Sorcerers' Nook

Author's Note

As always, my heartfelt gratitude and love to the inimitable Kirsti - hugs and kudos galore dear!

And a special hello *waves and blows kisses* to dashing Capt'n Timbo and the lovely Holly.

And Cindy darling - be brave, you know I'm “pumpkin through and through” - hugs and love!

First Interlude/Chapter One

I have tried something a tad different with this story as I've inserted “Interludes” before or after some of the normal story chapters; these Interludes (which are the “dark” aspect) run parallel with the story itself (which is the “light” aspect). Of course, the paths of the dark and the light do eventually cross and that's when things really get interesting…

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

FIRST INTERLUDE

It had no real awareness of itself. It simply existed as it drifted with the foul, sluggish currents of what appeared to be a river - a dark, bizarre river that moved silently along through the dank, tangled forest of an ancient demonic realm.

It became aware of velvet blackness in which nothing could be seen or felt, with the occasional exception of a pale, glistening form that slid by - one of the hideous Inferi. It had no way of measuring passing time, no way of knowing how long it had existed before it began to stir, creating thick, torpid eddies in the malignant substance of the river. Without at first being consciously aware of doing so, it began to think of itself as the Darkness. At sporadic intervals after it stirred, it began to hear a voice. The Voice of the One - for this is how the Voice styled itself when speaking with the Darkness. The Voice whispered sinister secrets, its malevolent sibilance somehow beguiling to the listener and the Darkness found it began to miss the sound of the Voice when it was silent. So it was that the Darkness was finally driven to send out its first thought, not knowing whether it would receive any response: Where are you?

I am here. I have been waiting for you.

The Darkness felt a peculiar ripple of pleasure at receiving a reply and sent out its second thought: Who are you?

I am you. We will be one.

How is that possible?

You have been - away. Now you are back. Now we will be one.

I am the Darkness. You are the Voice of the One. How can we become one?

As though waiting for this question, there was no answering thought, instead the Darkness found itself thrown into a nightmare of sensations, all the more shocking since it had felt nothing until this moment; it suffered burning anguish as it was flooded with harsh, piercing agony and pain beyond enduring. Once again it was unable to measure the time that passed before the nightmare began to recede, but throughout its ordeal it slowly came to know and understand what was happening: it was being merged with the Voice of the One - it was becoming the Voice, and the Voice was becoming the Darkness. They would become One.

At last, it was over. It was done. The nightmare receded and the black, violent maelstrom of pain slowly dissipated, leaving behind a raw awareness that was both new and ancient, a dark receptacle that held many memories. Within these memories it saw its true name, given to it in the far distant past, but it was a name of such power that it could not be spoken or thought by any other, so it chose to be the Dark One.

The Dark One left the river then, finding now that the stagnant air of the realm was more to its liking. As it hovered above the slow, oily, snake-like river that had nursed it, it was flooded with an excruciating craving that could only be assuaged by something it recognised as being vital to its continued existence…

Revenge.

The Dark One pondered its myriad memories, sifting through all the monstrosities and savagery of its collective past and finally, it came upon the knowledge of what it must do to achieve that revenge: the total, complete and utter annihilation of those who had torn it asunder and condemned it to the lowest form of existence in the Abyss. It must seek out and destroy the Enemy.

*

CHAPTER ONE

In which Harry has a dream he doesn't remember, Hermione stays home and reads, Ron goes on a jaunt, Ginny dresses up to go out with Harry while Harry worries about Hermione and gets annoyed with Ron…

Harry looked around desperately, his heart racing; all he could see were shadows and darkness, broken only by the towering forms of old trees and an endless tangle of thick vines that seemed to be attempting to choke the life from everything they encircled; the whole place resonated with ancient evil. There was no sound - not even that of his own footsteps, for even they were absorbed by the eerie silence that pressed in on him from every direction. His skin prickled with a dreadful feeling of doom.

Where am I? he wondered, as he frantically pushed aside the slimy undergrowth, feeling a desperate need to find - what? He didn't know. He knew only that he had to find it. Why? He didn't know that, either, only that he must try.

Then he broke through the last of the repellent undergrowth and stumbled out onto the narrow strip of clearing that ran alongside a river. But it was like no river he'd ever seen before, either waking or sleeping. It was black and viscous - almost like oil. It glistened with points of light beneath the surface here and there - yet there was no sunlight touching it, as none seemed to be able to pass through the dank, thick canopy overhead.

Harry looked from left to right - but the river looked the same in both directions; it seemed to be sliding sluggishly rather than actually flowing. There was no other movement, no sound. It was as though he was alone in this dismal forest.

Then something caught his eye and he looked down at the river; he shuddered, swallowing the sudden nausea that swept over him at what he saw: a sickly white figure floating by just under the surface of the black river and he realised then that the glistening points of light were in fact reflections of the dim light in the lifeless, staring eyes of Inferi as they were carried along at varying depths in this river of death.

Hypnotised with horrible fascination at the sight before him, Harry was unable to tear his eyes away. As the Inferi disappeared around a bend in the river, he blinked and found his eyes drawn back once more to the river directly in front of him, where sluggish eddies were disturbing the stagnant, slow-moving surface. Then it was almost as though a huge, invisible spoon was stirring the black substance.

Harry found himself squinting as a harsh light suddenly burst into the clearing - he couldn't tell whether it came from somewhere above him or from the river itself. Throwing his arm up to cover his eyes as the light turned a foul, sickly green, Harry felt himself falling - but as he fell, he heard a hideous, distorted scream echoing through that rank and deadly forest…

Harry woke abruptly with a startled exclamation, sitting up and staring around, his heart pounding, his eyes wide with fear. However, when he saw his own familiar bedroom instead of some ugly, evil-infested forest, he did as he'd so often done in the past: he fell back on his pillow and went straight back to sleep. The next morning, he remembered nothing of the nightmare that had disturbed his slumber.

*

`Hermione! Have you seen that copy of Hot Hair I brought home yesterday?'

Hermione was reading, sitting on the cream-coloured “comfy” couch in the living room, as opposed to one of the two “good” armchairs that flanked the couch and which, in Hermione's opinion, weren't at all what you could really call comfortable, especially when one wanted to read.

At the sound of her name, Hermione raised her eyes from her book and grinned at her cat. Crookshanks miaowed rather knowingly in response from his favourite spot, curled up in the hollow behind his mistress's knees. It was a spot that was always there whenever Hermione sat on the couch and read (which was often, this being Hermione), because she habitually pulled her legs up and tucked her feet to the side.

Grinning at Crookshanks, Hermione called out, `There's a magazine in Crookshanks' basket. Maybe he's after a new look!'

Ginny's amused voice echoed down the hallway from the bathroom of the flat they shared. `Oh, very funny Hermione! I really need it - Harry'll be here soon and it has a charm in it for a beautiful hairdo I want to wear tonight!'

Hermione giggled, scratching Crookshanks under the chin as she called out, `Ginny, you know Harry - as if he's going to notice your hairstyle! Besides, it's you he's interested in, not your hair!'

Hermione's fingers ceased their under-chin-scratching and moved back to turn a page of her book. Crookshanks, with a resigned snuffle, dropped his head back to rest on Hermione's ankle, knowing the scratching was at an end; he knew that when his mistress was reading she forgot everything else.

Ginny knew it too, because instead of calling out again, she padded along the hallway to the living room, already dressed for her night out except for her shoes. She didn't often go to such lengths with her hair, but a friend at work had pointed out this particular hairstyle to her the day before, saying she thought it was perfect for her. Ginny had loved it and asked if she could borrow the magazine that featured it, something her friend was happy to do as she'd finished with it.

`What do you mean Harry won't notice my hair?' asked Ginny, as she headed for Crookshanks' basket which was sitting beside the hearth of the large fireplace.

Crookshanks' unblinking gaze followed Ginny closely as she began rummaging amongst the myriad bits of blanket in his basket.

Hermione glanced up at her flatmate, laughing. `Ginny, I was kidding! It's on the kitchen table over there - I was flicking through it over my afternoon tea. That's if Pigwidgeon hasn't chewed it up!' Crookshanks miaowed, managing somehow to sound amused at his mistress's joking and disdainful at the mention of Ron's small owl, all at the same time.

Ginny straightened, her hands going to her hips as she looked down at her friend, joining in her laughter.

Then she threw her hands in the air and shrugged, a smile still in place. `I believed you because I wouldn't be in the least bit surprised if Crookshanks did haul if off to his basket to read it!' she exclaimed, grinning at him, certain she saw a gleam of superior catly amusement in Crookshanks' eyes.

`Neither would I, actually, and why do you want to mess with your hair anyway? It looks gorgeous as it is! In fact, all of you looks gorgeous!'

Ginny dropped her hands and smoothed down the fitted lines of her emerald green, knee-length satin dress. It had thin shoulder straps and while the back dipped in a “V” almost to her waist, the top of the front was cut straight across, revealing no cleavage.

`Thanks, Hermione. I'm still getting used to wearing Muggle dresses, but I really like them. They're much more feminine than robes.'

Ginny, like most witches brought up in an all-magic family, had grown up wearing robes. When the occasion called for Muggle clothes, it was usually only during holidays and travelling to and from Hogwarts, and this meant the only Muggle clothing she'd really ever worn was their ever-practical jeans.

`Well, you look wonderful. If he doesn't notice your hair, Harry will definitely notice that dress!'

`I hope so!' said Ginny, her cheeks turning a shade of pale, pretty pink.

Just then, green flames filled the fireplace opposite the couch where Hermione was sitting and Ginny let out a squeal.

`He's Flooing! And I'm not quite ready! Talk to him for a couple of minutes and I'll be right back!' cried Ginny as she ran from the room, her red hair streaming behind her.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace a few seconds later, smiling in greeting when he saw Hermione on the couch. Crookshanks gave him a welcoming miaow and Harry stepped forward, bending to scratch the purring cat behind the ears.

`Hi, Hermione, how are you?'

Hermione smiled warmly back at him. `Sitting. Reading. Couldn't be better!' she replied.

`Ginny still getting ready?' he asked as he sat down, his leg inches from Hermione's foot. He stretched both his legs out and crossed them at the ankle as he spoke, then clasped his hands behind his neck.

Marking her place and then closing her book, Hermione unconsciously began to scratch Crookshanks under the chin again as she spoke.

`Yes, but she's nearly done. She looks lovely - special night tonight?'

Harry shrugged. `Not really, just this new restaurant Neville told me about. He said it's pretty swanky so I told Ginny she'd better dress up a bit.'

`Muggle or Wizard?' asked Hermione.

`I don't think Neville knows any Muggle places,' replied Harry with a grin, `so it's Wizard - why?'

Hermione waved a slender hand dismissively. `No real reason, just that Ginny's wearing a dress - and you a suit - so I thought perhaps it was Muggle.'

Harry shook his head as he looked down at his own clothes; a beautifully tailored black suit and crisp, white linen shirt, open at the neck. `Ginny's just into the whole Muggle thing when it comes to clothes at the moment,' he commented, sounding happily philosophical.

`No tie?' asked Hermione with a delicately arched eyebrow and small smile.

`In the pocket,' said Harry with a lopsided grin.

Hermione laughed. `I suppose you need help to do it up?'

Harry laughed too. `I was never much good at doing it the Muggle way and I guess my heart's not in it when it comes to remembering spells like that. Seems sort of pointless.'

`I see - pointless. A bit like you just walking across the hall from your place?'

Harry looked very sheepish as he replied, `I was sure I could hear Esmerelda prowling around and I just wasn't in the mood for being fussed over, so I Flooed,' speaking of their eccentric landlady who, after all this time, still couldn't believe she had Harry Potter as a tenant and did indeed fuss over him whenever she saw him.

`I see,' said Hermione, giving Harry a knowing look, accompanied by something very close to a smirk.

Harry groaned. `It's all right for you! You seem to be able to escape her clutches quickly!'

Hermione laughed, pointing a finger at him, `I know, but I think it's really funny that you can't!'

Harry reached down suddenly, taking her by surprise as one hand encircled her ankle, the other pulling off her shoe, dropping it to the floor and then tickling her foot. Crookshanks hissed in disgust at the disturbance as he jumped over Hermione's legs, knocking her book, which fell heavily to the floor as she laughed, twisting and leaning forward, trying in vain to pull Harry's hand off her ankle and kicking at his leg with her free foot.

`Funny, is it? I'll show you funny, Hermione Granger!' he gloated.

Hermione was gasping for breath, unable to speak for laughing when Ginny, who'd decided against the fancy hairdo, walked back into the room, her thick, red locks swinging across her back. She rolled her eyes and sighed as she reached the couch, smiling nevertheless at their antics. `Harry, will you cut that out! You know Hermione hates being tickled and teased!'

Harry released Hermione's foot and lifted both hands in the air, grinning innocently, his green eyes dancing as he said, `Truce?'

Hermione glared at him as she fell back on the couch, holding her stomach as she caught her breath, her feet pulled in close to her, out of Harry's reach.

`Truce?' she panted indignantly, `You just wait, Harry Potter!'

Harry chuckled. `I'll wait, Hermione Granger, although it'll probably be forever!'

Hermione tried to maintain her glare, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her as they lifted in a smile.

`It may take a while for me to pay you back, Harry, but it won't be forever, I promise you!'

`Enough, you two!' admonished Ginny as she leant over the back of the couch, her hands on Harry's shoulders as she bent down to drop a kiss on the top of his head. `I'm ready,' she said happily.

`So am I,' said Harry as he stood up and turned, smiling in appreciation when he saw Ginny. `You look wonderful,' he said softly.

Ginny smiled, her eyes glowing.

`So do you - although a tie wouldn't be out of place,' she finished, tilting her head to one side and giving him an appraising look.

`Oh, yeah - oops! Hermione, would you?' asked Harry as he felt in his pocket for his tie.

Hermione, having retrieved her book from the floor, was in the act of pulling her shoe back on when Harry spoke.

With a wide-eyed, innocent expression, she asked, `Would I what, Harry?'

Harry groaned. `My tie, Hermione, please!'

He could hear Ginny trying to suppress a giggle.

`What do you think, Ginny?' asked Hermione, looking up at her friend, who was now laughing softly despite her exasperation at their skylarking.

`I know you owe him one, but you'll have to save it - I need him in one piece tonight!'

Hermione grinned as she put her book aside and rose gracefully from the couch, reaching for her wand, which was sitting on the small table at the end of the couch. `For you, Ginny!'

With a complicated little twirl accompanied by a soft, `Adstringo tersus!' Harry's tie rose from his hand like a black, silk snake and slid around his neck and in the blink of an eye was hanging straight and perfectly knotted.

`One day I'll be able to do that,' sighed Ginny enviously. Although as powerful a witch as Hermione in many ways, Ginny didn't have a natural affinity for the “minor, everyday” spells; Hermione, as always, appeared to have an affinity with every spell she came across.

`You probably won't,' said Harry with a grin as he walked around the couch, holding his hand out to Ginny.

`You're probably right!' laughed Ginny as she put her hand in his.

`Have a lovely time,' said Hermione, feeling a pang of envy, wishing she was going out too.

As he and Ginny walked towards the door, Harry frowned thoughtfully and turned to look over his shoulder at Hermione.

`Where's Ron? Aren't you two going out tonight as well?' he asked.

He felt Ginny's grip tighten convulsively as he spoke, and when Hermione lifted her chin, shaking her head as she gave him what he thought of as one of her “brave smiles”, he knew something wasn't quite right.

`Would you like to come with us?' he asked, wanting to help somehow even though he didn't know what was wrong.

Ginny's grip tightened further and Harry knew his impulsive invitation wasn't a good idea. Luckily, Hermione's response got him off the hook, even though he didn't really like the idea of leaving her home alone when he knew she had some sort of problem.

`Thanks, Harry, that's really kind of you - but you've a table for two waiting for you - you and Ginny go and have a lovely evening. I'll be here when you get back; maybe we can all have a coffee if I'm still up.'

`I'll wake you if you're not!' said Harry with a grin, wishing he could do something more.

`Just try it!' retorted Hermione, smiling in a manner that she hoped was reassuring. `Now scat!'

When they'd gone, Crookshanks leapt gracefully up onto the couch and once more took up his position behind Hermione's knees, his gentle, rhythmic purring soothing Hermione as she sat and stared into the empty fireplace, her book forgotten as unbidden thoughts crowded into her head.

Harry's words seemed to hang in the air. “Where's Ron? Aren't you two going out tonight as well?”

