The usual disclaimers apply: I don't own it; I just shamelessly use it for my own twisted little ends. Enjoy!
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Albus Dumbledore stood quietly, watching the reconstruction of the Burrow proceed. He had performed several powerful enchantments on the base structure of the new dwelling himself, making it proof against magical fire and lightning among other things. There were even a few nasty surprises awaiting intruders thinking to catch the occupants unaware. The headmaster almost hoped that Voldemort's forces would try again.
His gaze wandered across the surroundings, taking in the wizards and witches who were busily working on the new home, and came to rest at last on a pair of teenagers eating their lunch. Dumbledore sighed as he watched Harry Potter and Hermione Granger talk quietly over their food. He had not been there earlier in the morning during what everyone was now calling 'Harry's display,' but he had gotten a full accounting of what had happened. He turned to look at the patch of forest that was all but annihilated by the young wizard's rage, and a small frown made its way to his lips.
"Remarkable, isn't it?" came a low voice from behind him. He had almost not noticed the tall form that had apparated behind him; testimony to the man's skill. "So much power in one so young. It would seem," the voice drawled, "that Mr. Riddle and his friends have finally managed to make our Mr. Potter angry."
"Yes," agreed the old Professor. He stood in silence, taking in the blasted tree stumps and blackened ash from the fires. There was silence, and then he added, "That is what I am afraid of."
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In a dank, far from sweet-smelling chamber in the depths of Hogwarts, a hooded and cloaked figure stared silently into a softly bubbling cauldron. The room the figure was in looked a cross between a mad alchemist's laboratory and a ransacked library - vials of liquid were strewn about haphazardly, various potion-making instruments lay here and there, and dozens of obviously old and well-used books were open, their surfaces covering the small area of the floor and tables that were not occupied by chemical reagents.
The figure silently contemplating the cauldron in front of him would at a mere glance seem to belong in those surroundings. Severus Snape had always dreamed of a career in the dark arts; he had actively pursued such work since his own days as a student at Hogwarts. Things had turned out quite differently than he had imagined they would, all those years ago. Enticed by the promise of power, he had willingly handed himself over to the devil himself, and but for Albus Dumbledore's efforts and belief in him, he would have been well and truly damned. Through his new mentor's kindness, Snape had been able to flourish as a potion-maker, an art he had always enjoyed but never before realized his own aptitude for. He had almost lost everything to his own dark ambitions - he had been a step from casting himself into the abyss irrevocably. A shiver passed through his slight frame at such thoughts, and he returned his full attention to the steaming mixture before him.
He was not in his own chambers, although they looked similar, if a bit less dirty. No, the room he was currently in was a secret, known only to the headmaster and himself. It had been magically protected against eavesdropping and discovery, and so was perfect for the use he now put it to. The head of Slytherin house made a stirring motion with his wand in the air over the cauldron, and the pearl-colored liquid spun madly before turning glassy. Snape focused his will on the liquid medium in front of him, pointing his wand and whispering. His left hand grasped the wrist of his right, holding the slender object steady, and an observer at that moment would have noticed the dark etchings on his arm, symbol of his previous master's dominance, fade in more prominently.
Snape was a skilled potion crafter - a fact known by all that worked with him. Even those who despised him, which included most of the students he taught, readily acknowledged his ability. However, the sallow-skinned professor also had a great gift for occlumency and leglimancy. It was those gifts that, during the war between Voledmort and the forces of the Order and the Ministry, had made him a masterful spy.
Now those same talents were what made Severus useful to the Order. The weak connection still present via the Dark Mark heightened his ability, allowing him to gather the information on Voldemort's followers that the Order so desperately needed if it was going to stand a chance of succeeding. He had already foiled several attacks that would have taken the Phoenix Order members unaware, including the assault launched on the Burrow.
With the enchantments in place in the scrying chamber, he had no fear of his targets realizing they were being listened to. The focusing mixture in the cauldron extended the range of his power, allowing him to sweep wide areas in the search for information on the movements of the enemy. An hour passed with nothing changing; the only sound his quiet breathing. He was used to these periods of silence as he sought out his former allies. It could take several hours to locate what he searched for, but Professor Snape was a patient man. His diligence was usually rewarded. A sudden image appearing on the surface of the liquid brought a slight smile to his lips. The image was fuzzy as always, the shapes within it distorted. It didn't matter. The words they would speak and the thoughts behind them were what Snape wanted to hear. In his hidden sanctuary, the former Death Eater waited…..and listened.
