Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Sorry for the slight delay. This is a thirteen thousand-word chapter to make up for it, which brings us to the end of this very long day. For those crying for plot, there is some in this chapter. And for those worried, there is a plot to this story, but as you might have noticed so far, I'm less concerned with that than I am with characterization. I will try to tighten some things up, if possible. Also…the lyrics aren't just for decoration. I suggest Youtubing the songs and listening to them while reading, as the choice is directly inspired by the content of each chapter.
Now and again we try
To just stay alive
Maybe we'll turn it all around
'Cause it's not too late
It's never too late
Three Days Grace
Never Too Late
Chapter Nine: Harmony
May 17th, 2002 (continued…and finished)
Harry was glad his magic, at least, knew what he wanted. He had been standing in the middle of the kitchen at Potter Manor, torn in several different directions-explore the Manor further, take care of the house elf situation, find out more information about magical maturity, or go to Hogwarts to receive his items from Dumbledore? Then he had found himself in the middle of Hermione's living room, with no conscious thought toward Apparition. He hadn't even noticed the compression of instantaneously switching locations.
Hermione had been curled up in an armchair, smiling to herself, not even realizing he was there at first. Had he made any noise? He wasn't sure, but he didn't question it further. His magic had instinctively resolved his indecision.
Hermione had looked up, and her chocolate eyes had come to life, sending his heart rate up a few beats per minute. They had embraced and now they were sitting on the couch; his arm was around her and he was enjoying her solid physical presence. It was comforting.
Responding to Hermione's prompt to tell her about his morning, he asked, "Would you believe if it I told you a place called Potter Manor existed?" Her reaction was the surprise he had been expecting, but not as strong as he thought it would be. She turned her head to look him in the eyes, effectively pushing their bodies together more firmly, and slowly nodded.
"The Potter line is one of the oldest, wealthiest, and most respected Wizarding lines, anywhere in the world," she said. "Hogwarts, A History mentions something about ancestral estates for the twenty oldest Wizard families."
Harry couldn't suppress a swift smile at Hermione's mention of the book he still had never read. He chose not to comment on it, however.
"What does it say, exactly?" he queried.
"That they're on properties as old or older than Hogwarts and scattered throughout the Scottish Highlands, all within approximately one hundred fifty miles of the castle," she responded, easily calling up the fact from within her wealth of knowledge.
"Huh," Harry intoned. "That's interesting." He guessed that meant the Weasley's weren't one of the older families, unless something had happened to their estate in the past. It was something he'd have to think on later; for now, he wanted to continue informing Hermione of his strange morning. Perhaps she would have some insights on his various questions-who was he kidding? Of course she would.
"Anyways, Potter Manor does in fact actually exist, and that is where I just came from. It's a pretty amazing place…"
"How did you find out about it?" Hermione asked him. She turned her head again and the silky feeling of her hair on his cheek momentarily distracted him.
"Uh…well the first thing I did in Diagon was visit the Twins," Harry replied. "Their store is something else, that's for sure."
"Experience their new sign?" Hermione asked, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
Harry laughed, remembering the image the sign had stolen from his head, and then turned a little so he could look directly at the witch curled into his side.
"You and your mum had just told me about the real reason for the hedges," Harry smirked, waggling his eyebrows a bit. "The sign caught me speculating on that." He was rewarded with a slight crimson tinge high on Hermione's cheekbones; it made her even more beautiful than she already was.
Harry closed his eyes briefly. Merlin, he was in trouble, wasn't he? He couldn't keep his thoughts off Hermione when he wasn't near her, and the only thing he could think of in her presence was how beautiful she was. That, and how delicious she had felt before they'd left Stanford, how every part of her had responded to his touch, and how he had responded to her touch-
"So you can imagine my chagrin," Harry said, cutting his own thoughts off, "when I learned that Fred and George had been manning the sign themselves. I expect they will take the mickey for that for a very long time."
"Yes, probably," Hermione returned, albeit very slowly. He wondered what she was thinking, if her thoughts mirrored his? Before he could get sidetracked again, however, he restarted the tale.
"From there, I went to Gringotts, and met with my account manager. I don't want to bore you with the details, but apparently I'm one of the wealthiest wizards in the world." Harry pursed his lips for a moment, thinking after everything he had been through in the last four years, his fame was still at his heels, but mentally shrugged the thought off. If he played baseball, which he'd had a hard time fathoming since being back in Britain, he would still be famous. It seemed to be his fate.
"Harry?" Hermione asked him. He refocused on her.
"Hmm?"
"Still here?"
"Yeah, sorry…two things happened, though, that I need your expert opinion on."
"I'm hardly an expert at banking-"
"Mm hmm," Harry cut her off. "Sure. What can you tell me about magical maturity?"
Hermione looked confused for a moment, and he thought that maybe she really didn't know what he was talking about, but the source of her perplexity became evident when she responded.
"What does that have to do with banking?" she asked.
"I don't know…I thought you could tell me," he encouraged.
Still sounding confused, she continued: "Magical maturity is essentially when your magical core finishes going through puberty. For most witches and wizards, it occurs sometime between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. I'm still not sure how this is relevant…" she trailed off.
"Why had I never heard of it before this morning? Why do they say nothing about it at Hogwarts?"
"They do, Harry," Hermione answered. She smirked at him. "It's discussed in Arithmancy, since an entire unit in that class is based on magical cores."
"But somehow it's not important enough for the rest of the students to know?" Harry inquired, slightly irked now that something seemingly so basic had been withheld from him. He knew the frustration had bled into his voice, and he was sorry that Hermione clearly thought it was directed at her, but it couldn't be helped.
"I don't think it's worth getting upset over, Harry," she replied, her tone a bit tighter than before. "It's really not a big deal-it just means your magical core has finished growing."
"Not a big deal?" Harry asked, incredulous that she could be so ignorant of the implications. She was telling him that Voldemort and all of his adult followers had been at a distinct advantage the entire war, since the majority of the resistance had been made up of teenagers. He didn't even want to consider how vastly different things could have been if they'd all been older.
He stood abruptly, raising his left hand toward the ceiling of the room. It was normally his wand-free hand, but as he'd been doing mostly wandless magic for so long now, he supposed it didn't matter one way or the other. He took a deep breath and let his magic flow out from wherever his core was through his body. The process took far less time than it had at Gringotts, and a noise from Hermione drew his attention back to her.
She was looking at him through eyes wide with shock and possibly even a little fear. He could feel the power swirling in the air around him, and he knew she could too. He concentrated for a moment, and then braced his hand wide open.
"Lumos!" he commanded, and then had to shield his eyes against the brilliant-as-the-sun white light that pervaded the Granger living room. He could feel his own magic pulsing off of him in waves; he tried to look at his left hand, but even through squinted eyes, the light was too bright to view directly. A crackle of energy, spearing out from his body and hitting a window, effectively ended his little experiment. Almost without thought, he repaired the broken glass, and then turned again toward Hermione. She was looking at him with what could only be described as awe. A brief but powerful feeling of sadness swept through him as his magic retreated into its dormant state.
"Harry…" Hermione started.
"Still not a big deal?" Harry asked, rather lamely.
Just then, every light in the house flickered on and off several times, followed by a very low rumble. The earth beneath their feet vibrated slightly. Harry stood completely still, looking around to see if anything had been damaged. Everything appeared to be normal…
"What was that?" he asked.
