damn birds,” Ginny explained hastily, her face tinged pink. “Fred and George have gone too far.”

“It’s not really that big of a deal,” Ty said, his voice quiet. “Your mother seems perfectly capable of handling the situation.”

“Oh, she’s no stranger to their antics. And Ron and Harry only encouraged them, so I’m sure they’ll hear about it too.” Andie was laughing out loud at this point, as occasional shouting could be heard from the garden.

Tynan finally laughed softly and leaned in to give Ginny a soft, lingering kiss. Hermione smiled as her old friend sighed into the kiss. She felt Andie tug at her arm and they hastily left the two lovebirds alone.

Carole was still seated at the table, her crutches propped up against it. “What happened?” she asked, her expression careful.

“Fred and George had a bit of fun with the mistletoe.”

“Poor Ty,” Carole replied, laughing. “Those two make me so glad I never had any boys. You were never a handful, dear. Now, girls, help me finish these before Molly gets back. I’m pretty sure the others will be back soon – it’s nearly time for dinner.”

As if on cue, several additional members of the Weasley family burst into the kitchen. Charlie and Bill were surrounded by laughing and shouting Weasley children carrying magical jars full of glittering lights as Fleur followed the group holding both twins in some sort of dual-carrier. She smiled and waved at Hermione and Andie as each of the girls offered to take one of the babies.

“’Allo, ladies, how are you?” She hugged both of them in turn and sat down in one of the empty chairs to help with the desserts. Hermione grinned at her; thinking about how much Fleur had changed since they’d first met her so many years ago. Her time as a Weasley had softened her a great deal and she was much kinder now.

“You missed all the excitement earlier,” Andie told her. “Fred and George charmed the mistletoe and when Ginny kissed Tynan, it exploded into all these little budgies.”

A smile played at the corners of Fleur’s mouth as she set earnestly to icing a Christmas cake. “Is everyone alright?”

“I think so. Molly was doling out a severe punishment in the garden, it seemed,” Hermione answered. “Remember to never cross your grandmum, little one,” she cooed, snuggling little Elise against her. The other women gathered around the table laughed and mumbled their agreement.

There was another round of noise at the door as Angelina, Katie and Annabelle trudged in. They were laden down with packages from various shops and scrambled to get everything into the living room and under the tree as various children began climbing all over them.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione!” Angelina said jovially. Katie and Annabelle followed with similar greetings once they had all reappeared in the kitchen. Molly was close behind them, talking animatedly to Ginny and Tynan about the concert that would be on the wireless later. She directed Ginny to set out dishes and asked Tynan if he needed anything to drink before asking the other ladies to clear away from the table.

Christmas Eve dinner was a fairly casual affair: the full Christmas dinner would be served the next afternoon. The table was quickly loaded down with several different pies, salads and a curry. Hermione helped to move the desserts to one of the counter tops before setting out the silverware. The other family members began to reassemble in the kitchen, with Ron and company slinking in after everyone else.

Arthur greeted his large, extended family before asking everyone to tuck in. Dishes were passed around and individual conversations sprang up as people began to eat. The children were loud and rowdy from their own small table and had to be hushed several times. When dessert finally came around, Hermione was shocked that not a word had been said about the news from that morning. She had been waiting to hear something and had been sorely disappointed by the lack of discussion. Molly finally quieted everyone down and turned her attentions to Tynan.

“So, Ty, you must tell us more about yourself. What is your family like?”

Ty smiled indulgently at Molly. “Well, I was raised in Oxford. My father runs our offices in London. Mother does a great deal of charity work and my brother, Thomas, is a Healer in Australia. We both attended school abroad, rather than at Hogwarts.”

“That’s lovely. I’ve heard of your father of course, but who is your Mother?”

“Anastaise Rousseau. Her family is French.”

“My father has a cousin Anastaise – I wonder if they are the same?” Fleur asked, her voice perky.

“I would say that’s quite possible. The pureblood families in France are even more closely related than in the UK.”

There was a short, uncomfortable silence following his statement, almost inexplicably. Hermione knew that following the war, this sort of thing was rarely said, but the men gathered round the table seemed infinitely bothered by it. Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harry, whom merely shook his head at her before taking another bite of his treacle tart.

Bill finally cleared his throat and offered Tynan a tight smile. “Do you play Quidditch?”

“Absolutely. I was Seeker on my school team.”

This seemed to set the conversation on more comfortable footing and soon enough, the general conversation revolved around the World Cup that was coming in the summer. Hermione felt comfortable enough to completely ignore the conversation – she didn’t have the slightest clue how the whole tournament even worked. She took the time to look carefully around the table and saw for the most part that everyone had settled down. Harry, Ron and Arthur, however, still seemed wary of Tynan and she made a point to ask Harry about it later.

The chatter wore on until the various children began to express signs of exhaustion. Andie had explained earlier that it was a Weasley Family tradition for Molly and Arthur to take the grandkids to one of the other houses for the night and that Carole would be welcome to go with them. It gave everyone else a chance to finish wrapping presents, making food for the dinner tomorrow and decorate the house. And, one mustn’t forget, to get absolutely banjaxed.

After the children had all been cleared out and Molly had instructed them they’d be back at 8am, Angelina called for attention.

“Alright all, this year, we’ve got some lovely drinks for you. Fred and I’ve been working on them all fall and I’ve decided to call them amoritas. There’s passion fruit juice, rum, and something else that packs a bit of fun,” here Fred nudged her, “oh, and of course, there’s umbrellas.”

Harry grinned at Hermione as he came up next to her. “Ron says they had this drink last year made everyone burst into song at random intervals. He said that after Andie did a fantastic rendition of ‘Blow the Man Down’, everyone was really in love with her.”

Hermione laughed loudly as she took one of the proffered drinks and stirred it briefly with the umbrella, sniffing it before taking a sip. She let out a gasp as the icy cool liquid hit her tongue before swallowing the sweet drink down greedily. It tasted of the passion fruit and rum, of course, but there was something about the smell – it was familiar, almost like spice and the woods. It seemed particularly odd for a fruity punch drink, but no one else seemed to think anything of it. The others had begun to spread out, with the ladies heading to the living room to wrap gifts and the blokes heading outside to hang fairy lights on the house. In just a couple of hours, everything was ready for the large Christmas party the following afternoon.

The ladies worked on the last of about five pitchers of the rum drink as Fred and George cleared away some of the snow and built a large magical bon fire in the back yard. Hermione and Angelina cast warming charms over the area and conjured soft, plush blankets.

Harry waved her over to the spot he had claimed, motioning to a couple of blankets and some liquored hot chocolate. She made her way over to him and settled down as Ron and Andie sat next to them. Small conversations sprang up among the young adults as they reveled in the child-free time. Harry and Hermione, however, sat in silence, instead choosing to sneak glances at each other and smile sheepishly. They weren’t touching, and Hermione wasn’t totally sure the heat on her right side was coming from the fire. She was painfully aware of how close he was, but knew that to touch him now would force them to deal with whatever this new development was much sooner than expected.

There was comfortable laughing and small talk as the magical fire burned lower. Hermione watched the flames in silence, enjoying the break from the world. The past week had been non-stop research and fieldwork as the Order pushed further into their investigations. McGonagall had caused a temporary halt in their work after the raid that ended Beryan’s life. Hermione still fell ill at ease, like everything wasn’t over just yet, but she trusted the headmistress’s judgment. Over the past few hours, she had grown glad that no one had talked about Beryan’s death. Work would resume after Boxing Day and they would tie up loose ends. She chastised herself for always thinking the worst and took a steadying breath. It was time to enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasted.

One by one, people began to drift off to bed until only the Trio and Andie remained. They talked quietly of the impending spring term. Ron was hoping to develop a Muggle technology course, but knew it was a long shot. He and Hermione talked over some ideas for the class and convincing McGonagall while Harry told Andie about Sirius and his father becoming animagi.

“You need to give her a reason, Ron. Remember how you were in school? You never cared about Muggles or their technology and you constantly harangued Harry and me to think like wizards. It wasn’t until…” She dropped off and looked at Ron shamefacedly.

“Until I lost my magic?” Ron said quietly.

“It was only a short time, but it was enough to teach you the importance of both worlds. McGonagall needs to believe that should be the point of your class – to understand why it’s important to have more knowledge, not less.”

Ron just nodded as he distractedly wound his fingers through his wife’s. Hermione looked carefully at the palms of her hands as her mind wandered back to their final battle. After the attacks against the remaining Death Eaters, Hermione and Ron had both suffered severe magical drains. Hermione had still been able to do some basic spells, but Ron hadn’t been able to do so much as a Wingardium Leviosa. In that time period, and for the months afterwards that it took to fully recover his powers, Ron had immersed himself in Muggle life and technology.

Hermione felt Harry shift dramatically next to her. “What do you mean, exactly?”

Ron looked at Harry sharply and a guilty look flashed over his features. “Exactly what I said, I lost my magic. After you left – I didn’t realize until after you left.”

“And you knew?” Harry asked, looking at Hermione with a hurt expression on his face. She nodded once and stared at him without blinking. She had wanted Harry to know, but Ron had forbidden it. She had left before he was fully recovered and to her recollection, he had only mentioned it exactly once in all the years since.

“Why…” Harry began, his face anguished, “why couldn’t you tell me something like that?”

“Didn’t seem important in the scheme of things, really,” Ron answered. His answer bothered Hermione greatly; she knew that at the time it had nearly destroyed Ron but he had been determined to hide it from his friend. Hermione knew now that Ron had been trying to protect Harry.

Harry, however, said nothing and merely stared into the magical orange flames. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Ron stood and pulled Andie to her feet. As he walked past Harry, he put his hand down to lightly grip the other man’s shoulder. Harry turned his gaze to Ron and Hermione saw something flicker unspoken between them. A moment later, Harry relaxed his shoulders and quietly bade his friends a goodnight.

Hermione watched him in silence before leaning towards him and snuggling against his arm. He lifted it and wrapped it around her shoulders. Taking in a deep breath of his scent, she closed her eyes and rested against his chest, concentrating on his steady heartbeat.

He held her like that so long that Hermione lost track of time as her thoughts wandered away. She was thinking of that time in her life, when Harry was gone and she still fancied herself in love with Ron. She recalled her feelings as that love began to fade into something else…

Harry’s hands were on her face, immediately pulling her thoughts from the far-off place they had drifted to. He was looking at her with such a varied mix of emotions in his emerald eyes that she felt a slight panic rise in her chest, wondering if he would pull away from her again. That’s what he’d done the last time, when everything was settled and she thought they’d all have a chance at a real life; he went away from her, taking a lifetime’s worth of guilt on his shoulders.

The face that she saw this time, however, was the face of a young man, more sure of his place in the world. Before, he had still been a boy, but with the eyes of an old man. He had grown into his own skin, finally, and this was how he faced her today.

And as if he’d heard her exact thoughts, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips and whispered, “I’m so sorry, for everything.”

She hushed him and pressed her lips to his, feeling her very foundations crumbling beneath her. There was something different in his kiss on this night. The others had been such a mix of emotions: lust, confusion, heat, hunger and something else, something she hadn’t been able to name. Tonight, the kiss was entirely that something else. It spoke of their shared history and their separate histories. It bespoke of many unwanted emotions that had taken them so far apart from one another and it told of the hope and trust that was the most basic element of their friendship. It was too much at once and as she pushed back from him, she knew immediately what it was.

She was hopelessly in love with him and it transcended anything she had felt previously. There was a brief glimmer of understanding in his eyes as she moved back from him, consolidating into her own space.

Tentatively, he touched a hand to her face. “We need to talk, Hermione. You can’t put it off any longer.” His tone was different than it had been for the previous request of this conversation. This was simply a desire to talk to her, to tell her everything that he needed to. She pressed her face into his palm and nodded, her earlier reserves melting away at the feel of his touch.

“Yes, I know. Where do we start?”

He smiled at her, so sweetly, and kissed her gently on the lips. “Tell me, Hermione…”he paused and took a deep breath, “tell me how you feel about – me- us, and this, whatever this is.”

She hooked a finger under his chin and pulled it up so that she could look at him squarely, marveling at the sudden Gryffindor bravery that had welled up inside of her. “I – I’ve, well, I… after all this time, and everything we’ve been through…I love you, Harry,” she pushed out hurriedly, her voice softening to a whisper.

She was mortified at her own words, but Harry just chuckled. “It’s madness, isn’t it? I mean, should I say all those horribly cliché things like ‘If only we’d known sooner…’ or ‘How could we have fooled ourselves for so long?’”

Laughing, she kissed him soundly and smiled as he pulled her body flush against his, stretching out on one of the conjured blankets. His face was serious as he looked down at her. “I love you, Hermione and I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to find you again.”

Sighing, she allowed herself to be wrapped in his arms and subjected to hundreds of delicate little kisses on her neck. She breathed in the smell of him, spice and the woods, and smiled to herself as recognition clicked into place.

***

Amazingly, Harry reflected later, they hadn’t let themselves get carried away in the Weasleys’ back garden. They had talked about their feelings, about their relationship, past and present and had reveled in simply being with each other. Not to be misunderstood, it hadn’t really been due to any effort on his part that they hadn’t gotten carried away. His idea had been to toss her over his shoulder and take her home to Hogsmeade, but she had laughed him off and only snuggled closer to him.

They had fallen asleep as the magical fire burned low into the night. Just before daybreak, they had awoken, chilly and stiff-limbed. They made quick work of getting the garden cleaned up before heading inside, giggling and whispering. Of course, several people were already up and moving around, so they had to sneak carefully upstairs and get ready for the day.

True to her word, Molly returned at 8am, with her husband, Carole Granger and grandchildren all in toe. The general noise level in the house increased threefold as the children began hastily tearing through their Christmas gifts, the general din occasionally punctuated by a squeal of delight. Harry had showered quickly and made it downstairs before everyone had shown up, but Hermione was only coming down the stairs about fifteen minutes after they’d arrived.

Only Ginny seemed to notice and her only hint of acknowledgement was a single, raised eyebrow. Hermione had winked subtly at her before turning her attention to the frenzy of gift unwrapping on the floor.

It was the first Christmas morning that Harry could recall spent with young children. He had never returned for Christmas holidays after leaving for the States and his seventh year’s Christmas had been spent in a cellar with Ron and Hermione at some safe house in Wales. It was a definite event in his eyes and he hadn’t been so amused in a long time. He and Hermione had spent countless hours shopping for just the right gifts for the brood, even down to Bill and Fleur’s young twins. Trips to both Muggle and Wizarding London had been necessary and he felt it had been well worth it as Sadie and Bea each picked through a large trunk of magical dress clothes and Isaac played with two miniature racing brooms. Hermione had picked out two stuffed elephants for the twins, one in pink and the other in lavender. Harry had had the hardest time deciding on a gift for baby Colin, who had just turned one. Hermione had found a magical toyshop in Diagon Alley and they had decided on a little magical keyboard that had something like 1000 different sounds. Fred was already giving them slightly threatening glares.

There were a couple hours of quiet after everyone opened gifts. Guests for the Christmas dinner would be arriving after 1pm and everyone was pretty much free to do what they wished during the interim. Hermione had been tugged away to the kitchen by Andie and Fleur and Harry had settled in the living room with Ron for a game of wizard’s chess.

“Checkmate,” Ron said finally, after Harry had made a dismal attempt at play. “Shall we have another game?”

Harry nodded his reply and the pieces on the board quickly moved to their starting positions. Ron called out an opening move that Harry immediately recognized. It left him fairly well trapped and he knew that Ron would easily control the game.

He called out his own move and one of the pawns turned and began telling him off. After some prodding, the piece slid forward and was quickly attacked by one of Ron’s pieces. Harry eventually lost the second game in a predictable fashion and Ron was looking at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted horns.

“What?” Harry asked.

“What’s wrong with you today? You haven’t played like this since Hogwarts.”

Harry shrugged. “My head’s not really in it, I guess. I-“

“Stop,” Ron interrupted. “You don’t need to say anything about last night at the fire. I – well, I should have told you ages ago and I should be the one apologizing. There was just too much going on at the time, with all of us, and I didn’t want to add anything to your issues.”

Ron looked distinctly uncomfortable as he said this, avoiding Harry’s gaze completely. Harry just nodded and moved to reset the chessboard. The conversation was over, Harry knew, and it was an issue better left alone. He quickly put his head into their game, but it was already lost.

“I spent a lot of time playing myself,” Harry said without prompting. “You have to learn quite a bit about it if you want to be even remotely entertained playing by yourself.”

Ron laughed and nodded. “Tell me about it. At least a wizarding chess set can be magicked to play by itself. Muggle pieces are just little bits of plastic.”

“Dudley only ever had one chess set. It was one of those travel-sized ones and I think he tried to shoot all the pieces out of an air rifle.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Wotcher, Harry, Ron! Happy Christmas!” Tonks and Remus arrived via Floo into the Weasleys’ living room just as they had finished packing up the chess set. Harry went over to greet them as Molly Weasley came in, unburdening them of their food hampers.

“Lovely to see you, Tonks, Remus. You look wonderful, Tonks,” Molly said as she kissed Remus’ cheek and patted Tonks on the shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Tonks placed a hand over her slightly rounded lower abdomen and smiled, “Better than I have in weeks.”

Molly beamed at her. “Lovely! Come in and have a seat then. Dinner will be up as soon as the others have arrived.”

“The others” included Professor McGonagall, Neville and Luna Longbottom and Andie’s family. A short interval passed before they were all seated at the elongated table, passing around the dozens of dishes. The meal passed by without any excitement until dessert. At this point, a sleek, dark brown owl darted in and dropped two letters: one at Professor McGonagall’s place and the other at Harry’s. It flew out again just as suddenly, leaving a silent kitchen in its wake.

“Who’s the owl from?” Hermione asked him, trying to peak at the front of it. Harry shrugged and threw a brief glance at McGonagall before breaking the red wax seal.

P-

All is not quiet on the Eastern front. Prepare for further contact.

-M

C-261204-1930

There was a clamor as Professor McGonagall began admonishing him to put the note away. Something is his face must have given his thoughts away, because Hermione was whispering in his ear, “What’s wrong? What does it say?”

He shrugged her off and shook his head. Minerva nodded her head at him and he tucked the note into his robe pocket.

“Well, is anyone ready for a cup of tea in the living room? There’s another concert on the wireless this evening,” Molly asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Several members of the assembled group assented and there was much rustling as people began to take leave of the table. He waited until most of the family had trickled away and only he and Hermione remained with Professor McGonagall. Harry had maneuvered to block his old teacher in the kitchen and had inadvertently piqued Hermione’s curiosity.

“What’s in your letter?” Harry asked, his tone fairly severe.

“Watch your tone, Mr. Potter. You are not the only member of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“I apologize, Professor. Now, please, tell me.”

“I don’t know,” McGonagall sniffed. “I’ve not had a spare moment to read mine, have I? I didn’t deem it necessary to interrupt a holiday meal for a poorly timed missive.”

Harry felt his face redden and he looked down at his shoes, immediately contrite. He waited in silence, however, knowing that he should let Professor McGonagall be the first to speak.

“I’m going to take a moment for some fresh air. If there’s anything to tell, I’ll find you,” she said finally, before heading out of the kitchen.

“Harry!” Hermione admonished. “I can’t believe you spoke to her like that! What does your note say?”

Wordlessly, Harry handed over the folded parchment and Hermione quickly scanned it.

“How long have you been receiving communications from Malfoy?”

“About a week.”

Hermione glared at him. “What do these numbers mean?”

“It’s code: a location, date and time.”

“So you’re actually going to meet with him?”

“I have to,” Harry replied quietly. “His information on Beryan was good and I need to speak to him about his mother. Helping us may have cost him greatly – we still aren’t sure why Beryan killed Narcissa Malfoy.”

He could tell by her stance that Hermione was furious, but he refused to apologize. Even if he’d only told her last night about the true depth of his feelings, it hadn’t meant that he hadn’t known his own emotions. He had loved Hermione, even without really knowing it, for a long time and keeping her out of harm’s way had been an easy decision.

She finally sighed and gave him a withering look. “I want to be privy to this meeting. Figure out a way for me to join you.”

“We’ll see,” Harry said, feeling that it really wasn’t the time or place to be having this discussion. “Let it drop for now, please. Hermione, I love you and you have to understand my position here.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake. He’d shown his hand too early and now, her gaze had turned stony.

“How dare you, Harry Potter. I am a senior member of the Order of the Phoenix and you cannot keep information like this from me. Our personal feelings for each other aside, you should have told me you were the one communicating with him! We had no idea if he was trustworthy and you are putting yourself in danger if you go to meet him, regardless of whether or not his information was helpful. We had all those rumors of his role in those previous attacks…”

Harry cupped her face in his hands, “I know all that Hermione; I swear that I do, but I had to take that chance. Amidst all those rumors, he sought us out and gave us information following the attack on Diagon Alley – we’ve only communicated via owl, never face to face. I need to speak with him in person now and I hope you can understand why.”

Her face softened somewhat and she nodded, leaning into his touch somewhat. “You have to stay safe, too, Harry. I still feel like something’s not right about…anything.”

“Tell me about it,” he replied. “I still don’t like this Tynan bloke.”

Her anger flared slightly at his comment as she had decided she’d had enough of all his suspicions. “Oh, come off it; you know that isn’t what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with him. I realize that you think of Ginny as a little sister and all, but don’t you think you’re taking this too far?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, his voice steady. “There’s something off about him and his whole family and I’ll be checking into him on Monday. Arthur and Ron both agree with me. When the war was at its pinnacle and the chips were down, the Laheys did nothing. Some of the Order members suspected them of involvement with the Death Eaters, but nothing came of it. Arthur says any inquiries at the Ministry were halted.”

“What does that have to do with anything now?”

“Hermione, can’t you just trust me on this? My instinct says that there’s something wrong with this guy and I’m just going to check into it. If I’m wrong, I’ll stay out of the whole affair – I’ll even buy the guy a drink. For now, he’s just too close to this family for me to let it go.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Fine, but when you muck everything up and Ginny takes your head off, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Fair enough. Now, I’ve decided that I need to be at the Ministry more over the coming weeks. Tonks is going to set me up in the Magical Law Enforcement office so that I can gather information.”

“Is the Minister all right with that?”

A commotion at the door of the kitchen prevented him answering. McGonagall rushed into the kitchen with Arthur and Remus in tow. Molly rushed in after them, using her wand to seal the door between the living room and kitchen.

“Harry, Hermione, Draco Malfoy has gone missing. Kingsley Shacklebolt arranged a meeting with him this afternoon and he never showed. The safe house he was located in has been ransacked.”

“That’s not possible, Professor,” Harry replied. “The owl I received was from Malfoy, he arranged for a meeting tomorrow.”

“Mr. Malfoy has specifically requested that he not meet with you, Harry. He said it would be too dangerous for both of you if you were spotted.”

Harry groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he handed his letter over to McGonagall. She cast some sort of spell and shook her head, “This letter doesn’t contain Mr. Malfoy’s magical signature.”

Hermione’s face had gone ghostly pale as she looked at him. He held her gaze for a moment before nodding at McGonagall. “What do we do next?”

“Shacklebolt is already attempting to locate Malfoy, there are a few other meeting points arranged. We’ll receive an update within the hour,” Arthur said.

“If we don’t learn anything new, we’ll send a team to follow his trail.”

“Is there anything else that can be done?” Hermione asked.

Professor McGonagall shook her head, a grim expression on her face. “We can only wait for more information. If we attempt to take any action without further news, we risk putting Mr. Malfoy in further danger.”

The rest of her position was left unspoken: the Order was still unsure of the loyalties of the former Death Eater and until that was resolved, they could be placing members’ lives in jeopardy by actively pursuing Malfoy. The fact that someone knew, or had even guessed, that Harry and Malfoy had been communicating was a serious enough problem as it stood.

There was a loud knock at the door, interrupting the tense silence that had settled over the kitchen. Hermione jumped nervously at the noise and turned as she heard Ginny’s voice softly through the silencing charm.

“Mum? We’re leaving in a moment, I just wanted to say goodbye to everyone.”

Molly wearily raised her wand and opened the door, admitting Ginny and Tynan into the somber room. The young couple didn’t seem to notice, however, as Ginny bustled over and gathered her mother into a warm hug.

“Happy Christmas, Mum. Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime, dear.”

“Dinner was wonderful, Mrs. Weasley,” Tynan said as he grasped Molly’s hand and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for having me.”

“It was a pleasure; you’re welcome back anytime, of course. Travel safely, please. How are you getting home?”

“We’ll Apparate to London and from there, take the international Floo from King’s Cross,” Ginny replied as she buttoned a long, moss green cloak over her robes. ”I don’t expect any problems.”

“Lovely. Owl me tomorrow then,” Molly said as she led them to the door. The others gathered in the kitchen voiced their goodbyes and a chorus of “Happy Christmas” was heard as the couple departed.

Harry was frowning, Hermione noticed, and his eyes were cold. He was looking carefully at Molly, who was fidgeting with the handkerchief she held. Arthur had an arm wrapped around his wife’s shoulders and was watching through the kitchen window as Ginny and Tynan walked to the Apparition point. After several moments of silence, Molly quietly offered everyone a cup of tea and they were all seated at the table once again.

As they sat and waited, other members of the family began to filter through the kitchen. Angelina and Fred were headed home with their children and George and Katie weren’t far behind. Charlie and his wife left with an already sleeping Isaac, the boy’s strawberry blond head tucked against his dad’s neck. Fleur and Bill were the last to leave, following behind Neville’s family. Tonks had left sometime earlier, admonishing Remus to keep her updated and Ron and Andie had been quietly apprised of the situation. They too were now seated at the table to await any news from Shacklebolt.