`Bit hard to go out when your boyfriend's not around, isn't it?' Hermione murmured to Crookshanks who gave her a sympathetic “miaow” in reply, although somehow Hermione didn't really feel the need for sympathy.

*

They hadn't long been seated at their table in the Dragon's Lair, overlooking a Thames that shimmered with the reflections of night lights in the soft, summer air, when Harry asked Ginny about Ron.

`He's gone off with Seamus and Colin on a freelance assignment. He's been sitting around a bit bored, as always, while he's waiting for the new season to start. He said he'd leave you a note…you didn't get it?' asked Ginny, cocking her head to one side, a small, puzzled frown wrinkling her brow.

Harry shook his head. `Didn't see any note - not that I was looking, I suppose. Where's he gone exactly?' He was quite accustomed to his flatmate's often haphazard ways.

`Seamus offered him a chance to go with him and Colin while they do a run-down on all the British Quidditch teams and their star players in the lead up to the play-offs for the World Cup next year. I think they're off to Falmouth first - to check out the Falcons.'

Ron, whilst an extremely enthusiastic player for Gryffindor when they were at Hogwarts, was nevertheless wise enough to realise he didn't have the talent to play with the “big league”, but that didn't stop him being involved in as many aspects of Quidditch as he could. This had led him into a career as a professional Quidditch commentator - the most popular and in-demand one for some time. His popularity and position gave him a lot of “perks”, including free time during the off-season for this jaunt with Seamus Finnigan and Colin Creevey.

`I see,' said Harry, and he did. Ginny didn't even need to elaborate - he knew Ron would've jumped at the chance without a second thought - not even for Hermione…

`I was a bit surprised Hermione took it so well, actually,' said Ginny. `She hasn't even actually seen him to say goodbye - he just sent her a note this morning.'

`What? And Hermione's not upset? Are you sure?'

`Well, she says she's not. You know Hermione.'

Harry's gaze locked across the table with Ginny's. `How long's this assignment going to take? Has Hermione said anything else?' he asked tersely, feeling uncharacteristically irritated with Ron on Hermione's behalf; haphazardness was all very well, but this was a gross lack of consideration in Harry's eyes.

Ginny shrugged. `Until the end of next month, I think Hermione said. He'll have to be back after that by August, for the start of the new season. You know Hermione, she accepts Ron for what he is. At least, she says she does.'

`What's that mean?' asked Harry, his eyes dark with concern. As he'd done ever since their first year at Hogwarts when he'd remembered where Hermione was when the troll was loose in the school, Harry was instinctively looking out for her, a reaction he'd never questioned.

Ginny shrugged again. `Just my own feeling. I think that despite what Hermione says, she's just being loyal to Ron - you know what she's like. Anyway, it only happened today Harry, and I haven't had a chance to discuss it properly with her yet. Pigwidgeon delivered Ron's note this morning, telling her where he was going and asking us - me - to look after Pigwidgeon while he's away.'

Harry was frowning; he had a strong feeling that Ginny was leaving something unsaid. Naturally, he knew of Ron's almost overwhelming enthusiasm for his work and anything connected with the sport it involved. But what about Hermione? It was almost as though he loved Quidditch more than her! He said as much to Ginny who gave him a grim smile before replying.

`You know, Harry, since this morning I've been thinking about Ron and Hermione a lot - a lot!' she repeated for emphasis, `and before now I hadn't realised it, but I'm sure there's been a gradual change over the last few months - perhaps even since last Christmas. I've also just realised they haven't even been going out as much as they used to. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm sure it seems as though things have been different between them for most of this year.'

Harry looked surprised, realising this was no doubt what he'd felt Ginny had left unsaid earlier. His expression became thoughtful as he reflected on this for a minute before he eventually nodded. `D'you know, now you mention it, I think you're right. Isn't it strange neither of us has really noticed before this?'

Ginny replied thoughtfully, `I think we've been too involved in our own lives and it's not as though things have been exactly wrong with them - they always seem happy enough when they're together, it's just that that doesn't seem to happen as often anymore…'

Harry nodded, looking equally thoughtful. `That's it, I suppose. They haven't been fighting for a while now, either - just, well, Ron's always involved in something to do with his work - he seems to have all the time in the world for that - and Hermione…' Harry looked at Ginny quizzically.

`You live with her, Ginny,' he said almost pleadingly, `you see her and talk to her every day. What have you noticed?' He felt as though he'd somehow let Hermione down by not noticing any of this earlier; it was as though he'd failed to look out for her - even though she'd often insisted over the years he didn't need to exercise his “saving people” thing on her behalf, that she was quite capable of looking after herself.

`I feel a bit guilty, actually,' replied Ginny, `that I haven't really taken in the changes over the last few months till now. I mean, I've been thinking about it a lot today - as I said - and you know how they used to love going to a different restaurant or café almost every weekend and Ron -' Ginny grinned and rolled her eyes `- would just about eat his way through the menu?' Harry nodded, also smiling, but then Ginny's expression became serious once more as she continued. `I think it's been almost three months since they did that. And going to see movies - Ron loved them after the first time Hermione took him to see one. I think that was their last date about a month ago - they went and saw a movie and then came home with pizza and Ron went home early because he had some Quidditch thing on the next morning! Otherwise, Hermione always seems to be either working late or at home, reading.'

Harry sat back in his chair and out of habit ran his fingers through his hair in an eternally futile attempt to push his unruly black locks out of his eyes.

`She hasn't said anything about problems with Ron?'

Ron certainly hadn't said anything about problems with Hermione to him. In fact, come to think of it, he hadn't said much about Hermione at all lately, whereas once he'd always been full of anecdotes about his time with her.

Ginny shook her head. `The more I think about it, the more I realise I've been so wrapped up in my own life that I never even asked! I feel as though I should've noticed something - I mean, Ron's always off doing something connected with Quidditch!'

`Bloody Ron!' Harry exclaimed, `What's wrong with him?' Looking-out-for-Hermione mode again - he just couldn't seem to help himself…

`It takes two to tango, Harry,' said Ginny gently. `It may not just be Ron.'

Harry dismissed what Ginny said with an impatient wave of his hand.

`Of course it's Ron,' he said abruptly, not seeing Ginny's raised eyebrows at hearing this vehemently spoken sentiment.

At this point the waiter arrived with their entrees and once he left, their conversation moved to other things, although Ginny wondered to herself why it was Harry was so adamant that any problems Ron and Hermione may have were, without question, Ron's fault…

Before she picked up her knife and fork to eat, Ginny's hand stole across the small distance between them and Harry automatically reached out with his own hand and took it. Ginny squeezed appreciatively. `I'm so glad we don't have any problems,' she said softly.

Although preoccupied, Harry managed to smile and returned the squeeze. He was thinking that he was now certain Hermione would still be awake on their return because he knew she never slept well when she was worried about something - and he didn't doubt she was worrying, whether she showed it or not. His newfound irritation with Ron gnawed annoyingly at him, taking the edge off his enjoyment of the wonderful meal they were served, not to mention the loving attention of his girlfriend…

*

The previous afternoon Ron had received an owl from his friend and former schoolmate, Seamus Finnigan. In his letter, Seamus - now a respectably successful freelance sportswriter - asked Ron whether he was interested in joining himself and Colin Creevey on an assignment to put together a series of articles about each of the British Quidditch teams, all of whom were preparing for the play-offs to compete in the World Cup the following year.

Ron knew that Colin, while he worked on a casual basis in his uncle's Muggle hardware store, was widely known in the Wizard publishing sector for his photography skills. Ron, in his excitement over the invitation, had replied immediately, sending off an enthusiastic acceptance of Seamus' offer without a second thought.

Within the hour, Seamus Flooed him with another invitation which, as soon as he finished work, Ron took up by joining his former schoolmates at the Two Hoots, the local wizard pub near the flat he shared with Harry in the small village of Harminster Leigh, situated in the Kent Downs, south-east of London.

Returning to their table with three mugs of foaming Butterbeer, Seamus explained to Ron that he'd received an offer from the prestigious monthly publication, Wizarding World, which included an advance to cover his costs in exchange for the exclusive rights to their stories.

`What about The Quibbler?' asked Ron, `You mentioned them too.' A stray thought drifted through his mind: Luna's father owns The Quibbler…

Seamus nodded. `They've made an offer, but it's nowhere near as much as the one from the World, plus MacGregor - the Quidditch editor for the World - said I could put my own team together and I thought of Colin here and you straight away. I told old Lovegood that if he outbid the World, I'd think about giving him the stories, but we haven't heard back yet and I don't reckon he'll come near it.'

`But the World will cover all our expenses? For all three of us?' Ron asked, amazed.

Seamus and Colin both grinned and nodded, Seamus adding, `Quidditch is going to be even bigger in the next twelve months with the World Cup coming up next year. And since this season is basically the play-offs to be the representative British team, well, MacGregor, having just been promoted as the new editor of the World, wants to make himself look good and picked good old Quidditch to do it with!'

`Great, isn't it?' asked Colin, his face flushed. `I can't wait to start!'

Despite thinking it was somewhat unethical to be accepting an advance from one publication whilst telling another they had a chance, Ron couldn't overcome his excitement and shrugged off his misgivings. `So what's the agenda, gentlemen?' he asked, looking from Colin to Seamus as he rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation.

`You ready for this?' asked a beaming Seamus. Brandishing a rolled parchment, he continued without waiting for an answer, `We leave tomorrow morning on the Knight Bus and -' he paused while he unrolled the parchment, cleared his throat and began to recite in the manner of a bus driver giving the stops ahead, `we head south to Falmouth, then across to Wimbourne, up to Puddlemere; then to Tutshill, Caerphilly and Anglesey.' Seamus looked up to see both Ron and Colin grinning and nodding. `Then we leave Wales and cross to Ireland to Kenmare and Ballycastle. Then we nip up to Portree, down and across to Wigtown, zip across to Montrose, back to England and Appleby and last, but not least, to Chudley,' and here Seamus couldn't refrain from looking up at Ron who punched the air as he head his team's name, `before we hit the Burrow for a well earnt rest and some of your Mum's excellent cooking!'

Colin and Ron gave each other a “high five” as Seamus looked on. Then without another word, each man picked up his beer and lifted it in a toast, `To Quidditch!' drawing curious looks from a Muggle couple at a nearby table (the Two Hoots catered to both the wizard and Muggle worlds) and a frown from the barman.

`Ron,' said Seamus after he'd taken a hearty gulp of his beer and placed the glass back on the table, `what about Hermione? She doesn't mind you disappearing for the best part of two months, after which you'll be spending so much time commentating you may as well be away anyway, once the season starts in August?'

Ron, to his credit, had the grace to look somewhat shamefaced. `I didn't actually get a chance to see her yet - I came here straight from work - and the trouble is, she's working late tonight, so I guess I'll have to try and see her sometime later after we're both home.' As he spoke, he realised how little thought he'd given to Hermione in his excitement over Seamus' offer. She won't mind, I'm sure! he told himself. She knows how much I love Quidditch and what a brilliant chance this is, career-wise - getting to meet all the British teams, up close and personal leading up to the World Cup! I'll promise to write every - well, Floo, at any rate; Merlin knows I've never been a letter writer. Yeah, I should be able to Floo home every now and then…Yeah, it'll be cool. Hermione'll be cool…

*

Ginny and Harry arrived home from the restaurant earlier than Ginny had expected.

`We can have coffee at home, with Hermione,' Harry had told her as he paid for their meal. `It'll be much nicer and besides, we need to find out what's going on with her and Ron.'

Ginny had sighed and resigned herself to the inevitable, sharing Harry's concern for their friend. And so when they arrived home, it was to find Hermione putting the kettle on.

`Good timing,' she smiled at them. `Tea or coffee?'

`Coffee, please!' said Harry and Ginny in unison as they moved to the round kitchen table and sat down.

`How was it?' asked Hermione, as she began pulling cups and saucers from the cupboard.

`Delicious!' said Ginny.

`Expensive!' said Harry, making both the girls laugh; despite not needing to worry about money, Harry had never been able to shake off the habit of noticing the price of things, learnt from the monetary deprivation he'd suffered at the hands of the Dursleys.

`You're home early, though,' said Hermione, as she poured boiling water into the coffee pot before picking up the sugar and heading to the fridge for milk.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look which Hermione couldn't miss as she walked towards the table with the milk and sugar.

`You came home early because of me,' she said flatly, putting down the jug and bowl and pulling out a chair, looking from one to the other as she sat down.

Ginny nodded. `Harry's a bit pissed off with Ron,' she said, `and so am I. He didn't even come and see you before he left!'

Hermione gave them a smile accompanied by a small shrug. `I know, but he had to leave very early this morning and he did try and Floo me last night - he said so in the note he sent me.'

`He could've come over and waited until you came home to see you, and tell you himself and say goodbye, even if it was only for a few minutes before bed,' said Harry, sounding deeply indignant.

Hermione shrugged philosophically. `He had a really early start. And it's only for six or seven weeks.'

`And then he arrives home only to bounce off again every week to whichever Quidditch stadium he's commentating at!' retorted Ginny, who couldn't understand Hermione's lack of concern.

Hermione looked from one to the other, her expression puzzled. `Why are you so worried all of a sudden?'

Ginny and Harry exchanged yet another look that Hermione couldn't miss.

`Well,' said Ginny hesitantly, `we, uh, over dinner we were talking about our, er, recollections of - things - over the last few months…well, since the New Year really, we think and, erm…'

Hermione gave them both an odd look. `And?'

Ginny looked at Harry, uncertain as to how they should put this. Harry gave her a small, understanding nod then turned to Hermione.

`Hermione, things have changed with you and Ron, haven't they? Things are - different now, aren't they?'

Hermione turned her head slightly and looked into the distance, her eyes clouded with a newly discovered anguish as she contemplated Harry's question. Both Harry and Ginny remained silent, waiting. After a minute, Hermione turned a thoughtful look on Harry before saying softy, her tone resigned, `You're right - things have changed and they are different. I've spent the last few hours thinking about nothing else and I've come to see that it's actually been a gradual process, one I've only been aware of subconsciously until - well, until now, until today. With Ron going away. I'm not sure anymore what the future holds for us, actually.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged perturbed looks, Harry feeling a strange dread steal through him at the prospect of this upheaval in all their lives together with some other emotion that he didn't stop to analyse. `What's going on, Hermione?' he asked tersely. `Don't you love each other any more?'

Ginny gave a small shake of her head, wondering at a man's ability to ask blunt, direct questions without any compunction or consideration, but Hermione's answering shrug shocked both her and Harry.

`What is going on?' asked Ginny, speaking too loudly in her concern.

`What do you mean?!' cried Harry, speaking over the top of Ginny. He found he felt very disturbed at the thought of their cosy lives as a foursome being disrupted. It had been Harry-and-Ginny-and-Ron-and-Hermione for so long now, and he was only just realising he'd assumed unquestioningly that it would always be so…

Hermione shook her head, waving her hands in front of her as if to fend off their astonished questions. `Let me just get our coffee and I'll tell you a story, all right?'

Harry and Ginny nodded in unison as Hermione rose from her chair.

`Hurry up with the coffee though, will you?' urged Harry with a lopsided grin, in what was a rather lame attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

Ginny gave him a quelling look, which he ignored because he didn't see it. He didn't see it because he was watching Hermione as she nodded in reply on her way back to the bench, where she proceeded to push the plunger down through the hot coffee…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Author's Note

Thank you to everyone who reviewed - it adds immensely to my enjoyment of the whole writing/posting process, believe me!

Now, this chapter is a little shorter than the first, but it had to end where it ends - and the next chapter is nearly three times as long (which I'll be posting next Thursday) so I hope that makes up for it! Cheers everyone, Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

SECOND INTERLUDE

The Dark One whipped through the foul air of the realm in an uncontrollable fury. It had begun attempting many things in its quest to hunt down the Enemy, but had found the healing of the rift between the consciousness of the Voice of the One and the Darkness had altered its abilities almost beyond recognition. It could no longer do things in the same way as it had once taken for granted. This meant it had to spend precious time learning new ways and finding new paths to do what was necessary so that it could carry out its quest. And because the Dark One's monumental temper demanded a violent and vicious outlet, its fury was unleashed with cold indifference for the consequences. It never knew of the Muggle aeroplane flying from England to France which crashed inexplicably into the ocean, killing everyone aboard and even if it had, its only response would doubtless have been to laugh…

*

CHAPTER TWO

In which coffee is enjoyed, Hermione tells a story, revelations abound and a friendship is reaffirmed…

Hermione set their cups down before them and Harry and Ginny closed their eyes as they inhaled the aroma of freshly made coffee.