"Normally I'd say a small earthquake, but after your little demonstration, I think your magic disrupted something," Hermione answered, looking at Harry with very curious eyes. The brown was a bit darker than normal, and her pupils were slowly dilating and contracting. Harry suddenly felt a pulse of warmth that made the hairs on his arms stand up-an odd combination of sensations-and realized that Hermione's magic was tangible. That explained her eyes.
"You alright?" Harry asked, sitting back down on the couch.
Hermione nodded, took a deep breath, and Harry felt her magic dissipate from the air around them.
"Now do you understand why I don't get how I could have been ignorant of magical maturity?" Hermione nodded again. "And how I can't believe that every student wasn't told of something so fundamental?"
"Yes…but Harry, I've never heard of anything like what just happened," she said, glancing toward the window he had repaired.
"Like what?"
She pursed her lips and gave him a look for a second, then stood up, pulling her with him. "Do you have your wand on you?" she asked.
"Yes," Harry nodded.
"Take it out and cast your most powerful Lumos with it," she told him.
"Um…ok." He took out his wand and braced himself, letting his magic flow through his body once again. The atmosphere in the room charged with the raw power he had within himself, but he ignored it. He saw Hermione conjure a pair of sunglasses and place them over her eyes, and shook his head. She smiled at him and gave him the universal hand motion for get on with it.
He pointed his wand away from them, took a deep breath, and said, "Lumos!" He was prepared this time, and his vision wasn't assaulted with the intense white light. It was so powerful, possibly a little more than when he had cast it wandless, that it washed out everything else in the room. The world was white. His energy was buffeting his clothing, and he could hear more than see crackles of pure magic spearing out from their source-in this case, him.
He canceled the spell and lowered the wand. His magic faded away much faster than the spots in his eyes, and he felt that low rumble beneath his feet once again. He turned toward Hermione, and she was just shaking her head at him.
"What?" Harry asked. "What was the point of that?"
"Just watch, Harry," she said. She raised her hand, already equipped with her wand. Harry felt a small twinge as her magic hit him, but it was nothing compared to the amount of raw force he had set free prior to unleashing his Lumos.
"Lumos!" she shouted, and he blinked at the fairly bright white light that erupted from her wand tip, but after a moment he was able to look at it. It was decently powerful, because he could easily see it in the already bright room, but it did not compare to the spell he had cast. That didn't make sense to him, though, because he knew Hermione was nearly as powerful as he was. Something wasn't right.
She ended the spell and lowered her wand, taking the sunglasses off and looking at him. Her eyes were very dark, and her pupils were moving in time with her chest.
"You see, Harry?" she asked. "That's the most powerful Lumos I've ever cast-I've never attempted a full-power one before that-and it pales in comparison to yours. Your magical maturity is unique, it would seem, and I think that's why you don't understand what's going on, or why you were kept in the dark.
"It wasn't done on purpose; just, no one knew that it would affect you so greatly. James and Lily were powerful casters, from what I've read, but their best abilities were fairly concentrated: Lily was extremely proficient at charms and James was very good at offensive magic. You, on the other hand, dwarf any other wizard I've ever read about or seen, except possibly Dumbledore, and your strengths aren't limited to specific areas of spell casting."
How did she do it? How did she make so much sense? He loved listening to her explain things, as weird as that was, because he loved listening to her voice and he loved experiencing some of her formidable intellect. What she had just told him raised a few more questions, however.
"But…you must remember some of the times when we were out searching for the Horcruxes, when we would have to defend ourselves? You and I were almost equal in terms of power, Hermione," he pointed out. He watched her eyes as countless memories flashed through her mind. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. He wasn't using Legilimency, either.
"That was before our respective magical maturities," she pointed out.
"You've reached yours?" he asked. If she said no, that might explain the current difference in power.
She nodded the affirmative, however. "Late last year. Gringotts contacted me and they confirmed it, as they do with every witch and wizard."
Something was wrong. He shouldn't be so much more powerful than her. Sure, he had always possessed a slight edge in raw force when it came to casting spells, but she had always been able to pick up new spells and refine them quicker than he. He was no slouch at it, but she possessed the edge there.
"Before you cast that spell, what did you do?" he asked her.
"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting down. He sat next to her.
"Like…how did you get ready to cast it?"
"I just raised my wand and said the word…" she replied, trailing off in confusion. She clearly didn't know what he meant.
"You said you cast it at full power, right?"
"Yes," she said.
"How do you know?"
"I don't understand what you're talking about, Harry," she said, obviously frustrated. He put an arm around her shoulder and leaned into her. He smiled when he felt her relax slightly, but also at the physical contact.
"Before I cast my spell, I let my magic…um…out, I guess," he said, wincing internally at his ineloquent explanation. He didn't think it was very helpful.
"Out?"
"I think that…well, when I'm not casting, or thinking about casting, my magic is kind of dormant. But when I am casting, or going to…I can let it all out-argh! This is so bloody hard to explain," he commented.
She laid a hand on his arm, and he had to suppress a shiver at her touch. He locked eyes with her, and she had that quirky little smile on her face.
"It's ok, Harry. You're saying that at all other times except during spell casting your magic is concealed?"
"Not concealed, no…" Harry trailed off, searching for some way to relate the feeling to her. "Compacted, maybe? Contained, I think, is a better word. There's really no reason to have all of my magic at my disposal at all times. That would just be unnecessary."
"So…you let it out when you're going to cast?"
"I haven't done much magic in the last few years, and the only times I've cast since I've been back are at full power. But that's just because the situations called for it. I think-"
He cut himself as an epiphany hit him. He knew how to explain it to Hermione! She must have sensed it, because her famous eyebrow shot up.
"Harry?"
"I've got it! When you Apparate, you know the feeling just before the actual Apparition? When your magic is flooding through you?"
"Yes, I think so," she responded. He thought he saw a glimmer of comprehension in her eyes.
"That's what it feels like all the time, when I let it," he said. He hoped he was being clearer now.
"Hmm," Hermione intoned, and then suddenly disappeared. The only sound was a faint crackle, like someone snapping gum in his or her closed mouth. He turned his head to where he knew she had appeared, and watched as she Disapparated once again. He followed her movement around the room as she did it several more times; then, she was back on the couch.
"Ok, I know what you mean," she nodded. "But…I don't know how to do that all the time. The process of Apparition seems to draw the power to the surface," she continued.
"How about you pretend like you're going to Apparate, focus on the destination and all that, but don't actually change locations. Keep yourself from Apparating. Build up the power but don't let your body go," Harry said, hoping that it would work. He knew that Hermione could cast as well as he, and he wanted to see her do it. Though she hadn't said anything to indicate it, her self-esteem had taken a hit when he'd cast his two light spells. He wanted to rectify that.
"Sure," Hermione responded, and she took a deep breath. His eyes, for a brief second, went to her chest as it stretched her shirt, but he directed his thoughts toward the task at hand. He could think about other things later.
He felt her magic start to wash over him, a little more powerful than before, and he looked at her eyes. They weren't focused on anything in particular, and he watched as they darkened from tan, to brown, to chocolate, and then further to colors he knew not the names of. The energy in the air was palpable now, and she suddenly flickered in and out of existence, as she fought with the urge to Apparate. The muscles in jaw clenched, and her form solidified. The power kept growing, starting to buffet his clothing as his own magic had.