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Two figures sat at a small wooden table. The room they were in was cramped; there was barely enough room for the table and four chairs. A single candle in the middle of the table provided the only light, and the shadows its flickering flame cast seemed to gather thickly about the robed figures sitting across from each other. One had its hood up, and the faint light did not reach its face. The other had its hood down, and a long length of hair spilled down its back. Bellatrix Lestrange could be accounted beautiful, and indeed there were those that had thought her so. However, she was also very much insane, and the figure sitting across from her knew it and so considered its words carefully before speaking. You never knew what would set her off.
"Nott failed. The boy was not taken. The home was destroyed, but none of the family members were inside when it burned. Nott is dead."
"Yes, I am aware of that," Bellatrix snapped. "Did you think I wouldn't have noticed?" She rolled back the sleeve of an arm to reveal her Dark Mark. "Jacob Nott was a fool with an over-inflated opinion of his own abilities. I am sure he toyed with Potter, giving one of his typical high-brow speeches, rather than capturing or killing him immediately like he was ordered to do."
"That is not what concerns our Lord however. The Weasleys knew about the attack. They were tipped off by someone. Our master is of course very upset by this. A string of our plans have been ruined by whoever is leaking information to Dumbledore and his lackeys. There will be a thorough investigation of this treachery, led by me. And when we find the one responsible……" The witch slowly closed her fingers into a fist. "They will wish for the sweet mercy of death." Bellatrix regarded her companion in silence for a moment before continuing.
"This failure is of no moment however. We still have an in to Potter at his beloved school, and the appropriate people have been notified on how to proceed. The whelp was at the mercy of our Dread Lord once before; he will be again. In less than two weeks time he will be back where we can eventually get to him once more. All the watchful eyes in the world won't save Harry Potter from meeting his fate. Their mysterious informant has done nothing but delay the inevitable." Rising from her chair, Lestrange beckoned to her companion.
"Now come - we have much to discuss. I have a task for you. You are going to be a good little blood-hound and help me sniff out our elusive mole. Our Lord very much wants to meet this proverbial invisible man. He has much to discuss with them on the matter of loyalty……and pain."
The door closed behind the exiting figures, the candle on the small table almost burned down to the base.
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The liquid resumed its glassy opacity as Snape leaned back, his breath coming out slow and heavy. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow, and his grip finally relaxed on the wand in his hand. They hadn't figured it out yet. That was something, anyway. He knew it couldn't last, but for now his identity was still safe from his former companions.
So, that raving lunatic Bellatrix was leading the investigation into their leak. That seemed to be a stupid move by his former master. There was only one use for that woman - as a weapon. Putting her in a position where she had to think seemed like sheer folly. The matter would require some thought.
In the meantime, he had to report all that he had heard to the key members of the Order. They needed to know as soon as possible that Voldemort had at least one more insider at the school that could allow him to get to Potter. As much as it turned his stomach to be protecting the whelp of a wizard he had loathed with all of his being, duty was almost all he had left. Duty, and the all-consuming desire for revenge on the man that had tried to make a slave of him. He had promised to himself, in another lifetime it seemed now, to play a large part in the downfall of the man he had once called Lord -- and Severus Snape always kept his promises.
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Harry paced nervously in the open field, slowly wearing a path in the high grass. Shortly after a tension filled lunch, Professor Dumbledore had approached Harry as he and Hermione sat near the shell of the Burrow. The headmaster had let him know his first informal lesson in advanced magical defense would begin shortly and had pointed to a field well clear of the Burrow's yard. Harry was glad for the excuse to get away from everyone for awhile - the stares he had been receiving all morning were getting on his nerves. Even worse was the tension between him and Hermione. He kept seeing the look of fear in her eyes; fear of him. They had not spoken much since he had regained his senses to find himself in her arms. Frankly, he needed to focus on something else, and the upcoming lesson would suit his purpose just fine.
There was no stopping a small amount of trepidation from making itself known to him however. What would the lessons entail? Would he like the instructors doing the teaching? What kinds of magic would they be showing him, that many wizards never learned? All those thoughts and more swept through his mind as he waited for his teacher to show up and provide some answers. So engrossed in his thoughts was he that Harry didn't notice he was no longer alone in the field. Just as he realized this fact, a voice called out calmly from behind him.
"Detrudo." It felt like an invisible hand had pressed down on him with the strength of a troll, knocking him flat on his back. Harry lay in the grass, momentarily stunned, as the same voice came to him from nearby.