Hermione sighed miserably. A very happy Christmas day had deteriorated into this waiting game. There was so much up in the air now: Harry’s safety, Malfoy’s whereabouts and his loyalties. What did this all mean? It was almost too much to bear in her emotionally heightened state. The general uncertainty of the situation coupled with her newly realized feelings for Harry was making her nauseous as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He had his head bent towards a piece of parchment, upon which he was furiously scribbling. The quill he was using had been charmed and the letters and phrases were all jumbled on the page. A bit of anger flared up at his secrecy, but she quickly quelled it.

There was a tapping at the window and a barn owl fluttered into the room as Mrs. Weasley opened the pane with a flick of her wand.

The owl dropped a letter in front of Harry and hopped to the end of the table to wait patiently for a response.

She peeked over his shoulder as he cast a de-cloaking charm over the parchment.

Harry,

Whereabouts of M. are still unknown. We’ve received some news about Beryan’s group that has led us to believe that we’re not yet through dealing with them. There is a team following the lead. Call Order members for a meeting tomorrow evening.

Shacklebolt

Harry handed the note over to McGonagall and ran his hands through his hair. Hermione tangled her fingers through his under the table and squeezed his hand gently. After a moment, he squeezed back and began speaking quietly.

“We’ll call the meeting for the day after tomorrow, just in case this has somehow been intercepted. I’d like to set up a schedule of arrivals to Idyllwild; people need to be arriving in small groups of two and three throughout the day. I want provisions in place in case we need to set up safe houses. I recognize that this is still a very unsure situation, but I won’t be caught off guard. Prepare as if we have knowledge of another attack.”

“Do you really feel that’s necessary, Harry?” Professor McGonagall asked, her voice stiff.

“It may be overkill, but I won’t take that chance. We have to be ready; I may have underestimated them and without knowing exactly where Malfoy’s loyalties lie, we can’t be too careful.”

The others gathered around the table nodded their agreement before Harry continued. “We’ll clear out for the night, but I want everyone to be careful. Constant vigilance and all that. If there’s anything out of the ordinary, contact another Order member immediately. Professor, I can trust that you’ll contact Remus and make arrangements for the meeting?”

“Absolutely.”

“Molly, Arthur, please get in touch with the rest of your family and let them know what’s going on. I’d like plans made for the children to be taken to a safe place if anything should happen.“

“Is there anything you’d like us to do, Harry?” Ron asked quietly.

Harry shook his head. “I hate to say it, but I’m wondering if perhaps poisoning Andie wasn’t just a way to get to you, Ron. If it’s alright, I’d like for you to stay here tonight and I’ll carefully check the wards at your house. If everything’s alright, you can go back in the morning.”

“And you think it’ll be safe for the two of you to return home?” Ron replied.

Harry just shrugged. “We’ll check the wards first, of course and if anything is wrong, we’ll return here.”

It was obvious to Hermione that absolutely no one, including herself, agreed with this, but she didn’t really feel like arguing at this moment. Additional plans were made and promises given to notify everyone if anything new was discovered before they all separated for the night.

Harry led Hermione silently from the kitchen into the back garden. He clasped their hands together and apparated them to the edge of Hogsmeade. With a single motion, he asked her to remain silent as they began creeping through the darkened streets towards their home.

With a simple ward-detecting charm, Harry quickly saw that something was amiss at their house. His wand had touched the edge of the ward as he’d whispered the detection charm and a violent shudder had coursed through the holly. He whispered yet another charm and a faint, teal aura glowed around the house. He carefully scanned the wards, checking for a breach and took in a sharp breath when he saw a violet tear in the magical protections. Someone had obviously broken through, but the grounds surrounding the cottage were silent.

Hermione cast several charms of her own and they quickly realized that no one was present in their home. Harry waved her back to a safer distance and began to move quickly towards the front door. He opened the door and slinked through the entryway, not turning on any lights and doing his best to avoid making any noise. There was a strange rustling noise coming from the living room and he held his breath as he entered the dark room.

A single beam of moonlight was shining almost directly on to the fireplace mantle. Pinned to the wood was a cutout from the Daily Prophet and it was obviously the source of the strange rustling noise. A draft from the fireplace was pushing the paper back and forth and Harry quickly crossed the room to see what the page contained.

It was an article from the Prophet that had come out just the day before. A Healer at St. Mungo’s had directly credited Hermione with saving the life of one of the injured from the explosion in Diagon Alley. At the top of the page was a picture of Hermione at the scene of the explosion. All around her, people were bustling, but the gray and white figure was completely still. The pin used to affix that paper to the mantle had been driven right through the heart of the Hermione in the photo, rendering her lifeless. Harry peered at the gruesome photo and let his eyes trail down to the hurried script across the caption.

The debt must be paid.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.

9. Chapter IX

A Long Way from Home

Summary: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Again - my apologies for taking so long to get this out! Real life has been amazingly hectic and I just haven't been able to find the time to write. This chapter has been bottled up inside me for far too long and I think it's much longer than usual because of it. A few little disclaimers: I've never been to Paris, so if there's something off about it, let me know! Also, the information that I present on a few well-known locations in Britain is almost completely created by me. The few facts that I did use were garnered from Wikipedia and the rest is artistic license.
Thanks for reading - please review, if you like, on your way out!

Excerpt from Chapter VIII:

“And you think it’ll be safe for the two of you to return home?” Ron replied.

Harry just shrugged. “We’ll check the wards first, of course and if anything is wrong, we’ll return here.”

It was obvious to Hermione that absolutely no one, including herself, agreed with this, but she didn’t really feel like arguing at this moment. Additional plans were made and promises given to notify everyone if anything new was discovered before they all separated for the night.

Harry led Hermione silently from the kitchen into the back garden. He clasped their hands together and apparated them to the edge of Hogsmeade. With a single motion, he asked her to remain silent as they began creeping through the darkened streets towards their home.

With a simple ward-detecting charm, Harry quickly saw that something was amiss at their house. His wand had touched the edge of the ward as he’d whispered the detection charm and a violent shudder had coursed through the holly. He whispered yet another charm and a faint, teal aura glowed around the house. He carefully scanned the wards, checking for a breach and took in a sharp breath when he saw a violet tear in the magical protections. Someone had obviously broken through, but the grounds surrounding the cottage were silent.

Hermione cast several charms of her own and they quickly realized that no one was present in their home. Harry waved her back to a safer distance and began to move quickly towards the front door. He opened the door and slinked through the entryway, not turning on any lights and doing his best to avoid making any noise. There was a strange rustling noise coming from the living room and he held his breath as he entered the dark room.

A single beam of moonlight was shining almost directly on to the fireplace mantle. Pinned to the wood was a cutout from the Daily Prophet and it was obviously the source of the strange rustling noise. A draft from the fireplace was pushing the paper back and forth and Harry quickly crossed the room to see what the page contained.

It was an article from the Prophet that had come out just the day before. A Healer at St. Mungo’s had directly credited Hermione with saving the life of one of the injured from the explosion in Diagon Alley. At the top of the page was a picture of Hermione at the scene of the explosion. All around her, people were bustling, but the gray and white figure was completely still. The pin used to affix that paper to the mantle had been driven right through the heart of the Hermione in the photo, rendering her lifeless. Harry peered at the gruesome photo and let his eyes trail down to the hurried script across the caption.

The debt must be paid.

Chapter IX

Hermione slammed a drawer of her roll top desk with impressive panache. A close look at her calendar revealed that she had been trapped in this forsaken castle for 49 days and frankly, she was sick of the sight of it. Idyllwild Castle was beautiful, to be sure, but it wasn’t her quiet, comfortable house in Hogsmeade, or her safe little cottage in Scotland. This wasn’t home for her, but she was halted by the thought that she wasn’t sure what was home anymore. Harry had been her home, hadn’t he? Her time in Scotland had felt like some strange extended vacation, for since she had been eleven years old, her home had been wherever Harry was. Harry wasn’t bodily present now and had barely contacted her during their separation.

She was beginning to feel a fool for having been stuck inside this castle for so long. Harry Potter wasn’t her guardian, or even her lover. He had summarily dumped her at the castle, mumbling nonsense about keeping her safe before disappearing completely. She’d received numerous owls, few from him, all magically concealed and bearing news from the wizarding world. There had been daily deliveries of the Prophet as well as notes from her friends and family.

The only person that had visited had been Ginny. She had avoided discussing Harry with Hermione, opting instead to tell her the latest about her boyfriend. Whatever misgivings Hermione may have had about Harry’s doubts about the man were no longer just that. She secretly despised the perfection of the auburn-haired “dream man” and she was dreadfully jealous of everything Ginny told her. Harry had completely avoided any sort of personal discussion in his few letters. The only hint of anything but friendship was today’s post-script pleading that she remain in the castle and stay safe. He would be coming to see her in just two days, on February 14th. She was angered at herself for wondering if he was aware of the significance of the date.

Tugging her hand through her hair, Hermione pulled her gaze away from the tapestry-adorned wall and looked down to her notes. Neatly arranged on the table lay various pages, containing images and articles duplicated from the Daily Prophet, all surrounded by her careful and complete notes: dates, names, locations and small maps, transcribed references to ancient wizarding buildings and obscure government offices. She had the taste of a theory on her tongue and knew that it was just outside of her reach. She needed a link or a trigger. Inspiration really.

In frustration, she pushed her chair back from the table and stood to survey the room. It surely wouldn’t come from anything in here. There was nothing cozy about this room, nothing familiar about its protective walls. She had been here countless times, but felt no sense of belonging. It was merely a safe place to meet and a convenient place to lodge.

She turned from her desk and headed out of the study. Two doors down the hall were her personal quarters and in the opposite direction were the Order room, which was depressingly empty, and the other common areas of the castle. She paused a moment and inhaled the sticky sweet scent of a hot August day, still unused to the enchantment over the castle that altered the seasons. The charmed windows opposite her displayed a bright golden day and an endless field of gently waving barley. She was saddened to remember a Muggle song her mother used to play all the time, by that singer called Sting, and felt a pang of loneliness in her gut. Harry had shown such indifference to her pleadings to see him, or to go to the Burrow for a bit. He had blatantly ignored her imploring questions of his wellbeing. The memory of her declaration of love for him had soured and left her embarrassed for her moments of weakness. She had succumbed to the romance, the sweetness of the idea of being in love with Harry and she had spent the past 49 days punishing herself for it.

A low chiming noise alerted her that someone had entered the main foyer. Knowing that it would be Ginny, but almost hoping that it wasn’t, she headed down the long hall to greet her friend. When she finally came into view, Ginny’s arms were loaded down with blue irises, wrapped in some sort of cloth. Hermione watched as she hefted them to her left side and waved at her. Returning the wave, Hermione smiled and inwardly admonished herself for her momentary dread of this visit.

“I was asked to deliver these to you,” she said as she handed over the armful of flowers. Hermione instinctively bent her head and sniffed the closest flower, reveling momentarily in their slight fragrance.

“They’re lovely,” Hermione replied, carefully avoiding the subject of the sender of the bouquet.

“They’re from Harry,” Ginny prompted, smiling tightly at Hermione.

Hermione sighed and turned to lay them down gently on the hall table. She said nothing and looked intently at the rich cherry wood of the table top.

“You know he just wants to keep you safe, Hermione. I know it’s miserable in here, but he can’t be blamed for his paranoia, not after the break-in and that creepy picture.”

“I know,” Hermione said as she fingered one of the irises gently. “Any other news? How are Ron and Andie?” she said quickly, turning around once again to look at Ginny.

Ginny shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Ron’s taken a leave of absence to work with Harry and Andie is doing well with her classes. She said your mum has been helping her around the house, and can even put weight on her leg now.”

Hermione let out a breath. “He said I couldn’t even go visit her.”

Ginny placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Why don’t I bring her along tomorrow? I think I’ve figured out a way to do it safely.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, brightening.

“Absolutely. But you must make me a deal first. I’m going to break you out of here; come to Paris tonight, we’ll go to the Musée. Harry will never know.”

“What happened to your understanding of his paranoia?”

“I understand it, but I don’t condone it. You’re a grown witch and can take care of yourself. You’ll come to my flat and we’ll go right to the Musée. It’ll be closed down for the night and perfectly safe. Our wards are some of the best in the world.”

After some hesitation, Hermione agreed. Harry’s flowers had angered her further and she had decided, in the few minutes since Ginny had arrived, that she was done living by his rules. Ginny seemed surprised and laughed excitedly.

“You’ll really come along? Have you ever been?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to go. Le musée du Sorcière is supposed to be one of the most enchanting buildings in the wizarding world.”

“I see you’ve read our brochure,” Ginny quipped. “I’d love to stay, but I’m afraid I only came by for just a few moments. I’ll meet you right back here at eight o’clock, dress comfortably and bring a cloak. I’m owed a favor and we may be able to go grab a late dinner.”

Hermione was delighted by Ginny’s chatter as her friend wrapped an ebony cloak around her thin shoulders. With a few deft movements of her hands, her dark red hair had fallen into place, just skimming her cloak. She smiled grandly.

“You promise you’ll come? Really?”

“You’ve got me too excited now; I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hermione replied, returning the smile and holding open the door of the castle.

“Lovely,” Ginny said before slipping through the door and letting it shut softly behind her.

Hermione felt a nervous little twitter in her stomach after Ginny was out of sight. Truth be told, the picture in the paper, when she had eventually seen it, had horrified her. Initially, she had been somewhat relieved to be in a secure place, but when she had realized Harry didn’t intend to join her, her resentment and anger had taken hold.

Now, she was feeling slightly lightheaded. She would leave this castle and enjoy her night out. She was a full-grown witch and had shown on multiple occasions that she could more than take care of herself. She felt like a captive, or even worse, some damsel locked in the tower. She was an intelligent witch, was halfway to publishing a paper about magical theory. She was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, outside of the shadow of Harry Potter.

She took a deep breath and headed back to her quarters to get ready for her evening. In a few minutes, she was closing the heavy wooden door behind her and surveying the room carefully. Her main room was a simple, yet elegant sitting area that reminded of her of the Gryffindor common room. There were comfortable chairs and cushions scattered throughout the room. There was a bedroom off of the lounge and through a set of double doors to the left were a large bathroom and a walk-in closet big enough to fit a double bed. On the opposite wall from the hallway was another set of doors, leading out to a solarium and terrace. Her private reading collection was stored in the small solarium – its delivery marked the first time in several weeks she hadn’t been angry with Harry. A desk in the corner of the lounge housed her work on the theory, untouched since before the holidays.

She walked across the room, stepping from her shoes and removing her button-down white shirt, revealing a white camisole underneath. With a flick of her wand as she reached the bathroom, the large tub in the middle of the room began to fill with perfectly warmed water and mountains of lavender bubbles. She removed the rest of her clothing and wound her long curls to the top of her head before stepping into the hot water. She bathed and rested in the water for awhile before stepping into her closet to pick her clothes for the evening. She selected a pair of straight-legged black slacks and grabbed a pair of high-heeled black leather boots. A few seconds more of consideration garnered a blousy shirt, with bits of purple and black scattered through its pattern. She picked a set of deep plum robes to wear over the ensemble and cast a cushioning charm on the shoes to make them more museum-appropriate. She wondered if her outfit was a bit overdone, but it was her first time out in far too long.

True to her word, Ginny arrived promptly at eight, the chimes notifying Hermione of her arrival. Hermione picked a black winter cloak from her closet and tied it around her shoulders as she swished down the hallway. She tucked her wand into a long pocket and followed Ginny outside of the castle.

Ginny linked her arm to Hermione’s and held out a broken slide-rule. Hermione grasped the other end of it and closed her eyes briefly as the familiar hook took hold…

They came to a stop inside a loft apartment. Softly glimmering moonlight streamed through the windows, highlighting an amazing view over Paris. Hermione took in a deep breath as she spotted the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. She grinned as she picked out long-adored spots in one of her favorite cities. She had visited it once more with her parents, before seventh year and had fallen in love all over again. For some reason, she hadn’t yet been to visit Ginny.

“This is just amazing,” she breathed, looking out over the sprawling city. The height of the building and the skillfully designed windows gave her the feeling of floating over the sprawling city, with thousands of lights twinkling below. She sighed happily and strained her eyes trying to take in everything at once.

“I could never go back to London after this,” Ginny said quietly as she joined Hermione at the windows. “Who could?”

“England will always be home,” Hermione replied, “but it never hurts to visit Paris as frequently as possible.”

Ginny’s tinkling laugh echoed in the large loft. “Are you ready to go?”

Hermione tore her gaze from the view below her and nodded. They went out into a hallway that housed a private lift and made their way to the ground level of the building. Hermione took in a deep breath as they exited onto the sidewalk. It was cold and snowing lightly, magnifying all of the glittering lights. The Musée was a brief walk from Ginny’s home and they were shadowed by a guard from the staff, cementing Hermione’s feelings of safety and wellbeing in the foreign city.

An ancient stone edifice rose in front of them, looking dreary and abandoned to muggle eyes. Hermione, on the other hand, saw regal columns and polished marble stairs leading up to the heavy glass doors of the largest wizarding museum in the world. Contained within its walls were famous paintings, ancient artifacts and obscure grimoires. It housed an advanced school for the study of magic, accepting less than twenty-five new students to conduct research each year. Offered daily were lessons and lectures, on every topic from ancient magical geography to cooking. Ginny had been responsible for introducing an exhibit hall, which changed its focus every three or four months. A sign posted on the door announced that the exhibit was on Magical Britain, a subject obviously very close to Hermione’s heart.

As it was closed for the night, the lobby of the museum was empty and bathed in pale light from the security torches along the walls. Ginny waved her wand at some sort of turnstile and they passed through the main gallery. It was a long room, stretching so far into the darkness that Hermione couldn’t even see its end. Ginny flicked her wand again and soft light flared up around the room, allowing her to better take in her surroundings. On either wall running the length of the room were a collection of paintings and prints ranging from oversized portraits to tiny, postcard sized landscapes. Each had some magical element to it, either the paintings moved or the images changed, rendering a 360° view of a landscape. She was enchanted by a small painting that displayed a seaside village, the background slowly dissolving into a night-time setting. Lights came on the little dwellings and pinpricks of starlight appeared in the velvety blackness of the night sky. A large canvas displayed a solitary witch in a thatched cottage, waving her wand over a tall cauldron bubbling with some devilish looking, blood-red liquid. When Hermione’s eyes fell on the witch’s face, the painted figure gave her a stony glare. A little ripple of fright shuddered through her back, delighting her.

“This is breathtaking,” she said in an awe-filled whisper. “I can’t believe you come through here everyday.”

“This is nothing, I promise you. Come on, we’ll do a proper tour and start at the top.”

Ginny led her over to a bank of lifts and they ascended to the sixth floor of the building. The buffed gold doors of the lift slid open to reveal another long gallery, this one housing the traveling exhibit.

A large overhead banner proclaimed the name of the exhibit, “A History of British Magic.”

“It’s not a very good name for an exhibit, but alas, I don’t have control over every detail,” Ginny said, with a trace of annoyance in her voice.

Hermione shrugged and immediately turned her attention to a large map posted on the wall. Purple glittering dots shimmered over its surface and she touched a finger to one of them in Scotland.

Gold writing materialized in front of her, scrolling through an explanation.

“The Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry is one of the oldest wizarding establishments in Britain. There are four houses…”

“That’s fantastic,” Hermione said. “I love how this works.”

“It’s a new type of map designed by Ty’s company. They’re hoping to make books a little more interactive, like you can touch a word in the index and it takes you right to that page in the book.”

“Sounds like Tynan has spent time around muggle computers,” Hermione replied as she selected a dot in southern England.

“Avebury is home to a large stone henge and several stone circles. It is home to one of the largest wizarding libraries in the world, outside of Hogwarts and this museum. The stone structures are similar to, though older than, Stonehenge, located only 20 miles south of Avebury. Both properties are owned by the National Trust.”

Hermione nodded satisfactorily.

“Did you hear about the break-in at the National Trust?” Ginny asked her, breaking through Hermione’s silence.

“Of course. All of the records regarding Avebury and Stonehenge were taken and the muggle government is in a tizzy.”

“Didn’t you find the story a bit strange?” Ginny replied, looking carefully at Hermione.

Hermione searched Ginny’s gaze for a clue about this line of questioning before nodding her head slowly. She had, in fact, been researching the incident since its occurrence on January the 18th. She had been attempting to draw connections between it and a few other odd break-ins. “Yes, there are some odd circumstances surrounding it. There were no signs of forced entry and no fingerprints found anywhere. In fact, every reference to the two sites is completely gone. Why?”

Ginny shrugged. “I heard Mum talking about it the other day and just wondered your opinion. You know that I don’t get included in much Order business, usually only research projects.”

Hermione winced and nodded. She had often partnered with Ginny on Order research and recalled that Ginny had become very skilled at sifting through and cataloguing huge amounts of information, which undoubtedly made her very good at her job. “I feel a bit out of the loop on this one as well. Admittedly, the news about the Avebury files had me a bit shaken. I spent some time there during that year…” she trailed off, unsure of how much she should say.

Ginny’s eyebrows rose. “Do you have a theory about the break-ins?”

“Nothing cohesive and nothing I’d really like to discuss…in public,” she finished, her excuse sounding lame even to her own ears.

Ginny’s lips tightened and she nodded her head curtly. They continued down the gallery, stopping in an exhibit about ancient magical sites. Surrounding them were scale versions of the sites and Hermione took her time to explore each one, letting her thoughts mull over the happenings of the past few weeks.

On Boxing Day, her first full day at Idyllwild, the Ministry had been broken into. There were no records of disturbances in the security wards and nothing had been taken. They only knew of the break-in because of the strange, new magical devices called See-It-Alls, which recorded the visual events of a given area to a Pensieve, much like a muggle security camera. It showed three cloaked figures enter the Records office in the Department of Mysteries. Files were ransacked and duplicated, but the Ministry was still trying to figure out what had been copied.

Just a couple of weeks later, on the 18th, the National Trust incident had occurred and just a few days beyond that, another magical records office had been ransacked in Cumbria. She was hedging her bets on what exactly these strange cloaked figures were after, but she gathered that they had taken information about the stone circles she was looking at right now. Avebury held a special place in her heart, as she had learned a great deal in its library and had been stunned by the magic that flowed through its stone circles.

She and Professor McGonagall had worked tirelessly through the night in the circles and she had learned to harness the power that flowed there. It was that night that she had first learned of the spell that would ultimately defeat Voldemort. She had suspected in the time since that Ron and Harry had each been somewhere else, doing something similar, but to this day she knew no specifics.

The other piece of the puzzle was stranger still. Beginning just twelve days ago, there had been strange activities at Corfe Castle an, overall, completely unimportant building in British magical history. There was nothing spectacular about it and it had been home to strictly muggle families since its conception. However, nearly two weeks ago the buildings had completely self-destructed and the villagers in the surrounding environs had been leaving the area in droves. There was no known reason for any of it and upon being questioned the muggle villagers replied that they had never even heard of such a place. The only reason there was any Ministry investigation whatsoever were the magical signatures present at the site.

Yes, yes, strange happenings were afoot in the wizarding world and once again, Harry Potter was right at the center of it, leading nightly raids and information gathering missions to find out what was happening. This time, however, he had left her sequestered away in a castle, keeping her at arm’s length and safely out of harm’s way.

Hermione sighed audibly and felt Ginny’s arm link through her own.

“Come on, we’ll finish our short tour and I’ll take you out to dinner. I want you to tell me more about Avebury.”

“Alright,” Hermione responded quietly and allowed herself to be led through the museum.

Nearly two hours later, they had thoroughly explored the museum and Hermione was in a positively delightful mood. She had adored the magical artwork and shared several laughs with Ginny over the more bizarre wizard fashions of bygone days. The artifacts had all been fascinating and she had enjoyed matching the information in her head to the physical object in front of her. Now, after a short walk through Paris, they were seated in a small café and were once again discussing the stone circles.

“You mean, they used the stone circles to create new magic?” Ginny asked as she sipped a small cup full of black espresso.

Hermione nodded as she sipped her frothy coffee. “Yes, at the time, witches and wizards weren’t as constrained as they are now. They traveled frequently and had elaborate rituals in these stone circles. The use of magic itself was just very different, but the big three circles were Avebury, Stonehenge, and Castlerigg, hence the worry over what information was taken in the break-ins. Stonehenge was a primary location for healing rituals, as well as celebratory rituals – handfastings, namings and the like. Castlerigg was used for justice-type rituals. Some of our earliest trials were held there and they regularly employed complex rituals and potions to bring about true testimonies from witnesses. It was like some sort of ancient courtroom…”

Ginny was giggling but Hermione’s head had started to spin. Those three sites… could it be possible that it tied in so closely to the rituals that she, Harry and Ron had undergone so long ago? When she had been at Avebury, had they been visiting those other circles?

Feeling as if she had found another solid lead to work on, she abruptly stood from the table.

“I think I need to get home, Ginny.”

“Is everything alright?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, I just need to get back to work.”

Ginny seemed surprised, but did not question her friend any further. She left some bank notes on the table and they hustled from the restaurant, walking quickly back to Ginny’s flat.

In a short time, Hermione was portkeying back to Idyllwild, its windows lit welcomingly. She entered the main hall and tugged her heavy cloak and robes from her shoulders, intending to dump them in her room before resuming her research. At the door however, she stopped, feeling the hairs on her neck beginning to rise. She slowed her footsteps and held her wand ready at her side as she opened the door quietly.

She caught the light reflecting off a pair of spectacles only momentarily before a burst of light shot towards the ceiling. The entire room was blanketed in a soft, orange light and Hermione instantly saw Harry sitting in an overstuffed chair in the middle of the room.

He was glaring at her angrily, she noticed, which caused her mood to shift instantly. She had been prepared to write him an owl, letting him know what she was thinking, but the look on his face brooked no other conversation than the one they were about to have.