She raised her wand, pointing it away from them, and held it there for a moment. He could feel his magic building slightly, almost pulling toward hers, but suppressed it as much as he could. The power he felt coming from her was very significant, somewhat less than his, but much greater than what he'd felt before. This was the Hermione he knew. She was fierce when she needed to be, and had held no quarter during the War. Someone had once told him of what it was like to watch Hermione and him fight together on the battlefield, and the sensations he was experiencing added some validity to that.
"Lumos!" she cried, and he averted his eyes just in time. Similar to what had happened earlier, the light was bright enough to wash everything else out in the room, and all he could see was whiteness. It faded after a few seconds, and he turned his back to Hermione. She was looking at him with raised eyebrows and widened eyes. Her magic slipped from the room and everything returned to normal.
"Incredible," she breathed, and he just smiled at her. He knew that she had it in her.
"Now do you understand why it's a big deal? Can everyone do that? Could we do that before our magical maturity? Were Voldemort's followers able to do that, and we weren't? Were we just a bunch of underdeveloped kids fighting fully developed-" Hermione put a finger over his lips, and laughed softly at him.
"You're starting to sound like me," she said, withdrawing her finger. He was tempted to follow it. He just shrugged though, grinning at her.
"The implications are considerable, however," she added. "At some point, but not today, I think both you and I should look into this more."
"Ok," he said, satisfied that she could see where his frustration had been coming from.
"After all that, anything else you did this morning will probably seem anticlimactic, but why don't you tell me the rest over lunch?" she asked him.
"Sure." He followed her into the kitchen and prepared some lunch with her. It was such a mundane, domestic thing, but all the same, he felt happy doing it. The mundane seemed special when he did it with Hermione, and he was starting to think maybe there was something between them. He couldn't keep his mind or his eyes off her. She enjoyed his company, and had in fact sought him out thousands of kilometers away. He would have to broach the subject with her later, especially considering what they had done just before they'd left Cali.
She led the way out onto the patio, into the nice day, and they sat in the comfortable chairs.
"After Gringotts you went to Potter Manor?" she asked him, after they'd started in on their meal.
"Yeah, but there was one more thing my account manager and I discussed, though," Harry replied. "We talked about getting an agent…"
Hermione said nothing for a moment, but then met his eyes. "And what did he say?"
"That he would contact the firm that usually handles matters like that, and get back to me. I expect to hear something about it in the next day or two."
"When is your meeting with the Yankees?" she asked. Her voice had dropped a few decibels.
"A week from today," he responded. "Do you know if it's just possible to Apparate to New York?"
Her mood lightened at that question, and she even started chuckling. "I don't think so, Harry, but even if you could, where would you Apparate to? You've never been to New York."
"I've been to Newark," he responded.
She conceded the point. "I don't know, but I don't think you should try it to find out. You might only make it halfway, or splinch yourself-"
"You know," he cut her off, "there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" He focused all of his attention on a bathroom he had been in at Newark Liberty International Airport, and felt the compression of Apparition. It was a little harder than a regular Apparition, but when his vision cleared, he was standing in the bathroom. He was in front of the mirror, and he could see in the reflection his image and the empty bathroom. That meant he wouldn't have to Obliviate anyone. He focused on Hermione's patio and was back in the next second.
"Harry! Don't do that-" she started to say, but he raised a hand.
"It's alright, Hermione, I made it there and back in one piece." She deflated a little, and regarded him with a questioning expression.
"I don't think you're supposed to be able to do that, but that doesn't really matter now. You're just going to Apparate over there for the meeting?" she asked.
"Yeah, that will work better than wasting time flying," he affirmed, though he wasn't really looking forward to the trip. A career in professional baseball hadn't started appealing to him yet. Perhaps when he heard what the Yankees had to offer…
"I, uh…" Hermione started, and he wondered at her lack of articulation. She usually knew exactly what she wanted to say. "Do you think you could Apparate both of us? I would like to go to the meeting with you, if you think that's appropriate?"
Harry wanted nothing more than for Hermione to accompany him back to America. He just hadn't wanted to ask her. He wondered why she wanted to come with him, but he thought it might have something to do with the connections he had made earlier. They would definitely need to talk about what was going on between them.
"Well, as I just said, only one way to find out!" He grabbed her hand and, focusing on the bathroom once again, Disapparated from the patio. He next found himself in the bathroom, holding Hermione's hand. A quick check told him the bathroom was still empty, and he brought them back.
He watched Hermione get her bearings for a moment, which he thought was the cutest thing he'd seen in at least a few hours, and they both sat down once again.
"So now you can do a several thousand kilometer dual Apparition," she stated, smirking at Harry. There was incredulity on her face, but also acceptance. He just shrugged.
"You're something else, Harry," she commented. He locked eyes with her.
"So are you," he returned, and was rewarded with a smile and slight blush.
"Mm… Anything else exciting happen?"
"Yes, but you really need to come to the Manor to understand the rest," Harry said, hoping that she would agree to visit his new home. He needn't have worried, however, because her mood brightened considerably. She pushed some hair away that had blown into her face and nodded.
"Of course I'll come with you," she said. "Do I need anything?"
"Well," he said, eyeing her rather light clothing. "You may want to put something a bit warmer on, or you could just use a heating charm if you have to. It's much cooler where the Manor is located than it is here in London."
"I'll just use the charm if I have to," she said. He nodded and directed the dishes on the table through the door and into the sink, and they started washing themselves. He dried them and placed them where they came from, again with his wand, and turned to find Hermione smiling at him.
"You make everything look easy, Harry."
"Just hold on," he said, smiling back at her. She did, and they were off. They appeared thirty meters from the gate to the property, on the rough country lane. There was a strong breeze, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers and pine trees. The sky was clear and blue, and the air was crisp. The setting was so idyllic and peaceful that Harry briefly mourned the years he'd lost for living here, but it was a passing thought.
"Wow," Hermione intoned, and he saw that she was gazing around her in all directions. "Kind of reminds me of Hogwarts, without the castle."
"That's what I first thought," he said, and then indicated the Manor, which was visible up the walk and through the gate.
"That's your house?" Hermione asked, as they drew near the gate. Instead of automatically opening for them this time, it remained closed. Harry frowned for a moment.
"I, Harry James Potter, wish for Hermione Jane Granger to have unrestricted access to this property," he commanded, hoping it would have the desired effect. He felt Hermione's grip on his hand tighten, and then the gate slowly opened.
"You didn't have to do that, Harry," she said.
"Yes I did. Now you can come and go as you please. You don't need me holding your hand every time you want to visit." She nodded, and the two of them continued up the slightly sloping path toward the mansion in silence.
The door opened as they approached and he led her into the expansive foyer. Sunlight was streaming in through the high windows, and Harry inhaled deeply the fresh scent of clear, sunlit air.
"Merlin, Harry," Hermione commented, again enraptured by the sight before her. He imagined the look on her face was similar to the one that had graced his face when he'd first set foot in the house.
"It's a little overwhelming, isn't it?"
"Just a little," she laughed.
He started to guide her to their left, the same way he had gone earlier, and when they reached the door he stopped.
"There are some paintings in this next room that I don't understand, Hermione. They look like magical portraits, but they aren't moving."
"Let's take a look at them," she said, and led the way into the parlor. She stopped for a moment to stare at its understated opulence, but continued on toward the portraits in question when she saw them. He followed slowly.