`Smells divine,' sighed Ginny.

`Thanks, Hermione,' Harry said as he raised his cup to his lips, sipping cautiously at the hot liquid.

Hermione returned with her own cup and gave them a small smile as she took her seat. `You're welcome.'

`So,' said Ginny, tilting her head and giving her friend a studied look, `what's the story with you and Ron?'

Hermione's smile faded as a look of lingering sadness appeared in her eyes.

`Do you know, before today I would've said there's nothing wrong. Because I didn't want anything to be wrong and I just plain refused to see that anything was wrong. But after today - well, now I can admit I've been… well, coasting I guess you could call it. So's Ron. And I'm positive he'd be even less aware of it than me.' Hermione paused, her eyes closed as though she was feeling the pressure of unwelcome revelations. `Things have been slowly disintegrating for months and neither of us have acknowledged it to ourselves, so naturally we've not said or done anything about it.'

`But why?' asked Ginny, looking distressed.

Hermione shrugged. `Why haven't we done anything? I suppose it's just easier to keep going, regardless. I mean, it's not as though we're arguing all the time or anything. We're just … slowly drifting apart, I guess.'

`But why?' asked Harry, echoing Ginny, his green eyes darkening with concern behind his glasses.

`Well, as you've noticed, things have changed. And I have to say that it's probably been since last Christmas…'

`We've wracked our brains and we can't think of anything that's happened since Christmas or New Year - you haven't had any major arguments or fights - you haven't had any, really,' interrupted Ginny, sounding distinctly uneasy.

`Probably because there hasn't been anything terribly noticeable to notice,' said Hermione wryly. `And to be honest, for sometime now I've been telling myself it's something that doesn't matter.' She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. `But it does. I've been fooling myself. Both of us have just let things slide…'

Ginny put a hand on Hermione's shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.

`Easy enough to do I imagine Hermione, especially when you've been together for a few years. I can believe it would be hard to let go…'

Hermione shook her head decisively. `No. I should've known better. I think I did know better, I just refused to acknowledge it! I should've done more!'

Harry reached across the table and gripped Hermione's wrist, reflexively moving his thumb backwards and forwards over her soft skin in a comforting gesture.

`Don't be so hard on yourself, Hermione! It sounds as though Ron has been doing exactly the same thing,' he told her, before withdrawing his hand after a final squeeze.

`But that's Ron,' replied Hermione, giving him a grateful glance, `I wouldn't expect him to notice.'

`My darling brother wouldn't notice anything unless it knocked him on the head. Unless of course it's a Quaffle or something else to do with Quidditch,' Ginny finished bitingly.

`Don't be hard on him,' said Hermione softly. `It's not his fault entirely, anymore than it is mine.'

Harry looked as though he didn't agree, but kept silent; Ginny looked at him as if to say “I told you so”, although she managed to bite back the words.

Ginny turned back to Hermione, asking gently, `So what started it all? Do you know?'

Hermione nodded. `I'm fairly certain now that the real turning point was last Christmas…'

Last Christmas. And Luna.

`You remember the party we went to at Hogwarts, of course…'

Minerva McGonagall, still Headmistress of Hogwarts, had invited the former students of Harry's year to a special feast, which was held in the Great Hall on Christmas Eve. She'd explained to them that whilst there were countless acts of bravery by students and staff during the final war with Voldemort and his followers, those of Harry's year naturally seemed to stand out and she simply wanted to honour them; Harry thought that perhaps she just wanted to see everyone again. It had been a wonderful night and the five years since most of them had been at Hogwarts seem to vanish in the camaraderie and happy contentment that pervaded the air.

`And afterwards, there was dancing. And there were people wandering about everywhere and I wanted to take a walk around and - well, just reminisce, I guess…'

Hagrid had gone above and beyond the call of duty when it came to the decorations that year; aside from the usual trees in the Great Hall, every corridor seemed to be dripping with sparkling icicles and yards and yards of glittering tinsel. And mistletoe. Everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling, from wall sconces, above doors…

Hermione sighed and looked down into her coffee cup, picking up her spoon and stirring the contents needlessly.

`I made my way up to the seventh floor - I was planning on having a look in at our old common room. Professor McGonagall had told me that Gryffindor Tower was empty - all the students had gone home for the holidays that year. So she gave me the password and off I went.' Hermione put her spoon back on her saucer and gave Harry and Ginny a small smile.

`The Fat Lady was asleep and she was snoring, along with her friend Violet. There was an empty bottle of sherry beside them. I had to call out over and over before she stirred, and even then she didn't even ask for the password, she just opened up and let me in without even closing again.'

Hermione's gaze dropped to her coffee cup once more; she was surprised the memory of that night could rekindle the same constricted feeling inside she remembered feeling six months ago in the Gryffindor common room…

As the portrait swung open, she'd bent over and taken her shoes off before stepping carefully through the hole, thinking how much easier it would have been in sensible school shoes compared to her fashionable high heels. As she'd straightened up, she'd realised she felt cold - that there was no fire blazing. Of course - no students, no fire and no candles lit, she thought, although there was enough moonlight drifting through the windows so that once her eyes became accustomed, she wouldn't walk into anything. She stepped silently and carefully across the room towards the fireplace, standing there for some time, staring into the empty grate, remembering…

`I was standing next to the fireplace, just remembering.' She glanced up at Harry and Ginny then pushed her coffee cup aside and leant forward to rest her arms on the table, her chin resting in one hand. Staring at a point in space between Ginny and Harry, she sighed.

`For some reason, even though there were just as many happy memories as unhappy, if not more, I felt a little sad.'

She was surprised to find tears forming in her eyes as she stood there, her shoes dangling from her hand. Perhaps it was because this room had originally held her happiest memories of Hogwarts, from her first year when she'd made friends with Harry and Ron, although not as many from her second, which she'd spent the better part of in the hospital wing, Petrified. And her third - amongst everything else that had happened the year Harry had found Sirius, her exhaustion from using the Time Turner permeated her memories… The horror of Voldemort's return and Cedric's death in her fourth year overshadowed her joy in the Yule Ball… She shook her head. She thought that this might be “nostalgia” - that elusive feeling her parents often spoke of. Enough, she thought, this is making me maudlin! That was when she'd heard the sound…

`I'd decided enough was enough and I was just about to turn and leave when I heard voices outside in the corridor.'

Actually, she'd heard laughter at first. Whoever it was, they were making no effort to keep their voices down - not that there was any real need to do so, she conceded.

`I've never been in any other common room,' said a soft, female voice that Hermione knew she'd heard before.

`Me either. And look - my old one is open! Bet the Fat Lady's pissed again - she always was at Christmas.'

Ron!

`It was Ron.'

Hermione found herself dropping onto the familiar, old couch that faced the empty fireplace, crouching down so that she was out of sight of anyone entering the room.

`Oh, there's not much light, is there? No one here. Careful!' Ron's voice.

Hermione could tell from the sounds she could hear that they were stepping through the portrait hole.

`Ooooh! It looks really nice and cosy!'

`It was,' said Ron. `Come on, I'll show you -'

`Look! Mistletoe!'

`What?'

`Look - up there!' Giggles. `You know, I really rather fancied you at school.'

Silence.

Hermione slowly straightened up so that she was just able to see over the back of the couch.

`And Luna Lovegood.'

`What?' exclaimed Harry and Ginny together.

`Ron was standing there looking as though he'd been Petrified and Luna was smiling up at him.'

`You what?' Ron's voice came out as an undignified croak.

`Oh, you wouldn't've noticed, I'm sure,' Luna assured him, `and besides, I'm quite aware that I am a little, well, unique…'

Ron's mouth moved but no sound same out.

`Then she put her hands on each side of his face.'

Luna stood up on her toes and pressed her lips briefly against Ron's.

`And kissed him.'

Smiling at Ron's stunned, frozen expression, Luna obviously believed more was in order and kissed him again, longer and harder this time.

`Twice.'

Ron finally snapped out of it and stepped back, slowly shaking his head from side to side, managing a strangled, `No!'

`What's wrong?' asked Luna. Then her expression became one of resigned sadness.

`I'm sorry, Ronald, it was wrong of me to just kiss you like that without warning.' A small smile lifted the corners of Luna's mouth. `I think I had too many glasses of wine with dinner and, well, you are even more fanciable now than you were at school, you know.'

Ron's voice was a hoarse whisper: `Hermione!'

`Hermione?'

On the couch, a shocked and bewildered Hermione resumed her crouched position, her thoughts spinning crazily around inside her head; she wished she wasn't here - she wished she hadn't seen or heard - she wished -

`My girlfriend. Hermione. She's my girlfriend.'

`Hermione Granger? I thought that was just a school thing. Is she still? Really?'

Hermione realised Ron must've nodded when she heard Luna continue.

`I'm sorry. Oh, not because she's your girlfriend - for kissing you when you have a girlfriend. It's not right, at all.'

`Don't be sorry - I mean, you don't need to be sorry - you didn't know.'

`I didn't ask.'

`I didn't say.'

`Let's call it quits, shall we?' Luna laughed as she said it.

Ron's voice held obvious relief. `Let's!'

`And get back to the Hall before your girlfriend misses you.'

Hermione heard their footsteps move towards the portrait hole, Luna's lightly spoken words only just audible.

`By the way Ronald, if you and Hermione ever - well, if you're ever, hmmm, available again, let me know, will you?'

She heard the sounds of them stepping through the hole and of the portrait swinging shut. Ron's answer, if he gave one, was lost to her…

`What did he say when you asked him about it?' asked Ginny breathlessly.

Hermione shook her head as she sat back, dropping her arm to the table, `I never did.'

`What? Are you serious?' demanded Harry, his expression incredulous.

Hermione shrugged. `I knew it was an accident - it wasn't like Ron chased her or even expected her to kiss him. And she didn't know about me. It really didn't mean anything.'

`There's a huge, silent “but” at the end of that sentence, Hermione,' said Ginny evenly.

`Come on, Hermione! Something like that happening is going to have an impact on your relationship whether you talk about it or not!' Harry's voice held resounding exasperation.

`I really thought it wouldn't,' said Hermione, almost desperately, `I really did. But…'

`Ah ha! The “but”!' exclaimed Ginny. `I knew it!'

`At the time I thought it was best to just ignore it. And I think part of that was because I basically hid when they came in and then didn't show myself; I felt guilty. And foolish.'

`Everyone's had a similar dilemma at some time, I'm sure,' said Harry, his green eyes clouding momentarily with his own memories.

`You were waiting for Ron to tell you, though, weren't you?' said Ginny softly.

Hermione nodded, unsurprised at her friend's insight. `Something I didn't begin to dwell on until the next morning. I kept waiting for him to bring it up, but he never did. And the more time went past, the more impossible it seemed to ask him about it. I'd feel like an idiot admitting I knew all along because I'd been there.'

`So it was this whole Luna thing that set up a slow disintegration?' asked Harry.

Hermione looked steadily at Harry. `No, I don't think so actually - it's just now I realise that's the point in time from which I remember starting to feel different. And since then…you know, I think both our reactions to that night - or the fact that we've not spoken about it - is what shows up our problems the most. I mean, we've just both let it go. But without realising it until now - at least for me. And since then we've just grown apart even more over the last six months. Now I wonder if I ever really loved Ron the way I thought I did. Perhaps it wasn't because of that night, perhaps that night just gave me a reference point for awareness of the change in our relationship. That and the fact that I've realised I never once actually felt jealous about that night, and Luna kissing him.'

Harry's perplexed expression made Hermione smile. `How can you wonder about whether you love someone a certain way?' he asked. `Either you love them, or not, don't you?'

`It's not quite that simple, unfortunately,' Hermione told him. `I thought I loved Ron the way you love the person you're destined to spend your life with. But that's changed over time. I do love him, but not like that. It's letting go that's hard. It's almost like it's a habit - something I can't imagine not having in my life. I feel as though I won't know what to do if we're not together.'

`Hermione!' Ginny sounded shocked. `What do you mean you won't know what to do if you're not together? You get on with your life, that's what you do! You're not some helpless, emotionally dependent witch!'

Hermione nodded. `I know, and I would do that. It's just - hard. He's always been there, you know. It's just hard to imagine my life without him. And we've made some wonderful memories together. I suppose that's why I've been avoiding thinking seriously about it all. It's easier just to go along.'

`So what next?' asked Harry.

Ginny “tched” loudly at Harry, exasperated with his masculine straightforwardness.

`What?' he asked, bewildered.

Hermione gave a weak chuckle. `I don't know, to be honest,' she said. `I'm still coming to terms with everything.'

`Well, you've got plenty of time to think about it,' said Ginny, `with Ron away until the end of August.'

`And we'll help you fix things,' added Harry.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and giggled.

`What?' said Harry again.

`Can I hazard a guess?' asked Hermione, giving him a penetrating look.

Harry nodded, puzzled, and she continued, `You think that somehow we will “fix” things - that things will be patched up. And that everything'll be all right and life will return to the way it was. Am I right?'

Harry looked startled, sitting back in his chair and staring at Hermione.

`Well, I wouldn't've put it quite like that but - well…' Harry sat in contemplative silence for a minute before nodding, his eyes full of chagrin as they rested on Hermione. `You're right. I didn't realise…a bit selfish of me, really, I suppose.'

`Perfectly normal, because it would just be so much easier,' Hermione said soothingly. `I'd like it myself if things could go back to the way they were, too - if I could go back to feeling the way I did. But they won't and I can't. It's just not possible…' She sighed. `I just don't know what it's going to be like without him…'

Ginny reached out and put her hand on Hermione's arm, Harry following suit, his hand resting on top of Ginny's.

`Whatever happens, we'll always be friends,' said Ginny.

`Absolutely. Always friends,' repeated Harry.

Hermione put her hand on top of Harry's, full of enormous gratitude for their support, and smiled at them as she whispered, echoing their sentiment, `Friends. Always.'

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Author's Note

I'm not too late since it's still Thursday where I am! *grins* I usually upload chapters early in the morning, but I slept in this morning - got home late last night after seeing “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” - and then had to leave early this morning to see it again! So, a little later than I'd planned, but still on Thursday, here is Chapter Three…

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER THREE

In which we meet up with Dean Thomas and he in turn not only meets up with some old friends, he moves in with them…and Harry finds himself feeling somewhat out of sorts, the reasons for which seem to elude him…

`Well, Mr Thomas, there is no doubt we can do business on the strength of these.'

Dean Thomas felt relief sweep through him as he gathered up the scattered examples of his art work and put them back in his folder.

Five minutes later, he walked out of the front door of the old, but magically preserved building that housed the Daily Prophet and stopped at the top of the short, wide flight of stairs that led down to the pavement.

`I've actually done it, I've got myself a real job as an artist!' he told a wiry, black cat sitting on the stone railing, soaking up the sun. The cat gave him an uninterested glance and with a faint flick of its tail, closed its eyes once more. As he nimbly ran down the stairs, Dean pulled a card from a pocket inside his robes and studied it. `Now I just need me a place to live.'

*

`Ambling Row?' The wizened old man peered at Dean through his thick lenses. Dean nodded and the old man continued, `Just keep heading towards the post office' - he obligingly pointed to the ancient looking building about twenty yards further down the street - `and past that is Grimley's - the grocer's, y'know - and it's that corner where you turn right, and you're in Ambling Row.'

Dean beamed at the elderly gentlemen, thanking him before he strode off towards the corner. As he reached the post office, he noticed it had a highly polished brass plaque beside the bright red front door with the words “Harminster Leigh Post Office” engraved in Old English type. On the footpath outside the post office was something Dean hadn't seen for a while - an old-style, traditional red telephone box. He smiled fondly at it as he passed it, recalling the same sort of phone box down the street from his childhood home. Next he came to Grimley's, and there on the corner was an ornate street sign bearing the legend, “Ambling Row”. Dean felt his heart rate begin to climb as he turned right into the old, narrow street that was quite straight before curving to the left further down past what appeared to be an old and rambling - perhaps neglected - garden on the left-hand side.

Close to the corner where Dean stood were old stone cottages on each side of the street, looking very quaint in their garden settings. As he walked along firstly past number three on his right, “Mill Cottage” and then number five, “Ambling Rose Cottage”, he could see the sedately imposing block of flats known as “Sorcerers' Nook” through the two old white willow trees which flanked the front path from the black, wrought iron gate and which took up virtually the entire front garden. “The Nook”, as it was affectionately known by its tenants and locals, was built beside a small stream and he could see the graceful weeping willows that followed the path of the stream into the woods beyond.