“Well, I’m surprised to see you here, especially two days earlier than planned,” she said, hoping in vain to steer the conversation.

“Where were you?” he ground out slowly, as he blatantly ignored her question.

“I was with Ginny,” she replied, attempting to keep her words even and neutral.

“I thought I told you not to leave the castle.” She noticed that his voice remained even, but his eyes were wild. The emerald irises flared with anger and fear, but of what?

“Yes, I suppose you did, but I wasn’t under the impression that you had any sort of right to dictate my behavior,” she replied, holding her head high and pointing her chin out ever so slightly. She felt the beginnings of a great temper flaring in her abdomen and pressed her lips together to keep herself from saying any more than was absolutely necessary.

Harry reddened and stammered, “You know that isn’t what I meant. I asked you to stay here, Hermione, so that you would be safe. Do you know what it was like to come here tonight, to find you missing and with no clue as to your whereabouts?”

“Actually, yes. I know exactly what that feels like Harry. As you’ll recall, it was three days before I found out you’d left of your own will so many years ago. I was insane, Harry, so don’t even think that I don’t know exactly how it feels.”

“Then how could you do this? Do you have any idea what they want to do to you? How dangerous it is for you out there?”

“That is such bullshit and you know it,” she spat out, her own choice of language surprising her. “You never minded putting me in danger’s path before, why does it matter now?”

“You know why,” he said quickly as he stood from the armchair and crossed the room to her. He was within touching distance, but kept his arms rigidly at his sides.

“No, I don’t think I do.”

His face fell as he realized the meaning of her words. “Hermione, you know that I love-“

“Stop right there. I don’t want to hear that from you, not now and not ever again. It was a lie, Harry. We were caught up in the moment, caught up in that damned potion. If you really loved me, if you really believed that, you never would have let me out of arm’s reach. You deserted me-“ her voice broke and her chest hitched with unbidden sobs. Tears quickly swelled in her eyes and she was surprised at the pang of hurt in her chest.

Harry seemed to have no reply, but she could see his eyes glistening in the orange light. He looked at her for a long moment before turning away and grabbing his cloak from the chair. He pushed past her towards the door and turned back only briefly.

“I ask that you please stay here, for your safety Hermione, but you don’t have to.”

He closed the door without any other words and the bang of the heavy door against the word frame reverberated in her chest. She sobbed once before dropping down onto her bed and covering her faces with her hands, letting her hot tears flow freely.

She awoke the next morning feeling stuffy and unable to breathe properly. One of the house elves brought her a breakfast tray and after only being able to drink the tea, she curled against her pillows again and waited for sleep to come again.

Once she’d awoken several hours later, she ambled about the house in a daze. Her own words echoed in her mind, coupled with the broken-hearted look on Harry’s face. There was two letters waiting for her on the table, one from Ron, full of his usual updates and the other from Ginny, explaining that she would bring Carole by for brunch.

Hermione drifted to the library and eventually wrote down her observations from the day before, but she was unable to do much else. After staring blankly at the parchment for nearly thirty minutes, she had gone back to bed for the night.

“Hello? Hermione?” a pair of voices reached her through the fog of dreams and she started. It took her several seconds to remember that Ginny and her mum had dropped by for the day and she quickly jumped out of bed. She threw a dressing gown over her pajamas and smoothed her hair down before heading into the hallway.

“Good morning!” she said, attempting to plaster a cheerful smile across her face. “I must have overslept. Hello, mum, Gin, how was your trip?” she chattered, leaning over to kiss her mother’s cheek and to loosely hug Ginny.

“Completely uneventful,” Carole replied. “How are you feeling dear?”

Hermione gave Ginny a strange look and the other girl shrugged, seemingly confused. She turned her attention back to her mother. “I’m fine, why?”

“You just look tired. When was the last time you ate?”

Hermione knew there was a guilty look splashed across her face, for her mother just shook her head.

“I’ll make breakfast, if you’d be so kind as to direct me to the kitchen, Ginevra.”

“I have a better idea,” Ginny said, speaking for the first time. “You stay here and make yourself comfortable. I’ll pop out and get some coffees and pastries. Hermione, you’d like a double mocha right? Carole, do you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please,” Carole replied, smiling. “And if you can manage, pick up some raspberry scones.”

Ginny nodded and left them standing in the hallway, moving so quickly out the door that Hermione barely registered the conversation that had just occurred.

“That was strange,” Hermione said, looking at the spot where Ginny had just been.

“She told me that you left abruptly from Paris the other night. Your Harry has been moping around the Burrow since Thursday and I assume that in some weird, Harry-and-Hermione sort of way, these two things are somehow connected. She knew that I wanted to have a word with you.”

Hermione was jarred by this revelation and simply turned to head back to her quarters, motioning her mother to follow. They settled opposite one another, Carole moving to a comfortable sofa so that she could stretch out her leg, which was still in a brace, and Hermione curled up in the armchair Harry had occupied.

“How’s your leg, Mum? Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

Carole waved her hand dismissively. “We’re not here to talk about me, but since you asked, it feels fine. There’s some sort of pain charm on this brace. Now, tell me what happened.”

Hermione hesitated briefly, but suddenly, she was spilling her whole story. She started at the beginning, when she and Harry had first started their little dance around each other. She talked about Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. She described her feelings of the past several weeks and let her story culminate in the events of the other night. As she talked, her mother just sat and listened intently, prodding her forward occasionally and giving affirmative or negative replies only when needed. The words flowed out and as she talked, she felt smaller and more drawn in, realizing just how depressed and lonely she had been. When she finished, she didn’t feel lighter or better, but instead felt only tired and beaten.

Carole merely frowned and held her arms out to her daughter, not speaking as Hermione rose from the floor and curled into her mother’s embrace. She cried loudly, amazed at the tears spilling from her eyes. It had been years since she’d cried so hard and she felt it had been years since she had been so well understood by another person. Her mother murmured comfortingly and held her as if she were a child again.

Finally, Hermione pulled away. “What do I do, Mum?”

“I can’t answer that for you, you know that. I can only tell you to do what you feel is right.”

“I don’t know what’s right anymore, Mum. I feel so lost. My life used to have structure and reason, logic even. Now, I don’t even know what to do with myself on a daily basis. I’ve continued work on my paper, but then what do I do with the whole rest of my life?”

“Hermione, you mustn’t fool yourself; your life did not use to have structure and reason. You hid in that little cottage, away from your friends and family and buried your head and heart in a theory. I’m proud of the work you did, love, but you didn’t have a life outside of it and your little house by the sea. You ran away from your life, and while I can’t say that I blame you on that particular occasion, you’re doing the same thing now. This crying and moping about is just you refusing to deal with the situation with Harry,” Carole stated, with sternness to her voice that Hermione hadn’t heard since she was much younger. Her mother’s blue eyes were simultaneously blazing and icy as she stared at her daughter.

“Mother!” Hermione cried, shocked at her mother’s words.

“Well, it’s true, Hermione! I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself. You need to sit down and think hard about what you want from your life and then you need to figure out how to accomplish it. This thing with Harry will blow over. You’re young and you’re in love, whether you believe it now or not. Figure that out or figure out the other thing, but stop hiding from everything that makes you uncomfortable. You have been locked up in this castle for far too long and it isn’t because Harry asked you to stay here.”

Hermione was simply too stunned to even reply. Her mother was usually so kind and tolerant, but every once in a while, she would call Hermione out and force her to reexamine her actions. She seemed to be doing it quite frequently, lately.

“Now, Ginny will return soon with our breakfast, so take your bath and come out to that big parlor at the end of the hall. I think we can eat in there.”

“Yes mum,” she answered once she had found her voice. She waited until the door had closed behind Carole before heading into her bathroom, still trying to mentally process everything her mother had said. As she stepped into the hot shower, she waited for the tears to come, but they didn’t. Instead, her mind worked quickly, overtaking the brutal emotions of her heart and allowed her to look at her situation from a more logical perspective. Her mother, of course, was completely right and to make it worse, about everything. Sighing, Hermione viciously scrubbed at her hair until a rich lather had worked up and finished the rest of her shower in a flurry of thoughts. Once clean, she donned a pair of jeans and a thick, soft black sweater. She analyzed her hair briefly in the mirror and decided it wasn’t worth fussing with before running a brush through it, not caring how bushy it got.

Ginny and Carole had prepared a lavish spread by the time she had finished showering. The large and airy sitting room had been rearranged to accommodate them and Hermione noticed that the tall windows looked out over a summertime lake. She smiled despite herself as she watched a family of ducks skirt the edge of the shallow water. One by one, they launched into the water and were off swimming in no time. She turned from the windows and saw that a circular table had been moved to the middle of the room and was covered with a garnet, velvety tablecloth. The old, heavy table was laden with sweet breakfast foods, more of which Ginny was lifting from an oversized hamper.

“Everything looked so good and I figured we deserved to be naughty just this once. We’ve got some American girls working on an exhibit with us right now and they constantly talk about dieting. It makes me want to eat everything in sight just to be spiteful.”

“Does the plan work as well if they aren’t here to see it?” Hermione asked, laughing. She sat opposite her mother and began passing around their various drinks.

“Of course. I’ll always have the memory of these amazing scones to get me through the conversations about cabbage soup,” Ginny replied as she spread thick, clotted cream over the aforementioned pastry.

Hermione and Carole both laughed loudly as they passed around various baskets and bowls. Hermione helped herself to a plate full of pastries and fruit salad and smiled as she stirred her drink, enjoying the light-hearted atmosphere. Her mother was talking animatedly about some women she used to work with and Ginny was giggling in response. They seemed comfortable together and she realized that Ginny had probably spent a great deal of time at the Burrow recently. She pushed back the feelings of envy and turned her attention back to her food.

Before long, they had each devoured all they could eat and were busy clearing everything away. By her watch, Hermione saw that it was nearly one o’clock. She handed a stack of dishes to one of the hovering house elves, all of whom were distinctly upset by the three witches cleaning after their own meal.

After cleaning up, they all settled into comfortable chairs and began discussing lazily various topics before the conversation veered to Ginny’s plans for the evening.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I did a little bit of snooping and found two international-travel portkeys in his sock drawer. The package date is for today.”

“Any ideas where you’re going?” Hermione asked, attempting to drum up some real interest in the topic. For the sixth year running, her Valentine’s Day would be completely uneventful, but Ginny was genuinely excited.

“I have no idea, but that’s okay. I have no doubt it will be some place wonderful,” Ginny replied, grinning.

Carole patted Ginny’s hand and nodded, “Absolutely it will be. It’s obvious that Ty cares about you very much – he was just so sweet at Christmas.”

At this, Ginny checked her own watch and sighed. “I hate to cut this short, Hermione, but we really ought to get going. I had to call in a favor to change the portkey’s destination, but it will only last until three this afternoon.”

“A favor? I thought Harry was the only one who could change-“ She stopped short when Ginny gave her a pointed look. Hermione sighed and stood up to wish her mother goodbye.

“I’ll be heading home in a week,” Carole said soothingly. “You could come stay with me for awhile if you like.”

“I’d like that, Mum,” Hermione replied as she hugged her mother tightly.

“We’re off,” Ginny said as she too hugged Hermione. “Be good.”

Just as Ginny released her, there was a large bang from the entrance hall, followed by the sound of the door opening. All at once, there were several voices pushing into the room, followed quickly by people. Harry was at the head of the group, trying to talk and quiet everyone at the same time. His glance slid over the three women gathered in the room before he held his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly.

“We can’t begin discussion until everyone has arrived. Please begin your usual duties at this time and expect an update within the hour.” He waved them all away and turned to Hermione, strain and stress etched in every feature.

“I need you,” he said quietly and held out his hand.

Their past conversation slipped away from her and she grasped his hand, allowing herself to be pulled from the room. He led her back to her private quarters and slammed the door before turning to face her.

“Harry, what’s-“

He held up a hand to stop her and shook his head slightly. “Let me talk first, okay? I have some things I need to say to you.”

She clamped her mouth shut and nodded her head, trying in vain to discern what this was about just by looking at his eyes.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, but I regret it. You’re right, you know, I’ve always needed you at my side and this time isn’t any different. I’ve been floundering for weeks without you, feeling like I can’t tell my head from my arse. I need you. I can’t do this without you and I am so very sorry for leaving you here and keeping you out of everything.”

His words stunned her momentarily before her brain caught up with everything he had said. She blinked rapidly for a moment before looking at him questioningly. “Harry, do you need me because you’re stumped by some problem? Or do you need me because you love me and want me by your side?”

His lips tightened as she caught an emotion, finally, in his gaze: guilt.

She nodded once, “I see.”

“No, no, please don’t take this the wrong way. I do love you, Hermione, I do, but that’s not why I’m sorry, because despite that, you’re still my best friend. You’re still the person that I need by my side during times like this and it has nothing to do with whether or not I’m in love with you. You are a part of me, a part of this whole thing and I can’t move forward without you. Not after today.”

“What do you mean not after today?” she asked, becoming more confused than angry.

“There was another attack,” he said softly, dragging his hand back through his hair. “In Hogsmeade.”

Hermione gasped and clasped her hands to her mouth. “What about Ron and Andie? Where are they?”

“Andie is gone. And so are several students. They’ve been taken and I have no idea where. Can’t you see that I need you?”

She sighed, attempting to shove back her anger and failing. “Yes, Harry, I can see that you need me to do this with you and I can’t believe that you would use Andie’s disappearance as a way to tell me that. I’m ashamed of you, but I will absolutely help because of my love for Ron,” she said quietly, her voice nearly a hiss.

She glared at him before continuing on, “Don’t for one moment think that it has anything to do with whether or not I’m in love with you. I stand by what I said earlier, Harry Potter. Everything I said that night at the Burrow was a mistake and it’s not one I plan on repeating. ”

His shoulders sagged, but he didn’t push her any further. He merely nodded and moved past her to open the door. He held it open for her and followed her back to the meeting room, without ever once looking at her directly.

She felt strangely deflated and sad as they moved down the hallway. She was keenly aware of his presence and was haunted by her own words echoing through her own mind. She was still furious, but her statement to Harry rang hollow. She couldn’t shake the feeling of having just slammed a door in her own face. Taking a deep breath, she paused before entering the room and turned back to face Harry.

“You and Ron are my best friends in the whole world Harry, and there’s nothing we can’t do when we work together.”

He nodded and finally looked at her fully. “I know that Hermione.”

She gave him a strange, pained little smile before opening the door to the meeting room.

“Hermione!” A voice called out to her almost immediately. She spotted tall Ron making his way towards her and she sensed more than saw Harry melt away from her into the background. It was obvious that the number of people in the room had nearly doubled since she and Harry had had their talk, but her gaze was focused solely on her other best friend of thirteen years.

“Hermione,” Ron said again quietly, before his face fell. His robes were torn and his face was streaked with dirt and what looked like blood. He was very obviously attempting not to cry and her heart broke just to see him. She held her arms out and he gathered her up into a tight hug, bending down to put his head on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Ron,” she said softly, fighting her own tears. She had watched Ron grow from a very sweet and somewhat silly young boy into a full-fledged, very serious and world-weary man. He had retained his essential sweetness, but she felt sometimes as if he was bearing a very heavy cross.

He clung to her for a few moments longer before stepping back and looking down at her.

“We’ll find her, Ron. I promise.”

“I know.”

She nodded and took his hand, leading him to the antechamber where the more senior members of the group had met several weeks prior. The others were waiting; Molly, Arthur, Remus, Tonks, Professor McGonagall and Harry were seated around a large table, all of them somber, silent and pensive. Despite her growing panic over the severity of the situation, Hermione instantly felt a strange sense of comfort at being in this room with these people. The other members of the Order had been invaluable during the war and she didn’t doubt their loyalty, but there was something oddly familiar about this group sitting together and planning their next moves, just as they had in the last war. They would succeed, for even in the darkest hours they had all shared, there had always been hope and she didn’t sense any faltering of that now.

Harry cleared his throat as Hermione and Ron took the last empty seats at the table. He looked at Ron for a long moment before beginning to speak.

“At this time, we know very little about what’s happened in Hogsmeade. Eight children were kidnapped along with Andie, and at this point we’re not entirely sure of the connection. There are rumors circulating that other places suffered similar attacks, but at this time we are unsure of the truth to these rumors. Charlie and Bill Weasley are working with select, trusted members of the Ministry to find out what’s going on across Britain.”

“Harry, if I may?” Remus said quietly, lifting his head to look solemnly at everyone in the room.

Harry nodded and motioned for Remus to continue.

Lupin shifted uncomfortably before receiving a comforting squeeze on the shoulder from his wife. “I’ve been contacted, Harry.”

“Contacted?”

“Yes, after the last war, there was some informal werewolf organization, in an attempt to make sure what happened with Fenrir and the others wouldn’t happen again. I received a message today that the organization has been approached by a secret group, asking if it would be possible to exchange a few favors.”

Hermione felt Harry sit up straighter next to her. “What’s the decision?”

“They’re still undecided, as they have been largely unsuccessful in any negotiations with the Ministry of Magic. At the moment, they are neutral.”

There was a beat of silence before Harry nodded and began speaking, “We need to make sure that they remain neutral. I wouldn’t push for any sort of alliance, as I have no control of the behavior of the Ministry. What about some of the other magical beings?”

“I’ll do some checking around,” Lupin replied.

“I’ll want that information before we have the main meeting. I expect that the other members will go between here and St. Mungo’s and the Ministry. I’d like as many ears out there as possible.”

“Harry, we’re going to need to start trying to figure out why these children, and Andie, were taken. I think if we can work that out, we’ll be a step closer to finding them,” Hermione said, her voice strong and businesslike.

Harry nodded his agreement. “I’d like information on each of the children. Professor, we’ll need access to their school records.”

Professor McGonagall seemed to hesitate, but eventually she too nodded in agreement.

“Hermione, I’d like you to work with Professor McGonagall, Ginny and Molly. Find out what you can about the children. We need a good lead on where to start looking for them. Ron and I will assist Lupin in communicating with the other magical creatures. Tonks, I need you to handle communication between members. We’re too scattered right now.

“Arthur, if you could work with the groups at St. Mungo’s. I’d like to get a handle on what happened and how many are injured-“

An abrupt knock interrupted Harry. Hermione saw him grimace a moment before he waved his wand and opened the door. Charlie and Bill Weasley came in, their faces drawn.

“The Ministry is a nightmare, Harry. I’ve never seen them so scattered before,” Bill stated immediately.

“What did Scrimgeour say?” Harry asked.

“Nothing. His office has gone completely silent.”

Hermione gasped, along with several others along the table. “What do you mean, gone silent? What are they doing to help with the injured? To find the missing?” Hermione asked, her voice high and troubled.

“The Aurors have been sent out, but not in full force and without any real directives. Like Bill said, it’s a nightmare. We heard rumors that St. Mungo’s is experiencing a staff shortage and the rumors for the injured range anywhere from a handful to just fewer than fifty. There were a lot of students there today, Harry.”

McGonagall stood and cleared her throat. “Harry, I need to return to my school. I’ll attempt to get the files to Ms. Granger as quickly as possible, but I’ve been away for too long.”

“Yes, Professor, I understand. Thank you for being here, and please, stay in touch.”

Professor McGonagall bowed her head slightly to the room in general as she tightened a tartan cloak over her shoulders and quickly exited through the door.

They waited in silence for several moments for Harry to speak.

“We’re going to stick to the original plans,” he said quietly. “Bill & Charlie, I’d like you to return to the Ministry and get some more news. Take several other members with you, but not Ginny; we need her here.”

The eldest Weasley sons nodded and left the room, which pitched into silence again. Hermione was the first to break the silence.

“Harry, I’ll also need all of your notes and reports regarding everything that’s happened over the past few weeks. I’d like to see if I can garner any additional clues.”

Harry nodded. “You’ll have them within two hours. Anything else?”

She shook her head and waited for someone else to speak. It was Ron who finally spoke up. “Well, what are we waiting for? Engraved invitations from the vamps?”

Hermione thought she saw a bit of a smile on his face when he spoke and she noticed that Harry was sharing a similar expression. She rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back from the table. Ron and Harry followed suit and they each looked at her. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling strangely as if she’d come back from a very long and weary journey to this familiar place and state of affairs. Molly crossed the room and together they left, leaving the other men and Tonks standing in the room.

Ginny was waiting for them and they gravely moved to the library, gathering up spare parchment and the occasional newspaper they found laying about the main meeting room.

Hours later, long after the large group meeting, she and Ginny had bade Molly Weasley to rest for a few hours, Hermione was staring at an wide sheet of parchment, with information about the missing students organized into neat, lined columns. Ginny was sleeping with her head pillowed on her arms and was snoring very softly. The candles in the room were now dimmed and Hermione worked with the single parchment page, analyzing it for a pattern.

She heard the heavy door to the room open and blinked rapidly as her candle flame flickered. Harry walked quietly into the room and beckoned her towards him.

“What have you found out?” he whispered, his hand resting on her shoulder.

She sighed in frustration and tugged at her bushy ponytail. “I’m close, I think. I’ve narrowed down my data and I just need to analyze it for a pattern.”

“How much longer do you need? We’d like to have another talk. Arthur has joined Molly and Tonks is resting in the room across from yours. It’ll be just us three and Remus.”

“Give me thirty minutes.”

“Alright. I ran into your mum in the hallway outside. I think she’s worried that she’s being a nuisance.”

“How silly. She’s my mother and there’s plenty she’s been doing to help out tonight. Who cares if she can’t cast a- oh!” she exhaled, her voice rising slightly.

“Hermione?” Harry questioned, concern etched in his features. He squeezed her shoulder gently.

She pulled away from him without replying and grabbed up her worksheet. She lit her wand so as better to read it, her eyes scanning rapidly over the page.

“Ah! What if it’s their parents Harry? I need to get that information, I need to know about their families.”

Harry goggled at her. “You mean you don’t have that information on that little sheet of paper? There are thirty columns on there.”

She shook her head and bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “They were taken on purpose, Harry. This could be why,” she gasped again and looked up at him with a horrified expression on her face. “What if this is because of me?”

“That’s bollocks, Hermione and you know it. There’s never a true method to the madness and you know that. It’s all it is, just madness. We don’t even know for certain that was why they were taken. For now, it’s just a hunch.”

She nodded, feeling the tears well briefly in her eyes as she was reminded a fresh of all the harsh things said about her work just a few months prior. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right about this. Taking a deep breath, she smiled tightly.

“You’re right, of course. Let’s go meet with Ron and Remus. I get the feeling that the night isn’t even half over.”

Harry held the door open for her as they left the library and he matched her stride for stride as they headed back to the small meeting room. He stopped her about half way and held her elbow, looking at her with extreme concern.

“If it’s their parents, why did they take Andie?”

This was one question she felt she knew the answer to. “I think it’s because of who she was, Harry. They were all her students, more tightly connected to her in some way. Some are star pupils; others have taken extra tutoring from her. They all knew her well.”

Harry frowned. “Can we not tell Ron that just yet?”

She cocked her head to the side and considered him for a moment before nodding her head. “If you think it’s the right thing, yes, but we mustn’t hold off for too long. He’d hate us for it, Harry, even if it is hard to hear.”

“I know,” he stated simply and turned to continue his walk down the hall. They were silent the rest of the way and Hermione listened to the noises of the bustling castle. They passed through the main meeting room and saw that there were countless pages of parchment scattered across all of the tables. Owls were swooping in and out, dropping off letters and picking up additional deliveries. Fires had been started in all three fireplaces in the room and she saw that one was being used specifically for Floo travel, while the others were being used for communication.

Ron and Remus were waiting silently in the old study. Remus looked exhausted and haggard. He seemed to have aged several years in just a few hours. Ron was still dirty and unchanged and wore a very grim expression. He looked up at them when they entered and she saw how very tired and thin he looked. Remus didn’t even look up, but instead continued to read his notes.

Hermione settled next to Ron and leaned towards him. “Have you eaten anything?” she whispered, placing her hand over his.

He shook his head wearily. “I’m fine, really.”

“Nonsense. You need to eat.”

“Hermione, I –“

She wasn’t listening, of course. In her world, Ron Weasley simply didn’t turn down food. She called out to Luna, whom she had noticed was bustling about with trays of food for those working in the room. Neville and Luna had been Order members since their Hogwarts days and usually helped with basic logistics in times like this.

“Evening, Hermione. How are you lot holding up in there?” the dreamy-eyed blonde asked.

“We’re working along. Luna, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind bringing Ron a tray? Perhaps with some soup if we have any?”

Luna nodded. “I’ll see what we can do. Be back in a few,” she said before floating off.

Hermione returned to her seat and listened as Remus and Harry conversed.

“So we’ve gained some footing with the werewolves?”

Remus nodded. “They’re planning on staying neutral, at least for the time being. It seems as if there’s very little information circulating about this group, even though they’ve begun a sort of recruiting. It matches tidily with the other intelligence we have: they’re working very hard to remain underground.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Harry said. “If their activities up ‘til this point have been so quiet, it’s going to be harder for them to hide such a large group of people.”

Hermione, Ron and Remus all nodded in agreement.

“So what’s the next step?” Harry asked.

“We need to talk to the Blood Council,” Remus replied instantly with a look on his face as if he’d swallowed something particularly nasty.

Hermione shook her head and Ron looked at Remus oddly. “The what?”

“The Blood Council, Ron,” Hermione replied. “The vampire government, based in Romania. They exert the most control over European vampires and would be able to give us more information about their allegiance.”

“Well, let’s get to writing then. It’s nighttime after all, maybe we’ll get a quick response.”

Remus sighed. “Remember your comment about the engraved invites? The Blood Council will only communicate with outsiders in a very controlled, personal visit. We need to appear before them, on the Order’s behalf, if we are to have any chance at getting information from them. I’ll have to request a meeting.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Why are they always the ones with the most ceremony and whatnot?”