"These do appear to be magical portraits," she said, after examining them closely for a several seconds. Harry came up behind her, staring at the dormant images of his parents and godfather. He wished they would move and talk with him…
"I'm not really sure why they aren't moving, though," she said. "You should probably find someone who knows more about how portraits work," she continued, but he knew it was hard for her to say that. He moved closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"It's alright, Hermione," he said, softly. "I'll look into it another time." She turned and regarded him closely, and then moved forward. She embraced him lightly, which he returned. They stood like that for at least a minute, beneath the portraits of three people taken prematurely from his life, in his palatial estate, silent and unmoving. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, but then remembered the other thing he wanted to show Hermione.
"One more thing," he said, and turned toward the door to the dining area. He reached for her hand and took it, and led her through the parlor and the door. He brought her to the table and picked up the note Hatty had left, handing it to her. He watched her read it not once, but twice, and by the time she completed it the second time, there was moisture at the corners of her eyes.
"Hermione?"
She sniffed and wiped her eyes, giving him a watery smile. "Sorry, Harry. This elf's devotion got to me, I guess. Hatty would have been an excellent friend to you, it seems."
"I would have thought you'd be upset my parents had elves," he responded.
She sighed, but it was one of acceptance, more than anything. "My crusade for Elf Rights has died off recently, but that's only because Dobby cornered me one evening about a year ago and explained how House Elf culture works. Their magic is based on their status as servants. House elves are actually happier and more powerful when bound to someone. Dobby seems to be the exception, though I know someone he'd love to have as his master," she said, giving him a sideways look.
"Hmm," Harry agreed. "What do you think about the writing itself, though? That elf was definitely educated."
"It looks like it. Seems your parents or perhaps grandparents wanted their elves to be able to speak and write properly."
"Well…do you have any idea what Dobby is doing these days?"
"Still working at Hogwarts, I'd imagine," she replied. "Why?"
He smirked at her, and then called out, "Dobby?" Nothing happened for a few moments, and he was beginning to wonder if the elf was still alive, when the diminutive elf appeared before them.
"Harry Potter sir?" the elf asked, hope in his voice. Harry had never thought he would be glad to hear Dobby's voice, but it brought with it a powerful wave of nostalgia he wouldn't have experienced otherwise.
"Yes, Dobby," Harry answered, and barely had time to brace himself as the elf launched himself toward Harry.
"Oh, Harry Potter! I is so glad to be seeing you!" He backed away from Harry, looking at Hermione. "And Miss Herm-eye-knee, I is glad to be seeing you too!"
Harry, laughing, said: "It's great to see you too, Dobby. What are you doing these days?"
"I is working for Miss McGone-gull at Hogwarts," he responded, looking up at Harry and Hermione with wide eyes.
"Do you like it there?" Harry asked, glancing at Hermione as he did so. The look on her face told him she knew what he was up to.
"Oh, it is being fine," Dobby answered. "Winky is being better and we is starting a family!" Dobby exclaimed.
"A family?" Harry and Hermione asked at the same time.
"Yes, we is having a little elf called Libby!" Dobby answered. Harry had thought it impossible, but the look of paternal joy could in fact be seen on an Elf's face.
"That's great, Dobby!" Hermione said, and knelt before him. Before the elf could react, she embraced him. He froze for a moment, and Harry watched as the look on his face changed from one of bewilderment to sheer gratitude. Huge, fat teardrops welled up in his eyes and spilled down his face as he returned the hug. Harry knelt next to them and patted Dobby on the back.
"I'm so happy for you, Dobby," Harry said. Hermione leaned back, and Dobby regarded them both with a look that could only be described as love.
"You is both being the greatest witch and wizard alive," he said, wiping his eyes.
"Thank you Dobby, though you're overstating things a bit. I called you to ask you a question," Harry responded, taking the note from Hermione and handing it to Dobby.
The elf read the note over and handed the note back to Harry. "What is you wondering about it, Harry Potter sir?"
"I was wondering if you, Winky, and Libby would want to live with and work for me?" he asked, deciding to be as straightforward as he possibly could. Dobby's eyes bulged even further than he thought was possible, and the elf opened his mouth to speak several times, but nothing came out. Finally, he just squeaked and disappeared. Harry looked over at Hermione, a question in his eyes, but she just shrugged. They were both still kneeling on the floor. Before a word could pass between them, Dobby reappeared, this time with Winky and a very small elf wearing pink socks. The new addition could only be Dobby's daughter, Libby.
"Harry Potter sir!" Winky exclaimed, and jumped forward to Harry. She then turned to Hermione, and said much more cordially, "Miss Hermione." She had little difficulty with Hermione's name. Winky backed up a bit and stood on one side of Libby, with Dobby on the other side.
"Hi Winky," Harry said. And then he looked to the small elf. "And you must be Libby," he said, grinning at her. Her little eyes widened, much as her father's just had, and she looked to Dobby and then Winky. They both nodded to her and she approached Harry slowly.
"Harry Potter sir…" Libby started, in absolutely the cutest voice Harry had ever heard. He saw that Hermione was literally melting at the sight and sound of the little thing. "Winky and Dobby have told me many stories about you, and it is a great honor to finally meet you!"
"I am pleased to meet you too, Libby," Harry replied, and laughed deeply as Dobby's daughter sprang forward to embrace him. Her arms were so small she was really only hanging onto his shirt, but it was touching nonetheless. He wondered at how well spoken she was, and just assumed Winky and Dobby had been teaching her the proper way to speak.
"Is Harry Potter sir really asking if Dobby and his family would bind to him?" Dobby cut in, sounding quite breathless. Libby backed up to her father and mother, and all three elves were looking expectantly at Harry.
"Err…bind?"
"Yes…you would be our master," Winky provided. Harry realized she was much better spoken then she used to be, as well. He looked to Hermione for clarification, our perhaps reproach, but then he remembered what she had told him about House Elves and their magic.
"You would all be happier and healthier bound to me, as opposed to working for Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Libby and I are bound to the school," Winky answered. "Dobby is the only free elf at Hogwarts. He would be happier because he'd be part of your family, as would Libby and I, but it is true that his magic would be healthier if was bound." Dobby nodded vigorously at this, letting Winky do the talking.
"You three want to be bound to me?" Harry asked. They all nodded yes. "How do we go about doing that, then?"
"Harry Potter sir would have to come to Hogwarts and speak with Miss McGonagall. She is the only one who can free Libby and I," Winky responded.
"I have to make a trip to Hogwarts anyway," Harry returned, "so why don't we all go there and work this out?"
"Dobby is be meeting Harry Potter sir outside Miss McGone-gull's office with Winky and Libby in one half hour?" Dobby questioned. Harry nodded, and all three elves looked overjoyed. They then promptly disappeared. Harry stood, feeling his knees pop as his legs straightened out, and Hermione followed suit.
"That was interesting," Hermione said.
"I'll say," Harry replied.
"What do you have to go Hogwarts for?"
"Dumbledore left me something that I could pick up after reaching magical maturity, and I have to go to Hogwarts to retrieve it."
"Oh. You want me to come with?"
"Of course," Harry replied, moving closer to her and slipping an arm around her back. He was starting to like the physical contact, maybe even depend on it. That was something else he'd have to talk with her about.
"So is the rest of the house as amazing?" Hermione asked him, after a moment's silence.
"I actually haven't seen the rest of it," he said. "Want to take a tour?" She nodded, so they started back through the kitchen, the parlor, and into the foyer. They went over to the right side and through the door there, and found themselves in a humongous library.