As Dean neared the black gate, the end of the road came into view where it curved away to his left, ending at an old stile leading into a prettily unkempt field. On reaching the gate, he stopped, taking in the two tall stone pillars which supported it and noted the brass letterboxes numbered 1 to 4 and one with “Landlady” engraved on it set into the stone pillar on the left under a large, brass number “7”. Wondering whether they were just for show for the local Muggles, he reached through the gate and lifted the latch, looking up at the mellow, stone façade of the building, its high bay windows rising symmetrically on each side for three stories, reflecting the few rays of mid-morning sun that trickled through the softly murmuring leaves of the two old willows. In between the bay windows on the first and second floors were round, stained glass windows, although he couldn't quite make out what was depicted in them in the wavering shadows.

Above the glossy, black-painted door, carved into the stone, he could see the name, “Sorcerers' Nook”; also carved into the stone on each side of the name were two oval cameos, one of a man and the other of a woman. Dean smiled as he thought of the witches and wizards of long ago who had dared named this old building, then pushed at the gate which swung open smoothly and noiselessly. He closed it behind him and walked along the stone-paved path and up the three curved, shallow steps to the front doors. Through the bay window on his left, he caught a glimpse of what looked like an old reception desk, reminiscent of a hotel. As he reached out to grasp the ornate brass doorhandle, he heard a woman's voice say, `Oh, look dear, a rather smashing sort! Reminds me of someone - now who is it?'

`Bit on the young side for you, don't you think sweetheart? And you're right, he does look a little familiar,' replied a male voice.

Dean looked around but could see no one.

`Who's there?' he asked.

`Never mind, handsome, just go on in,' cooed the female voice.

Dean snatched his hand back as the door opened by itself. With a quick glance around, he shrugged and then stepped inside, dodging the door as it closed behind him. Well, I don't suppose it's called Sorcerers' Nook for nothing, he mused.

Glancing down, his eyes were drawn to the deep green carpet runner that ran along the length of the hall from the front door where he stood, towards the back where it was too dim to make out many details; he could hear faint music coming from somewhere down the hall. His eyes then wandered over the small sitting area on his right, which held armchairs clustered around a fire place on the wall opposite the front window, before moving to the right hand corner beside the fireplace - where stood a dark wooden perch on which sat a barn owl , its' head tucked under its wing. Above the fireplace hung a painting of an elderly couple, both sitting in rocking chairs, their chins resting on their chests as they slept peacefully.

He crossed to the well-polished old reception desk to his left, picking up and gently ringing the small brass bell sitting on top; he turned to look down the hall once more, this time taking in the stairs on the right-hand side of the hall that rose to a landing, then turned and rose to the first floor. There was a door on the left side of the hall, across from the bottom of the staircase, standing just ajar. Within seconds of ringing the bell, the music stopped and he heard a rustling sound followed by the tapping of shoes on the polished wooden floor. An elderly witch appeared, her deep purple robes complimented by a pointed silver hat perched on her short, white, curly hair. Her lined face framed bright blue eyes that held an innate curiosity. She smiled inquiringly at Dean as she approached and he found he couldn't help but smile back.

`Morning,' he said, `my name's Dean Thomas. I'm looking for a flat to let, and some friends of mine told me you have a vacancy here.'

`Perhaps we do,' said the sprightly landlady. `Come with me,' she invited, ushering him behind the desk and through a door into the office adjoining the reception area. The room was lined with bookshelves and lit by a large candelabra hanging from the centre of the patterned ceiling, filled with dozens of flickering candles as well as the filtered light through a pair of French doors set amongst the bookshelves.

Automatically taking the seat in front of the desk as the elderly witch sat opposite, Dean gazed out the doors, entranced by the inviting sight that lay just beyond a low, neat hedge of softly swaying willows on the bank of a small stream, which sparkled here and there where sunlight touched it. Virtually opposite the doors he could see where the hedge had been trained over a trellis to create an arched entrance to the banks of the stream.

`Magical, isn't it?' the old witch murmured softly before saying more briskly, `My name's Esmerelda Solly, by the way, young man. Would y'mind telling me which friends you're speaking of?'

Turning his attention back to the witch he hoped would shortly be his landlady, Dean explained that his friend Seamus Finnigan had passed on a message from another former schoolmate, Ron Weasley, about the vacancy. As they chatted, it came out that Dean had spent his years at Hogwarts in the same dormitory as Seamus and Ron, as well as Neville Longbottom, another of Esmerelda's tenants - and, of course, Harry. Once Esmerelda knew this, it was a done deal and she handed Dean the key to Flat 2 - `Up the stairs to the first floor, the door on your right looking towards the back,' she explained, almost beside herself with excitement at what she said would be like a little reunion for the former schoolmates. `You would know my other tenants, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley, too, I daresay,' Esmerelda added as she dipped her quill in the inkpot and wrote out a receipt for Dean's rent for the remainder of that month, after which it was, `due the first of each month, dear,' she explained.

Dean nodded, wondering at the strange feeling he experienced, brought on by the mention of Ginny Weasley; he hadn't seen her since he'd left Hogwarts.

Esmerelda gave him “the tour” as she called it, showing him the laundry down the hall on the right past the stairs and pointing out the small garden out the back before taking him up to his flat. Dean asked her about the voices he'd heard at the front door and wondered why Esmerelda gave him such a sharp glance.

`That'd be Emrys and Verity, I dare say,' she'd replied.

`Who?' asked Dean.

`The Leighs, the old couple in the painting downstairs. They actually built Sorcerers' Nook back in the eighteen hundreds sometime; I'm not good with dates and such.'

`What, they haunt the place or something?' he asked, puzzled; he'd never heard of someone dying and then staying on as a ghost and a portrait.

Esmerelda shrugged. `I'm not sure what it is they do. They don't really talk to anyone much that I know. I've tried many times but I gave up years ago. Wonder why they spoke to you?'

Dean realised this was why she'd looked at him the way she had when he'd mentioned the voices.

`They didn't really say anything much, but they did open the front door for me.'

Esmerelda's eyebrows shot up. `First time I've ever heard of them doing that,' she'd said. Then before leaving him to explore the flat on his own, she quickly explained that he would now be able to Floo in and out of The Nook via the fireplace in the downstairs sitting room. `The fireplaces in the flats aren't allowed to be connected to the Floo Network for security and privacy reasons, you know. However, Mr Potter has somehow managed to have that rule overturned when it comes to the two flats on the top floor, although he tells me they're only connected to each other and not the main Network.' Dean smiled at the contrast between Esmerelda's disapproving visage and the twinkle in her eye that said she couldn't help but be proud of her recalcitrant tenant. She continued, `And you can use Frewin, our house owl, if you need him, dear. He'll go just about anywhere for a Doogle's Deluxe Owl Treat.' Dean thanked her, and as soon as she'd closed the door behind her, he jumped, punching the air; happiness and excitement coursing through him at the wonderful turn his life had taken that day.

First a brilliant new job, he thought, and now this! He rejoiced as he walked around the flat, realising as he went from room to room that there was undoubtedly magic involved, because each of the four flats on the two upper floors were, he knew from Esmerelda, all the same size and it was impossible for this building as seen from the outside to hold them.

Each flat consisted of two bedrooms, one overlooking the street at the front and the other the woods at the rear. The front door opened into a hallway with the bedroom doors at each end as well as the bathroom, which was next to the back bedroom; the front bedroom had its own, small, ensuite bathroom. Walking straight ahead from the front door and through a pointed wooden archway which led to the kitchen - situated towards the back - to his left - and overlooking the long living/dining room, there was a fireplace on the side wall flanked by two large windows.

After inspecting every room, Dean went downstairs to Floo home for his things, asking Esmerelda if she'd mind mentioning to the others as they arrived home that he'd moved in and that they were all welcome to visit him that evening after dinner, around eight o'clock. He suspected - correctly - that it hadn't really been necessary for him to ask Esmerelda to pass on the news…

*

That evening, Hermione Flooed home into the front sitting room of The Nook to find Esmerelda needlessly plumping the pillows on the armchairs.

`Evening, Esmerelda,' said Hermione a little warily as she stepped out onto the hearth, brushing herself down and wondering what tale she'd be regaled with this evening.

`Evening dear, nice day?' Esmerelda's stock greeting for her tenants when they returned home from work.

`Yes, thanks,' said Hermione automatically, `You?' She could tell from the way Esmerelda was now bouncing from foot to foot that she was bursting with some snippet of news.

`Well, a little excitement today, dear - a new tenant! He's in Flat 2 - full house, now!'

Hermione managed to contain the laughter bubbling up inside her - Esmerelda was always so transparent, bless her!

`Anyone I know?' she asked, walking to the bottom of the stairs, turning and waiting for a reply.

Esmerelda nodded vigorously. `Dean Thomas!' she exclaimed as though unable to hold the words in any longer.

`Dean? Well, what do you know! I haven't seen him since we all left Hogwarts!'

`He's asked me to tell each of you to come by later for a bit of a housewarming - 'bout eight, he said.'

`Thanks, Esmerelda, I'll do that.' Hermione turned and took the stairs as quickly as she could and still remain ladylike, determined to escape her landlady's verbal clutches. As she reached the first floor, she turned and noticed that the door of Flat 2 was open. With a quick glance down the stairs to make sure Esmerelda wasn't following her, she moved along beside the balustrade to the open doorway, knocking as she peered in.

`Come in!'

`Is that you Dean? It's Hermione Granger,' called out Hermione as she crossed the hall into the living area, which now held a rather battered looking lounge suite and what looked like an old trunk covered with a cloth for a coffee table. Dean bobbed up from behind the kitchen bench, startling Hermione.

`Sorry!' said Dean, grinning as he made his way round to Hermione, his hand extended. `I was just mopping up some water I spilt.'

Hermione laughed as she grasped his hand, `No need to be sorry! I just heard you're our newest fellow tenant.'

Dean nodded. `Thanks to Seamus and Ron - they told me about this flat.' With a rather sheepish look, he continued, `I'd ask you to sit down and have a cuppa, but -'

Hermione waved away his apology. `It's perfectly all right,' she said, `you keep going - I just arrived home from work, anyway - Esmerelda's mentioned your “housewarming”, so we'll see you at eight.'

`Oh good - I hope everyone comes. I've already run into Ginny,' said Dean as he walked her to the door.

`Ginny? She's home early, then. And I'm sure everyone will come,' promised Hermione, `well, except for Ron - he's away at the moment.'

`Away? Ginny didn't say anything.'

Hermione gave him a small smile. `Quidditch. He's actually with Seamus and Colin Creevey - I'll tell you about it later.'

Dean nodded. `I'm looking forward to hearing everyone's news,' he said, `see you later then!'

As she reached her own door, on the floor directly above Dean's, Hermione paused with her hand hovering above the door handle, thinking about what she'd said to Dean.

When I tell Dean about Ron being away, I won't say anything about our…problem, assuming he knows we were a couple, she thought to herself. Actually, I can't say anything to anyone else yet, not before I speak with Ron. I'll have to talk to Ginny, too, and Harry, make sure they don't let anything slip.

Just then the door opened, making her cry out in surprise.

`Hermione, I'm sorry! I heard you coming up the stairs, I didn't mean to frighten you,' said Ginny, taking Hermione's outstretched hand and pulling. `Come on in - you're not going to believe who I've seen this afternoon!'

As Hermione followed Ginny into the living room, reclaiming her hand to pull off her light cloak, she couldn't keep a certain amused smugness out of her voice as she said, `Dean Thomas maybe?'

Ginny's hands went to her hips as she rolled her eyes. `Trust you to know, Hermione!'

Hermione laughed. `As if Esmerelda is going to let one of us get upstairs without telling us about Dean!'

Ginny laughed too. `So true! It was wonderful to see him again - he's invited us all over after dinner, but I suppose you know that too.'

Hermione nodded, turning to head up the hall towards her bedroom at the front, `I'll just go and get changed. Kettle on?' she said over her shoulder.

`Yes,' said Ginny, `tea's coming right up!'

A short while later as the two friends sat up at the kitchen bench sipping tea, Hermione asked Ginny how it was she'd come to be home from work early, wondering why Ginny seemed to tense on hearing the question.

`It's a bit of a story, Hermione. I'll save it till we have more time, shall I? We should really be getting on with dinner so we have plenty of time to clean up and then get ready for Dean's little reunion party.'

Hermione happily accepted Ginny's explanation, feeling excited herself at the thought of going to Dean's party, however “little” it was going to be.

Just as the girls were sitting down to eat, a knock at the door was followed by Harry's rather flustered entrance, his robes swirling around him as he quickly closed the door behind him. Standing with his back to the door and panting slightly with exertion, his abstracted green gaze met two pairs of amused brown eyes.

`Hello Ginny, Hermione -' Harry took a deep breath, pushing himself upright before turning to rest his ear against the door, bringing a finger to his lips to prevent either of the girls speaking as he listened intently. Apparently satisfied with what he could hear - or perhaps, not hear - he walked to the table where the girls were sitting, dropping on kiss on the top of each of their heads before pulling out a chair and sitting down between them.

`What on earth was that all about?' asked Ginny with amused exasperation.

`Big, bad Esmerelda scare little Harry again, hmm?' teased Hermione, laughing.

`Very funny, Hermione,' said Harry sourly, although he grinned at her.

`Would you like some dinner?' asked Ginny, trying not to laugh.

`Yes, please,' said Harry, eyeing their plates hungrily. `Smells delicious! But you stay there and eat or your's'll get cold - I can help myself,' he finished, rising hurriedly and putting a gently restraining hand on Ginny's shoulder.

Walking around the bench into the kitchen, Harry took down a plate and a glass off the shelf then helped himself to a large piece of still steaming lasagne from the dish atop a heavy wooden board on the bench, before pulling out the cutlery drawer to scoop up a knife and fork. Sitting down once more, he took a large helping from the salad bowl on the table then picked up the bottle of red wine on the table and poured himself a glass. Lifting his glass, he grinned happily at his two companions.

`Here's to a successful getaway,' he said smugly.

Chuckling merrily, Ginny and Hermione lifted their glasses to Harry's and echoed his toast.

`The only trouble is,' said Ginny after a few mouthfuls, `Esmerelda actually had some real news tonight.'

Harry raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

`She now has a “full house”, as she put it,' said Hermione, `meaning a new tenant for Flat 2.'

`Who happens to have invited us all to a small housewarming party after dinner,' finished Ginny.

`Someone we know?' asked Harry.

Ginny and Hermione both nodded, neither volunteering anything further.

Harry's knife and fork made a soft chink as he put them down and looked from Ginny to Hermione and back again.

`So put me out of my misery - who is it?'

`Perhaps you should ask Esmerelda,' offered Hermione, deftly spearing a piece of cucumber on her fork. `What do you think, Ginny?'

`A wise suggestion in my opinion,' replied Ginny, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry groaned. `Come on!' he pleaded. `You know Esmerelda drives me crazy - have pity!'

`Wait and see, it'll be a surprise,' said Hermione smugly before taking a delicate bite of her cucumber.

Harry sighed in resignation; he knew he'd get no further information and decided it was better for his digestion to simply eat his meal in peace…

*

While Ginny, Harry and Hermione were eating their dinner, in the flat below Dean was frantically waving his wand to send the contents of the last box flying to their appropriate places. With a final flick, he sent the empty box skating across the floor to join the stack beside the fireplace. Glancing hurriedly at the old mantel clock above the fireplace, he heaved a sigh of relief. He had another half an hour - plenty of time to have a quick shower before everyone arrived.

Half an hour later, as the clock on the mantel called out, `eight o'clock!' in a high, piping voice, Dean heard a firm knock on the door. Leaving the platters of food he was arranging at the kitchen bench, he quickly wiped his hands on a tea towel and almost jogged to the door, pulling it open with an expectant smile.

`Dean!'

`Neville!'

The two men clasped hands, both wearing huge grins. `Come in, come in!' exclaimed Dean, releasing Neville's hand and lifting his arm, he placed it across Neville's shoulders, urging him inside.

`How are you?' they said together, making them both laugh.

`You go first,' said Dean, `come and sit down and I'll get you a drink,' he continued, pointing to one of six mismatched stools at the L-shaped kitchen bench. `What would you like? A Butterbeer? Ogden's?'

`Ogden's and Gillywater if you've got it, thanks,' said Neville, settling his tall, lean frame on a black painted wooden stool.

`Coming right up,' said Dean.

`Sounds like the rest of them are on the way,' commented Neville, hearing a door open and close in the distance as muted voices drifted through Dean's front door, which he'd left open after Neville's arrival.

