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Harry Potter: The Violence of Sons by Harmony4Binx
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Harry Potter: The Violence of Sons

Harmony4Binx

Chapter 2

Dinner with Ron and Luna was as expected... odd. They met up at a Diagon Alley and after pleasantries, the couples walked to the seating room of the Painted Table. They settled into split conversations of Quidditch and furniture shopping and Harry ordered wine for the table. Ron had managed to eat his dinner and a bit of everyone else's, before Harry threatened to stab him with his fork if he reached to his plate again. Luna looked dreamily at her boyfriend, commenting that a good appetite was attractive. That resulted in Hermione snorting into her wine, and almost choking. Harry had to pat her on her back to help her breathe, all the while keeping his fork in view of Ron.

"So..." Ron asked, chomping on forkful of pumpkin pie. "Whachagonadoboutdamail?"

Harry stared at Ron curiously and then over to Hermione. She shook her head and looked over at Luna, who was dreamily eating her pie.

"He wants to know what you are going to do about all the letters that you are being sent?" She translated, gracefully scooping more pie into her mouth.

"You understood that?" Harry quipped as he raised an eyebrow at Hermione.

"You have a dark gift, Luna. Not most people can speak Ron-glish." Hermione replied to Luna. The quirky blonde giggled softly.

Ron frowned. "I'm right here you know. And of course she understood me. I am speaking the Queen's English. So, mate, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I've repeatedly asked for them to stop. It's very annoying. And it's insane the hours they send them," Hermione muttered.

"It's cutting into your beauty sleep." Ron chuckled, eyeing Harry's uneaten pie slice.

Harry followed Ron's line of vision and pushed the pie farther away from Ron before he said, "What do you suggest I do? I can't very well go and threaten the Minister of Magic."

"Who says you can't?"

"Oh, maybe throw an Unforgivable or two to get the point across?" Harry chuckled to himself.

"Seriously mate, maybe you need to just march in there and give them a what for."

"Honestly, something has to be done. It's quite irrational the amount they are sending." Hermione spoke up, looking at Harry.

His green eyes seem to be processing Ron's question. Why couldn't he just go and simply talk to the Minister face to face? He was Harry Potter after all. After all these years, that had to count for something. The insanity had to stop and obviously sending rejections and howlers weren't getting the message across. It obviously bothered him, and it was upsetting Hermione. They just wanted to be left alone. He felt his appetite leave him, which always seemed to happen when he was deep in thought. He pushed his uneaten pumpkin pie at Ron, who dove in with gusto.

He'd go sometime this week for sure. He'd request a meeting with the Minister and simply explain why it was important they give up their recruitment. From what he heard, the Minister wasn't a bad man; he wasn't as inefficient as Fudge or hard-edged like Rufus Scrimgeour. He'd realize that Harry had had enough with heroics and see that Harry was genuinely happy in his quiet life. Well, hell the letters should have been enough for that, right?

"Harry?" A gentle hand tapped his shoulder. He blinked and looked up at Hermione holding their coats. "Are you okay? We're leaving. It's late."

He nodded and stood, looking at his concerned wife as she handed him his jacket. "I'm fine, luv. Just thinking."

"About?" she inquired. "You blanked out during dessert. You barely said goodbye to Ron and Luna."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I was just...I'll call Ron and apologize."

"No need." Hermione smiled as she took hold of his hand. "He knows you. He knows that you were probably thinking of how to deal with the Ministry."

"Tired?" he smiled down at his wife, wanting to change the subject. The look in her eyes were that of concern. That bothered him.

"A bit."

"Pity, since I missed this dessert, I was hoping get some at home." Harry mumbled as he leaned in to kiss her.

Hermione smiled at her tall raven-haired husband, his green eyes dancing mischievously at her. "Oh you want something...sweet..." she kissed him on the lips more passionately, almost forgetting they were in the restaurant. "...Or rich?"

Harry pulled his jacket on and pulled his wife close, feeling the heat from her body even though clothes, as they hurried out of the restaurant. "Hurry up, I'm starving..."


The sound the cash register was quite soothing as Harry rung the next customer up. Business at the bookstore was exceptionally good, especially because Hermione carried every book published on the planet it seemed. "Books and Cleverness" was nestled off of a busy corridor and Harry couldn't have been happier. Once the last customer was taken care of, Harry sorted the receipts helped Amy with the account book.

Hermione had busied herself with a customer wondering where the Anthropology section was, and had obviously engrossed Hermione in a conversation. She nodded at her and smiled, giving her own theories, glancing one or twice over at Harry.

He smiled at his wife, so obviously in her element and thanked himself for giving this to her. She had adored the library at Hogwarts so, when they were figuring out what to do with their lives, a bookstore only seemed inevitable. They had rare books and popular topics as well as a section for magic, very extensive and very elaborate, but that section was very off limits unless they were specifically asked. Wizards would wait until the crowd died down and then Harry would escort them to the section.