Except…all the shelves were empty. There were no books. The room was expansive, two stories tall with wide-open spaces between various pieces of furniture such as armchairs and desks. There was even a computer tucked into the far corner, though Harry had no idea how it would work out here in the middle of nowhere.
"Where are the books?" Hermione asked, and Harry chuckled at the sound of loss in her voice. He then remembered that Sirius had left him access to the Potter and Black family libraries, and he could only assume that this was the Potter one… That still didn't explain the absence of books, though.
They moved further into the room, and Hermione suddenly pointed to a shelf on the far side of the room. Harry looked closely and saw one book sitting there, about eye level. They went to it and turned their heads sideways to read the title on the binding: The Most Courageous House of Potter.
Harry reached out and picked it off the shelf. He felt a rush of magic, starting from the book, sweeping down his arm and through him, and then expanding out from him through the rest of the room. Before his very eyes, the shelves filled to the brim with innumerable books. Hermione gasped at the sheer volume of written knowledge. He looked at the book in his hand, and then opened to the first page. It said:
Welcome to the Potter Family Library, Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Granger. Now that you have activated the charms protecting these books, Harry, the library is free for you to use any time you want. Anyone you wish to possess a similar privilege need only write his or her name in this book. Do not give out that benefit lightly, though.
The words faded and all that remained were blank pages. Harry held out his hand, summoned a pen, and handed the book and the pen to Hermione.
"What?" she asked.
"Write your name in there," he said.
"But Harry…"
"Do it, Hermione. I trust you with far more than my books." She stared at him for a second, biting her lip, and then nodded. She wrote her full name in the book, and a similar wave of power crashed through the room. On the shelf in front of them, now full with books, two slid apart. Hermione took the hint and placed The Most Courageous House of Potter in the slot, and then watched as it disappeared and the two other books slid back together.
"Let's tour the rest of the house," Harry suggested. "You can come back here any time you want." She nodded, and they continued. The only other significant room on the first floor was some kind of entertainment room; complete with a large television and home theatre system, though again Harry had no idea how they worked, since it appeared like the Manor was without electricity. He would have to find out some time, but continued on.
They ascended the stairs in the foyer, through the sunlight, and turned left at the landing. That wing on the second floor contained several guest bedrooms, all lavishly appointed, and a very nice, large loo. The right wing on the second floor was primarily composed of the master bedroom, a walk-in closet, and a loo that looked more like a spa than anything else. It had a large shower, a walk-in sauna, a hot tub that looked suited for at least five people, and even two things that appeared to be massage tables. The bedroom itself had a large Gryffindor crimson and gold bed, an ornate desk off to one side, and another large television. There were also two bookshelves, which were full. Harry couldn't believe how nice the Manor was, and missed living there all of his life. He didn't miss it for the comfort, though. He missed it because it felt like his home. This belonged to him. He was a Potter and this was his ancestral property. The feeling was foreign but not unwelcome to him.
They ascended to the third floor, and were amazed to find most of it as a wide-open space. Skylights abounded, and Harry counted at least six balconies on this floor alone. The effect was wonderful, as it almost felt like they were outside in the crisp air. It reminded him of a loft he had seen in a movie once, but it was much larger and better furnished. One corner of the truly expansive space-this area was probably five or six times large than the library, at least in terms of floor space-held a comfortable lounge, with squashy chairs, what looked like a bar and a small kitchenette, another large television and even what Harry knew to be a video game system. He had no idea that Muggle electronics could work here, but since there were so many, they apparently did.
Harry and Hermione hadn't said much as they'd traveled from room to room, except for gasps and oohs and ahhs where appropriate, but Hermione did now.
"It's amazing up here," she said. He looked at her and saw that she was looking toward the skylights. He turned in a circle, taking in the rest of the huge space: there was some gym equipment off in another corner, and another small library opposite it. The rest of the area, the great majority of it, was wide open, with nothing except plush carpeting and heaps of sunlight. He wondered at the exact purpose of the room (floor, actually), other than the obvious one of relaxation.
Harry took Hermione by the hand and led her toward the right side of the loft, if he were facing the front of the house. They approached a sliding glass door that led to a large veranda, and he pulled it open. They strode out onto the third-floor balcony and into the sunlight.
Down below them and stretching toward the trees in the distance was the lake Harry had seen earlier, and this vantage point showed him how large and clear and gorgeous it actually was. He also saw there was a beach and a dock, with a boat attached to it, bobbing gently in the breeze-tossed waters.
"Is that a speedboat?" Hermione asked.
"It looks like it," Harry said, grinning. He wanted to take it out right then and there, but-
"Do you even know how to drive one?" Hermione asked, sensing his excitement.
"Nope," Harry responded, looking to Hermione. She met his eyes and grinned back at him. The breeze tossed her hair lightly around her face, and she was a sight, standing there framed against the clear blue sky, hair and clothes buffeting around. He wanted to grab her into his arms and snog her…
He turned back toward the lake, staring at it as he cleared his mind. Everything was so peaceful here. How different would things be if he'd grown up here with parents? He closed his eyes against the speculation, because it would get him nowhere, and took Hermione's hand again. He led her back inside and all of the way across the loft, which was a large distance. Harry estimated it between sixty and seventy meters all the way across, with it being at least twenty wide. They came to another sliding glass door, and exited onto another veranda, this time on the opposite side of the house.
The space below them was primarily occupied with a large Quidditch Pitch, which had been immaculately kept as far as he could tell, and beyond that a meadow stretching toward a dark line of trees. He watched as the wind created the appearance of waves through the tall grass in the meadow, and heard Hermione sigh next to him. She leaned on the railing of the balcony, and just stared out. He joined her, and their silence stretched on through the minutes. Finally, Harry broke the peace.
"We should get on to Hogwarts," he said, barely raising his voice above the sound of the wind.
"I just realized something, Harry," Hermione said, not turning away from the breathtaking sight before them.
"Oh?"
"If you can Apparate from here to Newark, you probably could from here to Stanford as well."
He didn't answer immediately, considering the possibility and what it meant. He could have come back to Britain whenever he wanted…
"Maybe, but it might have something to do with my recent magical maturity," he said.
"True, but if not, you could have come back at any time." She paused, cocking her head as the soulful cry of some bird reached their ears. "I guess now we'll never know."
----------
Turning the final corner, Harry and Hermione saw the Gargoyle that had guarded the Head's office since Hogwarts had been built. It was as solid and immovable as ever, but there was an addition the familiar image-or, three additions, actually. Dobby, Winky, and Libby were there waiting and when Dobby saw them he rushed up.
"Harry Potter sir is finally here!" The little elf grabbed onto his free hand-the other being occupied by Hermione's of course-and tugged him toward the Gargoyle. When Harry reached it the Gargoyle came alive, opening its stone eyelids to peer at Harry with colored stone eyes, and then moved aside with a nod of its head. Harry was mildly surprised no password was required, but didn't complain as the animated stone finished opening the way to the office. The eclectic group climbed the stairs and Harry knocked on the door at the top.
It felt strange being in Hogwarts again, after so long, especially since he had once told himself that he'd never be back. Some part of him had expected some kind of hero worship from any student he ran into, even though he loathed that sort of thing, but he had been pleasantly surprised to find the halls nearly empty. What few students he and Hermione had run into had either not recognized them or had not acknowledged it. Maybe his time abroad had been more effective than he'd imagined at pushing him from the public consciousness.