Placing a drink in front of Neville, Dean headed back towards the door to greet his other guests; he could just make out their words over the sound of their footsteps on the wooden stairs.

`I still think you should tell me before we get there,' said a deep, male voice which Dean knew had to be Harry's.

This comment produced a tinkling laugh, although he couldn't tell whether it was from Ginny or Hermione.

`We keep telling you, just wait and see,' said a voice he recognised as Hermione's from their earlier encounter.

Dean crossed his arms and leant on the side of the archway, smiling as he waited for his three guests to appear through the doorway ahead of him. Hermione was first and gave him a hug in greeting during which, over her shoulder, he saw Harry standing behind Ginny, his face a picture of surprise. As it had earlier that afternoon, Dean's heart began to beat much faster than usual at the sight of Ginny and although he felt somewhat awkward as she hugged him, she didn't seem to notice anything and then Harry was grasping his hand, lifting his other hand to Dean's shoulder and squeezing it.

`Dean! You! Those two teasing women wouldn't tell me who'd moved in, said it would be a surprise,' he finished in explanation.

`A nice one, I hope!' laughed Dean as he stood back, waving Harry inside.

`Absolutely! It's great to see you again - we missed you at the Hogwarts' Christmas dinner,' said Harry as he walked in past Dean.

Ginny, Hermione and Neville had all greeted each other and Hermione had taken the stool on Neville's right, Ginny the one on his left. Harry moved forward to stand behind Ginny while Dean went back into the kitchen to organise drinks for them. Once that was done, Dean took the stool on the end next to Ginny and nearest the kitchen; he raised his glass, smiling.

`Here's to Hogwarts, Gryffindor and catching up!' he said.

`Hear, hear!' everyone echoed happily.

`By the way, Dean, you missed a great night last Christmas,' said Neville.

`The dinner at Hogwarts? Yeah, I know. It was my sister's engagement party that night, though, and there was no way Mum would let me miss that!'

Dean had placed platters of finger food on the bench and despite having just had dinner, temptation got the better of Harry. He moved to the end of the long side of the bench and sat at the end beside Hermione. He reached out and picked up what looked like some sort of savoury tart and as he bit into it and chewed appreciatively, his gaze went to the other end of the polished wooden bench where Ginny and Dean were sitting at right angles to everyone else; Ginny was chatting animatedly and Dean was nodding and smiling, occasionally laughing, appearing quite entranced by Ginny. Harry then glanced at Hermione, beside him, and noticed she was listening intently to something Neville was telling her.

Harry watched Hermione as he ate, wondering at her resilience in the face of the sadness he was sure lay beneath her smiling countenance. At dinner earlier, she'd asked him and Ginny not to say anything about her and Ron other than discussing his whereabouts. Ginny and Harry had agreed immediately, assuring her they wouldn't have done so without speaking to her first. Hermione had told them she'd been sure of that, but needed to say it nonetheless, which they understood.

Licking his fingers, Harry lifted his gaze to Neville's face as he listened to something Hermione was saying. On seeing the expression on his old school friend's face he felt a peculiar sensation streak through him. I know that look! Mother of Merlin, Neville fancies Hermione! What the hell? When did that happen? He can't do that! Harry looked away, reflexively picking up another of the little tarts to cover his sudden discomfort; he ate it without tasting it, his mind awhirl. What am I thinking? Of course he can! Besides, once it's out that it's over between Ron and Hermione… any bloke could ask her out. An even stronger and distinctly unpleasant sensation surged through him at this thought. What the hell is wrong with me? Hermione's already pointed out I've got a hankering for things to stay the same and I understand that, but…

But you never considered anyone else besides Ron being with Hermione, did you? asked a distant voice in his head. And Hermione's grown into a bit of a looker, hasn't she? And now she's free -

Enough! Harry said to himself firmly. This is ridiculous! I mean when I think about it, isn't it better if she falls for someone like Neville than some complete stranger?

Definitely. Neville. Or perhaps even Dean, put in that other voice.

Harry's eyes immediately swivelled to Dean who was still deep in conversation with Ginny.

Or perhaps Dean, he said to himself. That'd be all right, I suppose. I don't know that either Neville or Dean is really quite what Hermione needs, though. Not that I suppose it's my place to mind who Hermione goes out with - it's Hermione's life, after all. And she's told me often enough she doesn't need “saving” or protecting anymore. And I'm sure she's perfectly capable of picking the right bloke. Well, besides Ron that is…

Harry decided at that point that enough was enough - he was going to put all these intrusive and unsettling thoughts out of his head and enjoy the evening. So saying, he picked up his glass and walked round into the kitchen.

`I'll just help myself if that's all right,' he said to Dean with a grin as he walked past.

`Go right ahead,' said Dean hospitably.

Once he'd poured himself another glass of Ogden's, Harry decided to stay on the kitchen side of the bench. He chose to ignore the fact that he was doing so in order to keep an eye on Neville - and Dean, who seemed to be paying rather a lot of attention to Ginny…

One thing about being this side of the bench, thought Harry, I get easy access to the food. A situation he took good advantage of, finally drawing a dry remark from Hermione that he really should try and leave something for everyone else.

`Don't worry,' Dean assured them, `there's plenty more! My mum's the best cook and she gave me a whole stack of stuff for tonight - you know what mum's are like,' he said, addressing this last remark to Ginny, who laughed and nodded in fervent agreement. Hermione alone noted the glance that passed unbidden between Harry and Neville. They don't know what mum's are like, she thought, feeling a tendril of sadness for them drift through her.

`Harry,' said Hermione in her old, authoritative manner, `come and sit down here,' she told him, patting the stool beside her, `I think we need to bring Dean up-to-date with everything since we saw him last and he can fill us in on what he's been up to.'

`That sounds like another of your brilliant ideas, Hermione,' said Neville and Harry found a rather surly remark springing to mind: Sucking up like that is not the way to impress a witch, Neville, especially this one... Harry couldn't prevent a feeling of smug superiority from stealing through him; he'd known things like that about Hermione since he was eleven years old. Then he wondered uncomfortably why he was thinking such things in the first place and decided that perhaps the Ogden's was affecting his thoughts…

Dean knocked smartly on the wooden bench as Harry sat down once more.

`I'm calling this reunion to order,' he said, grinning. `First on the agenda?'

`You go first,' Ginny told Dean before turning to look along the bench at Neville, Hermione and Harry. `Remember what a good drawer Dean was at school? He's actually got a job as an artist!'

Harry made himself smile as he said, `So, Dean, tell us what you've been up to!' It sounds as though Ginny's already heard it all, he thought sourly. Just as he was about to pick up another piece of Mrs Thomas's excellent chocolate caramel slice, he pulled his hand back, thinking that maybe it was too much food making him feel so out of sorts.

`Well, after Hogwarts - and after You-Know-Who -'

`Vol-de-mort!' chorused everyone.

Dean rolled his eyes. `All right, all right! Voldemort!' Everyone except Harry cheered; it was the done thing since Voldemort's demise for the wizarding world to thumb their nose at the self-styled “Dark Lord” and ridicule the whole “you must say You-Know-Who not Voldemort” thing.

`By the way, thanks for that, Harry,' said Dean with a wink, making everyone laugh again. Harry groaned, shaking his head in apparent disgust, although he didn't really mind this sort of fooling around with friends.

`Well, post-Hogwarts and Voldemort, I was living at home. I tried working for a Muggle agency that had a number of artists on their books who did work for advertising agencies - but working with drawings and pictures that, well, didn't move, was pretty boring. I stuck it out for a while but then I left and moved into my own place in London. I tried to get work with The Daily Prophet and the other wizarding publications, but it's pretty hard, especially when you're young and inexperienced. I've been doing all sorts of odd jobs to keep my head above water for a couple of years, then last week I saw an advertisement in the Prophet for a full time junior graphic artist. I went to an interview yesterday and got the job on the spot!'

`Congratulations, Dean!' cried Hermione, clapping; Ginny joined her, Harry and Neville's congratulations a little more subdued.

`Right, Neville, you're next!' said Dean and everyone's attention turned to Neville.

Neville straightened in his seat as he glanced around at everyone, his usual shy and rather self-deprecating smile in place.

`Come on, Neville,' said Hermione encouragingly, `I know we all know what you've been up to, but Dean doesn't.'

Neville smiled gratefully at Hermione for her encouragement, clearing his throat as he turned to Dean.

`After Hogwarts, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do. My Gran nagged me a bit, of course, she's very practical is my Gran. Then, after about six months, I was at the hospital - visiting Mum and Dad, you know - and I was talking to one of the Healers, and she told me, well, erm…'

Hermione patted Neville gently on the arm. `What our modest friend is trying to say,' she said, smiling at Neville, `is that his interest in Herbology as well as his knowledge of it was well known to everyone that works on his parents' ward, and one of the Healers spoke to the head of Medical Herbology about him.' Hermione nodded at Neville to indicate he should continue.

`Thanks, Hermione,' he said with another grateful smile; he definitely wasn't one to blow his own trumpet. `Leo Greanley, the head Herbologist, actually sent me an owl asking me to come and see him. He was very nice and gave me a sort of test which I didn't do too badly at -'

`He actually knocked Greanley's socks off - he got every single answer right!' put in Ginny, grinning mischievously at Neville who looked quite embarrassed by her words. He gave a small, uncomfortable shrug before continuing.

`After that, he offered me a job in research, which I was only too happy to take. My Gran was over the moon, but not as much as I was. Anyway, I'd been there just over a year when Hermione owled me about a vacant flat here at the Nook and the rest, as they say, is history.'

`Your Gran didn't mind you moving out?' asked Dean.

Neville actually rolled his eyes, causing everyone to laugh. `She said she didn't, but you wouldn't believe how much she fussed when it came to me actually leaving!'

`But he does see her every week,' said Hermione approvingly.

`Excellent work, Neville! Now, Ginny's already told me about her job in the advertising office of Witch Weekly,' Dean said, `so your turn Hermione.'

Harry hardly heard as Hermione explained about her work in the Magical Research Department; he'd sat and listened to Dean's story with interest, then felt a strange, vague annoyance at what he saw as Hermione's mollycoddling of Neville and was now feeling completely out of sorts at the fact that Ginny had already told Dean about her work. What on earth is wrong with me tonight? he wondered. Ginny and Dean had been close at Hogwarts - a little too close for my liking as I recall - but that was years ago and there's no reason why she shouldn't be talking to him now. And Hermione's always looked out for Neville. Harry frowned. And now I know Neville fancies her - he probably doesn't see it as mollycoddling, probably loves it. Harry put his elbow on the bench and rested his chin in his hand. Maybe it's this whole Ron and Hermione thing that's gotten under my skin. Things were so easy the way they were or rather, the way they had been, with the four of us. Must be what's making me feel like this.

`Harry?'

Harry blinked as a hand was waved in front of his face.

`Off with the pixies!' he heard Dean say, followed by Ginny's laughter.

The hand disappeared and he saw Hermione's questioning look as she repeated, `Harry?'

`Sorry,' he mumbled, `I was miles away.'

`Your scintillating storytelling, Hermione!' laughed Ginny, everyone else except Harry joining in a second later.

Harry gave Hermione an apologetic look.

`It's all right, Harry,' she smiled, `I forgive you. This time.'

`Oh, thanks,' said Harry sardonically, then made himself join in the laughter.

`Your turn now, Harry,' said Dean, `and Hermione, feel free to yawn your head off!'

Harry caught Hermione's eye and she winked at him, making him smile.

`Not much to tell, really,' he said, eliciting groans from everyone.

`Oh, you mean besides the whole Horcrux-destroying and Voldemort-vanquishing episodes? You don't need to go there, anyway, since I already know all about that,' said Dean with a grin.

Harry shrugged off his customary discomfort at the mention of his well-known achievements, something he could only do with his close friends, and replied jokingly, `Yeah, besides all that,' waving his hand dismissively.

`Actually, I know what you do,' said Dean, flashing a grin. `Seamus has told me - you work with the Ministry's Aurors, training them.'

`Well, training those in their first year, but with the more experienced Aurors, it's more like advising them. I picked up a bit of stuff during the “whole Horcrux-destroying and Voldemort-vanquishing episodes”. I do research into the Dark Arts too - there's as much to learn about that still as there is about normal magic.'

`Well, that leaves Ron - but I know what he does, too.' He turned to Hermione. `You said he's away with Seamus and Colin Creevey?'

Hermione explained what Ron, Seamus and Colin were doing, and Harry wondered if anyone else noticed the tinge of sadness in Hermione's eyes as she spoke; he was also relieved Dean didn't ask about Hermione and Ron's relationship, which he must have heard about from Seamus. Harry wasn't to know that Ginny had warned Dean earlier against asking too much about Ron for now, without going into details as to why.

`Sounds as though we've all ended up with jobs that seem to suit us really well,' said Dean.

`And living in a really great place,' said Neville, `with really great friends.'

`I'll drink to that,' said Dean, lifting his glass. Everyone joined in the impromptu toast.

Then Hermione stood up, her hand over her mouth, covering a yawn. `I've had a wonderful time, Dean, thank you, but I'm going to have to go, I'm afraid - I need to get to bed,' she said.

`Me too,' said Neville, standing up beside her. The unaccustomed irritability that seemed to have been his companion all night once more took hold of Harry as he watched Neville put a hand on Hermione's back in what, to Harry, appeared to be a possessive manner, telling her, `I'll walk you up.'

What? She can't walk up two flights of stairs on her own? he thought acidly, once again feeling inexplicably annoyed with Neville.

Ginny slid off her stool too, then, and Harry quickly rose to his feet. `I think we should all go,' she said. `We all have work tomorrow.'

`Don't worry about walking me up, Neville - I'll go with Harry and Ginny - thanks anyway.' Hermione smiled at Neville as she spoke and as he listened, Harry also smiled.

Dean followed them all to the door, thanking them for coming and they thanked him in return as they all agreed they should get together again soon.

*

`So, Ginny, what's going on at work? Why were you home early yesterday?' asked Hermione the next morning as they sat eating breakfast.

Ginny sighed as she finished buttering her toast. She looked up at Hermione, who was surprised to see sadness in her friend's eyes.

`I just had to get out of the place yesterday, so I left a little early. It's my boss,' she said, referring to Ida Wordsmith, the editor of Witch Weekly. `She's retiring. She announced it yesterday morning.'

Hermione frowned in puzzlement. `But what's wrong with that? It thought you and she got on really well.'

`Oh, we do!' cried Ginny. `She's been brilliant - I've learnt so much from her! It's her successor that's the problem.'

`I see, and who would that be?' asked Hermione, sure she already knew the answer.

`Oscar Blakely.'

`I was afraid of that,' murmured Hermione, knowing too well how often Ginny and Blakely clashed.

Ginny pushed her plate away, toast uneaten, and picked up her cup of tea, taking a sip.

`Ida wants me to stay -'

`Of course she does!' interjected Hermione.

`- but I don't think I could face having Blakely as my boss. Ida knows we don't see eye to eye, but of course neither of us has ever let on how bad it is. You're the only one who knows about that.'

Hermione was aware of this and had often encouraged Ginny to talk to Harry about it, but she firmly refused, saying she was sure it would only cause more problems if Harry knew. Hermione had assured her that Harry would stick up for her and Ginny had replied that that's exactly what she was afraid of and that she didn't need to have Harry turning up at work defending her. Hermione didn't believe Harry would go quite that far, but she'd never been able to convince Ginny otherwise.

`Do you know what you're going to do?' asked Hermione, her concern for her friend evident in her eyes.

Ginny shook her head. `I'm not sure. I guess I'll stick it out for now - see how it goes. Maybe Blakely will mellow a little now that he's the boss.'

`Let's hope so!' said Hermione fervently.

*

Hermione arrived home that evening to an empty flat, with the exception of Crookshanks. Since Ginny usually arrived home shortly after her, when she hadn't arrived by the time Hermione had finished putting together a chicken Caesar salad for dinner, she assumed Ginny was with Harry. After eating her light meal, Hermione curled up on the lounge with a cup of tea and her book, Crookshanks sleeping contentedly in his usual spot. Shortly after eight o'clock, Pigwidgeon flew out of the chimney, twittering with excitement as he made his way to his perch. Hermione smiled at the small owl as she stood up and made her way over to him, having noticed he had a scroll tied to his leg. Crookshanks stretched languidly, giving the little owl one disdainful glance before curling up and going back to sleep.