"Amy, do you have it from here? I'm off for lunch." Harry said. Amy smiled and took her position behind the cashier.

Hermione had escorted the customer to the register after finding a few books and walked with Harry to the door.

He leaned in for a kiss and replied, "I'll be sure to get you a nice big sandwich and chips."

Hermione nodded, "Remember, we have a huge shipment coming in today. Oh and while you're out, could you stop by the bakery and tell Mrs. Jurgens her cookbook is in?"

He nodded thoughtfully and grabbed his jacket before heading out into the crowd of patrons. He made a few stops, ran some home errands, before giving Mrs. Jurgens the message, in which she beamed wildly and told him she would bake them a cake to take home later that week. Harry insisted it wasn't necessary but she persisted so he smiled and made his way to a vendor to pick up some sandwiches for Hermione. He felt a little more relaxed this morning, reading that article bothered him somewhat.

Hogwarts had been virtually ruined after the war, it was condemned. Why Malfoy or the Ministry would run the raids there, he wasn't sure. He could message Hagrid, who was in Romania with Charlie Weasley now, caring for his dragons, but he thought better than that. Hagrid hadn't been back to Hogwarts either, especially after he watched him horror, as the Great Hall became a death chamber.

He walked into the now quiet bookstore and hung his jacket. Amy, the young squib was working in the store and smiled at Harry when he inquired about where Hermione was hiding.

"I think she's in the back Mr. Potter. She said she needed to order more occult books and review last week's receipts. Misters Weasley stopped by and told me to give you this."

She brushed a strand of blonde hair out her face and handed Harry a box of testers full of upcoming products from Fred and George Weasley's joke shop.

Every so often they would drop off products to Harry who was only foolish enough once to actually use them. It took 4 hours for Hermione to get him unstuck from the ceiling.

"They are foolish to believe I will test them out." Harry chuckled.

The doorbell rang as two customers entered and Amy set off to help them. Harry took the box in one hand and Hermione's lunch in the other, and walked towards the back offices. He turned the corner with a smile, chuckling that Fred and George probably had something worse than Sticky Anti Gravity Goo in the box.

"Mione, look at what Fred and Geor-"

Hermione was sitting near the window, a grim look on her face that made Harry stop cold.

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

She turned to him, her eyes red. She had not been crying, but she was certainly doing her damnedest to fight back the tears. She didn't move towards him instead she simply muttered. "This."

Her hand held out an envelope, the seal was recognizable. Harry breathed deeper, and frowned at it.

"It came by owl while you were out. Open it." She replied, still not moving.

Harry set the box full of jokes and her lunch on her messy desk and walked over to her.

He took the envelope from her, and carelessly ripped the envelope open. This was becoming a problem.

To: Harry Potter

From: Minister Cassius Coogle

The Ministry of Magic

London, England

I must say I was very upset when I received another one of your rejections, Mr. Potter. However, this is a grave issue, which I must pursue. The Ministry is in desperate need of your expertise; perhaps if we met personally, I could persuade you differently. Please find time to come visit the Ministry today. I know once I have shown you why your presence here would be appreciated, you will make a better decision.

Sincerely,

Cassius Coogle

Minister Cassius Coogle

Harry frowned. "Asshole."

He handed the letter to Hermione to read, watching her face drop even more as she read the whole thing.

"Harry, something needs to be done."

"I know. He wants me to meet him."

"This is harassment. Why can't they leave you alone? Us…alone." She sputtered, a tear finding its way down her cheek.

Harry walked over to the other side of the window and stared out at the busy sidewalks.

"Merlin, I-" he whispered, in frustration. "I know. I'll go today."

"Do you think he'll really persuade you?" Hermione choked out.

"Honestly Hermione, is that what you think? I hate that this is happening."

"Well…no." she frowned, stepping closer to her husband. " I just…I mean you used to want to be--"

"I used to want to be a lot of things. Now it's a struggle just to be me."

She heard the sadness in his voice." It's just these letters are getting upsetting Harry. Twice in one day. The timings of them. It's like he truly won't accept no for an answer."

"I've got to do something to end this," He mumbled, mostly to himself.

They looked at each other and Harry stepped closer and wiped the tears trail off his wife's face. Her chocolate eyes watched him. "You deserve peace Harry. These gits are trying to destroy that. We can't let them."

Harry looked into her eyes, thanking Merlin that he had such a wonderful and beautiful wife. He wasn't going to let the Ministry or some nut-job of a minister destroy it. The last person who tried to destroy his life and take Hermione from him got destroyed and obliterated to a pile of useless ashes and burnt robes. He might have to do that again to salvage whatever peace he though Hermione deserves.