Harry and Remus shrugged in tandem.

“Have you made any headway, Hermione?” Remus asked, pushing his own notes aside.

“I think I’m on the right track, but I have a bit more information that I need. When we’re done here, I’ll write to Professor McGonagall.”

“I think we ought to call it a night. The rest of the group has worked out some sort of shift system as the Ministry has apparently deemed this a crisis situation.”

“Right, because what difference does several hours make?” Harry asked sarcastically.

Remus ignored him. “You should get your letter out, Hermione and get some rest. I’ll write to the counsel; I think at best, we can’t expect to leave until tomorrow evening. I hate to assume, but is it safe to request invitations for just the four of us?”

Hermione waited for Harry’s response, wondering if he would stay true to his word. “That’s a safe assumption,” he replied and rubbed his hands over his face. “We’ll see you after lunch tomorrow, Remus, and we’ll be ready to leave for Romania by five.”

The werewolf nodded and quickly made his way from the room.

As he exited, Luna entered, bearing a tray laden with food. She set it on the table and exited without a word, pausing briefly to squeeze Ron’s shoulder and smile at him supportively. Hermione recalled that they had dated briefly, long ago, and wondered distantly what had happened. She looked to Ron after the door had closed and was surprised to see such a pained expression on his face. Harry had noticed it too and it took only one glance between them to come to a decision. Harry stood up and crossed the room to open the door. Hermione flicked her wand at the tray of food and levitated it.

“Come on, Ron,” she said softly and pulled gently on his hand. He stood and walked out of the room between his best friends.

They went to her private quarters, as the other two had no such setup. Harry settled into a chair in the lounge and took the levitating food from her. She led Ron into the bathroom and started a bath before handing him several towels and a fresh set of robes that one of the house elves had brought in. She hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “Get cleaned up and come out to eat. We’ll talk if you want.”

He just nodded and she left him in peace, joining Harry in her sitting room. A tense sort of silence descended over them as she was powerfully reminded of their conversation from earlier. She turned her attention to the low table that separated them and noticed for the first time that he had set out three plates – it appeared that Luna had retrieved enough food for all of them.

“Do you remember that first night in Grimmauld Place after we’d located the final Horcrux?” Harry said quietly, his face turned away from her.

She thought for a moment before speaking slowly, “Yes, I do.” It had been a rough night for the Trio, they were each nervous, tired, and angry as the hunt had gone on more than long enough. The end was finally in sight and they were each irritable. Ron and Hermione ended up having an awful row and had pulled Harry into the middle. For one long moment, standing in the dreary old living room of that creepy mansion, Hermione could see how they could fall apart at any moment, how precious a thing their friendship really was. Harry had pushed them both away and left by himself to find the horcrux. They had, of course, gone after him and had finally set aside their issues to work in tandem and succeed at their mission.

“We can’t start off separated this time, Hermione.”

“I know, Harry,” she answered, knowing that there was much he had left unsaid. She knew he was worried about taking her along and was worried about what could happen if he didn’t. She highly suspected that he thought if Andie could be kidnapped right out from under Ron’s nose, it was possible the same could happen to her. By the slant of his shoulders, she knew he was feeling his burdens as very heavy at that moment.

He finally looked at her and nodded. He moved forward in his chair and stared into her eyes. She shivered involuntarily under his gaze, but didn’t pull away when his hand reached up to cup the side of her face. She pressed her warm face against his cool palm and sighed, annoyed at her reflexes for betraying her so readily. Physically, she longed for him to hold her, as she couldn’t shake the feeling that the whole world was about to come crashing down. A single tear trailed down her cheek and he smoothed his thumb over it.

“I won’t let you go without a fight, Hermione.”

Her eyes opened wide and she stared at him. Her chance for response was lost, however, as Ron walked into the room. He took the seat next to Harry and immediately started loading his plate with food.

“Ron, how are you feeling?”

“No worries, Mione,” he replied, gazing at her briefly. “There’s nothing new about this sort of thing, not for us.”

“We’ll find her Ron,” Harry said softly.

“I’m counting on that mate,” Ron answered quietly before turning his attention back to the food.

Hermione watched him for a moment and satisfied that he would continue to eat, she made up her own plate, quickly buttering slices of bread for both her and Harry, and took the bowl of soup he offered. Their fingers brushed as they passed the bowl and she nearly hissed aloud, feeling as if she could jump out of her own skin.

They ate in silence and before long, both Harry and Ron were yawning. Hermione cleaned away their dishes with a single wave of her wand.

“You’ll sleep in here tonight?” she asked quietly and they both nodded. It had been common in the days of the horcrux hunt that they all sleep in the same place, usually in some lonely cottage or cave.

She went into her bed chamber and closed the door silently after she’d heard Harry moving the wards around her room into place. After owling her quick letter to Hogwarts, she changed into a set of flannel pajamas and curled underneath the heavy down comforter spread over her bed. She fell asleep quickly that night, assured and able to rest because of the two men stationed outside her room.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.

10. Chapter X

A Long Way from Home

Summary: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Well, that was a much longer break between chapters than I intended, so my apologies to everyone for having to wait for so long. This is another long chapter, but there's a lot happening! Again, we travel out of Britian, this time to Romania. Again, almost all research was done on Wikipedia. I take a lot of artistic license here, so if I have something that sounds way off, let me know. Thanks so much for your patience - I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Thanks for reading - please review, if you like, on your way out!

Chapter X

Ron let out a loud snore and Harry jumped slightly in his chair. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again and taking stock of the room. It was daylight, but he was unsure of the time. Hermione’s door was still closed and a quick scan revealed that the wards were undisturbed. Ron was sprawled out on the floor, flat on his back and taking up what appeared to be every square inch of floor space. He was leaning in an overstuffed chair and had been sleeping against a little cushion of some sort. Frowning, he looked around the room carefully, as if to verify that it had indeed been Ron’s snoring that had awakened him.

Barely moving, Harry cast a silencing charm over Ron’s prone figure and waited for a full ten seconds of silence. Hearing nothing, he pointed his wand at the door and waited. The door handle glowed a cerulean blue and he knew that the room had been undisturbed since he’d put the wards up last night.

Sighing, Harry ran his fingers through his hair before leaning forward and perching his forehead against his hand, feeling out of sorts and bothered. Truth be told, it was the best night of sleep he’d had in weeks and he strongly suspected it was largely due to Hermione’s closeness, but he couldn’t help feel uneasy about the fact that he’d slept so soundly. If they were to leave for Romania in just a few hours, it wouldn’t do well that he was so unused to being in the field. Standing, Harry stretched and looked towards the heavy wooden door that led to Hermione’s sleeping chamber, debating whether he should wake her.

After looking once more at Ron, Harry moved silently to the door and opened it quietly. Hermione was still sleeping, curled on her right side. Her hair was a mess on her pillow and she had the covers wound securely around her legs. He watched her for a few moments as an odd pain welled up inside his chest. He knew that he had hurt her and that it was very possible they’d never get back what they’d built over the past few months. Crossing to her bedside quietly, he knelt down next to her and placed his hand on the edge of the bed.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he whispered. He wanted to reach out and touch her but knew that doing so would be crossing a line. He leaned back on his heels and said her name again, this time a little louder.

She opened her eyes instantly and looked at him coldly before her gaze softened.

“What time is it?” she said quietly, yawning.

“Close to noon. I’m going to get our supplies soon, would you help me?” asked Harry, looking down at the deep red carpet upon which he kneeled and purposely avoiding direct eye contact with her. Every time he’d look at her over the past twenty-four hours, it had felt as if his heart was breaking afresh. He couldn’t fathom how he’d let everything get so out of hand that he’d hurt her as badly as he had and he wasn’t yet willing to think over what it had and would cost him.

“Of course. Let me have a shower and I’ll meet you in the kitchens. Is Ron awake yet?”

Harry just shook his head. She nodded silently in response and rose out of the bed, gracefully letting the covers fall back. He stood and turned to walk out of the room.

“Harry?”

He turned and looked at her for the first time since she’d spoken. “Yes?”

She regarded him silently, her face completely passive. “Nothing,” she replied and quickly went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Harry left the room silently and checked to see if Ron was still sleeping. The silence charm was still holding as Harry went back to the main part of the castle.

The panic and frustration from the night before had mellowed to an organized and purposed bustling. There were groups settled around him, all working on various tasks and preparing for various situations. There was a quiet voice coming from the fireplace in the kitchens and he noticed that Remus was kneeling in front of it, carrying on a conversation with someone’s disembodied head.

His old professor noticed him and without turning, waved Harry over.

“You’re expected in Sighisoara by moonrise, in three days. If you have not arrived at the castle by that time, you will not be permitted an audience with the Council.”

“I understand,” Remus replied, his voice passive.

The head in the fire bowed imperceptibly and the flames went out. Remus’ shoulders sagged and he looked up at Harry. “I hate the bloody Council’s travel rules. We can only Floo so far as Vienna, Austria and from there, we’ll have to take a magical train into Sighisoara.”

Harry rolled his eyes. The Order had dealt with the vampires in the past, he knew, and there were multiple stories of their strange and secretive ways. “Hermione and I will pack everything we need from a magical standpoint. I trust everyone can take care of their own personal affects.”

Remus nodded and stood from the hearth, brushing his robes absentmindedly. “I’m going to spend some time with my wife then. I’ll see you at five.”

Harry watched as his old friend and mentor walked out of the room and let his own shoulders sag. He was wary of having to travel by train and not only because it meant so much time in close proximity to Hermione. Traveling by such slow means made them vulnerable and open to attacks. At least they could use the time to formulate a more concrete plan and gain some knowledge about what was happening.

Harry sighed and settled down at a rough-hewn wooden table, large enough to easily seat two dozen people. He mentally traced the wood grain, remembering times long past spent staring at this very table. Many meals had been eaten here and hours spent studying and preparing for their final battles. It was the room they used when they needed to get away from the library for awhile and it was where they spent a great deal of their free time, enjoying the coziness and warmth of the room and the always-available snacks and hot drinks.

“Harry?” a welcome voice beckoned to him quietly.

“Have a good shower?” he asked, his voice falsely bright as he joined Hermione across the room.

She nodded barely and turned to head back out the door. They made their way to the cellars next to the kitchen, navigating the dark staircase in silence. Hermione whispered some spell and a gentle, orange light bathed the room. There were stocked shelves lining the stone walls, bearing extra wands, field medical kits, homing talismans, communication bands and nameless other tools left over from the days of the war. This had been the base for countless missions, both reconnaissance and offensive. Hermione took down two of the many black knapsacks hanging on hooks and set it on the ground. Harry also grabbed two and set them down in line with the first ones.

With a wave of Hermione’s hand, the bags were standing rigid and open, waiting for supplies. Wordlessly, they moved about the room, adding kits and charms, bandages and potions. It was familiar work, uncomfortably so. They each knew too well what was recovered for times like this.

After several minutes, Hermione finally spoke. “Did you remember to put cloaking charms over that blood-replenishing potion? It insults the vampires if they can smell it.”

“Vampires are pompous arseholes,” Harry said quietly, casting a cloaking charm over the ruby red bottles.

Hermione looked at him wide-eyed for a moment before laughing heartily. “They are, aren’t they? I must say, I never thought I’d see the day when we’d be asking them for help. Last time, they were so quick to join up with Voldemort that I’m surprised by their hesitation.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m sure they have their reasons, it’s not as if it’s in their hearts to do some good and help their fellow man.”

“Indeed,” Hermione replied distractedly, as she had begun to run over a mental checklist of their packs, occasionally adding additional items. Harry watched her work, a sadness permeating him as he watched how she bit her lips and crinkled her brow in concentration. It felt like ages had passed since he’d kissed her on Christmas. On Boxing Day, he had brought her here and had kissed her hurriedly, expecting to be back within several hours. And the hours passed, and then the days. The thought of her out of the castle, in danger’s path, kept him awake at night. He resolved that it was best for her to stay at Idyllwild and he trusted that she would agree.

But he couldn’t gather the courage to tell her that – not in a letter and definitely not to her face. He was a coward for not talking to her and for ignoring everything that had happened at the Burrow, but he couldn’t ease the image of Hermione being kidnapped by dark-cloaked wizards and taken away from him. His desire to protect her had won out and he had left her alone in the Order’s headquarters, confident that he was doing the right thing.

He was a coward and a fool. Keeping Hermione tucked away had cost him her knowledge and attention to detail. She was always the one to help him work through issues, always the one by his side into the wee hours of the morning. She was his right hand and the one constant thing in his life; even in all the time they had spent apart. She had been with him always, for the voice of his conscience was hers.

Without her, he had floundered, been lost and fairly confused. He felt as if he had been grasping at straws all along and the attack in Hogsmeade had caught everyone off guard. His fears and selfishness had cost them too much. But she was here now and she would be the one to save them all, just as she always had been.

He studied her carefully as she checked through their items a final time. Satisfied, she nodded and wandlessly shrunk each pack to the size of a cigarette box. Harry scooped them up and motioned for Hermione to lead him from the room, his face grave and passive as she walked past him. They were silent as they went upstairs to see if Ron had awakened.

***

Ron checked once more to make sure the locking charm was cast over the bathroom door. He pulled a thin envelope from his robes and opened it gingerly, easing the pictures contained within into his hand.

Fred had dropped the envelope off while Harry and Hermione had been gone and he hadn’t yet had a moment to look into it.

There were two snapshots, one Muggle and the other magical. The Muggle photo featured Andie, alone in the frame. She was cast into shadow by the light streaming in a 13th story window at some hotel in New York City. He had asked her to marry him the night (You’ll marry me won’t you? Yes! Of course, yes!) before and silhouetted in the photo was his new bride-to-be, looking thoughtfully down at what Ron knew to be the small but beautiful diamond on her left hand. You couldn’t see the ring in the photo, but her fingers were held loosely, her hand outstretched from her body. Ron took in a shaky breath and put the photo behind the second shot.

In this one, they were standing together at Hogwarts, framed by the castle looming above them on a gorgeous June day. They both wore their professors’ robes, but unfastened. Ron had his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks and was laughing. Andie wore a knee-length straight skirt and a thin gray sweater over her white blouse. She was primly kissing his cheek and laughing at him. He would turn to whisper something in her ear and she would nod before they started all over again.

Closing his eyes, Ron tucked the photos into an interior pocket of his robes and tossed the envelope into the trash bin. He counted to ten before steeling himself and unlocking the door. His friends were waiting for him and it was time to bring his wife home.

Countless hours later, the Trio was huddled in their double bedroom suite on board one of the magical trains that left daily from Vienna. Remus had gone off in search of food and Harry and Hermione were sitting quietly, as if they were purposely not talking to each other. He had decided not to pay it much mind and now Ron was staring out the window; it was dark outside and he could only make out shadows of trees through the foggy and rain-covered windows.

His thoughts wandered around aimlessly, playing over and over memories of his wife. The little things, her laugh and the way she tucked her hair into a loose knot when she was reading for one of her lessons. The full movie-like scenes playing out in his head, a long discussion about Quidditch between Andie and McGonagall had led to a fiery debate with Ron. Much to his delight, the Cannons had absolutely trounced the Harpies and he didn’t care about the team record at all. Andie owed him a dinner at the Three Broomsticks.

He thought of the flannel pajamas she wore each night and how every morning, she sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea from a thick, hand-made mug and wearing obnoxious slippers that looked like dragon feet. She always hated how her hair looked without a good taming charm and couldn’t stand the small gap between her front teeth. She had three freckles on her nose.

Leaning forward, Ron rested his forehead in the palms of his hands and took several deep, raspy breaths. Hermione, who was sitting next to him, leaned forward and reached over to rub his back gently. She didn’t speak and after a few minutes, the waves of nausea crashing over him subsided and his breathing returned to normal. He lifted his head to find Harry looking directly at him, an unfamiliar sadness shadowing his eyes. Ron stared back at Harry, willing his friend to say something, anything.

Anger flared up inside Ron, inexplicably.

“Why? Why did they have to take her?” he said loudly, angrily. Hermione shifted uncomfortably next to him.

“Ron,” she said quietly. “You know we don’t know the answer to that. We can only guess, and I really don’t think it will do us any good.” Her gaze was piercing, but strangely gentle and he felt himself calming down once more. He nodded once and turned to stare out the window at the passing countryside. He felt Hermione’s arm loop over his shoulder and he sighed wearily at the comfort and care that gently flowed from her. During their roughest times in past adventures, she had been the solid force right by his side. It had been different then – he had loved her. Now, however, it was the embrace of a sister, a best friend.

He sensed rather than saw the look that passed between his best friends and wondered vaguely what had happened between them. Only a few months ago, they had seemed closer than ever and now, they could barely look at the other. Shrugging inwardly, he decided that if they weren’t going to discuss it, whatever it was, then neither was he. Harry and Hermione were his closest and oldest friends, but he had other issues weighing on his mind.

The familiar tap of an owl sounded at the window and Ron opened it just wide enough for a large spotted owl to squeeze in. He saw a parchment tied to the leg of the bird as Hermione stood to cast drying charms over the avian messenger. She untied the parchment and handed it wordlessly to Harry, opting instead to feed the owl treats and stroke its feathers.

Ron recognized the owl as belonging to Tonks and saw that the note was in her handwriting. Remus ducked into the suite as Harry scanned the letter. He scribbled something at the very bottom edge and tore the parchment in two, handing his reply back to Hermione.

In a flash the bird was off again and Hermione had the letter in her hands.

“We have received news and confirmation of three separate attacks, at various magical sites,” she read aloud, her voice even. “Will owl ahead to Romanian ministry for use of secured Floo.”

“That’s it?” Ron replied. “That doesn’t tell us anything.”

Hermione sighed and handed the paper to Remus. “I would bet money…” she said softly, almost to herself before crossing over to her vacated seat and taking a leather portfolio from her knapsack. She flipped through several leaves of parchment before handing something over to Harry.

“Stonehenge? Avebury? Castlerigg?”

Ron perked as Harry spoke the names aloud. “What about Castlerigg?” he asked.

“I’d bet money that’s where the three attacks were,” Hermione replied.

“What makes you think so?” Remus asked, looking over Harry’s shoulder at Hermione’s notes.

“The break-ins. Of course,” Harry said quietly, his eyes on the piece of parchment. “Hermione, why didn’t you send this to us sooner?”

For some reason, at least one unbeknownst to Ron, Hermione didn’t answer him, but merely glared. Harry glared back for a moment before sighing and giving the parchment back to her.

“I’ve only been formulating this for about a day,” she finally said. “I… well, I trained at Avebury. And Harry, you were at Stonehenge, weren’t you?”

“And I was at Castlerigg,” Ron interrupted, standing to join his friends.

“I think that all this, whatever it is, might have something to do with that, but I can’t put my finger on just what it might be.” She turned to look at Remus, who had noticeably stepped back from the group and was looking very uncomfortable.

“Remus? Do you know something?” Harry finally asked.

“Not really,” he replied quietly. “I only know my role in everything that happened. I’m sure that Professor McGonagall was aware of the full process, but I wasn’t privy to the same information that she was.”

“You must be joking,” said Hermione. “You really have no idea?”

“I was still considered a young member of the Order, Hermione, as was Professor Snape. We were given orders and we followed them.”

“What do you mean, younger member? You were in the original Order!” Hermione replied.

“Yes, in a way. But this group goes back much farther than the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione. You ought to know that. The Order is just the latest reincarnation of the group-“

“The group that has long fought to rid the world of evil and darkness, yeah, we’ve heard that all before,” Harry cut in, shaking his head. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything, Remus. You performed all these complex rituals and taught us some ridiculously complicated magic and you didn’t even know why?”

“Well, of course I knew why. It was that you could defeat Voldemort.”

Ron groaned and took his seat, his head aching slightly at the escalating argument.

“I don’t think so,” Hermione said. “That these three places are being attacked right now doesn’t exactly smack of strange coincidence, Professor.”

Remus held up his hands. “Listen, I’m telling you what I know. I was told to train Ron for a specific role in the spell that the three of you would use to defeat Voldemort. I was told to do this by McGonagall and I just did my job. I do not know of any other motivation behind what was done.”

Ron watched as Harry seemed to consider his Professor’s words before resuming his seat across the way. Remus’ shoulders sagged and he too took his seat, leaving only Hermione now standing.

She began pacing back and forth across the small suite; Harry’s eyes followed her every motion. Ron frowned and stood up, saying his goodnights and heading into the small room where a pair of bunk beds were set into the wall. He climbed into the bottom bunk and slid the curtain around for privacy. Hermione and Harry exchanged a few words and Remus soon entered the sleeping room.

The exterior lights dimmed behind his curtain and Ron settled deeper against his thin pillow, willing that sleep might finally come.

***

Hermione hefted her knapsack over the shoulder of her black traveling cloak and sighed. To be sure, magical trains traveled faster than the muggle counterpart, but they had just spent over twenty-four hours cooped in a small suite and she was beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic. She checked her watch, a gift from her mother, and saw that it was nearly ten p.m. She silently hoped they wouldn’t have any problems getting into the inn Remus had set up for them.

Harry moved silently to stand next to her and together, they followed Remus and Ron out of the train station. It was a clear, frosty night in the ancient city, but she could see dark clouds moving in from the west. Despite the circumstances of their travel and the so obviously looming storm, Hermione was mildly delighted that she could see the medieval architecture so easily. She had read about Sighisoara many times, but had never visited before. Remus and Tonks typically dealt with magical creatures, but even they had had rare opportunity to meet with vampires.

The train station that they had exited was in the Muggle part of the city and they would have to trek some distance to reach the magical quarter. Remus stopped briefly on the stone sidewalk outside the station and cast his head in either direction. After a moment, he nodded and they began their long walk.

After several turns and thirty minutes, they had arrived in front of a darkened and run-down bookshop. It was beginning to rain steadily; the long drizzle that had plagued them for the past quarter of an hour had finally strengthened and her cloak was beginning to soak through. The few passersby moved quickly past them, never looking up from the dark and slick sidewalk. She was reminded of the charms surrounding the Leaky Cauldron and knew that they must have arrived at their destination. She paused as Remus checked for anyone watching them before ducking into the store. She felt Ron nudge her through the portal and heard Harry close the door behind him.

The shop was empty and smelled strongly of damp mold. Remus led them across the dusty and uneven wooden floor towards a curtain set in the wall. With a casual wave of his wand, the curtain moved itself aside and displayed a heavy metal door.

Without fanfare, they opened the door and Hermione glimpsed over Remus’ shoulder a bustling and lively main thoroughfare. Surprised, she felt herself instinctively look for sunshine. The street that they had entered onto was as busy as any Saturday in Diagon Alley. Looking closer, however, she saw that it was peopled by a far different crowd. There were very obvious vampires lurking about, ducking in and out of stores and talking in hurried whispers on the street. A group of what appeared to be banshees and hags were gathered around a flaming cauldron and talking in shrill voices. Ron and Harry both momentarily paused as they passed two long-legged Veelas seated at a café table. She clucked her tongue at them as they resumed their slow pace through the odd crowd.

Hermione took a chance to look around at the magical street. One had the sense that Diagon Alley had been squeezed into the spaces between other buildings in London. Its shops were close together and the cobble-stoned streets were quite narrow. The wares peddled at the various stores often spilled out into the street and it was not uncommon to have duck in and amongst the crowds of people. This area, however, was open and orderly. The stores were all properly closed up and the groups of people huddled off to the side and out of the way. Strangest of all, however, was that the entire area was walled in and in the very center of everything loomed a large, terrifyingly black castle. In the moonlight and rain, it looked like slick, polished marble. She could see the two large towers clearly, but the bottom edges of the castle were obscured by the buildings surrounding it. She knew from her readings that this was the home of the Blood Council, but felt she would have known that just by looking at the place.

The Blood Council was the reigning government over all vampires. Employing dozens of vampires world-wide, the Council acted as a sort of intermediary between the different Magical governments. They had sovereignty in this part of Romania and due to crafty legislation, many vampires fell under the jurisdiction of the council. Hermione knew that in Britain’s case, the Ministry greatly preferred that the vampires deal with their own issues and were all too happy to hand over any rogue, vampiric criminals they happened upon.

In years past, the Council made decisions for the vampire community as a whole. In the last war with Voldemort, however, they had been split evenly on a course of action. Approximately half of all vampires had sided with Voldemort, while the rest had remained as neutral mercenaries.

“We need to get an owl to our liaison at the Council,” said Remus, breaking into Hermione’s thoughts. They formed a tightly knit group as they walked down another one of the busy streets. Various confounding and silencing charms had long been cast over them and they were easily able to converse without worry of eavesdropping.

“We’re a day early – do you think there’s any chance we can meet them early?” Harry asked.

“I doubt it,” Remus replied. “The invitation is for tomorrow and they will stick to that.”

Ron rolled his eyes, but remained silent.

“This is where we’re staying,” Remus said, gesturing to the three-story building they had stopped in front of. “I was only able to get two rooms on such short notice.”

Harry and Ron both shrugged and Hermione just waved his words away. “We’ve shared far worse sleeping arrangements,” she supplied. “This will be no problem.”

They checked in at reception and were quickly led to their lodgings. Wordlessly, Ron walked into the first room and turned to face them. “Seeing as Remus and I are the married men here, I suppose we ought to share. It seems as if each suite has two bedrooms anyhow.”

Hermione leveled a glare at her best friend, but couldn’t fault his logic. She was the odd one out and it made the most sense for her to share with Harry. She fully intended to lock herself in her room and take a hot bath before going to bed.

She felt a hand on her elbow as Harry began to guide her down the hall. She waved goodnight to Ron and Remus before pulling her arm away from Harry and falling in step behind him. She had noticed in the lobby that this was a magical hotel, but she now saw that each door had a wand-triggered locking mechanism built in. Despite its somewhat imposing and gloomy atmosphere, the inn seemed fairly up-to-date.