`Good work, little one,' Hermione said, as she stroked the small owl's head lightly after removing the scroll. She looked down at her name, scrawled on the outside, and felt a strange sensation in her stomach as she recognised Ron's writing. She put the unopened scroll on the table and went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine from the bottle they'd opened the previous night. Then she sat down at the table, staring at the scroll as she sipped the wine, feeling unsettled for some reason she couldn't - or perhaps, wouldn't - fathom.

Why on earth has Ron written to me? she wondered. He never normally writes, he usually Floos me at work.

`Only one way to find out,' she said to Crookshanks, who was sitting on the lounge watching his mistress as she unrolled the letter, her eyes moving intently back and forth across the parchment.

`Hermione?'

Harry had knocked, certain Hermione was home. When he'd received no answer, he'd tried the handle - when it opened he knew someone was home, and he'd put his head around the door.

`Hermione!' he repeated. Then he saw her, sitting at the kitchen table. He walked in and closed the door behind him before walking over to her.

`Hermione, are you all right?' he asked, her unnatural stillness telling him something was amiss.

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes clouded with that unfocused look which you see when someone's thoughts are far away.

Harry sat down next to her, taking the wine glass from her with his left hand and moving it away, his right hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

`Bad news?' he asked gently, indicating the parchment with a small inclination of his head.

Hermione gave him a half smile as she shook her head. `No, not bad news. Just - news…'

Giving her head a small shake, Hermione gave Harry a more normal smile. `Sorry, I was miles away.'

`I noticed,' grinned Harry, removing his hand. `You didn't even hear me knock!'

`It's a letter from Ron -'

`Letter? From Ron?' Harry couldn't have sounded more astonished.

Hermione chuckled. `I know, surprising, isn't it? He doesn't say a lot really, just that they're all having a marvellous time.'

`That's it?'

Hermione turned and looked down at the parchment again, her expression serious once more.

`Mostly. They're still in Falmouth, with the Falcons. And Luna's joined them.'

`Luna? Lovegood? Joined them? What d'you mean?'

Hermione's voice sounded distinctly tense as she replied, `Apparently her father's bidding against Wizarding World, trying to get them to sell their stories to The Quibbler instead. He's sent Luna to negotiate.'

`Oh.'

Hermione laughed, although it wasn't a happy sound. `Ironic, isn't it? I really don't care - but I'm just wondering what's going to happen. I mean, it's just so weird for Ron to write and I can't help but feel that it's because of Luna. It's as though he wants me to know that she's with them because - well, I'm not sure why, and I'm sure it's all unconscious on his part - and, well…' Hermione faltered, unable to find the rights words to express thoughts that were all over the place.

Harry leant forward and rested his arms on the table, his green eyes full of concern as he looked at Hermione, waiting until she lifted her eyes to his before he spoke.

`Hermione, whatever else Ron lacks, he's not going to run off with Luna when he thinks you two are still, well, together. However much he may unconsciously like Luna.'

Hermione gave another of those unhappy laughs, although there was dark amusement in her eyes. `Harry, you can always be trusted to say just the right thing!'

`Are you taking the mickey, Hermione?'

Hermione reached over and patted Harry's arm. `No, of course not. The thing is, what you said is absolutely right. The thing is -' Hermione repeated as she reached over and picked up the glass of wine and took a sip, then sighing before continuing, `- the thing is, I wonder whether I shouldn't tell him how I feel now. What if he and Luna -'

`Rubbish!' interrupted Harry. `After all this time, you deserve a proper, face-to-face discussion with Ron to clear the air before either of you goes haring off.'

`Haring off?' queried Hermione with an arched eyebrow and half smile.

`Well, you know, going out with someone else. Like Neville.' As those last two words left his mouth, Harry decided he was a total idiot with no control over his tongue and closed his eyes, dropping his head and groaning.

`Harry -'

`Don't say it! I know. I'm an idiot.'

`Harry -'

`Hermione, please! I'm displaying a perfect example of foot and mouth disease here!'

`Harry, I have no idea what you're talking about!' said Hermione, raising her voice, determined to get a word in.

Harry looked up to see Hermione's very exasperated and confused countenance looking back at him.

`Why on earth did you bring Neville into this?'

`Neville? Did I say Neville?' replied Harry, sounding desperate, a slightly ridiculous expression on his face.

Hermione took a deep breath as she rolled her eyes.

`Harry, what did you mean by that crack about me going out with Neville? What on earth are you talking about?'

Harry sat back, rubbing the heel of his palms into his eyes. Then he dropped his hands to his thighs and looked across at Hermione with what he hoped was sincerity in his expression.

`Nothing.'

Hermione simply sat back, crossed her arms and glared at him. That's when Harry knew he wouldn't escape without some sort of explanation.

`His name just, erm, popped into my head.' Yeah, right. As if she's going to believe that…

Hermione continued to sit and glare and Harry slumped in his seat. He knew when he was defeated.

Watching her cautiously, he said hesitantly, `So, uh, I take it you don't know that, uh, Neville, well, fancies you?'

`What?'

The expression on Hermione's face made Harry wish he was brave enough to laugh.

`Hermione, last night at Dean's I was sitting right where I could see Neville looking at you, and the way he was looking at you all night - well, I recognise that look. I know that look. I'm a man. He fancies you. And I was thinking that once he knows you and Ron are no longer a going concern he may even ask you out. Well, if he can work up the courage, that is. I know it's not the kind of thing you need to know, but it sorta slipped out. I'm sorry.'

Hermione looked shocked beyond belief. `Are you serious?' she demanded. `Are you sure? I can't believe it!'

`Is it so awful?' asked Harry, finding himself strangely hoping that she'd say “yes”, which he thought was a bit peculiar.

To his dismay, she frowned thoughtfully instead…

`To be truthful, I don't know,' she said softly. `I have truly never thought of Neville like that - I mean, you know, romantically. How… unexpected.' Hermione appeared lost for words.

Harry wondered briefly why this comment left him feeling distinctly peeved before he remembered that, as Hermione had pointed out, he had a serious hankering for things to “stay the same” - that he wanted the status quo to be maintained, namely their old foursome of Harry and Ginny and Hermione and Ron…

Harry swallowed with difficulty. If it turns out Hermione wants Neville, she should have him, he told himself. She deserves to be happy. Even if it is with Neville. Besides, what's wrong with Neville? Nothing! Who said anything was wrong with Neville? For crying out loud, Potter, get your head under control! Then, irrationally, It's all your fault, Ron!

`Did you really not notice?' asked Harry in an effort to distract himself from the unsettling thoughts crashing about in his head.

Hermione shook her head. `I really didn't. And I think it might be best for me to just ignore that for now, Harry. I have enough on my plate, as it is. By the way, where's Ginny? Isn't she with you?'

`No, that's why I came over, to see her. She's not here?'

Hermione shook her head again. `No, I thought she was with you.'

Just then, they heard the door open and as they both looked up, Ginny swept into the room, still with her summer travelling cloak on that she wore to and from work.

`There you are!' they cried simultaneously.

Ginny walked past them to the kitchen bench and put her handbag down, taking off her cloak as she said with an apologetic smile, `Sorry I'm late, but I worked late and when I arrived home I went for a walk down by the stream.'

`Long walk,' said Harry sardonically as he rose and walked over to hug Ginny.

Ginny smiled up at him. `I'm dying for a cuppa.'

`You sit down,' Harry told her, relinquishing his hold on her, `and I'll make it. I wouldn't mind one either. You, Hermione?'

`Yes, please. Ginny, what about some dinner?'

Ginny joined Hermione at the table. `I might get something a little later; I'm not really hungry right now. What's that?' she asked, indicating Ron's letter.

`A letter, from Ron,' replied Hermione.

`Can you believe it?' asked Harry as he spooned tea into the pot.

`Seriously?' asked Ginny, amazed, looking from Hermione to Harry and back again.

Hermione nodded. `Things are going great - he says they're having a terrific time. They're still in Falmouth. And Luna's joined them; her father sent her to negotiate with them - he wants to buy their stories for The Quibbler.'

Ginny stared at Hermione. `I'm not sure which is worse - the double dealing over the stories or the fact that Luna's with them.'

`Or which is weirder,' put in Harry. `I wouldn't've thought those stories'd be the usual Quibbler fare. And I just can't put Luna in the position of a negotiator.'

Hermione shrugged. `Honestly, Luna being there doesn't worry me. I said to Harry it may be that they're -'

`And I said rubbish!' Harry broke in. `I said she and Ron should have a face-to-face talk. What do you think, Ginny?'

`I agree,' said Ginny firmly. `Why don't you owl him back,' she said to Hermione, `and ask him when he can come home for a day or two? I think it's important you talk.'

Hermione sighed. `I know you're right. But it's just…'

`Hard. I know,' said Ginny sympathetically. `Oh, lovely, thanks Harry,' she finished as Harry placed the teapot on the table while the three cups and saucers and the milk and sugar which had been bobbing along beside him settled themselves onto the table.

Hermione poured them all some tea, saying, `Actually, I was going to say it's just easier to leave things as they are. But you're both right, so I'll do that. I'll write to Ron tomorrow and ask him to come home as soon as he can. The sooner we deal with this, the better.'

`Good, that's settled,' said Harry who then turned to Ginny. `So, why'd you go for a walk? Something wrong?' he asked her.

Ginny glanced at Hermione who suspected that the “something wrong” was Ginny's work situation. The look she gave Ginny made it clear she thought it was time she said something to Harry. When Ginny said, `I just wanted to clear some cobwebs,' Hermione felt like kicking her friend under the table.

`And I ran into Dean down there.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised looks.

`You didn't mention that before,' said Hermione, regaining her wits first.

Ginny shrugged. `It's no big thing. We just chatted about work.'

Hermione couldn't prevent the look of censure she shot at Ginny - for some reason she had a very strong feeling Ginny had discussed her problems at work with Dean and she didn't understand why. Harry saw the look and turned to Ginny.

`What's going on? What about work?' he asked her.

Ginny shot Hermione a pleading look, to no avail - Hermione remained silent, deciding it was high time Ginny spoke to Harry about this matter.

Ginny sighed. `You know,' she told Hermione softly, `it's not really very different from you wanting to let things go with Ron, because it's easier.'

Harry looked back and forth between them, frowning. `What are you two going on about it?' he demanded.

`Perhaps,' said Hermione to Ginny, `but I am dealing with it now, aren't I? On the advice of my friends. Very good advice, I might add.'

Ginny sighed again then gave her friend a small smile. `All right, you win. Now is probably a good time to talk to him.'

`I hope by “him” you mean me,' said Harry, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

Ginny nodded as she stood up and held out her hand to him. `Come on, Harry, let's go for a walk. There's something I want to tell you.'

TO BE CONTINUED…

See you next Thursday with the Third Interlude and Chapter Four!

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Author's Note

I'm just glad I said Thursday and meant Monday, rather than the other way around! *grins*

Thanks for all the reviews folks! “See” you next Thursday! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

THIRD INTERLUDE

The Dark One at last knew victory. Granted, it was only a small one, but a victory nevertheless. It had been able to use a dark wizard, for just an instant, but it had been long enough to cast a spell. A side effect of the contact with the dark wizard appeared to be ongoing, although somewhat intermittent, mental communication. The Dark One had also been able to rake through its victim's memories and store the information it found there.

All in all it had been a successful experiment and to celebrate its victory, the Dark One set upon a tribe of the wretched creatures that inhabited the forest of the realm with vicious joy; the howls and screams of agony gave the Dark One almost as much pleasure as had its victory…

*

CHAPTER FOUR

In which Hermione writes a letter, Ron comes home to see Hermione, Dean has a birthday party and Harry has a little trouble falling asleep…

Hermione said, `I told you so,' rather smugly over breakfast the next morning when Ginny admitted Harry had taken the news well about her problems with Ida Wordsmith's successor at work, showing no inclination to storm into the offices of Witch Weekly and hex him into next week as Ginny had always feared. Instead, he listened and sympathised, comforted her and made some suggestions, all in a very supportive manner. Ginny had been surprised though - she'd been sure Harry would have wanted to hex someone like Blakely. Perhaps it's just that he's more mature now, she told herself.

`Have you owled Ron yet?' Ginny asked Hermione before leaving a short while later.

Hermione shook her head. I'll write a letter tonight,' she replied. She then spent much of her day at work composing the letter in her mind. She didn't want to write something that demanded his return immediately, sounding as though there was an emergency. Yet to be fair, she felt she should give him some idea what it was about so that he'd have time to think things through himself. She smiled fondly as she thought of him. He's come a long way in the last couple of years from the days of having the emotional range of a teaspoon, she mused.

That evening, Ginny went over to Harry's, leaving Hermione to write her letter. When she finished, she sealed it and left it on the table, ready to be sent off with Pigwidgeon the next morning.

The next few weeks passed relatively peacefully. Pigwidgeon had returned two days after Hermione had sent him off with her letter, bringing back a short note from Ron that simply said he'd be Flooing home for a visit on the weekend of the fifth of July. This was a Saturday, and also happened to be Dean's birthday so he'd invited them all over to help him celebrate, an invitation they'd all happily accepted. Hermione realised she hadn't mentioned in her letter to Ron that Dean was now living at the Nook, so she quickly sent off a second, much shorter letter, to let him know and to tell him about the party. She didn't receive a reply to this, nor did she expect one, amused at the thought that Ron had probably reached his letter writing capacity for the year.

*

The morning of Dean's birthday dawned fine and clear. Harry had to unexpectedly go into work, as an Auror had been injured in the early hours of the morning. The spell that had hit him was unknown to the Healers attending to him, despite their being specialists in spells of the Dark Arts. Since Harry was the only other wizard available that might possibly recognise the spell, he'd received an urgent owl from the Head Healer asking for his help; Harry hadn't hesitated and had left shortly before midday.

After a light lunch, Hermione and Ginny made their way down to Dean's flat to help with his party preparations; Neville was already there, attempting to blow up balloons - except that each one he tried to inflate exploded. Doing her best not to laugh, Hermione took over, Neville bemoaning the fact that he couldn't get the hang of the balloon inflating spell.

`You can tie them up,' Hermione told him.

`I bloody well hope so!' exclaimed Neville, making everyone laugh.

As it turned out, Neville had no problems tying the balloons together and was even able to charm them into bunches and put them up all around the room.

Ginny and Dean had been busy preparing the food, and Dean had just suggested they break for a cup of tea when there was a knock at the door.

Hermione immediately felt her stomach swiftly and painfully contract; she was sure it had to be Ron.

It was, and when Dean opened the door the two former schoolmates greeted each other warmly. Ginny rushed over and gave her brother a longer than usual hug, Neville calling out a greeting from across the room.

Ron's eyes had sought and found Hermione the instant Dean had opened the door and now he crossed to where she was standing near the fire place, balloons and other party paraphernalia littering the old trunk that was Dean's coffee table. Hermione slipped her wand into its pocket on the side of her jeans and smiled uncertainly at Ron. He held out as his hand to her and flashed her a reassuring smile before he turned and asked Dean, `Can you spare her for a little while?'

`Take all the time you like,' he assured them.

`I'll finish the balloons, don't worry,' Ginny said before making shooing motions at them reminiscent of her mother.

`Let's go for a walk by the stream,' suggested Hermione as they left, her hand in Ron's; she felt strangely nervous in his company, a peculiar sensation she'd never before experienced.

`Good idea,' Ron replied. `We'll be back,' he called out as they left, waving over his shoulder.

*

As she and Ron walked out the front door and down the steps, turning right to head across the garden towards the archway in the hedge, Hermione found herself sighing with relief.

Ron chuckled knowingly. `We managed to make it without bumping into Esmerelda,' he said, giving her hand a squeeze. With that, Hermione felt the unaccustomed nervousness leave her and she smiled up at Ron as she nodded.

As they reached the archway, Ron paused to let her go first and Hermione stepped through, stopping and wrapping her arms around herself as she closed her eyes, her head dropping back a touch as she breathed in the scents floating on the warm summer air. Ron followed and stood closely behind her, lifting his hands to rest on her shoulders. Hermione instinctively leant back against him and tilted her head slightly to the right as Ron dropped his head to rest his temple against hers, his eyes also closed. It was a few moments filled with many things, but mostly a wistful sadness for the passing of something that had once meant so much. Without moving or opening her eyes, Hermione said softly, `You know, I was in the common room that night last Christmas - on the couch.' She felt Ron stiffen and knew that without further explanation from her, he was aware of which night she was referring to.