He smiled lovingly at her. Always protecting, always, ready to fight for him or with him. "They won't 'Mione."

She gave a small smile as Amy called her name in the front store, letting her know she had some deliveries to sign for.

Hermione stepped forward and cupped Harry's face. "You don't deserve this. Don't you even start blaming yourself or what you had to do on this."

He got where she was coming from but if it wasn't for him -suddenly he felt his wife's lips crash on his...deepening it as if he were sucking all her fears out of her body. Harry felt her tongue dart in and out of his mouth and he matched his wife's urgent passion. She moaned against his lips, and he snaked his arms around her to hold her closer. After a few minutes, Hermione broke the kiss and stared into Harry's eyes. "You be careful. I can't let anything happen to you."

"Of course." He whispered back, slowly releasing his grip on her. She glanced back lovingly as she walked back to the front.


He apparated to the Ministry's corner, a massive dark building with huge cast metal doors. It was very gothic, almost evil looking. He approached the building, watching as Aurors patrolled in and out. He didn't want to be here, too many bad memories of Sirius, of being called crazy by the Ministry. Having his name slandered, having prophesies about him being hidden. He hated this place. No wonder the building looked evil.

He approached a large desk, with a young woman with brunette hair twisted tightly in a bun, sitting behind it.

"Hello."

She looked at him squarely. "Your business sir?"

"I'm here to see Minister Coogle."

"I see…" she replied dryly, looking at a piece of parchment. "Name?"

"Potter, Harry Potter." He laughed to himself. "Shaken not stirred."

She looked at him, confused and he cursed himself silently for expressing Muggle humor. "Sorry?"

"Nothing just a bit of Muggle humor…" The woman's face remained stoned, so Harry gave up the explanation. "Right, um…what floor?"

She nodded and pointed to the lifts. "18th floor, do you have a wand?"

"Er…yes."

"I have to check it. And tag it."

"Alright." He handed her his wand and she placed a tag on it.

"18th floor, Mr. Potter."

Harry got on the lift and rode until the 18th floor, where a burly guard in all black stood.

"Name?" He muttered.

"Harry Potter."

The guard nodded his head towards a steel archway and Harry hesitantly walked through it. There, two goblins sat, while two charmed quills jotted furiously next to them. He looked ahead and saw a woman, older than the one in the foyer, sitting beside a huge mahogany door, and she smiled, obviously already knowing who he was.

"Go in, Mr. Potter, he's been expecting you." She replied cheerfully.

Harry watched the door open and he stepped through. The carpet looked like blood and made Harry a bit unnerved. He stared at the huge dark mahogany desk covered in parchment with no one in sight, and only then did he hear a booming cheerful voice.

"Mr. Potter!! Finally, the man and not the myth!"

He turned to see a smiling man standing over by a bookshelf. The man was older, gray haired but not as old as Dumbledore. In fact he reminded him a lot of the last Minister.

The man smiled a jolly smile, but Harry swore it didn't reach his wrinkled eyes, it almost seemed phony. He extended a wrinkled hand for Harry to shake and he took it, and with a firm grip the man motioned for Harry to take a seat in front of the large mahogany desk. Coogle sat atop the desk in front of Harry, making him quite uncomfortable with his close proximity.

"Now, I know you are here because of the correspondence I've been sending you." Coogle lifted his hands and sighed. "But I must explain my drastic measures, Mr. Potter."

"That's the understatement of the year..."

"Ah yes...But we desperately need you. Our Defense Against Extreme Dark Arts was dismantled badly last year with the war, you surely know that."

"I remember, I was there."

Coogle continued despite Harry's reply. "So, then you understand our need to replenish the Ministry. I understand your hesitation young man. The Ministry did a great disservice to you prior to You Know Who's re-emergence. However, as the new Minister of Magic, I am willing to make amends for the past wrongs done you."

"But sir, I am not interested. I have told you many, many times."

"You are the most powerful wizard in the world right now, you know that. You single handedly defeated, He who-mmmust-" Coogle hesitated and seemed to stumbled over the name.

Harry scoffed at his hesitation to call the dead dark wizard his name, "Tom Riddle?"

"See…see how you can say his name with so little fear? That is amazing! We as Aurors need to not have fear of such darkness. We are the protectors Mr. Potter. You understand that, you protected all of us on your own. You won the war!"

"No…loads of people died in that war, people gave their lives. They are the heroes. Not me."

"I heard you were modest Mr. Potter. And you know, that's exactly what I admire about you. An essential addition to the Ministry."

"I don't want the job." Harry muttered.

Coogle wagged his finger at Harry. "You saved wizards and muggles everywhere but you refused to allow that to stroke your ego. That, Mr. Potter, is a prime element of leadership."