“Here we are,” Harry said quietly and slid his wand through the keyhole. There was a small click and the door swung open noiselessly. Harry lit his wand and went through the door, checking the corners of the immediate room they walked into. Hermione watched as he cast a few security spells and after several moments, he gave her the go-ahead to come into the room.

“This isn’t bad at all,” she said, wondering if her words sounded as hollow as they felt.

For his part, Harry just nodded and looked away from her. Her chest constricted as she saw the cool gaze that was resting on his face. He’d barely looked her fully in the eyes over the past few days and she felt something inside her shatter every time he locked his gaze on something over her shoulder or didn’t even bother to turn his head up to her.

“Harry…I, about everything I said the other day…”

“Yeah?” he replied, finally looking at her. She saw a flicker of something briefly and was startled when she realized what it was. For the past few days, Harry had regarded her with a blank look on his face. There was no trace of kindness or years of friendship or even, only very recently, love. He had merely looked at her as if she was some stranger in the room. His cool gaze had driven home the force of all she had said. Just now, however, she had seen something new: anger.

“I’m so sorry, Harry, about the way I said everything that I did.”

“What do you mean, the way you said everything?”

“Yes, nothing came out the way I meant it,” she said weakly.

Finally, another emotion seeped into his eyes, though it was only confusion.

“I was hurtful, Harry. I said some terrible things to you, things that you didn’t deserve and for that, I apologize. I know that you were doing what you thought best for me.”

Her words seemed to release something within him and he sat on one of the worn leather chairs that were grouped around an oppressively large and dark stone fireplace. He nodded his head. “Do you really understand, Hermione?”

She frowned sadly and sat in the chair opposite him. “I’m sorry, but no, I don’t understand, Harry. I know that’s what you were doing, but it doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“I was trying to protect you! Keep you safe-“

“Yes, but what changed, Harry? You used to want me by your side.” She hated herself even as she said it, wondering vaguely if she always sounded so whiny. She held her ground anyway and looked at Harry rather severely.

In a breath, Harry had moved from his chair and was kneeling next to her. There was a look of fear in his eyes. “Hermione, please, it wasn’t that. You have to understand, that I know I had no logical reason to keep you away, but I couldn’t escape the idea that you would get hurt, or captured,” he added, wincing. “I’m selfish, Hermione. I love you and I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“But I’m with you now…” she said quietly.

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you and I can’t bear the thought of not having you by my side at every moment.” He took both of her hands between his and looked at their intertwined fingers.

Hermione followed his gaze and was silent for several moments before she spoke, letting the tears build up in her eyes without bothering to try and wipe them away. “You have been my best friend for half my life, Harry. Even when we were apart for so long, I still considered you the closest person in the world to me. I’ll always be by your side, but I’m not some secret thing you can keep locked in a castle. I’ve spent half my life right next to you, by choice, battling with you and carrying you when I had to, just as you carried me. But it’s still my life, Harry. And I need to live it by my own standards, not yours.”

“I know that it wasn’t my decision to make,” Harry replied after he’d let her words sink in. “What can I do so that you’ll forgive me?” he asked and she longed to fling her arms around him at that very moment. Her heart was bursting and she knew that she was a fool. She was in love with the man kneeling before her, and probably had been forever. He had been everything to her, since she was a very young girl and it was in her very nature to forgive him any and all transgressions. Something, however, told her to hold her ground for now.

“I need to know that I can trust you… to trust me. I need you to do let me do what’s best for me.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Okay.”

She frowned. “Not just okay, Harry. You’re going to have to – to show me and you’re going to have to give me time.”

This time, he didn’t speak, but merely returned his gaze to their joined hands. With some reluctance, Hermione pulled away from him and kissed him gently on the top of his head. “I promise you, when this is all over, we’ll have the conversation we’ve needed to have for a very long time,” she said softly into his hair. “I love you, Harry James Potter and that will never change.”

She rose out of her chair and went to her private chamber before she lost all resolve. It had taken every fiber of her being to walk away, but she knew it was what had to be done. She could not, however, bring herself to look back at Harry.

Hours later, someone was knocking gently on her door.

“Hermione?” Ron’s voice came to her through her early morning fogginess.

She sat up and allowed herself a moment to more fully awake before she put on her dressing gown and started across to answer her door.

“Good morning, Ron. What time is it?”

“It’s after eleven, sleepyhead,” he said sarcastically. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?”

She rolled her eyes at him and pulled the dressing gown tighter around herself. “Well, what’s going on?”

“We’re going to have a little strategy meeting over breakfast and after that, we have to go to the Romanian ministry about using an international fireplace.”

Hermione nodded and chewed thoughtfully at her bottom lip. “Have you seen Harry yet?” she finally asked Ron, avoiding his gaze.

“He’s with Remus, actually. He was leaving as I came in, so I decided to wake you up.”

“Oh,” she answered quietly, feeling somewhat sad that Harry hadn’t decided to wake her up himself. Immediately, she chided herself for being so foolish. Hadn’t she just asked him for space and a little bit of time? She was annoyed with herself for being so fickle about this entire situation. One minute she wanted to strike out and claim independence and the next she wanted to curl up in Harry’s arms and have him tell her that everything was going to be okay.

She was being a ninny and she knew it, but for some reason seemed powerless to stop.

“…Hermione?” Ron asked, looking at her strangely. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts and looked at him more clearly. “Of course I am. You needn’t worry about me Ron, not now.”

She could immediately tell that he didn’t believe her at all, but for whatever reason he didn’t press the issue.

Finally, he just shrugged. “Get ready and come to the other suite as soon as you can. And bring your notes.”

“I will. See you in a few minutes,” she said as he turned to leave. Feeling forlorn and lonely, Hermione walked into her en-suite bathroom to clean up before breakfast.

Her traveling companions were waiting in the other suite amidst a surprisingly English breakfast. Ron was seated before a plate filled with eggs and sausages, while Harry had beans piled high over a couple of pieces of toast. They both nodded greetings to her as they ate and she smiled gently in return. When Remus gestured to a teapot in the center of the table, she nodded and gratefully took a hot cup of tea.

“Did you sleep?” Remus asked.

“I did. Quite well, actually. These are far better accommodations than we’re used to on these types of trips,” she replied as she peered over the serving trays and selected a baklava from the pastry basket.

Both Harry and Ron grunted their agreement.

“It’s common here,” Remus said. “The tourists usually rent out castles in this area, but frequently, travelers on government business are only in for a few nights. Everything is, I guess, like business class.”

“I hope they’re this hospitable at the castle,” Ron said as he shoveled fried egg into his mouth. Hermione smiled slightly at the comforting sign of Ron eating well.

“I’m sure they won’t be,” said Harry.

“I don’t think it will go badly. The Council has been very agreeable so far,” Remus said. “After we eat, I’d like to head down to the Ministry.”

“Do we have a contact?” Hermione asked, before taking another bite of the sweet sticky pastry.

“Olivia Petrescu is a good witch and a long-standing ally of the Order. She’s also an old schoolfriend of Nymphadora’s. I’ve owled her since Ron woke you – our appointment is in ninety minutes.”

“Shall we leave soon then?”

“It’ll take a bit of time to get checked in at the Ministry and we’ll need to be at the Castle by five.”

Silence settled over them as they quickly finished their breakfasts. Hermione looked over her companions and was relieved to see that a good night’s rest and plenty of food had put them in better spirits. They had a long day ahead of them and so far, it was off to a good start.

The trek to the Romanian Ministry of Magic was long and convoluted. The streets weren’t nearly as busy as they had been during the night, but there was still the hustle and bustle present in any large wizarding quarter. When they were delivered from the twisting, winding streets to the front of the Ministry building, Hermione was relieved to be out of the crowds.

It took thirty minutes to get through security, which involved both a wand test and some sort of blood test to make sure they weren’t vampires disguised as regular witches and wizards. She knew better than to say anything about it, but felt the last measure to be rather unnecessary considering they had just stepped out of broad daylight into the Ministry lobby.

“It’s good to see that government is bloated and nonsensical the world over,” Ron whispered over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs as they entered the lift.

On the fourth floor, a petite, dark-haired, olive-skinned witch dressed in midnight blue robes met them at the doors of the lift. She smiled warmly at Remus and reached up to kiss both his cheeks.

“Domnul Lupin, it is so pleasant to see you again. I presume that these are your companions?” Remus nodded, making brief introductions and she continued without much pause. “Bine ati venit! It is good to meet you; I hope that I can be of some help to you.”

She gestured for them to follow her and the group started off down a long pathway, past several rows of desks. It seemed like any other Ministry office Hermione had ever seen, so she found herself easily distracted from their surroundings by what Olivia was saying.

“The past few days have been a nightmare,” she said. “Ever since the attacks in Britain, the entire international community is outraged. We’re not getting any straight answers from your government and everyone is understandably panicked, wanting to know if this is one of…” she lowered her voice and looked around cautiously, “Voldemort’s followers.”

“I’m afraid we really can’t offer you too much information at this point,” Remus replied. “We’ve had limited contact with anyone at home over the past few days and when we left, there were very few solid facts about anything.”

Olivia merely nodded as she let them into a small office. Despite its size, it was well-appointed and neatly organized. There were several chairs gathered around a small, stone fireplace and the antique wood desk was set against the wall. A handful of filing cabinets were next to the desk and Hermione saw an empty cauldron on top of one. There was also a rack of various inks and quills and several bookshelves.

“Won’t you all have a seat?” she said, gesturing to the chairs. She knelt in front of the fireplace and wordlessly started a small fire in the box. After a few moments, the flames had built up significantly and she began waving her wand in an intricate pattern over them. She tossed in a handful of aqua-colored floo powder and turned to Remus.

“The international connection to Britain is set,” she said. “You may place your call now.” She stepped back from the fireplace and took Lupin’s vacated seat next to Hermione. Remus cast a cloaking charm over the fireplace, so they were able to see him sitting at the fireplace, but could not see his contact or hear what he was saying.

“How was your trip?” Olivia asked after several beats of silence.

Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Grueling. I hate traveling so far by train.”

“Yes, the Blood Council is very set in its ways. I’ve never had it confirmed, but I believe they find their travel regulations to be some sort of endurance test. They don’t like to have their time wasted and only the most dedicated are willing to make the journey through the mountains.”

Hermione nodded. “What is your job within the Ministry, Domnisoara Petrescu?” she asked, the Romanian rolling off her tongue with surprising ease.

“I am the liaison to the Blood Council. In order for magical Romania to be governed successfully, we must work closely with them to insure our interests are the same. I would not want the vampires as enemies,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands. Hermione felt unease settle in the pit of her stomach as Olivia continued, “It’s been uneasy around here, as I’ve not been able to get an answer out of Lilith as to the alliance of the vampire council. There are all sorts of calls for the British Ministry to make a pre-emptive strike against this new group, to make sure they don’t have too much time to amass any followers, but the Ministry doesn’t even know who they are, much less where they would even launch such an attack.”

“What does this have to do with the Council?” Hermione asked.

“They’ve got a secret, I think. They know more than they’re letting on.”

“What do you think it is?” Harry asked, as he had obviously been listening to the entire conversation.

“I couldn’t even venture a guess,” Olivia replied, shaking her head. “The Council guards their secrets well, as I’m sure you’ll soon find out.”

Hermione sighed. “Any suggestions for a smooth meeting?”

“Do not forget that you must show the utmost respect. They are an ancient group, older even than many of the Ministries around the world. The three heads of the Council are old enough to remember ancient Rome and you must never forget that. Their methods may seem outdated and self-satisfying, but they are ways that have served the group well for thousands of years.”

Harry and Ron both seemed agitated by Olivia’s advice. “How can a group of dark magical creatures demand so much?” Ron asked.

“In Romania, we recognize vampires as wizards, Domnul Weasley. There are only a handful of countries, including yours, that do not do this. They have their own magic and their own laws, why should they only be recognized as dark creatures? It is far too simple a classification for them.”

“Do you support this idea?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Olivia replied. “Not all vampires are evil. Many try to live simple lives, work, raise families and affect the humans around them as little as possible. I think they deserve all the rights and protections afforded to other witches and wizards.”

Further conversation was preempted by Remus removing his cloaking charm.

“You were right, Hermione, about the other attacks. No one was captured, but several people were hurt.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad then, in perspective,” Hermione remarked.

“Well, it gets strange. You see, all three sites have just disappeared, right into thin air.”

Hermione couldn’t stop herself from gasping. “How is that even possible? Three places?”

“Hasn’t one of your castles already disappeared?”

“No, not disappeared. It imploded, but so far, there’s been no concrete proof that the implosion was magical in nature.”

Olivia looked at her with a skeptical twinkle in her eye. “I do not believe in coincidences,” she said.

“So, we need to find some information and fast – McGonagall has called together the High Council of the Confederation.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “That seems like an extreme measure.”

Remus shook his head. “No one wants this to get out of control, like what happened during Voldemort’s initial reign. The world governments waited too long to act.”

“When is the meeting?” Harry asked.

“They’re to convene within twenty four hours. If possible, Minerva would like you to accompany her to Ireland.”

“How would that be possible?”

Olivia cleared her throat. “In very rare instances, I am able to get the approval of the Blood Council to allow portkey travel. They may be open to allowing it in this special circumstance.”

Remus smiled at his old friend. “That would be excellent.” He looked down at his watch. “We need to head out, we have to be at the castle by five and it takes some time to get there on foot.”

Olivia smiled graciously at them and began to escort everyone from her office. After winding their way back through the Ministry hallways and being left at the doors by Olivia, they exited onto a busy thoroughfare, at the very bottom of the hill that the Castle was perched on. Hermione heard Ron sigh audibly and chuckled slightly. Some things would never change.

They began their steady climb through the streets, falling into two pairs easily. Ron and Remus were leading their small group and she and Harry brought up the rear. Another cloaking charm had been cast and Hermione was positing on the various ways whole archaeological sites could suddenly go missing.

It took them nearly an hour to reach the castle gates that had been obscured through most of the journey. By her watch, Hermione saw that it was just five. A tall, black hooded and cloaked guard was waiting for them by the small side gate. As they approached, the figure pushed back his hood, revealing a pale, gaunt face.

“Are you the party for the Order?” he asked, his voice low and lips barely moving.

Remus nodded and cleared his throat. “We are here to request a meeting with the Blood Council.”

“Request? What do you mean? I thought they had agreed to meet us?” Ron interrupted, looking at Remus and crossing his arms.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Ron, pulling him back in line with her and Harry. “We have to follow protocol, Ronald,” she hissed. A quick glare silenced the snickers from Harry.

“My apologies for my companions, sir. The mountain air is a new sensation for them,” Remus said respectfully. He inclined his head and the disdainful look of the guard mellowed slightly.

“Many humans cannot tolerate these altitudes. Your request has been granted, relying of course, on the standard guarantees. You will have an audience in thirty minutes’ time.”

Remus nodded and signaled for the others to follow him. The guard led them through the narrow gate and out onto a tall bridge, built precariously over a seemingly bottomless pit. As soon as they were within the castle walls, all remaining daylight had vanished and they became enrobed in a mix of inky darkness and cool, blue light being thrown from torches scattered throughout the structure. In narrow, single file, they started across the stone bridge, Hermione counting her footsteps and focusing her vision on the heavy castle door that was straight ahead. She nearly sighed audibly when Harry pressed a gentle hand against her back, instantly steadying her and calming her nerves. She was relieved he had volunteered to follow after her.

Endless minutes later, they arrived in front of the wooden door she had been so focused on. Its wood looked as if it had long ago been charred. Its dull black surface conflicted with the shimmering stone of the castle itself.

“Welcome to Castle Strigoi. If you will again, follow my lead, I will take you directly to the Council chamber.”

Seeing no reason to argue, the group trudged after their guard, entering through another narrow side entrance. They entered a stone-lined passageway that couldn’t have been taller than six and a half feet. Both Ron and the guard were very close to bumping their heads on the ceiling. They walked in pairs again, following their lead silently. After nearly a quarter of an hour and a very unnerving downward slope, the passage let into a large, marble-floored chamber. Tall tapestries depicting various and predictable monstrosities lined the walls and there was a knot of additional cloaked guards waiting at the very end of the room. They waited for the travelers to reach them before signaling them to halt.

“Wands out. Sleeves up,” barked the smallest guard, his voice thick-accented and greasy sounding.

They were subjected to the same security tests seen at the Ministry, but Hermione noticed additional wand scans, for which she did not know the purpose. A collective nod from the group seemed to grant them permission to proceed and they were finally escorted into the Blood Council’s chambers.

The double, blood-red doors opened into a high-ceiling circular room. On three-quarters of the circle was a raised dais, around which were seated seven women. The central three women were seated on a higher platform than the others and Hermione noticed that these were the only faces she could make out clearly. She had never been easily spooked, but her senses were overly alert in the chamber. She could smell a faint tinge of blood in the air and felt her stomach turn as the scent invaded her nostrils.

“Representatives of the Order of the Phoenix, you now stand before the highest members of our sacred Council. The Countesses have agreed to meet with you today on the topic of Alliance. You will have only thirty minutes for your request,” said another vampire guard that had stepped forward. This one sported a deep-red cloak and had some sort of official insignia across his chest. He bowed his head deferentially to the three figures seated at the head of the room.

“May I first present, Countess Lamashtu of Moldova.” At the right side of the dais was a slight, dark-haired vampire. She looked at them without a single emotion on her flawless face. Her blood red lips and onyx eyes betrayed the careful innocence etched on the creature’s face.

“Countess Ardat of Tara Romaneasca.” The vampire to the right had hair as golden as any Hermione had even seen. It hung in long curls over the tall, thin woman’s shoulders. Her face wore a look of amused interest as her amethyst eyes darted over each of the visitors. As she eyed each of them, she held her mouth slightly open and Hermione would have bet ten galleons that she had seen a bit of shining, white fang.

“And finally, our Mother, Countess Lilith of Ardeal.” The guard bowed deeper as all faced the most central vampire. The older, yet still amazingly beautiful vampire looked over them with cool detachment. She held her chin high, causing her long auburn hair to flow down her shoulders and back regally.

“Good evening,” she spoke, her voice as smooth as silk. Momentarily, Hermione felt entranced by the vampire’s voice as it seemed to stretch into her very skin and send flames of warmth through her body.

“I will speak only with your female directly,” Lilith said. “The rest of you may remain in the room, but will stay silent. Is this understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione replied softly, understanding effortlessly that she was the one who should answer. Lilith’s sapphire blues eyes pierced her and Hermione wavered slightly as everything else in the room seemed to disappear.

Why have you come to me?

She wondered briefly if someone had spoken aloud or in her thoughts. Shrugging slightly, she answered anyhow.

“My best friend’s wife and several schoolchildren, have been kidnapped by a group that we know nothing about. Professor Remus Lupin has been contacted by a werewolf group and we’ve learned that they are staying neutral.”

And you expect me to help you somehow?

“Have you been approached with any sort of alliance with this group?”

You are Hermione Granger, yes?

“I am.”

You have upset them greatly, you know. I will tell you this only because I have not yet decided on a course of action, Ms. Granger. My Council has been approached with an alliance, not because of our magical powers, but for our powers of reproduction.

“Vampires can produce offspring.”

Yes, when we are not so heavily regulated as we are by the Confederation. This new…group, as you have called them, is interested in that particular magic. Would you like to venture a guess as to why?

Just like her previous words, the answer was available in her head immediately. In the haze of thoughts, she was unaware of when she had ever learned anything she was talking about. “You can reproduce without new blood, and therefore, new magic. Your magic is organic, it’s a part of you because magic is what created you. You have no need of a wand.”

Precisely. They want our magic, because you have single-handedly caused such distress. Hermione felt a tinkling laughter float through her mind. It is not everyday I come across people so desperate to learn our ways and for that I thank you.

“What have they offered you?”

Hermione saw Lilith cock her head slightly to the side. Independence.

“But you can’t teach them anything. It’s not a skill to be learned, you simply are or you are not.”

You are very wise for such a young soul. I have not decided on a course of action, Ms. Granger, so there is little I can do for you or your companions in this matter. I can, however, provide for your lover to leave this place quickly. I have received word of the necessity.

“He’s not-“

If he’s not perhaps he should be. She heard the strange laughter again. You may take your leave now and I will be in touch via screech owl within twenty-four hours. For your intelligence and logic, I will grant you as much information as I deem you worthy of.

The fog disappeared and Hermione instantly felt the presence of everyone else in the room. Without much fanfare, they were once again led away, this time out of the castle grounds.

“Well, that was bloody useless, wasn’t it?” Ron said, exhaling sharply as the castle gate closed behind them.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hermione said quietly, still replaying the strange conversation in her mind.

“What did she say to you?” Harry asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She looked at him strangely for a moment, unsure herself of what had been communicated. “She’s granted you a portkey,” she answered finally, feeling unsatisfied with her own response. “And something else, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s perfectly normal, Hermione. She used something like legilimens to communicate with you and it’ll be awhile before you can properly remember your conversation. If we stop off for a minute, I’ve got some chocolate in my pack that should set everyone to rights,” Remus said as he pulled the small black bag out of his cloak pocket.

They each took a moment to savor the sweets and Hermione instantly began to feel more like herself.

“I’d like to write everything down and we can go over it later. It might be awhile before I have all the information ready for everyone.”

Harry seemed worried by this, but he didn’t say anything to her. “What about the portkey? Is it for all of us?”

“I’m not sure, but I doubt it. I believe the request was made only for Harry.”

They began to head back to the Ministry. Hermione glanced at the westward sky and saw that a rather severe storm seemed to be headed in their direction. Already a swift wind had picked up and it was blowing her cloak around her ankles as they trekked downward.

When they reached the street that passed by the Ministry, a steady rain began to fall and she breathed a sigh at the good luck of remembering sensible dragon-hide boots for the trip. A figure dressed in Slytherin green was approaching them quickly. When it came within ten yards of them, a small object was tossed at Harry. With his Seeker reflexes still in tact, his hands shot out and caught the chipped teacup. As soon as his fingers grazed the cracked china, two things happened simultaneously: Harry Potter disappeared and the sky opened.

Hooded figures appeared in a swirl of rain and wind, wands out and ready. As soon as their feet hit the ground, the robed wizards began firing random curses at the people gathered on the street. Ron and Remus headed into the fray, but Hermione quickly lost sight of them as she took off running after the green-hooded figure. She heard spells ricocheting off stone as she bounded down the steep hill. The figure darted between the Ministry building and a small bakery, Hermione close behind.

As she rounded a corner, she took a chance and cast a silent stupefy! There was a thud and she knew that she’d hit her mark, with an amazing bit of luck.

The drenched figure was collapsed in a heap right in the middle of the dark alley. In a few long strides, she was atop the figure and had used her wand to flip the person over. She shoved back the hood of the cloak and looked into the frozen, stunned face of Olivia Petrescu.

“Ennervate!” she shouted over the rain and the strange, flapping sound that was steadily filling the air. The witch underneath her quickly came to and began laughing loudly as she noticed who had stunned her.

“You stupid little swot! You’ve all walked right into this trap and it doesn’t matter what you do to me, you will never get to Potter now.”

In a flash, Hermione had her wand at the throat of the Romanian witch and yanked the witch’s head forward by her hair. She didn’t hesitate to let the tip of her wand dig in a little.

“Olivia Petrescu, if Harry Potter meets any harm because of you, I will hold you responsible for the rest of your days. And I. Will make. You. Pay.”

“Hermione!” she heard Ron’s voice behind her as she stared down at Olivia. The other witch had stopped laughing and was glaring fiercely at Hermione.

“Hermione! Who is it? Where did that portkey take Harry?”

“You tell your Order,” came a steely, accented voice from the end of the Alley, “that the Brotherhood of the Midnight Crest has taken Harry Potter to Castle Corfe. Tell them also, that the Brotherhood is now the sworn enemy of the Blood Council and of Countess Lilith of Ardeal.”

Hermione backed away and stared, astonished, at the vampire floating three feet off the ground. Her sapphire eyes were flashing wildly and her auburn hair whipped wildly in every direction. Hermione screamed as a bolt of lightening hit somewhere nearby and she was able to see the ancient creature thrash her large, black wings and snatch the green-robed figure of Olivia Petrescu away into the stormy night sky.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.

11. Chapter XI

A Long Way from Home

Summary: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: My apologies for another long break! RL has been devouring my time. Thanks for waiting for this one, I hope you enjoy it!
Quick warning: This is a very dark chapter and Hermione will do something that many of you may think out of character. I hope that I've done this well enough that you'll understand her motivation.
Thanks for reading - please review, if you like, on your way out!

Chapter XI

Once more, for the hell of it, Ron replayed the events of the past thirty-six hours in his head. The events prior to Harry catching the teacup were hazy – he had been in a daze since Andie had disappeared, coming out of it only when his companions found it necessary to seek his opinion. The faint magical waiver in the air as Harry had disappeared had been like a slap across the face. The events that had preceded that very moment seemed to rush in on him all at once and he was suddenly hyper-aware of everything going on around him. He saw Hermione’s lips move in the briefest gasp before she had taken off after a strange figure. He saw the panic in Remus’ eyes and finally, his vision broadened enough to take in the new figures closing in on them. His own Quidditch skills still in tact, he reacted with lightening speed. In a flash, he had pulled Remus behind him and began casting several spells he thought long-forgotten.

The last year of their battle against Voldemort had taught them so much – Hermione had begun using the time-turner again and to this day, he still wondered how she could have possibly put so much information into her head in just one year. His personal favorite bit of research was into foreign types of magic. They were undetectable by Ministry wards in many cases, and it was the uncommon wizard that knew any counter-defenses to other types of magic. Hermione had explained it best – magic was like languages, there were dialects, families of magic that were favored in one culture over another. He had grown to love Chinese magical spells – they had fifty different spells for stunning a person.