Hermione continued. `I'd gone for a walk and I was standing by the fireplace just reminiscing when I heard someone laughing and talking just outside the entrance. I recognised your voice. I suppose it was because I was so surprised that I just dropped down onto the couch.' She felt Ron's hands tighten a little on her shoulders. `Then you came in with Luna and - well, you know the rest.'

`You never said anything.' Ron's voice was low, but held no accusation.

`Neither did you.'

Hermione turned around and looked up at him, her arms still wrapped around herself. Ron settled his hands onto her shoulders again as he gazed down at her.

`Why?' he whispered.

`Why what?' she asked softly.

Ron shrugged. `Why everything I guess. Why did you hide on the couch? Why didn't either of us say anything to the other about it?'

`For my part I felt rather foolish hiding there and the longer I stayed hidden, the more embarrassing it would've been to make myself known. So I didn't. And then later, well, I realised I was actually waiting for you to bring it up, only you didn't.' Hermione dropped her gaze as she paused and took a deep breath. `But do you know, there was one thing I didn't realise about that night until a few weeks ago. Something I should've picked up on - except that I was too busy not thinking about it all.'

`What did you realise?'

`I didn't feel any jealousy. Not even the tiniest bit.'

`I see,' said Ron quietly, as he took his hands off her shoulders and pushed them into his jeans pockets. He looked up, his eyes following a flock of birds just visible through the trees as they flew effortlessly across the sky. `You know, I did wonder why I never told you. I mean, I told myself it's not as though we really did anything wrong, did we? But I've come to realise something that I've been doing my damndest not to think about.' Ron sighed. `After that night in the common room, Luna seemed to be constantly on my mind. And that made me feel guilty. And once I felt like that, I couldn't bring myself to tell you about it. It's a bit confusing, really.'

`Come on,' said Hermione, `let's go and sit down.' They walked the short distance to the old wooden bench overlooking the stream. It was close to one of the old trees along the stream's bank, sitting under a canopy of the willow's long, gently wafting fronds. They sat down a little apart, Ron resting his right arm along the back of the bench, his fingers almost touching Hermione's hair.

Ron took a deep breath before speaking. `You said in your letter you thought things had changed between us,' he stated quietly. `You said you didn't think we felt about each other the way we always believed we had and that we just hadn't realised it.'

Hermione looked thoughtfully down into the clear water of the stream, watching a small insect hovering just above its own reflection on the surface as she said, `I supposed I shouldn't have assumed you felt the same and yet, when I look back, I think you did. For some reason, that night at Hogwarts seems to have marked some sort of turning point. Have you noticed that since then, since Christmas, we haven't been together as much?'

Ron nodded. `I did notice but I didn't worry about it. I suppose I just told myself it was because we were both so busy. I know one thing, though.'

Hermione lifted her gaze once more to meet Ron's. `What's that?' she asked.

`Since I got your letter, the one thing I've been thinking about is my feelings for you. It was hard after reading your letter, because whether or not you realise it, you basically said in so many words that you were no longer in love with me.'

Hermione winced, closing her eyes. It's true, she thought. Even without the actual words it would've been clear from what I wrote - how I wrote it. She opened her eyes to find Ron watching her, his eyes sad, but not desolate. Hermione waited, not speaking, knowing somehow that Ron hadn't finished.

`I think that's when I finally admitted to myself I wasn't in love with you any longer, either.'

Despite feeling certain of it for sometime now, to hear Ron actually say it still sent a spear of pain shooting through her. Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded in acknowledgement, then she felt his fingers drift into her hair, stroking it in an unconscious gesture of comfort.

`But I still love you,' he said gently. `I've always loved you - always will.'

`Not always,' she said, smiling at him, her unshed tears still glistening in her eyes. `Not before that business with the troll.'

Ron chuckled. `Right as usual,' he told her.

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes as she smiled across at him. `You're always accusing me of that.'

`With good reason! And not an accusation, just a fact,' he replied with a gentle smile. He seemed to notice his hand in her hair then and withdrew it. `Sorry, didn't even realise I was doing that,' he told her.

`No need to be sorry,' Hermione replied. `You know, I think we're going to be much better off as friends.'

`See? Right again.'

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled at him. `Will it be strange? Being around each other but not being, well, with each other?'

Ron shrugged. `Maybe. We'll find out. We've been slowly moving back to that anyway without realising it till now. What is strange is how easy this has been - I was so tense about seeing you today and talking to you, and yet it's just all…'

`Fallen into place?' Hermione offered.

`Yeah,' agreed Ron. `We really have just been coasting along, haven't we? And we sort of slowly lost whatever it was we had on the way.'

`You could say we devolved,' said Hermione.

`We what?' queried Ron.

`Well, instead of our relationship e-volving, it's been gradually de-volving.'

Ron grinned as he shook his head in amused wonder. `What is it with you and words? But I suppose you could say that's it in a nutshell.'

`So, tell me about Luna.'

Ron quickly averted his gaze, his expression suddenly serious. Hermione reached out and put her hand on top of Ron's where it was now resting on the bench between them, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

`Please tell me. We are still friends, remember? We've been friends half our lives - and we trust each other.'

Ron looked down at their hands, turning his over and clasping Hermione's as he looked at her once more.

`We got an owl from her the day before she arrived. She'd booked a room in the same hotel and we all got together for lunch the day she came.' Ron paused, remembering how the arrival of that owl had set him to remembering the night at Hogwarts - remembering how she'd kissed him. `I didn't let myself think about her except as someone who was there on business. After lunch, Seamus and Colin wanted to see some action movie, but Luna doesn't much like violence or movies, so I said I'd take her to see the sights and we arranged to all meet back at the hotel restaurant for dinner.'

Hermione smiled at him, eyebrow raised. `While still not thinking about her?'

Ron looked away for a second, embarrassed. `Well, it was all a bit weird. I mean, before that night at Hogwarts I hadn't seen her since the end of the war. I'd come to like her by then, but that was years ago and I never really thought about her. Then after that night at Hogwarts - she kept popping into my head, but I never worked on figuring out why. It was a pretty confusing afternoon, let me tell you! I mean there was you - and, well, I just tried to ignore everything to do with Luna.'

`I wish we'd had this talk before she turned up - it'd probably have been a very different afternoon. But you know, I appreciate your honesty,' Hermione told him, `and your fidelity. At least now you can follow your heart.'

The look he gave her held both gratitude and admiration. `And what about you? Anyone you're not thinking about?'

Hermione shook her head and laughed. `Do you know, I haven't felt this good for a while. I think it's because everything's all right between us again - I think we were seeing less of each other because the way we thought we had to be when we were together wasn't real, only we hadn't realised it.' Hermione paused and laughed at the look of confusion on Ron's face as he tried to work out what it was she'd actually said. `But some part of us knew, and that's what made us start avoiding each other.'

Ron's confused expression became thoughtful as he looked at her. Then he grinned. `Damned if you're not right again!' Then they both laughed before Ron took a deep breath to steady his voice. `And I haven't felt this relaxed and easygoing with you for a long time, either. It does feel great, doesn't it?'

`Absolutely!' replied Hermione. `Now, back to Luna if you please.'

Ron rolled his eyes. `Nothing more to tell. Yet. I mean, anything to do with her has been on hold because - well, because of us. Anyway, we spent that afternoon knocking around the harbour and the shops -'

`You are kidding, aren't you?' interjected Hermione, her eyes wide with surprise. `You? Shopping?'

Ron gave her an embarrassed grin. `Being polite.'

Hermione made a noise which clearly indicated her amused disbelief.

`It wasn't too bad since Luna is, well, she's rather interesting and, well, the time just flew. Before we knew it, it was time to head back to the hotel.'

`Anything happen with the negotiations for the stories?'

Ron shook his head. `She's given us the offer from her dad, in writing, and we're still going over it. We don't really know why he'd want our stuff since it's not the kind of thing you usually read in The Quibbler.'

`Exactly what Harry said. So when do you have to let them know?'

`This coming Monday, actually. Also the day we're leaving for Caerphilly, too.'

`What do you think about it? The offer from The Quibbler I mean.'

`To be honest, I think we should stick with the World. They made the original offer to Seamus and he accepted. That should be the end of it.'

`Why do you think he's even entertaining the idea of switching to The Quibbler?'

Ron shrugged. `Bit of a mystery to me. Seamus is an honourable bloke and I wouldn't've thought he'd consider such a deal. He reckons we might be able to bump up the amount the World is paying and yet he seems perfectly happy with the current arrangement. I reckon there's something he's not telling me.'

`You'll have to let me know what happens,' said Hermione, `I'm really curious about the outcome.'

`What? Write? Again?' Ron cast her a mock scandalised look and Hermione laughed, playfully swiping his arm.

`Yes, write, again, Ronald Weasley! It won't kill you!'

`Says you!'

`I thought I could hear voices. What won't kill you?'

Hermione and Ron both turned, matching looks of surprise on their faces.

`Harry!' they chorused.

`The one and only,' joked Harry, reaching the bench and leaning down to rest his arms along the back, looking from one to the other. `So, what's this about killing?'

`Hermione wants me to write to her again, can you believe it?' said Ron, shaking his head in pretended disgust.

Harry laughed. `That would just about kill you, I reckon,' he said.

`Then it can be his last living act,' said Hermione, crossing her arms as she tried to glare at Ron.

They all laughed then and when their laughter died away, they looked at each other and Hermione said softly as she took one of their hands in her own, `Just the three of us. It's been a while, hasn't it?' As they looked at each other once more, it became a moment of reaffirmation of the profound and powerful bond between them, the very bond that had been at the core of Voldemort's downfall. For a minute they simply gazed at each other, then as the sense of being connected slowly receded, Hermione released their hands and they smiled at one another.

Harry broke the silence, asking, `So, how're things with you two?'

`Bloody brilliant!' said Ron, making Hermione laugh.

`We're back to being friends again,' she told Harry.

A puzzled frown creased Harry's brow as he looked from one to the other.

`Neither of us is in love with the other,' explained Hermione succinctly. `So we're just friends.'

`The best of friends,' added Ron.

`Are you sure?' asked Harry. `I mean -' he hesitated, unsure of exactly what it was he wanted to say.

Ron and Hermione both nodded. `Our relationship has been devolving for some time now, as Hermione put it,' said Ron.

`And now we're back to being friends and we're both much happier,' added Hermione.

Harry straightened and crossed his arms as he smiled down at them. `Well, the pair of you certainly look happy enough so I guess I'll have to be happy too!'

Ron stood up, holding out his hand to Hermione and helping her to her feet. `And now that we're all happy,' said Ron, `I'll have to go. I need to talk to Seamus about this whole World versus Quibbler thing. He's gotta write to Luna's dad tomorrow at the latest so he can send it off on Monday.'

The three of them headed back inside, going up to Dean's flat so that Ron could say goodbye. Hermione walked in first and Ginny immediately shot her a questioning look. Hermione mouthed “later” and Ginny rolled her eyes, but smiled, standing up and moving over to Harry when she spotted him. Dean, Neville and Ginny had been sitting at Dean's old and rather battered square table having a cup of tea and Dean and Neville stood as everyone came in, Dean asking Ron if he was able to stay for the party that night.

`'Fraid not,' Ron told him as he walked towards him. `I really need to get back to Tutshill.'

Dean held out his hand to Ron, who took it, and as they shook, Ron wished him all the best for his birthday. He then shook hands with Neville and Harry and gave Ginny a hug.

`You all right?' she whispered as Neville and Harry moved away to join Dean and Hermione at the table

`Never better,' Ron said, smiling down at her.

`Thank goodness!' she exclaimed softly. `I was so worried!'

`Worry no more little sister; Hermione and I are fine friends once again.'

`Friends?'

`Yep. No more of this boyfriend and girlfriend nonsense for us,' he said, pulling a goofy face and making Ginny laugh. `We're friends with a capital “f”!'

`And you're both really all right?'

Ron because serious. `We're really all right, Ginny, I promise. Relieved, more like it. Listen, would you do me a favour?'

Ginny sighed as she slipped her arm through her brother's. `What's that, big brother?'

`Owl Mum for me and tell her about me and Hermione, would you? She'd want to know and I'm just no good at writing, especially about that sort of thing.'

`Well, you're actually right about that,' said Ginny, patting his arm sympathetically with her free hand, `so I'll take pity and write for you.'

Ron dropped a kiss on the top of her head. `Thanks, I really appreciate it,' he told her.

Hermione glanced over at Ron and Ginny and smiled fondly at them. `I'll go and see Ron off,' she said to the others at the table and stood, walking over to them. She told Ron she'd walk with him down to the fireplace, and so Ginny gave him a last hug goodbye before Ron slung his arm across Hermione's shoulders as they left, giving everyone one last wave over his shoulder.

When they reached the fireplace, Frewin, the Nook's owl, opened one eye to peer at them sleepily then closed it again, satisfied all was well. They stood facing each other, their hands loosely clasped between them.

Ron spoke first. `I guess this is sort of goodbye and hello. And goodbye.'

Hermione's eyes widened as she gave a short laugh. `What on earth are you talking about?' she asked.

Ron's smile revealed how pleased with himself he was. `Well, it's goodbye to the old us, the couple, and hello to the new us - the old friends. And it's goodbye again, 'cause I'm going!'

Hermione shook her head as she laughed, momentarily lost for words.

`You have fun at Dean's tonight, okay?' said Ron.

Hermione nodded. `I will. And good luck with Seamus - and don't forget to let me know what happens!'

`Forget? I wouldn't dare,' joked Ron. He bent down and kissed Hermione's cheek. `It is really a bit strange y'know,' he commented, `a year ago I wouldn't've been able to keep my hands off you!'

`A year ago I wouldn't've wanted you to!' laughed Hermione.

Ron let go of her hands and wrapped his arms around her, Hermione laying her head on his chest as her arms went around his waist.

`You look after yourself, and be happy,' he told her, his voice serious once more.

`I will. And you do the same,' she murmured back.

Ron released her before stepping closer to the fireplace; he took a soft pouch from his shirt pocket and extracted a pinch of Floo Powder from it, which he cast into the fireplace, saying “Tutshill Arms!' in a loud, clear voice, after which he quickly stepped into the green flames and disappeared.

Two minutes later, Hermione walked back into Dean's flat and Ginny almost pounced on her, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the couch.

`You have to tell me everything,' she demanded.

`Yes sir!' said Hermione, laughing as they sat down.

Neville watched the two girls as they talked intently, red hair and brown hair almost touching. He was sitting with Dean and Harry at the table, a cold butterbeer in front of each of them. Then he turned to Harry to ask, `So, Harry, what's going on with Hermione and Ron? Ginny was telling us Ron came to see Hermione 'cause they were having problems but she wouldn't say what. Are they okay?'

`I was wondering, too,' put in Dean.

`They're fine, honestly. They're back to being friends again as they put it - not a couple any longer.' Because he was watching for it, Harry saw the fleeting look of surprise and anticipation in Neville's eyes before he turned away. I wonder whether he'll start making a move on Hermione tonight at the party? Harry wondered. I hope not, I think Hermione needs a little time to herself, even though she and Ron are okay…

*

`How did you go with that Auror this afternoon?' Hermione asked Harry that night, raising her voice slightly to compensate for the music coming from Dean's sound system. They were standing in the kitchen, Harry pouring a glass of champagne for her.

Harry handed her the glass and while he put the bottle back into the fridge, he said, `Not too well. He's still unconscious - it's not a spell anyone's seen the likes of before.'

Hermione watched as Harry turned back to the bench and poured himself a glass of Ogden's.

`Do you think it's a new spell then, or an old one?' she asked, sipping her drink.

Harry had picked up his glass as she spoke, but his hand froze halfway to his mouth and he stood stock-still for an instant, his green eyes staring at her.

`What's wrong?' asked Hermione, perplexed.

Harry took a mouthful of his drink then said, `We pretty much keep up to date with new spells - I mean it's usually easy enough to see the direction new types of spells are going to take as they're developed and we can anticipate it. But old - we never thought of it being an old spell. The wizard we suspect of casting the spell has never used anything old before.'

`Do you have someone who specialises in old spells and charms?' asked Hermione.

`Yeah, an old wizard - not meaning to be funny,' smiled Harry. `I'll owl him first thing Monday morning. At least I know Cleaver - the Auror - is stable for the time being.'

`What are you two having a deep and meaningful about?' asked Neville, as he walked over to the bench behind Harry to pour himself another drink.

`Just work,' said Harry, moving a little to give Neville more elbow room. He felt a sudden urge for a bit of “Hermione-teasing” and grinned wickedly as he winked at her, saying nonchalantly, `I'll leave you two alone - together - I'm off to find Ginny.'