"Rule number one Mr. Potter - in the real world, your enemies won't wait until you are paying attention to attack. There are no dueling niceties observed by the Death Eaters and their lesser followers. They will stab you in the back; kill you in your sleep. In real life-or-death combat, there is no bowing. No rules at all. So rule number one, the most important thing I can teach you, is to never let them catch you unaware. A small amount of paranoia is the price you pay for staying alive." A hand was offered to him, and Harry allowed himself to be helped to his feet.
As the lingering effects of the spell wore off, Harry took in the man standing before him. He was exceedingly tall, approaching six and a half feet; and none of that appeared to be bulk. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, and his hands and fingers seemed to belong to an artist, delicate and slender. He was dressed in an unremarkable gray cloak fastened with a brooch shaped like a phoenix with wings stretched in flight. What struck Harry most, however, was the aura surrounding the man - tension. This man seemed to be unused to stillness; he was like a coiled spring temporarily motionless, but with capacity for swift and decisive movement. Harry found himself immediately intimidated.
Not offering any apology for his sneak attack, the man extended his hand towards Harry, which he hesitatingly shook with his own. The tall man smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"I am Verus Magister. Dumbledore has charged me with teaching you how to keep yourself alive, and that is what I plan to do. Before we are done you may very well hate me, and that is fine. I am not here to be your friend, I am here to show you how to battle the Dark Arts in ways no school education ever could. What I will be teaching you is known only by Aurors and others who fight dark witches and wizards for a living. It will be difficult, and it will push you to the limits of your mental and physical endurance. My old mentor assures me you are up to the task. As he is the best of judge of character I have ever met, I will believe him and assume you won't disappoint me."
"Your old mentor?" Harry asked, wondering if Verus was talking about who he thought he was.
"Yes, Albus Dumbledore. You're surprised? I am sure you have heard of the Professor's battles against the dark forces. He has defeated some of the most powerful dark wizards of the age. Before he was a professor, the headmaster was an instructor for the Auror core. Even after he left to pursue a career at Hogwarts, he still kept his hand in things with our group. Dumbledore is one of the few wizards living who I would be afraid to battle against. There is a reason that Tom Riddle fears him." Harry looked on in surprise at the mention of that last name, and Verus gave a short bark of laughter.
"Do you think I will refer to him by the title he gave himself? Lord Voledmort," he sneered. "The man's name is Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle is what I'll call him. I advise you to do the same. He may be incredibly powerful and damn near indestructible, but he is still only a man. Rule number two, Mr. Potter - understand the nature of your enemy. He may cloak himself in fear and mystery, but Tom is just another Dark Wizard that bleeds the same color as you or I."
"Now," he continued, "Let's get to work." Reaching into the pocket of his robes, Magister removed a small box-shaped object. It appeared to be made out of some exotic metal, and was carved with strange symbols that Harry couldn't decipher but which made his head swim when he focused on them for too long.
"This is a texi magicus, a spell shield. There are very few in the world. We use them in the Auror core for magical training. When opened by two or more consenting wizards, it projects a protective barrier in a thirty yard circle. While operational, this barrier prevents any permanent magical harm from coming to all in its area, and prevents all participating wizards from leaving the area by any means. The spells cast will still manifest and even touch their targets, but nothing more. In other words, Mr. Potter, we can blast each other all afternoon and not be hurt."
Harry digested the information, feeling a lump settle heavily in his throat. If Verus noticed Harry's nervousness, he didn't acknowledge it.
"One final point I should mention. Temporary debilitating effects will still work, as will all non-physical attacks. I could still disarm you, and you could still paralyze me. Remember that." Magister set the box on the ground and touched the lid with the tip of his wand. He motioned for Harry to do the same, and soon both wands were touching the top of the box as their owners knelt across from each other.
"Now repeat this phrase after I speak it, and we will begin. Expungo Veneficium!"
Harry repeated the phrase, and the lid of the box sprang open. All around them Harry could see a wall of light taking shape, its surface covered with crackling lightning in the shapes of those strange symbols on the sides of the spell shield. The barrier of light pulsed for several seconds and then vanished. Verus rose to his feet.
"Test the barrier if you like. You'll find you can't get further than thirty yards from the shield."
Walking slowly away from the box, Harry held a hand out in front of him. After less than a hundred paces his hand came up against a solid barrier. He pressed against it, and it did not give. There was no visual sign the wall was there - it was as if the very air had hardened, preventing anything from entering or leaving. Harry walked back towards the shield, drawing his wand. The two wizards squared off from about ten yards apart.