There was also a handy little spell that was like Expelliarmus, except that it worked on anybody within ten meters. No doubt a few harmless spectators had been caught up in it as well, but he deemed the effect well worth it. He pushed through the gathering crowds and chased after Hermione. He wasn’t surprised when he heard Remus running along behind him.

He caught sight of her darting through the crowd and looking ahead, caught a quick view of the stranger that had given Harry the portkey. Tossing a few casual spells at the cloaked wizards running towards them, they made quick time through the crowd, just fast enough to see Hermione disappear between two buildings.

When he finally caught up to her, the sight in the alley had shocked him more than anything he’d seen in years. Lilith, the head of the Blood Council, was floating in the air ten feet above Hermione, powered by a pair of steadily beating black and skeletal looking wings. Her long red hair was whipping wildly in the blustering wind and her eyes were silvery, flashing dangerously. She bared her teeth at the figure on the ground and Ron heard himself call out for Hermione.

In a clear, menacing voice, the vampire spoke: “You tell your Order, that the Brotherhood of the Midnight Crest has taken Harry Potter to Castle Corfe. Tell them also, that the Brotherhood is the sworn enemy of the Blood Council and of Countess Lilith of Ardeal.”

In a loud thrashing of wings, the vampire had snatched the figure up and he saw for the first time the face of the perpetrator. Olivia Petrescu, their aid and ally, had betrayed them. He watched for a long moment as the vampire disappeared into the sky before turning his gaze to Hermione.

At nearly the same moment, she had turned to look at him and he received another shock to his system. Hermione’s features were etched in pure, cold rage. It was coming off her in waves; even her hair had become its usual wild mess. She regarded him for a moment, “Ron, we must get back to the Castle and contact the Order of the Phoenix. We must tell them that Harry has been taken and that we need all reinforcements ready.” She looked past him and began to walk steadily down the alley, her hands at her sides, wand clutched tightly between her fingertips.

“What do you mean, ready?” Ron said, turning to follow her.

“We’re going after him,” she called over her shoulder as she turned onto the thoroughfare.

Quickening his pace, he reached forward and grabbed her upper arm. She spun around and glared mutinously at him. Somehow, he knew that this would be his last chance to argue and he sighed.

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” she replied through her teeth.

“Hermione, I really think you should leave this up to some of the older members.”

“That’s bullocks and you know it, Ron,” she hissed, thrusting her finger into his chest. “I’m going after him, because he’s my best friend and I don’t need your permission or your company. I will be just fine without you.”

“Don’t be daft,” he said, changing tactics and putting on a more casual air. “I’ll not let you go off on some dangerous mission without me. We’ll talk to Remus; we’ll get what we need.”

She didn’t buy his complacent tone but didn’t argue further. Turning on her heel, she started back towards the vampires’ castle.

Now, a full day and a half later, he was beginning to feel the frustration of having arrived at a dead end. In the time since Harry had disappeared a great deal had happened: closest to home, the vampires had opened their wards, much to Hermione’s dismay. Dark creatures had been coming and going freely and in great numbers– it was nearly the full moon. This also meant, however, that Order members were able to come and go more easily, though they were being carefully watched by the vampire clan.

Hermione had met several times with Lilith but had kept most of the content of their meetings to herself, sharing only the elements of their conversations that related directly to their planning. She immediately began bossing people around and they never seemed to question it. He remembered, of course, that this was not a completely unfamiliar role to either of them: Harry had been captured once before, and it had been Hermione’s plans that had saved him. It hadn’t been until after the war was over that they found out it had all been staged by the Order. A test, as it were. Hermione had left the very next day, following Harry into anonymity.

The strategy was simple enough: they would get into the castle, keeping in two tight groups. A tracking talisman could be made easily enough if one knew a more specific location. When they knew the exact location, Hermione would create the talisman and their operation would begin. Break into the castle, locate the hostages, confront the enemy and evacuate the castle of all hostages. Classic plan of action.

There was only one snag and it was beginning to feel hopeless; the exact location of Corfe Castle was unknown. As far as anyone knew, they had access only to one person that might have the information. Hermione had requested some time alone with that Olivia woman, and now all that was left was to wait. She had mentioned, however, that Lilith hadn’t been able to guarantee her that Olivia would be in any sort of state conducive to questioning.

Gathering his thoughts together, Ron stood from the chair in his room and walked across the carpet to look out over the medieval town below. It was nearly lunch-time and he had been feeling restless all morning. They’d been waiting for six hours for any word from Lilith and he had sensed the growing annoyance in Hermione. When he thought it would go unnoticed, he had slipped out of the meeting room they had been given access to and apparated back to the hotel. He had spent the last thirty minutes attempting to play himself in chess, but had failed miserably. His concentration wavered constantly and he was unable to plan any moves.

A small pop echoed in the silent room and he turned from the window, unsurprised to see Hermione standing in the middle of the room.

“You’re very rude when you’re under pressure. There’s a doorbell, or you could even knock,” he said, trying to keep his tone light as he smiled slightly.

Hermione burst into tears.

“Merlin, Hermione, what’s wrong?” he asked as he rushed to her, gathering her into a tight hug.

“This is entirely my fault, Ron, all of it. I should never have published that paper and now Harry and Andie are gone and I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t get them back.” She cried, the words rushing out and tumbling over each other. Her shoulders hitched against him as she began to sob harder.

Bewildered, Ron rubbed her back gently, making small shushing sounds. “It’s ok, Hermione. This isn’t your fault.”

She made some indiscernible response, but he shook his head. “You can’t blame yourself. This Midnight Crest crowd is no different than any of these dark groups have ever been. They reek havoc by coming up with really bad plans and then failing spectacularly. It has nothing to do with you, except that you are Harry Potter’s best friend and he’s got like, this big red target on his forehead when it comes to these guys. Walking dark wizard magnet, that one is.”

He felt Hermione’s shoulder shake slightly and he pulled back to look at her. She was laughing slightly and her eyes finally seemed to dry a bit.

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“Good! He’s a git anyway.”

At this, she burst out laughing and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re mad.”

“I know,” he said softly and smiled. “Are you ready to get back then? We can see if Her Bloody Royal Highness has deemed it time for your interview yet. It’d be the news of the week you know: day walking and all.”

***

It came as no surprise that Lilith didn’t call for her until after night-fall. The day had not been a waste, however. They had finalized teams, gone over maps and tried to get as much last minute planning in as possible. She had even taken the time to plan exactly how she would handle Olivia. She had given Lilith a list of requests and was counting on her questioning of Olivia to be successful. They didn’t want to waste time by being unprepared and expected to leave shortly after the questioning. When the message finally came from Lilith, Hermione had left the Order immediately and gone to the vampire’s private offices.

Now, nearly thirty minutes after being called in, she had careful time to look around the room. Hermione had decided that this space must have been designed by someone who paced a lot. The floors were smooth, even stone and a long, narrow path had been created between an absolutely ancient looking sofa and a huge, wall-spanning fireplace. She gathered that Lilith was not the sort of person that paced frequently, but admittedly, she wasn’t willing to spend that much time thinking about what exactly Lilith did to relieve stress and think things through.

She seemed to have a penchant for being stranded in castles for longer than she would like. Since Harry’s disappearance, she hadn’t left the place but once, to find Ron. The Order of the Phoenix had come to her and she hadn’t slept more than a few hours. She had been pacing in this office for half an hour and wasn’t completely sure that any of this questioning would pan out. Her agitation was growing as she moved; she sincerely hoped that Olivia Petrescu would still be alive when brought into the room.

“You will wear a tread in my floor,” Lilith said from her perch at a huge wooden desk. Two tall curtained windows loomed behind the desk, framing the vampire in black velvet. Her auburn hair, now pinned around her head, stood out brightly against all the dark stone. Hermione had found herself staring at Lilith several times. Every color of her features seemed oddly bright, as if everything had received a very light, brightening coat of paint.

Hermione waved the comment away and shook her head. “I won’t; it’s stone.”

“Sit.” Lilith commanded and jolted her finger at Hermione. Stunned at the pressure on her shoulders, she did as told.

“Have you come to any conclusions?” the vampire asked as she examined the long red fingernails on her left hand.

“About what?” Hermione asked, looking quizzically at Lilith.

“About why your lover was taken?”

Hermione hesitated. She had a few theories, but was unsure how much she should share. Realizing that the pressure on her shoulders had been lifted, she stood and turned back towards the fireplace.

“I understand your hesitation, Hermione Granger. Caution is a strong trait.”

“They want something only Harry can give,” she said finally. “I’m not sure what that is, though.”

“Maybe it is not for you to know yet.”

“I don’t think the ‘what’ is important. He’s been taken and I will find him by whatever means necessary,” she replied, finally turning around and resuming her seat in one of the chairs across from the large desk. She held her shoulders erect and met the vampire’s level gaze with one of her own.

Lilith regarded her for several moments before making a small waving motion at the door to the right of her desk. Within seconds, it opened and a tall, dark-haired vampire walked in. He bowed gently to his mistress and waited at the corner of her desk.

“Hadrian, bring Petrescu. And the tools.” Hermione tried to keep her breath steady as Lilith spoke. Her chance had finally arrived.

Wordlessly, Hadrian left the room. In took several minutes, but he eventually returned with Olivia Petrescu and a small black box floating behind him. The petite form of the traitorous witch looked emaciated. The bruises and cuts over her body were evidence of torture; Hermione knew from her research that vampires did not use magic for punishment. They were artists of the medieval trade.

Lilith eyed the witch for a few moments before a sly, nearly evil grin spread across her face. She walked over to Olivia and lifted her head from her chest. Hermione saw Olivia’s brown eyes swivel before focusing on Lilith’s face.

“Do not hesitate to break her,” Lilith said, speaking to Hermione but staring at Olivia.

Hermione did not answer, fearing that her voice would betray her deep-seated unease with the situation. She took another deep breath, going over each step of the plan, before she flicked her wand once to release the bonds that held Olivia. Another flick and she was seated in a hard-backed wooden chair. The entire room was silent, filled thick with tension. Hermione turned her back on Olivia and nodded once to Lilith and Hadrian. Wordlessly, they left.

As soon as Lilith had exited the room, Olivia stretched her bruised and beaten face into a thin smile.

“I’d like to see you try. I’ve heard so much about you, Granger. A very dear friend of my mother’s had fought you many times in battle and I know that even in the end, you could not kill her. Your little boyfriend had to do the dirty work for you.”

Hermione felt white hot angering surging through her, but miraculously she kept her face still. Counting to ten, she took another deep breath and forced herself to concentrate, to compartmentalize, to shut down. She began waving her wand, looping fresh rope over Petrescu’s arms and legs. She watched as the sinewy magical rope tightened and snaked through her subject’s limbs. As it finished, she hesitated as to whether or not to gag Olivia, but decided against it. It would rob her of any chance to speak before they commenced their work.

“You were her special little pet. Her little fetish. Potter belonged to the Dark Lord, but you were to be hers.”

Hermione began rearranging the objects on the table next to her, attempting to reign in her temper and focus on her objective. She concentrated on her tools and felt a strange sort of déjà vu settle over her. They had come across several people in their hunts for the horcruxes that needed some persuasion to guide the trio in their quest. She had become a master at administering veritaserum and knew precisely what questions to ask to get the information she needed. When required, she could completely compartmentalize all of her emotions and focus solely on the task at hand. Her table was well laid out: there was a vial of the truth potion, a small talisman that simply looked devilish and nasty, but was really only a fancy lie-detector, and a jar of pain potion. There was also a small dagger, well-polished and impossibly sharp. She had found, in her handful of personal experience, that these tools were rarely used. They were props, though effective ones. The real tools were her mind and her force of will.

She had taught herself to be a Legilimens, and she had aided Harry to become a master Occlumens. Its use in interrogation had been a side-benefit that she had not counted on.

She turned again towards Olivia and cocked her head slightly, waiting.

“She never did get to you. But she found your father easily enough,” Olivia said slowly, her voice proud and her face blatantly displaying a smirk. “He begged.”

No response came from Hermione. She merely stood, her fingers clasping her wand loosely in front of her, and looked down at Petrescu.

Olivia laughed harshly. “I always heard you were a cold bitch. Does it not bother you? Does it not get under your skin? Your father begged for his life because you were too uncaring to keep him safe.”

Hermione cocked her head to the side and tapped her wand twice against the palm of her hand.

Olivia growled lowly and began to struggle against her bonds. She was glaring at Hermione now, her eyes flashing wildly. The look of superiority was gone from her eyes and all Hermione could see was pure animalistic fear.

In a flash, Hermione had her wand at Olivia’s throat. She looked into the other witch’s eyes and smiled wickedly, knowing that she now had full control of the situation. She had waited and baited the other witch. Her silence and non-reaction had dealt a heavy blow to Petrescu’s confidence and it was the perfect time to strike. Swiftly and silently, she cast the necessary charm and found herself glancing carefully, as if through a pensieve, at the blank mind of her subject.

Without hesitation, Hermione pooled her focus and shoved through the blockade. Olivia’s thoughts had the strange and scattered organization of a madwoman. Hermione pushed forward, looking deeper, looking for the pain and the secrets.

Going farther back, she felt suddenly as if she’d hit a wall. All around her was simply blackness, silent and endless. She had hit her mark; this was the mind of a person so mentally and emotionally damaged that her mind had fractured, concealing many of its worst secrets. In the background, beyond the fog of the mind/body barrier, she heard Olivia scream as she gathered her will and shoved through the darkness. Slowly, agonizingly so, she began to sift through memories, like strange, moving photographs, of abuse: physical, emotional, sexual. She saw the man that must have been Olivia’s father kill a young boy of maybe thirteen in a wizarding duel. She saw a rough-textured cane. Here and there she saw shadowed memories, ones that had not been reviewed in many, many years, of a strange man entering a bedroom late at night. She saw bruises and broken bones. Destroyed toys. Strange artifacts and dangerous spells.

The sounds were the worst. She heard screams, shouts, and the sound of rib bone splintering beneath a heavy foot. There was a heavy voice, whispering rough words in a foreign tongue. And there was laughter, but not the happy, bubbling notes of childhood. It was a low-pitched rumble, whiskey-tainted and wicked.

She could smell the blood and the burned flesh, could taste the taint of it in the air.

She felt the simultaneous tug and push of a mind meeting the breaking point. She pulled back and began looking for more recent memories. She found Harry and the portkey and pushed further back in time. She saw a large stone castle and several robed figures ambling about. She heard familiar voices and saw flashes of red hair. And, striking gold, she found the mental reminders of the location.

In a single motion, Hermione pulled herself from the mind of Olivia and stepped back to look at her.

Olivia was crying and mouthing silent words. She swayed her body wildly, tugging at her ropes and taking deep, raspy breaths. Hermione watched, emotionless. She would celebrate the knowledge of finding Harry later. She waited as Olivia’s breathing slowed some and her body stopping pitched back and forth. There was a sharp intake of breath and Petrescu lifted her head to glare.

“Go to hell.”

Hermione smirked. “I’ll see you there.” And again, she allowed herself to venture into the mind of the traitor, reaching back as far as she dared, digging, searching. When she found what she was looking for, she pulled a single image, of a father, taking what was never his to have.

The tug and push firmly ejected her from her wanderings and she walked away from the chair, knowing that the price she would pay for this would be worth it.

Still, as she walked down the hall from Lilith’s office, she stopped in a small water closet and slammed the door shut behind her. She felt a wave of guilt crash over her and vomited neatly into the toilet bowl.

*** “How long had she been a member of this group?” Remus asked.

“Her mother was a supporter of the Death Eaters and a confidant of Bellatrix Lestrange. No doubt, Petrescu joined up with our current band of merrymaking maniacal fiends when they started recruiting. Everyone is always so sure that they can win,” Hermione replied, not looking up from the notes she was making.

Remus frowned at her and looked down at his hands. “She went to Hogwarts, knew my wife even. How did I never…”

“You couldn’t have, I don’t think. I got the sense that she thought this time was different and she did a much better job of hiding her true self than many others we’ve seen. They seem to have some other motive now, rather than just killing everyone that doesn’t agree and taking over the world.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

Hermione shrugged and looked up from her paper. “I think I’ve finally got it now. I’ll have to use her magical signature to get past the wards, but after that I’ll be able to bring everyone else in. Each team will have a talisman that will lead to me after I’ve cleared the way.”

“I can’t let you do that, Hermione,” Ron said, speaking up for the first time. He was seated across from her, at a small round table in the parlor of their suite. There was a platter of sandwiches next to his elbow that had remained ignored.

“What are you talking about Ron? I have to.”

“No, it’s not what you do, Hermione. You never go in first. We – Harry and I always agreed on that.”

“He’s not here, Ron and it’s not your decision to make.”

“The bloody hell it isn’t, Hermione. Quit acting like everyone is trying to keep you out of the loop or something. We’ve been trying to protect you all along, but you just keep pushing. I’m not stupid and I’ve known you half my life. You were hacked off that Harry asked you to stay at Idyllwild and you just want to punish me for it.”

Remus held up his hand to halt Hermione’s rebuttal. “Enough. Ron, Hermione has to go first. If we’re going to attempt to forge that signature, it’ll need to be done by a female. Hermione, I want to be very clear about something.”

Hermione waited as her stomach flopped. Remus had taken a tone of voice that, over the years, had come to unnerve her; he reminded her strongly of Dumbledore in those rare moments.

“We are staging a rescue operation for not only Harry, but, we hope, several children and Ron’s wife. I realize that you want to make sure Harry is safe, but I don’t want anyone taking unnecessary risks. You’ve been under a great deal of stress over the past several days and I do not want you to feel as if you have to do this. Don’t do anything foolish.”

Hermione nodded. “ I feel I am the best suited to this task and I’ve outlined my reasons for that over the past forty-eight hours.”

Remus returned her nod and stood from the table. “We’ll convene here in thirty minutes, both teams. Ron, you will lead the primary squad and I’ll bring up the rear.”

He walked away from them and Hermione stood from the table to begin gathering her notes. The talisman would only take a few minutes to make now that she had what she needed. There was enough time to have a quick shower and gather her pack.

Ron remained silent, looking at her with a blank expression on his face. She ignored him and continued bustling around. She grabbed up her parchment pad and turned towards the door. As she put her first foot towards it, however, Ron grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.

“Why are you doing this, Hermione?” he asked evenly. “You’re not the only one that can make the first approach.”

She looked at Ron for several long moments before deciding to simply tell him the truth.

“You’re wrong; I’m the only one that can do this Ron.”

“We can’t risk you Hermione!”

“I have nothing to lose, Ron, by doing this. I need to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m in love with Harry, Ron and I don’t know how to keep living my life without him. I have nothing to lose, because if I don’t have him with me, I have nothing.”

***

Harry landed with an unceremonious thud in a darkened stone chamber. It took him several moments to get his wits about him: a nasty side effect of forced magical transportation and some other force that made him feel as if he was swimming through concrete.

He blinked his eyes and shook his head a couple of times before his mind cleared a bit. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to make out the surrounding walls; two were solid and the others were comprised of heavy, rust-colored bars. He felt briefly around for his wand and was surprised to find it next to him on the ground. Tentatively, he picked it up and attempted to cast a simple spell. Nothing happened, exactly as he had expected. He stood up quickly, stuffing the thin piece of wood into his pocket and trying to stifle the feelings of panic that were arising in him. Confusion was replaced by anger and just a little bit of fear. Feeling vulnerable in the small cell, he backed out of the center of the room and let his eyes further adjust.

Before long, he had settled down enough to better investigate his surroundings. Turning slowly to his left, he was able to make out another figure in the cell over, illuminated in very low moonlight. He wondered wildly if it was a body stretched across the floor of the cell and swallowed back the rising bile in his throat. He glanced through the front of the cell and seeing and hearing nothing, started towards the neighboring cell.

As he inched closer, the light hit on strands of chestnut hair stretching from the covered head across the floor of the cell and he was able to make out the traditional black robes of a professor. Feeling true panic rising again, he knelt down and wrapped his hands around the bars between the cells.

“Andie?” he whispered furtively, hoping that it was some other chestnut-haired witch.

He let out a breath when the figure began to move slightly and again, he whispered her name. Relief flooded through him as, slowly, she pushed herself from the floor and turned her body towards him. After several long blinks, Andie sighed audibly.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see another person,” she said quietly, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Are you alright? Hurt at all?” he asked.

She moved closer to him and nodded slowly. “I feel groggy, but I’m okay. I think I was knocked out or something. I remember having tea and then everything sort of goes blank.”

“Do you know where we are?”

This time, she shook her head. “No idea. Magic doesn’t seem to work, and I’d wager we’re partially underground, as the only light in here comes from those thin little windows in every other cell.”

“Have you seen anyone?” he asked, looking over his shoulder as if the very question would cause an entire squad of dark wizards to swoop in on them.

Before she could answer, however, Harry heard low laughter from another cell.

“I can’t believe they’ve finally got you in here,” a vaguely familiar voice said loudly, shattering the fragile quiet in the dungeon.

“Who are you?” Harry called out as Andie settled back on her heels and rolled her eyes.

“Now, what fun would that be? I ought to make you guess.”

Something in the tone of voice of the stranger made the hair on Harry’s neck rise. He knew that voice – it had been one of the three voices that tortured him most during his time at Hogwarts.

“Malfoy, you bastard! Show yourself!” Harry shouted, standing up and striding to the bars at the front of his cell.

“Oh, if only I could, but unfortunately, someone has deemed it necessary for me to be locked in this dungeon like a common Muggle. I can’t even use my wand to conjure something more comfortable for sleep.”

Harry gritted his teeth, seething. “What do you mean someone? You know perfectly well who’s behind this and I don’t doubt for a second that they’ve put you in here as some sort of decoy!”

“Oh, that’s rich. No Malfoy has ever served as anyone’s decoy. In fact, I’m not sure when anyone in my family last slept on a stone floor.”

“Seems bloody likely that your poor excuse for a father slept on the floor regularly enough in Azkaban, so why don’t you shut it Ferret?”

This didn’t draw a response from Malfoy and after several long moments of silence, Harry turned back to Andie.

She was staring at him through the cell wall, her left eyebrow raised.

“What?” Harry asked as he began to pace the floor of his cell.

“Nothing,” Andie said, shaking her head. “You ought to sleep, though, Harry and quit pacing like that. There’s a guard stationed at the end of the hallway and he’s pretty much left me alone, but a whole group of wizards come in every day and take Malfoy away.”

“What for?”

“I have no idea, and he hasn’t said. We’ll talk more in the morning - I still feel a bit groggy.”

Harry nodded, even knowing that there was no way he’d be able to sleep. A long night loomed ahead of him, filled with information gathering and careful planning. He sighed at the thought, wishing Hermione could help.

As if she’d read his thoughts, Andie called to him quietly. “Harry? Is everyone else alright?”

He shrugged. “At this point, I have no idea.”

“Oh.” Andie turned her back to him and began to remove her cloak. She balled it up and set in on the floor.

Instantly, Harry realized his mistake. “I’m sure they’re okay, though. I’d, well, I’d know it they weren’t, wouldn’t I?”

Andie looked at him for a moment, and her gaze puzzled him, but she merely nodded. “Of course.”

With that, she turned from him and lay down on the rough floor, pushing and pulling on the rolled up cloak to make it more comfortable.

Harry rolled over to give her some semblance of privacy and closed his eyes against the feelings pulsing through him: anger, fear, frustration and strangely regret. At the very edges of his thoughts, Hermione had hovered all night. He knew she would be in complete control of the situation – that she would lead the search to find him. She would walk through hell for him, to save him. And he knew that he didn’t deserve it.

***

“The Brotherhood of the what?”

“We’ve been over this: The Brotherhood of the Midnight Crest, Harry,” sighed the chestnut-haired witch. “You’re just like Ron – you have to hear everything ten times.”

“That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard! At least ‘Death Eater’ made sense. The Brotherhood of the Midnight Crest doesn’t even roll off the tongue easily. Everyone’ll have a wand drawn and at your throat before you’re even able to get the bloody name out.”

“Potter, if you don’t shut up…”

“You’ll what, exactly, Malfoy? Shake the bars at me?” Harry replied, making a face in the general direction of his old schoolmate.

Andie rolled her eyes and stood up from the stone floor. “Harry, just shut up,” she said as she peered through the iron bars between their cells. “You don’t seem to take captivity very well.”

“I’ve been in here for nearly twenty-four hours!” he replied dismissively. He sounded ridiculous and he knew it, but his frustration had been mounting continually for that entire period.

“Well, I’ve been here for nearly five days and you don’t see me flying off the handle,” Andie said calmly.

“Yes, and I’ve been held since Christmas. As you can both see, I’m still perfectly sane,” Malfoy drawled. Harry rolled his eyes; he couldn’t even see the Ferret from here, but his mere presence within so many yards irritated him to no end.

For the past few hours, he had been probing Andie with various and sundry questions, trying to discern as much about their captors as possible. Malfoy had added his own thoughts at several moments, but Harry had largely ignored him. Despite the unresponsiveness of his fellow dungeon mates, Malfoy had continued to prattle on, insisting that he’d been captured by the Brotherhood and up until Harry was captured, had spent nearly everyday being put through a series of strange medical and magical tests.

Harry knew he was full of it and was probably working for this so-called Brotherhood, but Andie had begged him, for everyone’s sanity, to please let it alone. They had turned their talk to Ron and in hushed tones, Harry had updated her on their trip to Romania. He still didn’t know if the Order had any clue where they were hidden, but he hoped that after the Brotherhood’s attack against Sighisoara, that the vampires would be more willing to help their cause. He knew from Andie that the vampires would take it as the greatest insult possible that their customs and bylaws had been violated so shamelessly.