"Come in," a very familiar voice called, and Harry opened the door. The office that greeted him was largely unchanged fromm the last time he'd been there, though its sole occupant appeared a little older and more careworn. Minerva McGonagall rose to greet the oddly formed group, coming around her desk with a warm smile on her usually stern face.
"Harry Potter! And Hermione! And…Dobby and your family," she said nodding to each of them in turn. Harry stuck out his hand, but the matronly Headmistress surprised him by pulling him into a hug. He awkwardly returned it briefly, and then she hugged Hermione as well. Dobby, Winky, and Libby stood unobtrusively off to the side.
"Professor," Harry greeted her, and Hermione did the same.
"You both are old enough and have done enough to be able to call me Minerva," she said, in a very friendly manner. An affable Headmistress had replaced their stern Head of House.
"All right Minerva," Harry responded, agreeably. Minerva led them toward her desk and directed them to sit, and she did in her own chair. Dobby and his stood next to Harry's chair. The elves were fairly bouncing on their feet, and Harry saw McGonagall give them a questioning look.
"It's good to see you again, Harry," she said. "And it has been far too long, Hermione."
"It has," Hermione replied. "We're not here about me, though," she continued, deflecting the attention away from her.
"Oh?" McGonagall asked, looking at Harry.
"I've actually come for two reasons," Harry supplied. He motioned toward Dobby and his family. "I find myself in need of at least one House Elf, and of course Dobby was the first one to come to mind. I see that he's been a busy little elf since I've been gone, so I would like to request that all three bond with me. I know that Winky and Libby are bonded to Hogwarts, and was wondering if I could replace the school as their master, as well as bonding Dobby to me?"
McGonagall glanced at Hermione, probably expecting some sort of sour look on her face, but looked back to Harry when she found none. She then looked at the elves in question.
"Is this what you want Dobby? Winky? Libby?"
"No disrespect to you or the school, Headmistress, but we would very much like to be bonded to Harry Potter sir," Winky responded. Harry still wasn't used to her improved command over English.
"No disrespect taken, Winky," McGonagall said. "I have absolutely no problem with the arrangement, but I have no idea how this change in masters takes place."
"You would need to give Libby and I clothes," Winky said. There was perhaps a slight undercurrent of anxiety in Winky's voice, but Harry could tell Winky was trying hard to mask it.
"Very well…" McGonagall replied, opening a desk drawer and pulling out two wool gloves. "You are sure this is what you want to do?" All three elves nodded. McGonagall stood and came around her desk. She held out the gloves to the two female elves.
"Winky and Libby, I set you free of your bond to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The two elves took the gloves and there was a crack of magical discharge, and then it was done. Dobby turned to Harry.
"You being able to bond us now, Harry Potter sir." Harry nodded and knelt in front of the three elves. He looked each one deeply in the eyes, trying to project his gratitude for their loyalty and willingness to help him. All he could feel in return was love.
"Dobby, Winky, and Libby, I would be honored if you were bound to me, not as servants, but as friends of the family and equals in my eyes." The elves' eyes widened and he saw tears well up in each; they each placed a hand somewhere on him, and said in unison:
"I accept your proposal of bonding." Another crack of magic sounded, and Harry found himself embraced tightly by three weeping House Elves. He looked up to McGonagall, found her smiling and wiping tears out of her own eyes, and looked over his shoulder at Hermione. She nodded approvingly.
The embrace ended and the three elves collected themselves. Dobby spoke first. "Is Master Harry be needing anything else at this moment?"
"Only one thing," Harry responded, again looking each elf in the eyes. "From this time forward, you should call me Harry. Not Harry Potter sir, or Master Harry. Just…Harry."
"Harry really is the greatest wizard ever, isn't he?" Libby asked her parents, looking at them. Harry had to suppress a laugh at the forceful nodding of their heads.
"Duly noted, Harry," Winky responded.
"I is understanding, Harry," Dobby replied.
"Ok, that's all then," Harry finished, moving back into his chair.
"We will be at Potter Manor, Harry," Winky said, and the three elves disappeared.
"Potter Manor?" McGonagall asked, returning to her chair.
Harry nodded. "Yes, that is where I'm living for the moment, though I've only just today found out it existed."
"It's magnificent," Hermione said, joining the conversation.
"Yes, I know," McGonagall said. "I've been there several times, the last of which was your parents' wedding, Harry."
"You'll have to tell me about it sometime, but there is another reason I am here-"
"For the items you've been informed I bequeathed to you, correct?" a new voice said. Harry's breath caught in his throat-he knew that voice. It was Dumbledore's. His eyes went toward the sound, and there on the wall to his left was a magical portrait of Albus Dumbledore. He was twinkling down at Harry. He felt Hermione grab his hand and squeeze, and he squeezed back a silent thank you.
"Yes sir," Harry said. He looked at Minerva. She had something like bemusement on her face.
"Harry, I must ask you, and Hermione for that matter, to call me Albus. You've both earned it."
"When did you wake, Albus?" Hermione asked.
"About eighteen months ago," he answered, looking to Minerva for confirmation, who nodded. "It differs with every portrait, but I seem to have taken near the longest," he said, chuckling at himself.
"Albus, there are portraits of my parents and Sirius at Potter Manor, but they do not move," Harry said. It felt so weird to be talking to his former mentor. He knew this Dumbledore was only a shell of the man that had actually existed, but it also felt good talking to him again.
"I assume you bonded with Dobby and his wife and child because none of the Potter elves are left?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded, though he was unsure what the question had to do with what he'd said.
"Then I daresay the portraits will have returned to normal by the time you go back to your home, Harry."
"Why is that?" Hermione asked, before Harry could inquire the same.
"Magical portraits are linked to House Elf magic. One of the reasons Hogwarts needs so many elves is the sheer amount of portraits within these walls. With nary an elf at Potter Manor, the magic in the portraits faded over time, but now that you have three living in the home, they will return to their former state."
"It's ironic that portraits are fueled by the `lowest' of magical beings," Hermione said, a touch bitterly.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Harry, I am not sure how to ask this question, but I figure the direct approach is the best."
Harry perked up at this. "What question, Albus?"
"You are undoubtedly aware of the final fate of Severus Snape, correct? Minerva informed me that he was killed in the attack on the Ministry of Magic during the final assault."
"Yes, that is true, Albus." Harry preferred not to remember the bastard. Snape had, in fact, killed the very man he was speaking to now.
"I am curious as to what became of Mister Malfoy, who was so intricately involved in the night of my death? Minerva has no idea, and I was wondering if you did?"
Harry looked over to Hermione, who had a stricken look on her face he knew was mirrored on his. Draco Malfoy and his ultimate fate was something the six of them-Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, and Ginny-had never spoken of to anyone. They had all agreed it was better left unsaid, but it was hard to avoid a direct question. Especially when it came from their former Headmaster, who had been scarily perceptive at times.
"Albus…" Harry started, but trailed off, unsure of what to say.
"Does it really matter what happened to him?" Hermione asked. "He was an evil git, pardon the expression, and he's gone." She looked darkly between Minerva and the portrait, daring them to disagree with her. Harry was surprised at her vehemence, but he understood it.
"Evil, Hermione? Misguided, maybe, but I don't think `evil'," Albus said, which Harry knew was the wrong thing to say. Sure enough, Hermione's face colored with anger.