"Let's begin with a recap of sorts," Verus said. "Show me what charms, hexes, and curses you know that will incapacitate a foe." The tall Auror assumed a combat pose that looked similar to one Harry had once seen muggle fencers use; right foot forward and the majority of his body weight balanced on the back foot, wand held in his right hand, and arm bent at the elbow.
Verus gave a small grin, revealing very straight, white teeth. "Ready? Begin."
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The next couple of hours passed quickly. Harry soon learned that what he knew about offensive magic didn't amount to much at all. For every curse he threw at Verus, every hex, the agile Auror had a counter-curse or defense that nullified it before it could strike him. He also had an annoying habit of verbally insulting Harry whenever a particularly clever attack on his part was foiled by a counter-spell. Cries of 'you'll have to do better than that boy' and 'I thought Dumbledore said you were GOOD!' had Harry eager to hit his teacher with anything, just to shut the smug man up. As the afternoon wore on, mental fatigue set in just as he was warned it would, the energy required to launch spell after spell taking its toll. The sound of Verus's voice hurling insults became a grating scratch, a clawing at his mind that was threatening to rob him of the concentration that was already becoming increasingly hard to maintain. Somewhere deep inside himself, Harry felt the same presence from that morning shifting, begging to be set free. A faint voice, the sound of snakeskin sliding over stone, begged for surrender, begged for Harry to embrace it and know true power.
In desperation Harry tried the disarming charm again, even though it had already failed twice earlier in the day to part Verus from his wand. The older man dismissively deflected the spell with a softly spoken word, the sneer Harry had seen earlier back on his face.
"I am starting to think Albus was wrong about you, boy. You aren't ready."
Twist.
It was like being immersed in hot water. Power, rich and heady, filled him, lending strength to his limbs, re-vitalizing his mind. The reptilian voice sang in his head, raised in dark jubilation. The protective wall of the spell shield flickered in and out as waves of invisible power rushed into the body of the young wizard from the very air around him. Harry stabbed his wand at Magister. He was through with spells designed to incapacitate.
"Atono Fulgor!!" Familiar black lightning streaked toward the unmoving Auror, who dipped his wand and muttered under his breath. The lightning struck home with a loud clap of thunder, and Verus was outlined in a black nimbus. The voice in Harry's mind exulted; the spell had struck. If the spell shield had not been active, the annoying bastard would be dead. There was a part of him that felt rather upset that it was up.
Grinning, Harry lowered his wand. That would show the arrogant…
With another peal of thunder, jagged lightning flew from Verus to Harry, striking him squarely in the chest and knocking him unceremoniously onto his posterior. For a brief second Harry wanted to scream, he was burning, burning! The walls of the texi magicus pulsed, symbols flashing in bright patterns of yellow and red, and the burning sensation faded.
Shocked and not a little embarrassed, Harry felt the rush of power and the dark voice fade. Lying on the grass, Harry heard Verus approach. A hand was held down to him, and Harry let himself be helped to his feet for the second time that day. What he saw surprised him - rather than a stern glower or a gloating grin, Verus was smiling at him. This time the smile reached his eyes.
"Rule number three, Harry - always stay in control of your emotions. Feel them, harness them, use them, but don't let them control you. I imagine I just saw a little bit of what must have happened this morning." At Harry's sullen nod, he continued.
"Dumbledore told me what happened to you when you were a child, Harry. Tom Riddle unconsciously imparted you with some of his powers. You can speak to snakes, for example. You'll be surprised to hear, I am sure, that I think you are a powerful wizard in your own right. The power that he gave you is buried inside, waiting to be tapped and added to your own significant ability with magic. It would seem to access it you need to harness powerful emotions - hate, fear, desire, and love. This is very similar to how child wizards can occasionally perform magic without a wand."
"You have to be careful Harry. As you have seen, letting the negative emotions take over gives you access to great power - but at a cost. What you have to learn, and what I am going to help teach you, is how to control your emotions, focus them, use them to tap that strength and still leave you in control. When I am through with you, simple verbal taunts will not reduce you to the intellectual level of an unreasoning beast." His smile took some of the sting out of the words, and Harry couldn't help but give a small smile in return. He opened his mouth to speak, but Verus silenced him with a look.