“This just doesn’t make sense!” Harry said loudly.

“What doesn’t make sense, Harry?”

“What’s the point of all this? I feel like I’m missing something big – if I just knew what that vampire had said to Hermione…”

“I’m sure they’re doing the best they can to get here,” Andie said softly; her tone was meant to be soothing, but Harry disregarded it and continued his agitated pacing.

“How do they even know where ‘here’ is? I don’t even know where we are.”

“We’re in Corfe, Potter.”

“Yes, Malfoy, I realize that now that you’ve mentioned it half a dozen times. But where is Corfe?”

“I can’t believe they made you Head Boy all those years ago. If you had half a brain, you’d have figured out by now that Corfe has been made Unplottable. Read a book once in awhile, Potter,” Malfoy sneered.

Harry rolled his eyes again but refrained from further comment. Sighing, he pulled his hands through his hair and looked down at the dusty stone floor. His mind was filled with several half-plans for escape, but so far it had been hopeless. A few guards had arrived not long after his own arrival in the dungeons and had taken his wand. There were standard anti-apparition charms all around the cell. Harry let his head fall back, bumping against the rough stone. He welcomed the pain – at least it felt real. Time had no meaning in this place and he felt beyond useless.

“It must be seven,” Malfoy said testily. Harry opened his eyes and saw that his tea had appeared on a small table in the middle of the cell. There was a bowl of thick beef stew and a small loaf of crusty bread that weirdly reminded him of the food at Hogwarts. He turned his back to the table and watched Andie stir a spoon through the stew.

“You have to eat, Harry,” she said quietly as she broke her bread into two halves.

He shook his head, but remained silent.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking. Last night was the first time I’ve ever had a blackout like that and I don’t think they’re holding us here for fun, Harry. They need us, or maybe just you, for something and I don’t think they’re going to harm us.”

“Eat up Potty. You’ll need to have your strength if you’re going to break us out of here and save the world this week.”

“Go to hell, Malfoy.”

Malfoy tsked loudly. “No verbal sparring to be had in this room, I see. Your little bushy-headed girlfriend was always quite good at it.”

Harry jumped to his feet and sped across the room to the cell door. He slammed his fist against the bars. “Shut your mouth. Don’t you dare speak about Hermione to me ever again!” Harry shouted.

“Oy, Weasel Wife. Can’t you hose him down or something? All of this anger is ruining my dinner.”

“Who are you anyway? Do you have a rude comment for everything?” Andie replied. Harry saw her throw her bread into her own bowl and take her forehead in her hands.

Malfoy didn’t respond, but Harry could hear him murmuring lowly in his cell. Determined to ignore him for the rest of the night, Harry turned back to the food on the table. Taking a deep breath, he took up the bowl and spooned some of the stew into his mouth.

Of course, it was wonderful and still hot. Harry settled down on a small bench, the only other piece of furniture in his cell, and began to eat his meal. The others remained quiet as well and before long, Harry felt a heady drowsiness envelope him.

“You need to sleep, Harry,” he heard Andie say quietly.

He opened his eyes and removed his glasses, pressing gently on the bridge of his nose. “I know,” he replied, whispering. “But I can’t. I need to figure out a way to get us out of here.”

Andie looked at him nervously before glancing in direction of the guard. Harry had seen him a handful of times – the cloak and hooded wizard seemed to make regular sweeps of the dungeon, silently testing the wards on each cell and using a wand to clear the used dishes from their cells.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, as if to tell her he simply didn’t care. He was beginning to think there was no way to break out of their cells – the dungeon had been well built and even though the bars were rusted, the entire cell was well warded. He hadn’t even felt the low hum of magic as he’d attempted to wandlessly cast a spell; it was simply as if he’d never been able to do magic.

Andie took a deep breath and walked over to their shared wall. He met her at the bars and was surprised when she took his hand.

“You have to take of yourself, Harry. You have some role to play here, even if we don’t know what it is. You can’t take unnecessary chances by not sleeping or eating; it just isn’t sensible.”

Her face was so very serious and yet kind. Her tone had been like a sister or an old friend. Finally, after an overly long silence, he took a deep breath and nodded. As if to prove his understanding, he took a few steps towards the corner of the cell and began to take off his robes. Down to just a t-shirt and jeans, he spread the thick cloth over the hard stone floor and settled in for the night.

***

“Do you feel, Potter, that you have done enough to earn the love of those around you?”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped. It hadn’t taken long to discover that while Snape proved to be a fairly good mentor, he was prone to asking stupid questions that made Harry want to hex his slimy face right off.

“It means exactly what I said, Potter. Have you earned the love of your friends? Those you consider to be your, how did you put it? Ah yes, adopted family. Not of course, that I condone your choice of adopted families.”

“I don’t have to earn their love,” Harry replied, his voice low. “That’s not the kind of people they are.”

Snape looked at him blankly. Snape disappeared.

There was only him. In the whole world. He looked around, seeing only an empty beach stretching into the difference. On his right side, there was white sand, strangely blinding against the deep, gray sky. To his left, endless ocean colored like pencil lead. He looked back, and then ahead. Closing his eyes, he turned and began walking.

Before long, he knew that he was not alone. There were footsteps in time with his, a light breathing that was coming from another set of lungs. He turned and saw, with a shock, his own mother, walking along next to him as if it were an everyday occurrence.

“It’s pretty here, I think. A place of solitude,” she said without turning to look at him.

“It’s nice,” he replied lamely, looking down at his own shoes. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to this.

They walked along in silence for several minutes before Harry began shifting around uncomfortably and clearing his throat.

“What is it, Harry?” she asked, finally turning to look at him as they slowed to a stop. She was young still, her red hair vibrant and her emerald eyes flashing brilliantly. He saw, for the first time in his life, unconditional, motherly love. He knew what it felt like now: a shield of armor. He was wrapped in it and it protected him. He understood finally what had harmed Voldemort, knew then what sort of sacrifice his mother had given for him.

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what, darling?”

“Dying?”

“Never. You are my child, you are meant to carry on after I am gone. Life is the best gift I could ever give you Harry, and I was lucky enough to get to do it twice.”

He wiped at his face, surprised to find wetness there. His mother leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek.

Like the wind, she was gone from him and he found himself alone on the beach once more. They had walked a fair distance and Harry noticed for the first time the scattered rocks and boulders in the sand. He spotted a tall, fairly smooth boulder and sat upon it, gazing quietly out over the water.

“Hello, Harry.”

“Hello, Professor,” he answered quietly, turning to look at Dumbledore. For some reason, he was not surprised to see his old teacher and mentor.

“You have made this very hard, Harry,” Dumbledore said. His familiarly twinkling eyes belied the serious expression on his face. “We had so much to teach you, we thought. But here you are, and the only thing that will happen is that you will receive the many gifts love has to offer you.”

Harry’s expression must have given his confusion away, for Dumbledore chuckled lightly.

“You have seen so much in your young life, and you will see so much more, but for this journey, I think what you have now will be enough. You will see, Harry, that love can drive men to do foolish, hateful things. There are so many kinds of love, and not all of them are good.

“You have already seen the consequences of a selfish love. Tom Riddle loved only himself and is doomed to a dark, dark life. You have seen mothers die for their sons, friends for each other.”

“I’m not sure what this has to do with, well, anything, sir.” “Ah, of course you do, Harry. Ultimately, Harry, it will be love that will save you. Mark my words.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who are you talking to, Harry?”

Harry stood from his boulder and spun around. Ron was sitting on a driftwood log, smirking lightly at him. “You’ve gone round the bend, haven’t you? Talking to people that aren’t there?”

“You’re not really here.”

“How do you know?”

Harry opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. Ron made a very good point.

“Anyway, I thought I’d check in with you; make sure everything is alright. Hermione’s going nutters trying to find some sort of great, secret weapon.”

“It’d be nice if she could find one.”

“Well, of course. But we’re probably have to do everything without any sort of planning, like always.”

“Probably.”

“You know I’m behind you no matter what, right Harry?” Ron asked, his voice and expression finally turning serious.

Harry nodded wordlessly.

“Good. Come find me when you’re done then, doing whatever this is.” Ron smiled at him and stood up. Without another word, he turned back from the way Harry had come. After several yards, he disappeared.

Harry felt a surge of loyalty rush through him. Ron had been his first friend, his best friend. Their friendship had had its troubles, but in the end, he could always count on Ron. If his mother’s love had been like armor, his love for Ron was like a weapon. It kept him confident and secure.

Rising to his feet again, Harry began the long walk down the beach again. After some time, he saw a lone figure seated in the sand fifty yards away.

“Hermione?” he called as he got closer. Her hair was wild and bushy, free of the elastic band that had kept it under control during all their hard work over the past several months. She turned to look up at him and smiled.

He was struck by her; her eyes looked tired and there was an ink stain on her cheek. Her hair was kinky and frizzy and her skirt was wrinkled. But she smiled at him and the world fell away. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

“Hi, Harry.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you. I knew you’d get here eventually.”

“This has been an experience, so far, of everyone knowing a whole lot more than me.”

Hermione burst out laughing, her head falling back. She grinned fully at him and began to stand up, holding her hands out to him for balance.

He grasped her thin fingers and when she was upright, he bent his head to kiss her hands gently. “Thank you for waiting for me, Hermione.”

“I’ll always wait for you,” she whispered. She leaned in, kissing him gently on the corner of the mouth. He looked at her, surprised. She gave him a small smile and reached up to place her hand on his cheek.

“I love you, Harry Potter.”

And he knew that she did not mean as a friend or as a brother. The words were full of promise, of happiness and of life. He realized in that moment that she was his heart. She was steady and sure, she kept him on the right path.

***

Harry’s eyes snapped open and he looked around his cell. He had awoken that day in Snape’s potions dungeons, confused. His head was filled with odd images of his mother and Ron… and something else that he couldn’t place his finger on. Snape was wearing a very worried expression, but remained silent about what had happened to Harry. Their lessons ended after that and it wasn’t long before they fought Voldemort in the graveyard.

Now, however, he could remember everything. His words with his mother and Dumbledore. He felt Ron’s loyalty. He felt Hermione’s encompassing love.

He understood finally, what Dumbledore had been saying all those years ago. Love was his most powerful weapon, now that the last puzzle piece had fallen into place. Hermione, he knew, without a doubt, was on her way to rescue him. She wasn’t coming out of loyalty or friendship; she was coming because she loved him.

***

Hermione flipped the small coin-like talisman in her fingers. The other teams were gathered behind her, waiting for her lead.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tapped the talisman with her wand.

It was not unlike Apparating, but she felt as if there was something else as she traveled to the Unplottable castle. An extra little squeeze or something, though she couldn’t properly put her finger on it. She alighted on top of a tall hill overlooking a green, wild-flower filled valley. Wherever she was, it was broad daylight, which she knew would work to their disadvantage.

Lying down in the grass, she edged across the top of the hill to get a better view of the valley. The castle loomed over everything, casting a dark shadow and looking oddly out of place. She took out a small pair of omniculars and scanned the ledges of the castle wall. Counting quietly under her breath, she noted the six sentries stationed at various points. They were oddly positioned however; three of the wizards were stationed closest to a lone tower at the farthest end of the plaza.

She scanned the rest of the grounds quickly and after she was satisfied with her initial reconnaissance work, she began preparing to bring the teams in. Working speedily, she cast several concealment charms in a ten foot circle. Setting her talisman in the grass, she muttered another charm and tapped it once again.

Ron’s team appeared readily, looking somewhat out of sorts at the strange feeling of almost-apparition. After making two hand motions to direct his team, Ron stood next to Hermione and watched as she quickly counted heads. Fred, Charlie, and Ginny were joined by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. A young witch named Fae rounded out the first team and Hermione was satisfied to see that they had all made it in one piece. Not wanting to waste anymore time than necessary, she quickly set about casting the circle a second time. This time, Ron added his talisman to the circle and in a few seconds, Remus’s team had joined them. She counted again: Shacklebot, Bill, George, Neville, Luna and Parvati Patil.

“What’s our position?” Remus asked quietly, looking out over the valley.

“Six stationed on the walls, no one else is visible. Tracing spells show no activity,” Hermione replied.

“Are we still using the same point of entry?” Ron asked.

“Yes. The southern entrance to the cellar is actually in the plaza, opposite that large tower. There’s an entrance in the walls on that side as well.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to stroll right through the front door,” Ron replied.

“We aren’t,” Hermione answered. “I’m going to go through, get to the dungeons, and then bring you in.”

“A lot of things have to go really well here, Hermione.”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed, Ron.”

She turned from him and scanned the castle grounds once more.

“We need to head down. Each team will need to travel in tight quarters; we can’t risk the concealment spells being dislodged. The circles are centered on your talismans.”

It took them nearly twenty minutes to circle the grounds and reconvene near the planned wall location. Hermione was leading the group, with Ron right behind her. Moving swiftly, but carefully, they evaded the sentries closest to their entry point. With another careful hand signal from Ron, the teams crouched low in the overgrown grass and waited. The castle was very old and its walls were made of rough rock. She knew from looking at the blueprints that there was an old door along the wall they were standing in front of, but it appeared to have been magically concealed.

“Finite Incantatem,” she whispered, moving her wand over the area of wall in front of her. After a few long moments, there was a slight shimmer on the surface and an old, creaky-looking wood door appeared. There were a few murmurs from the group behind her, but Remus quieted everyone as she continued to work.

Hermione tapped her wand against the door gently, checking for wards. She was surprised to note that only the most basic wards had been used and she disabled them with careful precision. Ron watched as she worked, a look of concern on his face.

“Something’s not right,” he whispered quietly, so that only she could hear.

She nodded once in agreement before tapping her wand gently to the handle of the old wooden door. It swung open quietly. Another quick wand scan revealed that no other security wards had been disturbed. After exchanging another worried glance with Ron, she stepped over the threshold and waited.

Almost instantly, she sensed she had tripped something. Wand scans revealed no additional wards inside the castle walls, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that she had set off an alarm. She checked her own concealment charm once again before moving along the edge of the wall. When she reached the area containing the entrance to the cellars, she stopped and checked for additional security measures. There were no signs that anyone had picked up on their presence in the area, but it did nothing to calm her fraying nerves. Sensing something was amiss and still feeling generally uneasy, she stayed low and carefully checked the area around her. After a few deep breaths, she began moving through the packed dirt of the courtyard, using spells to clear her footprints.

It was an easy enough task to locate the stairs that led down into the cellars underneath the castle. Continuing to follow their plans, she quickly pulled up the wooden door and descended the steps. Her feet hit flat ground and she moved towards the closest wall, crouching low in the antechamber she found herself in. It was dimly lit by a handful of torches mounted on the rounded walls. The circular room had two long hallways leading off in opposite directions, a set of stairs leading up and a set of stairs leading down. She circled the room, pausing briefly at the stairs leading up and wondered how close the wall of the actual castle had been to the entrance she had come through. Tossing aside her curiosity, she finished checking for more wards before using her talisman to bring in the rest of the teams.

As soon as the first wizard hit the ground, a loud boom sounded in the distance, coming from the direction of the large tower at the other side of the castle compound.

“We need to head downstairs! Let’s move!” Hermione commanded. The group of fifteen or so wizards condensed into narrow lines and they began descending the stairs to what she hoped was the dungeon. Though they had studied blue prints of the castle, it appeared to have been changed on the inside. Nothing was even remotely similar to what their maps had displayed.

As they clamored deeper into the castle, she heard voices calling out. They reached the bottom of the staircase and started down a long hallway. There were voices and rumblings above them, but she was unable to determine if there was any sort of movement towards their location. Ron had fallen back next to Shacklebot and they were setting various magical booby traps after the teams had moved farther down the hall. Remus had moved up to her right side and they continued their trek, keeping silent and moving swiftly. Soon enough, they found themselves in another rounded chamber, where this time they were faced with two doors. What had been a rumble upstairs was now a full roar and she had to concentrate harder than usual on the problem at hand.

Remus gave her a hand signal and they immediately separated into two groups. He took the door on the left and she the one on the right. After a countdown from three, they simultaneously sent wand blasts at the doors, the strange orange light bouncing through the hinges, the lock and twisting around the handle before disappearing through the wood itself. It was a standard battering charm that she had come up with during the war. It took away any physical security the door offered and unless it had been specially warded, the door typically fell into the next room or hallway.

Both doors fell without as much as a squeak. She looked at Remus nervously, but he nodded for her to go ahead. She looked carefully around the corner of her own door and was relieved to see what looked very much like a dungeon. After making sure that the other door had been put back into place, she made nervous eye contact with both Remus and Ron. Ron left Shacklebot and came to her side, pressing a hand gently to her shoulder and nudging her forward.

As soon as she set foot inside the narrow, dark hallway a voice called out to her.

“Who’s there? Announce yourself!”

Her heart thudded as she recognized the voice. “Harry!” she shouted and began moving quickly through the empty cellblock. She rounded a corner and immediately, both Andie and Harry came into view. She heard Ron swear softly behind her as he came round the corner.

“Ron?” she heard Andie whisper as her red headed friend pushed gently past her. She immediately focused her eyes on Harry and nearly cried at the sight of him. She’d hardly slept at all in the past forty-eight hours. Every minute had been spent thinking about him and how to get him home. As she scanned over his dark hair, piercing gaze and dusty clothes, she felt exhaustion settle over her. They were together now, and at least he would be with her through the rest of this whole ordeal.

“Harry,” she said quietly as she unlocked the cell door. He watched her as the door opened and as soon as he could move through it, he was in the hallway and had scooped her into his arms. She felt tears slide down her cheeks as he breathed into the side of her neck. She had her arms tight around him and was fighting the urge to sob outright.

“Harry, Harry. I’m so sorry – it took forever to get here.”

He pulled back and held her face in his hands. His eyes searched hers for something and he seemed to have found whatever it was, because he gently pressed his lips against hers.

At first, she was stunned and then grateful for the taste of him. Her enjoyment, however, was cut short by the fear that everyone in the room was looking at them.

Ron, however, was so absorbed in his wife that you could have dropped an anvil straight on his head. The rest of their team was surrounding some cell farther down and around another corner. Harry had a look of understanding on his face as he brushed the hair from her face.

“I knew you’d find us,” he finally said, chuckling softly. “You always were loads brighter than any dark wizard we’ve come across. I don’t even want to get started on these Brotherhood clowns.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. That name is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

He laughed and pulled her into another hug. She allowed herself to enjoy the closeness for a few moments before stepping back and assuming a more business-like attitude.

“What’s going on here, Harry? What about the kids?”

“I haven’t seen them at all – Andie said she hasn’t seen them since she was taken. Oh, and you’re not going to believe it. They’re holding Draco Malfoy down the hallway there. I’ve not seen him yet, but he’s not shut his gob in three days.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Harry shrugged. “Other than that, I don’t know much. I’ve not a single guard down here all day, though we usually have one posted. Malfoy said that before I was captured, he was run through a series of these different tests everyday. He’ll be able to tell us more about whatever that’s all about.”

She pursed her lips as she mulled this new piece of information over. “It fits, you know. Malfoy is a very strong wizard and there is no known Muggle blood in his family for generations and generations. I’d imagine they’d want to know why.”

“You seem to know more than I do.”

She smiled wryly at him and nodded. “I’ve got my theories about these guys and what they’re doing, but I still don’t know who they are.”

“Well, how did you get down here? Did you see anyone you recognized?”

Hermione shook her head. “We didn’t really see anyone, Harry. It was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen- only six sentries to guard the whole compound. Something just seems off – even our concealment charms are all in tact.”

Harry appeared worried at this and nodded once. “It’s time we get moving. Let’s get Ron and the others and get out of here. Have you brought my wand?”

“Of course. The swapping charm still works perfectly, though I doubt you’d have gotten much use out of it anyway. There’s no magic in your cells, but it’s perfectly usable in the halls. Did they take the fake?”

“Shortly after I arrived. Still love all your little handy-dandy war charms. No one even looked twice at the fake wand.”

“We’ve got Andie’s as well. It turns out that Ron had placed the charm on hers ages ago and had forgotten about it. When I had him retrieve yours, hers was nestled right along beside it.”

She handed the holly and phoenix wand to her friend and smiled. He took it gladly and held it at his side as they walked to Ron and Andie.

“We need to be moving along,” Ron said as they approached. “Andie says they’ve got the Ferret over there?”

Hermione and Harry both nodded.

“Are we to take him as well?”

“We need to see if he has any useful information for us,” Harry replied.

Ron shouldered his pack and held his hand out for his wife. He led the group down the hallway towards the other gathered Order members.

They were standing around a still-locked cell as a tall, thin and very arrogant young man stood, telling them all off silently.

“We’ve shut him up for awhile, mates,” Neville Longbottom said cheerfully.

Malfoy shot him a deadly glare and Hermione couldn’t help but smile. Draco Malfoy was exactly as she remembered him. Smart, witty and easily the biggest arsehole she’d ever met. He was a pompous pain and knew it.

“Alright, everyone. We need to make sure Malfoy here gets one of the extra supply packs. And someone needs to take that charm off his mouth – he’s going to lead us to this Brotherhood,” Harry said. Hermione stood next to him and watched as Neville took the spell off of Malfoy.

“So you do have a brain after all, Potter. Ah, the many miracles of the wizarding world.” Malfoy frowned as Ginny handed him the extra supply pack. She looked at him with a completely blank face and Hermione remembered how much Ginny had hated Malfoy at Hogwarts. Hermione knew for a fact that Ginny still suffered occasional nightmares about everything that had happened her first year.

After Malfoy was settled with his pack, they arranged in two lines again and began the moving back the way they had come in. They reached the antechamber and began slowly climbing the dark and narrow flight of steps that seemed to be curving ever upward.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered.

“Hm?” he replied, looking back at Malfoy as they continued to climb into the spiraling darkness.

“We’re climbing a tower, Harry.”

“So?”

“We didn’t come in under the tower; we came in on the opposite side. There’s no way we could have reached it by now,” she said, beginning to feel the unease coming back to her.

“Hermione, what does that mean?” Harry asked, a tone of urgency in his voice.

“I think I’ve led everyone into a trap, Harry. I tried something when I came in and now I think we’re being led somewhere.”

“Malfoy!” Harry called out, stopping his upward trek.

“What?” Malfoy replied, annoyance lacing his voice.

“Where are you leading us?”

“I told you, Potter. We’re going to the lab that they took me to, every bloody day since Christmas.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked down at his fingernails.

“They took you into a tower?”

“Not quite. There’s a passageway a little farther up that connects to a different building,” Malfoy answered, in a way that suggested Harry was perhaps the biggest idiot he’d ever met.

“You’re positive?” Harry replied, sizing Malfoy up carefully.

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Harry waved his arm forward and they continued moving upwards. He turned only once to look at Hermione and she got his meaning loud and clear.

Be ready.

They were walking right into a trap. She guessed they had traveled up at least three stories when they finally reached a long, brightly lit hall; Harry raised a hand to stop everyone and peered down the long hallway with Hermione.

The hallway stretching in front of them had to be nearly 50 yards long and the entire south wall was made of large, brightly colored windows, all depicting various wizarding stories and legends in stained glass. The opposite wall was lined with a single set of double doors and various wizarding tapestries.

She looked carefully at the closest one and gasped. It depicted a group of wizards riding through a Muggle village on the backs of manticores. The tiny embroidered figures dashed through the main thoroughfare, tossing bursts of magical flames into the houses from their wands. Harry looked at the tapestry and looked at her, his expression guarded. He slowly turned to face the Order members.

“This is a good place for an ambush – I want one-third to stay behind and the others will separate along the solid wall to the right. Steer clear of the windows and keep tight together. The concealment charms ought to hold up.”

The group did as instructed, with Hermione opting to stay back with the last group. Harry led everyone into the hall, with Ron right behind him. She waited with baited breath as they moved towards the large door, counting the steps towards it.

Malfoy gestured to the door and Harry finally motioned for Hermione’s team to follow.

They moved quickly to the other group and waited as Harry began to speak.

“Malfoy, you’ll come with Hermione, Ginny, Ron and me. Remus and Shacklebot, stay out here with everyone else until I give the signal that it’s safe to come in.”

Remus nodded and stepped back with the others. Hermione stepped forward and began her standard wards test against the door. A simple Alohomora opened the door and she moved aside to let Harry go through first.

The room on the other side of the door was obviously some sort of lab, and a very large one at that. It was a windowless room; Hermione could barely make out the closest row of cabinets in the light streaming in from the hall.

They all stepped in the room, shoulder to shoulder, wands out. Hermione was not surprised when the large doors slammed behind them; Harry had separated the rest of the team for a reason.

As the doors slammed, a hundred torches burst to light on the walls and the air filled with the sounds of dozens of pops. She saw the forms of black-clad figures materialize around the room and released that they were completely surrounded. A figure near the center of the group stepped forward and slid his hood away.

“My father was right you know. He said that your friends would come after you without hesitation, Potter.”

At that precise moment, Ginny Weasley fainted dead away. In near perfect choreography, Harry used the distraction to toss a hex at Tynan Lahey while Draco Malfoy rushed forward and caught Ginny, pulling her into his arms with shocking tenderness.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.

12. Chapter XII

A Long Way from Home

Summary: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: I hope that everyone has enjoyed the deluge of HP-ness this summer! As you may have guessed, this story is now strictly AU. I don't plan on having any DH spoilers, but if one crops up, I promise to warn you.
We're closing in on the end - just a couple of chapters and the epilogue left. I'll post chapter thirteen fairly shortly; I'm hoping to wrap this up before summer is out. Many thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter - your reviews were fantastic as usual!
Thanks for reading - please review, if you like, on your way out!