"With all due respect sir, you weren't alive when Harry and I were dealing with just how `misguided' Malfoy was. In fact, wasn't it his misguidance that got you killed?" Hermione was on a roll now, and Harry did nothing to stop her.
"Hermione-" McGonagall cut in, trying to mollify her former student.
"No, Minerva, this has to be said," she said, glancing at the Headmistress, before looking back at Albus. "You trusted Snape blindly for years, and look where it got you? Inside a portrait. You thought he could be redeemed, but he was never, ever working for our side. And you always thought that Malfoy could be redeemed too, that his arrogance and carelessness and disregard for life were a result of his upbringing, instead of truly being a part of his character.
"Harry and I both know the truth, however, and I think it's time you heard it."
----------
For a night in October, it was awfully warm, and Harry shifted uncomfortably under his invisibility cloak. He needed it, however, if he wanted to make it through Knockturn Alley without being harassed, or worse. He heard the light swishing of five other cloaks, hiding his five closest friends, and knew they were right behind him. The Twins had somehow procured the extra cloaks, and Harry had paid them generously for each, ignoring their protests.
They had been back at Hogwarts for about a month and half, and had finally come across a lead on Slytherin's locket. They'd finally been able to locate Dung and he'd told them he sold it to Borgin and Burke's, the famous Dark artifact store in Knockturn. Soon enough, the six of them stood outside the small shop, and he heard Hermione begin the work to bring down the security wards. He could probably brute force his way through them, but that would leave them precious little time to recover the Horcrux before the enemy arrived.
Several minutes and many noises of frustration from his bright friend later, she indicated that it was safe to proceed into the shop, and he opened the door and crossed the threshold. He pulled the cloak off, and the other five did the same, appearing in the midst of the dark shop. They were all dressed in black, complete with dark caps and dark shoes. All six were battle ready, nerves on edge and ready to fight for their lives, if need be.
"Ok, spread out," Harry whispered. "In three groups, the usual, and search for it," he commanded, though he wouldn't have considered it a command. The other five followed his orders without a thought, breaking up into the assumed groups of two. Hermione and he went toward the counter; Ginny and Neville went toward the shelves; and Ron and Luna headed for the back room.
After five minutes of fruitless searching, frustration began to set in, and Harry could only assume that the owner of the shop had sold the precious trinket. The six of them met in the middle of the store at his word, and were about to don their invisibility cloaks and leave, when a very bright light blinded them.
"Down!" Harry yelled, and heard all of them drop straight to the floor. A few spells whizzed over their heads, but the light soon faded, and Harry's stomach dropped at what he saw. A dozen Death Eaters surrounded them. Two of them made his blood boil: unmasked, and standing side by side, were Draco Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov. His hatred for Malfoy needed no further explanation, but his feelings for Dolohov could be summed up by one thing-the purple light that had gone from the man's wand into Hermione's chest at the Department of Mysteries. He wanted to crush Dolohov like a bug.
"Well, well, well," Dolohov said. The other Death Eaters remained silent, even Draco. Harry noticed that Draco's face was impassive. "Harry Potter and his merry band of friends. I wonder what you are doing here, in the middle of the night, when all of you are supposed to be at school?"
"How did you know we were here?" Harry growled out, calculating their chances of escape or survival, if it came to a fight. He could feel the Anti-Apparition ward that had been erected sometime in the last ten seconds, and again he thought he might have been able to brute force his way through it, but the others couldn't, besides Hermione. And he would not leave them here.
"Your lovely friend there," Dolohov answered, leering at Hermione, "forgot about the simple detection ward. We knew you were here as soon as you set foot inside the shop, Potter." The look Dolohov had given Hermione curdled Harry's blood, and he was having a hard time controlling his magic. He wanted to blast the fucker through the wall.
Harry saw the horror on Hermione's face at Dolohov's words, and Harry wanted to tell her it was not her fault, but he would deal with that later. For now, he had to get the six of them out of there alive.
"What do you want?" Harry asked.
"Isn't that obvious?" Dolohov asked, laughing coldly. "Your friends dead, and you coming with us to the Dark Lord, so you can lick his boots and beg for your life."
Harry took a deep breath to settle his magic, which was fighting for control, but he knew he was losing the battle. The Death Eaters had come to kill Hermione and the others, and take him to Voldemort. He would not let that happen. He would not allow the Death Eaters to harm any of them. He would give them no quarter. He wanted everything from them, and would give them nothing.
He clenched his fists, and unleashed his magic.
"Never!" he screamed, standing and casting a powerful shielding charm over the six of them. All five of them immediately began casting at the assembled Death Eaters, taking five of them out right away. Harry saw they were using lethal spells, which was good because the Death Eaters would be too. Several enemy spells bounced off the shield, and Harry knew it was weakening. He tracked a Death Eater for several seconds, and let loose a blasting curse powerful enough to push him back a step. The Death Eater literally vaporized.
A flash of green drew his attention, and he watched as Ginny nimbly rolled out of the way of a Killing Curse, which set fire to the counter behind her. She returned with a blasting curse and cutting hex in quick succession, punching through her enemies shield with the first and cutting his throat with the second. That left five Death Eaters, including Dolohov and Malfoy. He glanced around quickly, searching for them, and watched as two more Death Eaters fell.
His friends were coldly efficient at bringing down the enemy, and Harry recast the powerful shielding charm, giving them some more time. He saw a quick glimpse of Dolohov just then-the man must have an invisibility cloak, as well! And it had looked like he was heading for Hermione.
Without thinking, he stuck out his hand and summoned her physically to him. As she knocked into him, the floor she had been crouching on exploded. She briefly looked into his eyes, sending him a silent thank you.
"Accio Invisibility Cloaks!" Harry cried, using all of his power. Seven cloaks shot toward him, including Dolohov's, and the newly exposed Senior Death Eater was brought down in a spray of blood. What was left of him hit the floor with a crunching thud.
And then he saw something that infuriated him beyond belief. Malfoy was hiding behind the counter, watching the battle, and he'd finally found cause to participate. Ron's back was to him, and Malfoy had his wand out, pointing toward Harry's red-haired friend, wand tip already glowing the sickly green of the Killing Curse…
Harry knew two things at once: Draco would kill Ron and Apparate away and he would not let that happen. Concentrating all of his power on Draco Malfoy, he felt the Anti-Apparition wards crumble, and he translocated behind his hated classmate. He had time to do nothing else, and pushed his magic toward Malfoy, hoping to knock the wand off target. The Killing Curse erupted just as the wave of pure energy hit him, sending Malfoy flying through the front wall into Knockturn Alley and the Curse into the ceiling. Another fire started where it hit.
Things settled then, and Harry looked toward his friends. They were in varying states of disorder, and he hoped that none of the blood on them was theirs. The Death Eaters, on the other hand, hadn't fared so well. Their remains littered the floor of the store…and the walls…and the ceiling…
Harry didn't feel bad though. They had come with the intention to kill them and capture him. And he had no illusions about what Voldemort would do to him if he were ever captured. The hole in the floor where Dolohov had tried to kill Hermione was still smoldering with magical residue.
"Ugh," Ginny said, wiping her bloodied face with her dark shirt.
"Everyone alright?" Harry asked, picking his way through the wreckage. They really needed to get out of there before anyone else showed up. They all responded affirmatively.
"What happened to Malfoy?" Hermione asked. She gave him a look that told him she knew that he had been about to kill Ron.