"Yes, to answer your next question. I taunted you on purpose, being fairly certain of the outcome. I am sorry I had to be cruel Harry, but I had to know what you are made of, and what your breaking point is. Today was simply a test, although I admit I am impressed with your command of basic curses, hexes, and charms. Tomorrow our real work will begin. I will be going over some of the counters you saw me use today, as well as some effective offensive strategies."
"Can you show me how you turned the lightning back on me?" Harry asked. "I've seen that spell twice now. Professor Dumbledore used it to turn Nott's fireball back on him."
The Auror laughed then, a jolly laugh straight from the belly. "The man wants to run before he can walk. Perhaps one day I will show you the referio defense Harry, but it will not be soon. It is one of the most complex defensive magics of all, and it requires a sacrifice on the part of the caster."
"Now then -- I am sure you are tired. I suggest you get some rest. We will meet here tomorrow at the same time. It was a pleasure meeting you Harry. Dumbledore was right - you'll do just fine." He walked over to the open box and waved his wand, speaking softly. The wall of light faded in momentarily and then was sucked into the box, which then closed with a soft click. Harry's new teacher waved at him, and then with a soft 'pop,' he vanished.
Weariness in every step, Harry slowly made his way further from the Burrow. His mind was reeling with all that had happened today, and he needed to think. Verus Magister. Harry wasn't sure quite what to make of him, and he was certain that was the older man's aim. It was sure to be an interesting time over the next several days as he got to work with him more.
One thing was for certain - no matter what his new instructor said Harry knew that he should be worried over what had happened today. He didn't think that awful snake-like voice would be easily controlled…and he wasn't sure what damage it would do if it resurfaced again.
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The sound of running water had always been soothing to Harry. There was something about the peace to be found in the sound that appealed to him. Peace was a commodity in short supply in his life, and so he took advantage of it whenever he could. His head still full with all that he had seen and done during his first training session with Verus Magister, Harry sat near the small stream he had stumbled across in his wild flight from Hermione a few nights past.
He was frightened. That there was darkness in him he couldn't deny, and the knowledge he could lose control of it at any time and leave destruction in his wake terrified him. Harry wanted to believe that his new instructor was correct; that he could learn to channel the rage and hate inside him and use it to do good - but he had been there, a stranger in his own body, when it had possessed him utterly twice already. He had been shown to brutal effect how losing control could kill him, and worse, those he loved. It was like knowing there was a demon trapped inside him, and feeling powerless to stop it from seizing him whenever it wanted. Harry was tired of not feeling in control of his life. He was going to succeed. He had to succeed. He had to quiet the reptilian voice in his head before it drove him mad. A soft sigh escaped his lips.
Hermione found him sitting near the water's edge a short time later. He wasn't surprised she knew where to find him - if anyone could read him well it was her. The past few days had changed everything between them, and Harry now realized the depth of her feelings for him. The loyalty and concern she showed him had always been there, to be sure. He had just never really thought about how FAR it truly went. She seemed to know him almost as well as he knew himself. When he needed to do something, even if it went against the rules, she was always by his side. True, he may have to listen to her argue about why he shouldn't be doing it, but once she knew his mind was made up she was the first person there with him, silently gifting him with her loyalty, courage, and incredible intelligence. It had taken him far too long to realize she had also been giving him her love, unconditionally and without hesitation.
Part of Harry was ashamed to realize he had taken her friendship and her love for granted for years; another part marveled that he was fortunate enough to have someone as special as she was love him so completely. He had made a silent promise to himself that he would be more worthy of that love, and make a conscious effort to return it in the future. Hermione deserved nothing less. As he tried to focus on that positive thought, a small voice in the back of his head that kept reminding him of how she had looked earlier that morning when he had rained fiery destruction on the trees near the Burrow. She had been afraid - afraid of him. And knowing that fear was there in her heart was tearing his apart.
She silently sat down next to him near the burbling brook, threading the fingers of her hand through his. After a companionable silence that lasted several moments she turned to regard him seriously, brown eyes earnest and warm.
"I wanted to apologize about earlier, Harry. I hope you know I could never be afraid of you." Funny, how she knew exactly what he was thinking. Like usual.
"I know" he lied, looking away. "Although I wouldn't blame you if you were," he added under his breath. "I'm afraid of me." He didn't mean for Hermione to hear the muttering, but she must have, because she tightened her grip on his hand and gently turned his head to look at her again.
"Listen to me Harry. You'll be surprised to learn that I am not perfect. I make mistakes just like everyone else. What you saw today was fear, but it was because I was afraid for you, not of you. I should have made that clear earlier, but like I said, I am not perfect." Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I know you would never hurt me Harry."