"Sir, please…" Harry licked his lips nervously. "Please hear me. My entire life has been corrupted by darkness. I lost a lot to this cause. I have a wife now…"

"The young Ms. Granger. I heard she is the brightest witch of this age. And that's even more spectacular for the Ministry. Surely we can find a position to-"

Coogle's voice was getting on Harry's nerves. It was like nails on a chalkboard as far as he was concerned and it was driving him freaking nutters. He'd give anything for this man to shut up.

"Sir!" Harry shouted firmly. Coogle stopped and looked at Harry bewildered. He slipped off his desk and walked to sit behind it in his chair. He took in the anger of Harry's eyes and he opened his mouth to say something but the glare he was being given halted it.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and stood out his chair. The man was infuriating he wouldn't stop talking. He was tired of his talking, his letters, and his persistence.

Inhaling a deep calming breathe, Harry centered his anger and coldly replied," I need you to understand me, Minister Coogle. Do not send me any more messages or owls. I will not be joining the Ministry under any circumstances. I have no interest in being an Auror."

"Mr. Potter," Coogle's cheerful voice was gone now. "Maybe I'm presenting this wrong."

"How so?" Harry asked confused.

The Minister picked up his wand and twirled it in his fingers. "I'm scared for you Harry."

"Are you…threatening me?"

"No! Nonsense Harry! I can, call you Harry, right?" Coogle lifted his back off the chair and leaned forward. His voice seemed calmer, almost quaking with concern. "I have rehabilitated most death eaters. Not an easy fleet, seeing as they were deeply immersed in the dark arts. And I fear for your safety, Harry. Of course it's your choice whether you want to work for the ministry. However…I must stress that it's a dangerous world out there, especially when you are in a vulnerable position. At least with Auror training, you will have the ability to protect yourself. Your young pretty wife. I wouldn't want any danger to befall her."

Did he just threaten Hermione? Maybe Harry hadn't heard him correctly. "You just threatened my wife?"

"No! Goodness Mr. Potter, I thought my correspondence a bit straight forward but never a threat."

"I just heard a threat." Harry spat out.

Coogle frowned. "You are imagining things, Mr. Potter. I'm here to uphold the law, to protect our world. I'm no Voldemort."

Harry growled and his face darkened. "Good, I don't take threats lightly."

"Now, Mr. Potter, I would never expect you to." Coogle replied, and Harry swore he winked his eye.

Harry felt the immense need to wrap his hands around this man's throat. Not that he did anything sinister but the man's voice made him nervous, angry, despite his cheerful tone. There was something about him that made Harry want to be violent in a way he had only felt in battle. He balled his fists at his sides to control his rage.

"I want to assure you, Mr. Potter, I only have your best interest at heart. I'll give you time to think on it. I realize right now, you aren't open to the idea. Sleep on it. Perhaps share the importance of it with your wife. No more correspondence for now. However… I cannot give you too long. There is much to do to get the Ministry back in order. And maybe you will be a bit more receptive when you come back."

"I won't be coming back," Harry said through his teeth. "I've given my answer, Minister. Good day."

Coogle frowned and with a wave of his hand, his guard came in and escorted Harry out of the office and to the lift. Harry pushed away from the burly guard and stepped on the lift, wanting to hex anyone he saw next. Did that son of a bitch threatened him? No really Harry, you're over reacting? Is Hermione in danger? There's always a threat, always.

"FUCK!" he shouted, banging a fist on the wall of the lift.

He stepped out into the lobby and walked past the woman at the desk, throwing the tag on his wand towards her. She caught it and gave him another confused look as he stumped out the Ministry doors and apparated home.


Draco was dreaming. He knew this because there was no way he would be fucking Pansy Parkinson ever again. For one, she was a horrible lay, for two, she was murdered in during the war. But here she was, lying beside him in a bed of snakes, whispering naughty things in his ear. Her breath was hot against his cheek and he shivered as she flicked her tongue over his earlobe and down his neck.

Draco flinched and pulled away from her. Pansy smiled wickedly at him, and drew back, allowing him to notice her naked form. He went to say something, but her hands moved up and began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest. He could feel the snakes slithering beneath them, over his hands. What was happening, he was so confused, and not sure what this dream was about, not knowing how to wake him from it.

Pansy placed her hands on his face, her palms were hot and soft, and she moved his jaw to force him to kiss her. ACK! She tasted like death and Draco pushed away from her. Her smile was wider now, her eyes were cold, and she simply removed her hands from him and stood, pointing to something in the distance.

"What? What is that?" he asked, as he squinted his eyes. She just stood there, not saying anything, her finger still pointed.

He finally focused on the object and frowned, staring back at Pansy.

"Draco. You have to do it." Her voice seemed to be carried off by the wind.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he spat. He frowned at her and watched as she walked away, her body becoming a skeleton and then dust the further she walked.

Until she was gone. He turned back to the object in the distance. A crib. He was dreaming about a crib.