"I blasted him into the street," Harry spat out. "Let's go see if the fucker is still alive, and then we have to get out of here."
They exited the now ruined shop into Knockturn Alley, and were greeted with a grisly sight. Draco's rather abrupt exit through the front wall of Borgin and Burke's had nearly torn his head off, as well as driving several pieces of wood through his torso. He was definitely dead.
"Pity," Neville commented. "We might have been able to get information from him."
"Doubtful," replied Luna. "He failed Voldemort in his task to kill Dumbledore. Tom wouldn't trust him with anything useful." They all nodded at Luna's logic.
"Alright, meet up by the Hog's Head," Harry said. "Wait-I have an idea." He held out his hand toward the shop. "Accio Slytherin's locket," he said, but nothing came from the store. A curious ripping noise met his ears, though, and then something solid, metal, round, and on a chain jumped into his hand. He looked down at Malfoy's body, and saw a tear in the pocket of the pants. He looked to his hand, and saw Slytherin's locket.
"What the bloody hell?" Ron asked.
----------
Hermione finished telling the story and tense silence spread over the Head's office for at least a full minute. Hermione was gripping Harry's hand very tightly, and he had held on just as tightly as they both relived that horrible night. Eventually, Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"So Draco had the locket in his possession?"
"Yes," Hermione answered.
"Were you intending to kill Draco, Harry?"
Harry shrugged. "At this point, Albus, that's irrelevant. I was trying to stop him from killing Ron. I didn't matter to me if I killed him or not, and it still doesn't."
"You feel no remorse for his death?"
Harry's ire grew a little. "No, and I never will. What did the bastard ever do to deserve any pity or remorse from me, or any of my friends, for that matter?"
"He had the Horcrux, Harry, allowing you to eventually kill Voldemort."
"He was going to kill Ron, Albus," Harry said, staring the old man in the icy blue eyes. "I hardly think he had some kind of noble intention with the Horcrux. Who knows if he even knew what it was?"
"We will never know now, will we?" the portrait asked, rhetorically. Harry was heavily reminded of what Hermione had said to him on the veranda, about Apparating back and forth between Stanford and Britain. Had his life been defined by bad choices so far? He didn't think so, and he wasn't going to let the Headmaster's speculation ruin his day.
"Again, irrelevant. It's in the past. And now can we please move on to the reason for my visit?"
Dumbledore stared at him for another few seconds, and then nodded. "I left you my personal library, Harry. I waited for your maturity because some of the material is fairly sensitive and dangerous. It's stored in my personal office, now Minerva's, which you can enter through the door on your right."
"I shrunk it all and put it in a trunk for you, Harry," Minerva said, and he nodded at her.
"Thank you, Minerva. I appreciate it. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss today?" Harry asked, looking around at the two other living people and one deceased portrait in the room.
"I don't believe so," Minerva said, "but I would like it if you two visited more often. The school hasn't been as…lively…since the six of you left."
"We'll try," Harry said, standing and moving toward the office door. Hermione followed him.
"Goodbye, Harry, Hermione," the portrait said.
"Bye, Albus," Hermione, and Harry nodded at the portrait. They found the trunk quickly and Flooed out of the castle from the office to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, they Apparated back to Hermione's house, into the middle of her backyard once again.
The shadows were starting to lengthen as the afternoon headed toward evening, and the light was softer.
"What are you going to do now?" Hermione asked him.
"Head back to Potter Manor, I guess, and make sure Dobby hasn't destroyed the place," he replied, smiling a bit.
"Libby is so adorable," Hermione laughed.
"I know. I can't believe Dobby is a father. That's amazing."
"It is," Hermione said, wistfully. "I think I'm going to hang around here for a bit," she said.
He nodded, and prepared for Apparition. "I'll see you later then?" he queried. He wasn't expecting her to bring her hand to his face, or to step closer to him, or to move her face toward his…
Their lips met in a simple kiss, but that was all it took to awaken every feeling that been burning beneath the surface since their little tryst back in Stanford. Her lips felt velvety and moist and perfect, and he wrapped his arms around her, bringing their bodies flush against each other. The complete physical contact was exquisite, though not very erotic at all, and he parted his lips as her tongue sought entrance. The searing kiss lasted awhile longer, and they eventually parted, chests heaving and cheeks red.
"Bye, Harry," she said, quietly. Her eyes had darkened again.
"See you," he said, shivering slightly at the look she was giving him. It set his blood on fire. He Disapparated from her back yard.
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Harry had studiously avoided the parlor since he'd been back at the Manor, even though Dobby had told him the portraits were moving around again. He wanted Hermione to be with him when he faced his parents for the first time ever and Sirius for the first time in a long time.
Dobby, Winky, and Libby had settled into the life at the Manor without incident, and Harry had found out that Winky and Libby had learned how to speak and write correctly from several books they had. Dobby was also trying to learn, but it had been much harder for him because of his unbound status. Now that he was bound to Harry, however, the process should be much easier. Eventually, Dobby would be able to speak like the rest of them.
Harry had taken dinner up on the western third floor veranda, which was the one overlooking the pitch and the meadow beyond. He watched the sun set as he ate with his elves, whom he had asked to eat with him. They had politely refused at first, but he was adamant, and soon they were having dinner very comfortably sitting around a small table he had conjured.
The fire in the sky, the oranges and the reds and the yellows, was truly beautiful and he wished Hermione could see it with him. He knew that during the next week, before he went to talk to the Yankees, he had to have a heart to heart with her. There was something between them, but he was afraid to name what it was. He just wanted to be with her, that was all he knew. He was comfortable in her presence. He enjoyed her personality. He wanted her physically next to him. If those weren't strong indicators for something special, he didn't know what was.
It had been a monumentally long day, though, and he decided to retire soon after dinner. He instructed the elves that they could do as they pleased unless there was something pressing around the Manor, and took a long, hot shower in his enormous master bathroom. Throwing on a fresh pair of boxers, he crawled into his extensive and, as he found out, very comfortable bed. The last of the light was fading from the sky as he closed his eyes…
He awoke sometime later, when it was completely dark, with a strangely empty feeling inside him. He looked over at the other side of the bed, half expecting to see Hermione there, but knew it would be empty. Somehow, during the past two weeks at Stanford, he had come to expect her body sleeping next to him. Then he felt it…a spike of magic that could only be Hermione Apparating near him.
And there she was. Standing in the middle of his room, in a sports bra and a small pair of comfortable shorts, was Hermione.
"Harry?" she called out, tentatively.
"I'm awake."
"Can't sleep?" she asked.
"Just woke up, actually. You can't?"
"My bed feels empty," she responded, moving toward his bed. He moved over and flipped the covers up.
"I know what you mean."
"I guess I got used to it," she said, sliding into bed next to him. He turned slightly and felt her move against him, pressing into his back. The familiar sensation of her soft chest against him settled him more than anything else could have. He sighed, very contentedly.
"It has been quite the day," Harry mumbled, sleep already trying to reclaim him.
"It has," Hermione agreed, squeezing him a little tighter to her. "Harry, I received a note from Molly Weasley a few hours ago, inviting you to dinner at the Burrow tomorrow evening."
"Ok…" he trailed off, breathing deeply the scent of Hermione.
"It's set to be a large gathering. You ready for that?"
He just nodded, and felt Hermione move against him slightly. "G'night Hermione," he whispered.
"Night, Harry," she whispered back. Her warm breath fell lightly across his neck, and he was at peace.
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