"Not on purpose" he agreed, his eyes tortured. "But what if I can't control myself? What if…whatever this thing is inside me reaches out and takes over again and I can't help it?" Hermione could feel him trembling as he voiced his fears.
"It isn't a thing, Harry, it's your own negative feelings," she told him. "All you have to do is learn to control your own anger." Her soft fingers stroked his gently. "I know you will do it, too. The person I love isn't a monster, and I know in my heart that he could never harm someone he cares about." The absolute certainty in her voice struck a chord deep within him, and he couldn't help but respond.
Harry smiled, his hands moving to grasp her shoulders gently.
"What did I do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?" he whispered in wonder. One finger moved to gently trace a line down the side of her face.
"You didn't do anything Harry. You were just yourself." Her eyes bored into him, filled with kindness and respect and caring. "I see YOU Harry. And you are beautiful."
"I don't deserve you" he said, voice thick with emotion. Seeing her about to protest, he hurried on. "I…..I'm not good at talking about my feelings, Hermione. I don't have your way with words, but let me try and say this so that you can understand."
"I didn't know love. I was never given it. I could guess about how it felt, seeing it in the world around me, but never had it for my own. You know about my life with the Dursleys - you know what I have lived through. Even though I may understand the WHY of it now, a part of me will always resent that it was necessary. When I came to Hogwarts I finally made friends, and I knew what that kind of love was like. It was like……." A yearning smile came to his lips. "It was like finally being alive. I imagine that is partly why I'm so fiercely protective of my friends; I couldn't bear to lose something so precious."
"I am still trying to understand these feelings I have for you; it took me years to even realize what they were. I am not familiar with love, Hermione. I am so afraid I won't know what to say, won't know how to act. You have shown me what true love is," he told her. Harry looked into her eyes, pain and regret filling his own. "You have given it to me for years, and I was too big a fool to see it. Even as I drew on it, drew on your strength, I was blind to what it was you were really offering me. You deserve someone who can love you like you deserve to be loved. Someone who will treat you like the amazing and special person you are. Not me. I'm too wrapped up in myself and my own problems to be good for you. Even if I weren't dangerous to be around, I don't deserve your love."
Eyes bright with unshed tears, Hermione took his face in both her hands.
"There is no book for love," she told him softly. "No manual to follow. There is no right or wrong. There is no perfect love. You just give the other person all of yourself, the good and the bad, and they give you the same in return. There are no guarantees. And you, Harry Potter --" She smiled, and Harry realized then there was no more beautiful sight in the world "-you give yourself freely. I have never met anyone like you, who helps others without thinking, who is willing to sacrifice himself to spare others pain. You say you don't know love, but you do Harry. You do. You give your love to anyone willing to receive it, and you do it selflessly. That is why I love you. You may not have realized my feelings for you before now, but you have shown me love all the same. The difference is now it has become something more. You've made me happier than I've ever been Harry - and all I want to do is go on showing you how much I love you. Don't ever worry you aren't worthy of love, because you are the most worthy person I've ever known."
Smiling through his tears, Harry pulled Hermione close, his lips lightly pressing against hers. He held her as tightly as could, letting his body try and express what all the words in the world couldn't. He wasn't sure how he had been lucky enough to win the love of the amazing witch in his arms, and right then he didn't care. All that mattered at that moment was that they were together, and the knowledge in his heart that with her by his side there was nothing he couldn't accomplish. She made him feel like there was nothing he couldn't overcome. She made him feel special. But most of all, she made him feel loved. Harry knew that tough days were ahead, days of training and worry and constant nervous vigilance - but he knew he would get through it……with her.
Closing his eyes, Harry tuned out his doubts and worries; letting the sound of the running water and the feelings he had for the woman in his arms suffuse him. As he kissed Hermione, Harry felt at peace. The sinister awareness in his mind faded away completely.
Sunlight streamed down through the trees, sparkling on the surface of the water. On the bank of the stream, two teenagers held each other in the stillness, cherishing what they had found in each other.
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Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. Things are coming along more smoothly now I am happy to report, and I hope to have new chapters out every 2-3 weeks (maybe faster, time permitting.) A special thanks to my beta Sarah, who gets back to me quickly and always has insightful ideas. I also want to thank all the kind reviewers for their feedback. Writers write to tell a story, and it is a great feeling to hear that others are enjoying your work. Please drop me a review -- they are much appreciated.