Chapter XII

Harry watched from the corner of his eye as Ron fired a hex at Draco Malfoy. He nearly missed the results, however, as his own spell seemed to crash into a barrier ahead of him, sending flashes of blinding white light in all directions. Ron’s spell seemed to hit its target, and it seemed to accomplish two objectives: Ginny floated into the air, still unconscious and Malfoy fell forward, stiff as a board.

“Honestly, Ron!” Hermione hissed, rolling her eyes. Harry reached over to grab her hand, holding his wand in his left hand.

“I didn’t realize you were such a willing volunteer, Mr. Weasley.” The cloaked figure that had been standing next to Tynan Lahey stepped forward and removed his hood.

Caphis Lahey was nearly sixty-five and completely bald. He stood nearly six inches taller than his son and was very thin. Harry was strangely reminded of old drawings of the Druids; Caphis’ white beard was long enough to tuck into his belt. His deceptively friendly face had been at the forefront of Lahey Publishing for years – he had seemed wise and knowing in countless pictures, Harry had thought. But he knew better – he had read the reports on Caphis Lahey and knew of his shadowy behavior behind the scenes.

“If you would, please hand your wands over to my associate, Mr. Danforth. They will be useless to you now.”

“Do not touch that traitor,” Tynan spat out. Hermione was leaning down to check on Malfoy as Ron began saying rude things about Mr. Danforth’s mother.

“Ron,” Harry said quietly, pulling his friend back from the edge of the small platform they had stepped onto upon entering the room. He paused for a moment to look around and nearly gasped. Each of the missing Hogwarts students was grouped around the platform in a perfect circle; they were all unconscious and floating silently in mid-air. The dais that he was standing on with Hermione, Ron and Draco stretched into a long stone walkway and it connected to another stage-like structure where the Laheys were standing.

The members of the Brotherhood were stationed throughout the room, some backed against the stone walls and the others interspersed amongst the children. He and his friends were, of course, completely surrounded by the cloaked figures.

After looking carefully around, he turned his attention to the elder Lahey and stepped forward, stopping once his group was safely behind him.

“Break the spell on my friend.”

Lahey’s grey eyes twinkled, but not in the friendly manner of Dumbledore. Lahey looked somewhat mad, with a slight wickedness about him. His son, who was glaring at Harry with fierce, blue eyes, seemed tensed and full of adrenaline. Harry didn’t make eye contact with Tynan, instead keeping his attention focused solely on Caphis.

Wordlessly, the old wizard broke the spell on Ginny and she drifted gently towards the ground, like a fallen leaf. Ron ducked forward to catch her and made no small show of kicking Malfoy as he stepped back towards Hermione, his sister awakening slowly in his arms.

“Let the children go, Lahey. We’ll give you whatever you want,” Harry said slowly, keeping his face expressionless and his voice flat.

“I would not be so quick to make such an offer, Mr. Potter. You do not yet know what I want.”

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want with us, we’ll give it to you. Let the students go.”

“What of your other companions, Mr. Potter? Have you some other large bargaining chip over me?” Caphis nodded at one of the silent wizards standing guard at the door. He quickly opened the door and several more cloaked Brothers came into the room, levitating the entire team, all of them bound and unconscious.

“Well?” Caphis asked expectantly, his hands folded behind his back.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Hermione said from behind. Harry spun to look at her and saw that she was already just a step or so behind him. She was looking directly at Caphis Lahey, her chin tilted up ever so slightly. “Release them and you’ll get what you want.”

Caphis nodded once and in a flash, he had his wand out and was pointing at their group.

“Do I have your word?”

“Yes,” she replied simply, her expression blank.

Harry didn’t even have time to hear her scream as the white light that shot out of Lahey’s wand blinded his eyes and scorched his skin.

***

Hermione felt as if every bone in her body had been smashed to pieces. Her nerves practically screamed with pain and she found herself unable to move or speak. Her eyes were sightless; her entire world was the pain.

She waited and waited for death, for rescue, for anything but this. After an eternity of the raking, electric pain tearing through her, she began to feel a new sensation; a soft and subtle warmth was spreading slowly through her, beginning in her torso and moving out. She felt the sting subside, being replaced by the flowing heat. Her fingers began to tingle and her toes curled slowly. She opened her eyes and gasped; she was surrounded by light as golden as rich honey. It supported her, cushioned her and drew the warmth through her. Sighing, she tilted her head to the side. She could feel every limb now and knew that she was standing up straight, even if she felt nothing under her feet. She looked from side to side, but her vision was filled completely by the light. She was simultaneously dazzled and soothed by it, wishing to run her fingers through it and imagining that it felt like the smoothest of silks.

An odd movement in the corner of her vision startled her and she turned to see an oily black substance sliding through her light. She cried out as it touched her skin, feeling as if thousands of pins were being thrust into her body.

“Rennervate!”

The words came to her through the prickling and the sensation stopped immediately. She opened her eyes again, taking several deep breaths. After her breathing had slowed, she looked around and realized almost immediately that she was floating in mid-air. She gasped, holding her breath as if the realization alone would cause her to fall back to earth. She blinked several times before noticing that everything she saw seemed to be etched in gold. She felt… different. The feelings that usually coursed through her were amplified and exaggerated. It occurred to her that she could do nearly anything in this state: throw Caphis Lahey against the back wall, free Ginny and Malfoy. She couldn’t see them, but she knew they were there, knew that they were alive and well. She could feel Harry and Ron in the room with her as well, both alive, but unconscious.

Lahey and his Brothers, however, felt like vacuums to her heightened senses. She could physically see them, but they registered no presence otherwise.

“What have you done to me, Lahey?” she asked, her voice ethereal and airy.

“I have returned you to your higher plane of existence,” he replied thoughtfully, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Of course, that further trigged knowledge in her head. This was what she had accepted so many years ago in her quest with Harry. This was the burden she had accepted, they had accepted, to defeat Voldemort. Their mentors had taught them, pulled them through at times, and had finally bequeathed them with this power and this curse.

All it took was a simple glance and she was able to see so much. She looked, finally, towards her oldest friends and felt tears well in her eyes. She saw their private pains and fears; she was able to anticipate their struggles. It was not with the distinct, theatrical eye of a seer that she saw this, it was simply known to her, as plainly as she could recall her multiplication tables or the alphabet. It was a strange and yet familiar feeling. McGonagall, she knew now, had only taught her enough to harness the power she needed to help Harry. The rest had gone untaught, viewed by some foreign and unknown body to be unnecessary in the coming times.

Caphis was attempting to open the floodgates; a slow trickle of awareness had become a deluge. He had taken away the keystone of the strong mental barriers that kept her, and perhaps those around her, safe. He had brought her to the most powerful place, for her, in all of England. He had bound her within a circle of large, oval stones in the very middle of Avebury, in that ancient place, where the earliest witches and wizards developed and molded their magic. They had educated themselves here, passing on their extensive and new knowledge reverently to the next generations. She felt the magical power stirring around her; saw it in the gold burned into every surface. She saw finally, the burden and the blessing in all its glory. She gasped and was suddenly seized by the desperate need to weep. The aftershocks of harsh betrayal rushed through her as she remembered moments of the years gone by.

She had given up her innocence in their war against the wizards practicing dark magic. She had been given the power to obliterate the source of all that heinous activity, but it had been like pointing a cannon at a field mouse. The real power, what she felt now, was just a third of the particular magic needed to wage a battle against dark magic, in its purest form. Together, they were the key to achieving balance between the two worlds, between two powers that were ultimately too raw to ever really be controlled.

She closed her eyes against the realization, still unfamiliar and unaware of all its possible ramifications.

She looked at the man standing just ten feet from her and felt a hatred burn through her with lightening speed. He glanced at her and with just that brief flicker of eye contact, she saw a glimpse of his grand scheme.

“You’ll never succeed,” she told him, holding her arms at her sides and staring straight at the old wizard.

He smiled strangely at her and bowed his head. “I have such plans for you, Miss Granger and I will succeed.”

“What makes you so sure?” she replied, looking down at him gravely.

“You will help me, of your own free will.”

She laughed at him, shaking her head. “I would die before that would happen, Lahey, but I don’t think it will come to that. You would die before you ever succeeded in using me for any of your plans.”

Again, the odd smile. “I think you will find my ideas intriguing, if not absolutely correct.”

Hermione looked at him with a blank expression, refusing to rise to the bait as he stared at her. Properly aware of himself now, Lahey had put up some sort of defensive spell that blocked her out completely. If Harry and Ron were a subtle, familiar heat behind her, Lahey was a black hole.

“I’ve been following your research project for several years, Miss Granger. My son heard about it some time ago, through some Ministry official or another. Your work was such a strange little topic of gossip among the higher-ups. I’ve never taken the time to trace the chain back, to find out who told whom, but I have followed your trail.”

“And?”

“I had a great resource at my disposal that you did not.”

“What would that be?” she asked, beginning to feel agitated.

“Prior work, of course. Your idea was not new to many that have come before me; the Dark Lord Voldemort regularly studied this little phenomenon. He even had willing subjects, but, alas, it was not his primary goal. He didn’t feel that it held the secrets he had searched for, and he was right.

“He was far more concerned with immortality than purity, and that’s very understandable now that we know about his lineage.”

“How very typical,” she replied. “He was so great and wonderful that you let him boss you all around and try and wreck everything our society has worked so hard to build, but now that he’s gone, you’re so quick to turn against him.”

“You misunderstand me. I do not turn against him; I simply disagree with what is the most important goal.”

Hermione shook her head in disgust.

“Father…” Tynan Lahey said, his voice strained. “You’re wasting time.”

Caphis turned and seemed to silence his son with a look, for Tynan stepped back and turned his face to the floor.

“Just consider it for a moment, won’t you?” Caphis said. “Pure magic, unsullied by Muggle energy. We could attain a higher level of ability, magic for magic’s sake, rather than to imitate Muggle technology.”

“That’s ridiculous, on entirely too many levels. You’re making wild assumptions about the state of magic if there were no Muggle genetic influence and you’re carrying on about Muggle technology as if we regularly work spells to make computers use the Internet.”

Caphis stared at her blankly for several moments before speaking again. “There is no need to debate this; I’m drawing on work so detailed you couldn’t even dream of it, let alone understand it. It’s beyond your reach, even in this heightened awareness. Our worlds are too intertwined; I do not seek to eradicate Muggleborns or persecute half bloods, Miss Granger. I want to purify them.”

Hermione blinked before putting her hands on her hips. “That’s outrageous. There’s nothing you could ever do to convince me that it’s right.”

Caphis smiled again, wickedly this time, before flicking his wand at Ron and Harry. She turned and watched as her friends, both bound to large stone pillars, began to writhe and silently scream. They each struggled against their bonds, driving the magical ropes deep into their skin. She saw blood seeping through the white, rune-covered rope and watched, horrified, as they twisted and turned.

“Stop!” she cried, her airy voice echoing oddly in the stone circle. She held her hand up, sending a protective shield over them with a simple wave.

Caphis turned to face her and she met his gaze, trying to hide her true motivations.

“Do as you must. Release them, and do as you must.”

Caphis nodded at her before signaling to one of the wizards gathered around him. In a single movement, they spread out, forming a circle within the stone ring.

With a wave of his own wand, Lahey sent the stones supporting Ron and Harry to the edge of the circle, opposite where Ginny and Malfoy were being held.

“They will be released when you have complied, Miss Granger.” He turned his wand on her then and she screamed as the earlier pain tore through her once more. She became engulfed in darkness, her own body betraying her and finally submitting to the pain as a rumble of chanting from the Brothers surrounded her.

***

Ron lifted his head dazedly and looked around, confused by the odd buzzing around him and feeling sort of achy all over. They were outside now, instead of in the castle and there were still quite a few people gathered round. Harry was next to him, still completely unconscious (big powerful Dark Wizard killer that he was, Harry was still a lightweight compared to Ron.) Hermione, however, was dead center in a circle made of foot high, perfectly oval stones, encased completely in what looked like a column of white fire.

Ron shook his head and blinked several times. His vision cleared considerably and his memory began to stretch back; he remembered clearly all the events leading up to that moment.

Hermione was floating inside a column of white flame that stretched from the stone platform up into the distant sky above them; her arms were weak at her sides and her head was thrown back. She appeared to be wide-awake and he would probably swear for the rest of his life that she was looking right at him.

Harry mumbled incoherently and Ron turned to look at his friend for a long moment. Harry was muttering quietly and rolling his head around a bit. Deciding to give him a chance to come to his senses and his own conclusions about their situation, Ron turned his attention back to the center of the room. Ginny and Malfoy were bound on the opposite side of the circle of stones surrounding Hermione and facing towards a large stone altar of some sort. Caphis and Tynan Lahey stood behind it, watching Hermione intently. The Brothers (Ron rolled his eyes just thinking of their name) were standing in a circle with a weird, dramatic sort of blue light flowing up behind them where it slowly arched up to meet Hermione’s column of light and flames.

He guessed that they had been chanting just a few moments ago, that it wasn’t actually any buzzing noise. They all had their heads tilted upwards and were looking beyond Hermione at the star strewn sky. Caphis Lahey began to chant slowly, his voice like a low thunder in the distance. It soon became clear that he was actually reciting a long spell in some language Ron had never heard.

He heard Harry gasp next to him and turned to look at his friend again.

“Alright, Harry?” he said quietly.

“What’s going on?” Harry replied, beginning to tug uselessly at the magical bindings that strapped him to a large stone pillar.

“No idea. Incredibly dramatic, though.”

“Ron…”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” Harry replied, shaking his head.

“What’s he saying?” Ron asked.

“I have no idea; seems kind of familiar though.”

“Really?”

Harry closed his eyes as he nodded and Ron turned to face Caphis again, listening intently to the words.

It was a strange language, somehow it sounded… older than Latin. Harry was right though – there was something familiar about it. His mind began to drift on the words, the old, precise language curling around him. Caphis’ voice faded away and he heard the voice of Remus Lupin. It was not the safe, well-cared for and loved Remus that he knew now; it was the Remus of many years ago, still wearing tattered clothes and looking slightly ill at all times.

Ron felt the familiar warmth of his old lessons wash through him and when he looked again at Hermione, he saw that she was moving slightly, waving as if caught in a strong wind. He realized however, that she wasn’t moving, but the column of fire was. It undulated briefly, turning from white to dark silver. It seemed to stretch out from her for several long moments, held in check by some invisible force.

Finally, after an impossibly long time, the light burst out of her, brightening the entire field that surrounded their stone circle.

When it dissipated, Hermione was no longer imprisoned within the light, but seemed to have absorbed it. The very tips of her hair shimmered with the light and it outlined her in a fine mist.

She was standing on the platform now, arms raised above her head towards the sky. She was facing the Laheys, her back turned to Harry and Ron, but he still felt chills move through him just looking at her.

She seemed larger than life, looming over the leaders of the Brotherhood. Caphis looked at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. Tynan however, had a decidedly excited look on his face. Ron saw wickedness and greed flash through the other wizard’s eyes and he frowned. He looked again at Harry, who was struggling harder against his bounds. There was a fierce look of determination on his face as he moved, his efforts having produced the slightest bit of slack.

“I have to get to her, Ron!” Harry said, his eyes wild.

Ron nodded and looked again at Hermione. She had dropped her hands and was looking up at the sky.

“What do you want from me?” she said quietly, her voice an odd echo of itself.

“We want you to change how it works. We want you to get rid of the Muggle taint,” Tynan said quickly, stepping slightly ahead of his father.

“I cannot give you that. I am not a genie to grant your wishes,” Hermione replied.

“We want to remove the impurities; we want to cleanse,” Caphis said quietly and firmly.

“You will free the children and my friends? Harry and Ron?”

“You have my word,” Caphis spoke again, his voice almost reverent as he looked up at Hermione. She was still staring into the sky.

“You do not understand what you ask for, Caphis Lahey.” Hermione spoke again with that ethereal voice, finally bowing her head to look at the Laheys.

“It is the way it is meant to be!” He cried out. “Magic was never meant to be sullied by that poison.”

“Magic could not survive…” Hermione trailed off, tilting her head to the side.

“It could! Magic can survive and evolve. Tell us how, and you’ll all go free.”

Hermione laughed softly, like one of those wind things his Mum had hanging up all around the outside of the Burrow.

“You do not understand what you ask for. Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want?”

Caphis Lahey looked at her like an unruly child. He nodded once and stepped closer to her.

“Come closer,” she whispered; her voice was nearly inaudible.

When Lahey was within arm’s length of her, Hermione threw her arms into the air and began chanting. Ron stared at her (Harry was actually gaping in addition to staring,) as the strange words came out of her mouth. Her recitation was much shorter than Lahey’s had been and she had the added flare of glowing like a candle through the whole thing. He listened as she spoke, trying to push down the odd feeling that was pulsing through him. He felt a sort of awakening inside of him and shuddered as the familiar feelings from that graveyard began to course through.

Harry seemed to be having a similar reaction; his bounds were loosening and his eyes glowed, looking eerily emerald in the strange light. He turned his gaze to Ron and they connected on a strange level, feeling for the first time in years as if they were operating as one unit.

The bonds were gone almost immediately. They fell a few feet to the ground, but the Brothers were far too wrapped up in all the excitement surrounding Hermione. A strange wind was whipping her hair around wildly and she had ceased chanting. The sky seemed to darken, as if someone had thrown a blanket over the whole area. Ron looked up at the inky darkness and sighed, remembering a very similar night.

He looked at Harry who called out to Hermione. She gave no reaction, but Ron felt her approval and agreement of their hazy plan. Instinctually, Ron stepped closer to Harry and raised his hand and whispered a spell.

Only Danforth noticed the wands soaring through the air, past Hermione and right into their hands. His chance to react, to warn his companions, was severely hampered as Harry and Ron cast a spell in tandem, sending a coppery wave of protection over Hermione. Their spell connected with her and flowed up through the column before thrusting out into the blue circle.

Shudders of magic rumbled across the circle and the wind screamed past them. Caphis Lahey’s wand exploded in mid-air and Ron was able to catch the briefest flash of fear before Lahey disappeared completely, absorbed by an inky black light. It was unlike anything Ron had ever seen.

The strange light exploded over them, stretching overhead to block out the light from the stars. The only light remaining for what seemed like miles was the shimmery emanating from Hermione.

She was looking up at the sky, waiting.

From nowhere, there was the sound of laughter, surrounding them and filtering amongst all of those gathered around them. Ron remembered a laugh from a different time, a different dark wizard. Voldemort had always sounded mad; a slight lunacy edged his voice, making everything seem like some weird movie. This laughter wasn’t just edged in madness, it simply was. It swelled around them, in volume and density, until Ron felt as if someone was laughing inside his head. There was another flash and all that strange inky darkness was pulled back, sucked right into the air space a few feet in front of Hermione.

From the darkness, Ron saw now that it was the exact opposite of the light that shimmered around Hermione, Lahey appeared, shrouded in an otherworldly cloak of it. There was the world around Lahey and there was the void that surrounded him. Hermione hadn’t so much as twitched during the entire thing, but a quick glance at Harry revealed that his other best friend was beyond bewildered.

Lahey, of course, was still laughing like a madman. He had his head thrown back, arms stretched out slightly at his sides. He raised his hands to his face, watching as the blackness flowed around him. Finally, he turned his gaze to Hermione and smirked.

“You were wrong,” he stated simply.

“No.” She continued to stare right at him, her arms limp at her sides, still waiting patiently.

Lahey pushed his hands outward from his chest, thrusting them in the direction of Hermione. Ron heard Harry cry out as the black jet of magic struck Hermione in the chest. Ron watched in horror, but was honestly more surprised when Hermione didn’t so much as sway.

The results of his spell seemed to surprise Lahey equally as it had Ron, for he immediately thrust a different hex towards Hermione, the madness in his eyes replaced by pure rage.

Again, Hermione merely stood, facing him, as she absorbed the magic. In a fit of fury, Lahey began firing spell after spell at her, but she merely watched him, occasionally raising her eyebrow slightly.

After several more spells hit her, Hermione held up her hand, sending the final blast back towards Lahey. It struck him firmly in the chest and he stumbled backwards, clutching the front of his robes.

“You were wrong,” Hermione said simply.

Lahey lifted his head to look at her and Ron watched in amazement as a look of fear began to creep across his face. Something seemed to be happening with his eyes; they were rolling around inside of his head, a blur of white. He screamed, and for the umpteenth time that evening, it was completely unlike anything Ron had ever heard.

Lahey crumpled to the ground, rolling back and forth. He writhed and shrieked, as Hermione stood over him, still emotionless and silent. Finally, Lahey was still, curled in a fetal position at Hermione’s feet.

“You can see it, can’t you? The pain? The destruction? Do you finally see?”

Inexplicably, Ron felt his feet beginning to shuffle forward, closer to Hermione. Harry too seemed to be moving, as if they were both drawn right to the center of the action by instinct.

Hermione had finally moved to kneel down next to Lahey’s head. She was looking right into his eyes, which had finally stopped spinning. He seemed to gaze up at her and Ron saw something else in his eyes. Several Muggle movies seemed to feature the odd shot of images moving in the pupils of someone’s eyes and the same thing was happening to Lahey. He saw that Lahey, in fact, was not looking at Hermione at all. He was looking beyond her, watching the images flashing before him.

“You have what desire, Lahey. You have the ability to see and to know. Do you, then, see? The death? The sickness? Can you smell the stench, Lahey? Everything you wish for is so trivial, do you see that now?”

Through the entirety of her statement, Hermione remained calm; her voice had almost a soothing tone. Her words and her tenor sent shivers down his spine as he slowly began to understand what was happening. Lahey had asked for the ability to know, the ability to alter the world around him. He had been granted that wish; Hermione had transferred just a little bit of their combined powers to the dark wizard and Ron was watching as Lahey was crushed beneath the weight of it.

A strange, animalistic cry ripped through the air and Lahey begin to twist wildly on the ground. Hermione stepped back as the inky darkness that hovered around Caphis begin to undulate. Slowly, fissures of golden light began to appear in the darkness and more screams filled the air. The wizards of the Brotherhood began to cry out, and several tried to move closer to the center of the circle.

They were blocked by some invisible force; a protective shield seemed to surround the four of them. Hermione stepped closer to them and within just a moment’s breath, she was standing next to Harry, their hands close enough to touch.

Finally, the dark light stopped moving and nearly disappeared entirely. In just a blink, however, it was back, shoving out from Lahey as more golden cracks appeared. A final surge of light seemed to rush through it and Ron was forced to cover his eyes as the light exploded outward, showering them all in a light that was as bright as the sun. It seemed to hang around them momentarily before something seemed to break and the wizards began to flood towards them. There was just enough of it left to see that Lahey had completely disappeared.

The last of the strange light dissipated quickly, leaving the Trio to fight the Brotherhood in the most familiar way. They clamored together in the middle of the circle, back to back and wands pointed at the circling and panicked wizards. Hermione sent several stunning spells at them, while Harry launched several well-placed Expelliarmus! spells. For his part, Ron cast multiple and varied hexes. In the fray, he saw a stray bat bogey hoax collide with one of the cloaked Brothers and laughed loudly. Ginny must have stirred enough to join the fight; he knew that she tended to resort to old standbys when she was panicking.

He saw her finally; she was sending hexes at two wizards trying to her subdue her. Malfoy, engaged in his own battle, saw her as well and quickly stepped towards her. Ron watched as his old enemy swept between his sister and her attackers, warding them off and saving her from further attacks.

He felt something odd trickle through him as he watched Malfoy, but it quickly turned to nausea. He made a face in the general direction of his sister before returning to his own fight.

As a group, they were able to gain the upper hand quickly enough. Soon after, they had taken down all but Tynan Lahey.

Harry stood with his wand at Lahey’s throat. Tynan was gasping for breath and looked wildly at the five wizards surrounding him. He focused on Hermione and hissed through his teeth.

“You have killed my father.”

Hermione remained silent as she glanced between Harry and Tynan. Tynan cried out suddenly, sounding like a strange beast before a familiar popping sound filled the air. Within moments, they were set upon by the other members of their team. Neville touched ground first, but his stunning spell wasn’t quick enough.

Tynan Lahey grinned at Harry before Apparating away.

There was chaos then, as additional Order members arrived on the scene and several Weasleys started to make a fuss over Ron and Ginny. The others began rounding up the remaining members of the Brotherhood and he was pretty sure that Fred and George were spouting off about the name of the new group of dark wizards. There was a blur of red hair and swirling cloaks as his mother launched herself at him, appearing out of nowhere.

Obligingly, Ron gathered into a hug as he looked at the scene around him. He saw Andie appear at the edge of the circle and wordlessly, he moved away from his mother. She didn’t speak, however, as she watched him move towards his wife. Andie was crying and smiling at the same time. In moments, they were together again, arms and legs intertwined as they kissed furtively. He felt the wetness of her tears on his face and felt his own eyes begin to water slightly as the entire situation came rushing back at him.

He pulled Andie closer to him in a tight hug and sighed as her familiar form curled into him. He closed his eyes momentarily, breathing in her familiar and comforting scent. He lifted his head to look once more at everything going on around him. Ginny and Malfoy were standing close together, not touching, but still talking heatedly. He saw his parents standing together, talking to the eldest of the Hogwarts students. Ron watched over Andie’s shoulder as Hermione tugged Harry off to the side. She whispered at him furtively before lifting her wand…

“Hermione?” Ron called out, turning away from Andie, propelled by something indescribable. Ginny turned after a moment, following his gaze. Malfoy stepped next to her and opened his mouth to speak…

“Hermione?!” Ron called again, louder this time. He saw her wand twitch ever so slightly. Harry stumbled back a bit, blinking several times. He looked towards Ron, confusion flashing across his face before he shook his head.

Ron looked at Hermione again, who had finally turned to face him.

He didn’t hear the spell, but he saw her lips move.

Obliviate.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.