It was then that Hermione remembered what Harry had told her about Neville and as the memory washed over her, she felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. She glared ferociously at Harry, who simply waggled his eyebrows at her as he took a few backwards steps out of the kitchen before turning and walking off. He didn't get too far though, Dean calling him over and introducing him to Andy, his younger brother, and Alyssa, his brother's girlfriend. Harry found he was positioned in the small circle so that he could see Neville and Hermione and had to keep pulling his attention away from the couple in the kitchen.

Neville turned and leant back against the bench, either not knowing Harry's remark held a double meaning or simply choosing to ignore it. `So, Harry was telling us that you and Ron are no more,' he said. `Sorry to hear that, Hermione. Are you all right?'

Hermione nodded as she took a large gulp of her cold champagne to cover her embarrassment. For heaven's sake, Hermione, she told herself crossly, Harry may be totally wrong about Neville - just relax!

Looking up at Neville, Hermione managed a smile and was relieved to see simple concern in the hazel eyes gazing down at her. What she didn't see when she glanced away was the look of longing that filled his eyes as they rested on her.

Hermione's gaze had settled momentarily on Harry as Dean made introductions, then she drew her attention back to Neville. `I really am, you know - all right, that is. It was a great relief to talk to Ron today and we managed to sort everything out. We're both much happier now - and relieved, too.'

`Good, I'm glad to hear it, Hermione,' Neville replied, holding his glass out in a silent toast. Hermione touched her glass to his and smiled. `Thanks,' she said softly, unaware that Harry was watching at that moment, a frown creasing his brow as he wished he hadn't left Hermione alone with Neville.

`Ah ha! Seamus, mate, you made it!' came Dean's voice across the room as Seamus Finnigan came bouncing through the front door.

`As if I'd miss me best mate's birthday party, now!' cried Seamus, taking Dean's hand to shake it, his free hand pounding his friend's back.

`Glad you could tear yourself away,' laughed Dean. `Come on, I'll get you a drink.'

Everyone greeted Seamus as he and Dean moved towards the kitchen. Harry shook his hand and Ginny gave him a hug, while Dean brought over Andy and Alyssa to be introduced. When they reached the kitchen, Neville, who towered over his former schoolmate, shook his hand and Hermione gave him a warm hug.

`How's it going with the trip?' Neville asked him, as Dean twisted the top off a bottle of Butterbeer, which he then handed to Seamus.

`Just great,' grinned Seamus before taking a good swig of his drink.

Hermione was a little confused. `Ron said you and he had to talk about the offer from The Quibbler,' she asked, her confusion evident on her face.

`And we were going to,' Seamus told her, `but Luna turned up again this evening, unexpectedly, so that was that. Now we're talking about it tomorrow. But I think we'll stay with the World.'

Hermione frowned, perplexed. `Did you ever seriously consider the offer from The Quibbler?' she asked.

`Oh yes,' nodded Seamus, although Hermione wasn't totally convinced. `But I don't think it'd be right, after all. Luna won't mind. I think she seems more interested in Ron than buying stories.' He shot Hermione a cautious glance as if unsure what her reaction to this would be.

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. Her head was still full of the confusion she felt about the whole situation with the two publications.

`Don't worry yourself about it,' Seamus advised, `it's all settled now anyway. Right, I'm off to mingle,' he finished, giving her a quick wink and a smile.

`What was that all about?' asked Neville, so Hermione filled him in. Retelling the story still didn't clear up her confusion and she made a mental note to ask Ron about it next time she had the chance to speak to him.

As Hermione finished, the music stopped and Ginny joined them in the kitchen. `Time for the birthday cake,' she announced, making her shooing motions again. `Everyone needs to be around the other side of the bench.'

Harry glanced over at that moment and saw Neville once again put his hand on Hermione's back as they moved out of the kitchen. He saw the thoughtful look on Hermione's face as she glanced up at Neville and he once again mentally kicked himself for telling her about Neville's feelings. She'd never have given him a second thought if I hadn't told her that, he decided. He was distracted then as Ginny called out to Dean to come into the kitchen; she'd placed his birthday cake on a stand on the bench, lighting the candles with a wave of her wand and then joining Harry and the others to sing “Happy Birthday” and watch Dean blow out his candles and cut the cake. Dean then opened his presents, particularly pleased with the poster of his favourite Muggle football team, West Ham, which Hermione had charmed so that it looked like a normal wizarding picture with the players jostling each other and waving at Dean.

Ginny took it on herself to cut up the cake and pass it around, and while she was doing that, Hermione chatted to Andy and Alyssa to whom she'd been introduced earlier.

`Dean tells me this was your last year at Hogwarts, so you must've just finished your NEWTs,' she said to Andy.

Andy nodded. `I'm afraid so,' he said with a crooked grin. He was a little taller than Dean, with whom he'd always been very close, although Andy wasn't, to Hermione's eyes, quite as handsome as his older brother. `And now I just have the nerve-wracking wait for the results.'

`You'll do brilliantly,' said Alyssa, a tall, slender witch with long, dark brown hair and beautiful sea green eyes, `and it's so nice now because we can see each other every weekend,' she finished with a brilliant smile for Andy.

Andy returned the smile and nodded. `With me at Hogwarts and Alyssa at St Mungo's as a Trainee Healer for the past year, we haven't seen as much of each other as we'd like to.' He and Alyssa had met at Hogwarts, but since Alyssa was in the year above him, she'd finished school the previous year.

`What are you going to do now you've finished Hogwarts?' Hermione asked Andy.

`Transfiguror.'

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. `That's not easy work,' she commented, referring to the task of Transfiguring old or obsolete objects into new, useful things - rather like Muggle recycling - as well as returning Transfigured items to their original state; it was highly regarded work as not many wizards or witches had the necessary level of talent for the volume and range of Transfiguration required. `You must be one of Professor McGonagall's prize students!'

Andy looked a little embarrassed, but grinned at her. `I really love Transfiguration,' he told her.

`And he's unbelievably good at it, too,' said Alyssa proudly, smiling up at him. Andy put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him.

`Thanks, sweetheart,' he said. `And you are going to be the best Healer to ever come out of St Mungo's.'

Hermione smiled fondly at them, thinking how lovely it was to see two people so obviously in love with each other.

The clock on Dean's mantel called out `Half ten!' in its characteristic high-pitched voice and Andy groaned. `Time for us to go! Alyssa has to be home before eleven and Mum'll be getting me up early to help with Dean's family party at home tomorrow.' The pair said goodbye to Hermione and to everyone else and ten minutes later saw them heading downstairs to Floo to their respective destinations. Seamus left half an hour after Andy and Alyssa, and when Dean announced that he needed to get to bed just before midnight, everyone began to help tidy up.

Ginny and Hermione had volunteered for kitchen duty and so they were in the kitchen with their wands, overseeing the dishes and glasses as they washed and dried themselves. Dean was reading out to Harry and Neville from an article in Dean's copy of Wizarding World about the upcoming series on each of the British teams and their chances of making it to the World Cup. `An exciting series of articles on each of the British Quidditch teams as they vie for the honour of representing Great Britain in the Quidditch World Cup next year,' read Dean. `The series will be written by Seamus Finnigan, the bright, young sportswriter making his mark in the world of Quidditch and with photography by none other than the award-winning Colin Creevey. There is also the added bonus of input by one of England's top young Quidditch commentators, Ron Weasley, who of course is just as famous for being a third of the legendary Trio, along with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger - They-Who-Defeated-Voldemort!'

`Dean's going to his parents' for the day tomorrow - his Mum's having a family party for him,' Ginny told Hermione by way of explanation for the early finish.

`That's really nice,' Hermione commented. `And there are enough of them to make a party on their own!'

`Bit like us Weasleys,' giggled Ginny.

As the last of the glasses settled itself neatly in the cupboard, Ginny and Hermione joined the three men to see what they were looking at.

Ginny groaned. `Quidditch! I should've known!'

Dean gave her a playful poke in the side. `I thought you loved Quidditch,' he said with a raised eyebrow.

`I do! But I'd much rather watch it - or even play it - than just read about it!'

`You can never have too much Quidditch,' said Harry, grinning.

`Come on, you lot,' said Neville. `We'd better get going so Dean can get his beauty sleep.'

After bidding Dean good night and wishing him happy birthday one last time, everyone made their way to the front door. As they stood in the hallway outside Dean's flat, Neville said, `I'm not terribly tired yet.' He turned to Hermione. `Hermione, would you like to go for a walk with me?' he asked her. `It's a beautiful night.'

Hermione stared at Neville, wide-eyed with surprise. Ginny gasped silently and looked at Harry. Harry was staring at Neville. At least he looks like Neville, he thought, bemused.

Neville looked around at Ginny and Harry. `You could come too, if you like,' he said, trying hard to mask the reluctance in his voice.

Hermione blinked once - then she looked across at Harry; she had the irrational thought that this was somehow his fault. Ginny and Harry were looking at each other, neither sure of what to say.

`What's wrong with everyone?' asked Neville, looking around at them, puzzled.

`Nothing!' the three of them chorused, all their eyes now on Neville.

More to dispel the unexpected awkwardness of the moment than anything else, Hermione said, `I'd love to go for a walk.' She hooked her arm through Neville's. `Let's go. I'm sure Ginny and Harry would rather be alone.'

Harry's mouth dropped open as he stared at Hermione, making a strangled sound which caused Ginny to elbow him in the side. He looked down at her. `What?' he mouthed and in reply, green eyes wide behind his glasses; Ginny put her finger to her lips.

Neville was beaming as he nodded goodnight to Ginny and Harry, then he and Hermione headed for the stairs. Ginny and Harry watched them silently until they were out of sight.

`What the hell was that all about?' asked Ginny, astonished.

`Neville fancies Hermione,' Harry stated flatly, still staring at the stairs down which they'd disappeared.

`Well, that explains Neville asking, but not Hermione accepting. She would've told me if she was interested in Neville,' said Ginny, frowning.

`I didn't think he'd work up the courage to do something like that,' said Harry, still dazed.

`People can be surprisingly brave when it comes to something they want really badly,' said Ginny. `Come on, let's go upstairs. I'll make us some coffee.'

Harry turned and followed Ginny up the stairs to her flat, his mind churning the whole time.

He did it! He asked her out! Well, for a walk. And so soon! Why did she go? Surely she can't be developing feelings for him. Could she? Hermione and Neville? Merlin's beard!

Harry blinked and found himself sitting at the kitchen table, Ginny chattering away as she made coffee; he wasn't really listening to her, still caught up in his own thoughts.

Why does it bother me? Hermione and Ron never bothered me. Or did they? Actually, I did wonder at times what on earth they saw in each other. Hermione hasn't been fussed about Quidditch since Hogwarts - Ron's never been into reading - the one thing they've always had in common is their ability to argue over just about anything… although at least they finally stopped all that bloody arguing. When was that? About a year ago? Come to think of it, maybe that's when they started, erm, what did Hermione call it? Oh yeah - devolving. Harry shook his head - the thoughts buzzing around inside it felt like a cloud of flies that were becoming increasingly annoying and he wanted to swat them all away. I don't want to think about it anymore, damn it! I've spent the last few weeks getting my head around the change with Ron and Hermione and now this! Bloody Neville! Why couldn't he have waited before doing this?

`Harry!' Ginny sounded very exasperated. `You haven't heard a word I've said!'

Harry looked at Ginny, now sitting beside him; there was a cup of steaming coffee in front of both of them.

`Sorry,' he mumbled, `I think I'm in shock.' He picked up his cup, blowing gently across the surface to cool the hot liquid.

`Over what?'

`Everything, I suppose. The last few weeks have been - well, hard work for -' Harry tapped his temple with his finger.

Ginny rolled her eyes, then smiled indulgently at him. `Men! You can't handle too many different emotions at once, can you?'

Harry scowled at her. `It's not that,' he said tersely, `it's just -' he stopped, groping for the words to describe what he was feeling but unable to find them. He ran his fingers through his hair impatiently. `I'm too tired to think properly.'

`I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be flippant,' said Ginny softly, gazing at him with concern. `You should get to bed and you can enjoy a good sleep in tomorrow since it's Sunday.'

Harry pushed his coffee aside and stood up. `I'm sorry, Ginny - I'm not being much fun for a Saturday night, am I? I'm just feeling a little out of sorts. Probably that business at work today. I think I will go to bed if you don't mind.' He leant down, absentmindedly slipping one hand behind around her neck before kissing her gently. `I'll see you tomorrow,' he said with a half smile.

But sleep seemed determined to elude him as he lay in bed. It was only when he heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs, hushed voices followed by the opening and closing of the door across the hall and then a single set of footsteps going back downstairs, that he realised he'd been unconsciously waiting for just those sounds; he did wonder why as he drifted off to sleep, but if there was an answer, it was lost to his dreams…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Author's Note

Hi everyone! Well, this is the last chapter I'll be posting before Book 7 - I'm excited, anxious and nervous all at once!

This chapter has a lovely, sweet Harry/Hermione scene at the Burrow - I hope you all enjoy it! There won't be any more Interludes for a little while, but since I finished the Seventh Interlude only the other day, there are still plenty more to come!

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER FIVE

In which a wonderful lunch is enjoyed at the Burrow, Hermione cheers Harry up, Ginny tells her parents about Ron and Hermione and Fred and George declare their innocence against charges of intended pudding thievery…

Harry woke slowly the next morning knowing he'd had a good sleep because he felt totally refreshed. And because his bedside clock read just after ten a.m. Now that's a sleep in, he thought, grinning, as he stretched.

Then he remembered Neville and Hermione had gone for a walk the previous night. He groaned and for some reason, it took the shine off his morning. Bloody hell! Not again! he thought. I don't care about Neville and Hermione! I don't care about whether all they did was walk or - or whatever… It must be my saving people thing as Hermione calls it. It's kicking in because - because I want to save her. From what? Making another mistake? That's it - she could be doing this on the rebound and that's always a mistake I've heard. Even though Hermione's smart enough to realise that before things go too far…

Happy with this explanation, Harry quickly left his bed and had a shower before walking across the hall, knowing Esmerelda wouldn't be out and about since it was Sunday so he didn't need to Floo.

Harry also knew the door would be open because Hermione and Ginny would be up by now, so he knocked, then turned the handle and stepped inside.

He looked from the kitchen to the other end of the living room - no one. No Ginny sitting at the table with a cuppa and a magazine, no Hermione on the couch, reading, Crookshanks curled up beside her.

`Hello?' he called tentatively, wondering where they were.

`Harry?' Ginny's voice came from down the hall to his left, from the direction of her room. `I'll be out in a minute!'

Harry called out an acknowledgement, then headed for the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Hermione must still be in bed, he thought, surprised, as he pulled mugs and sugar from the cupboard.

Five minutes later Ginny joined him at the kitchen bench, her hair still damp from the shower. Settling herself on the stool beside Harry, Ginny smiled at him and he leant across and kissed her lightly.

`Morning pretty lady,' he said, smiling. `So, what shall we do today?'

`Would you mind if we visited Mum and Dad? I'm afraid I've been neglecting them - I haven't been to see them since Fred and George's birthday and Mum's always reminding me that owls just aren't a good substitute for a visit.'

`Mind? Having one of your mum's Sunday lunches out in the garden? Never!'

Ginny smiled happily as she jumped up and walked around into the kitchen, pulling out a drawer. `Great! I'll just send Pigwidgeon off with a note for Mum to let her know; she'll be really pleased.'

`What about Hermione? She'll want to come, too, won't she?' asked Harry, his elbow resting on the bench, his mug of tea in his raised hand.

`Not sure - she and Neville left a little while ago. He took her off to some new wizard café for morning tea.'

Harry was struck dumb and almost dropped his mug.

Ginny rummaged in the drawer for some parchment and a quill, saying as she did so, `I'll tell Mum there's a chance Hermione will be coming too, though.' Harry heard the familiar sound of quill on parchment.

`And I suppose we should ask Neville, too, what d'you think?' It took a few seconds for the question to register. Harry blinked rapidly a few times before focusing on the top of Ginny's bent head - she was still writing.

`What did you say?' he asked, his luckily half-empty mug of tea hanging at an angle from his hand.

`Neville - we should ask him too, don't you think?'

`Neville. Yes. Neville, too.'

While Ginny finished writing to her mother, Harry sat, stunned, his tea ignored.

Morning tea? Why the hell are they having morning tea together? Why the hell am I so shocked? What in Hades is Neville doing? What is Hermione doing? What am I doing?! He groaned, causing Ginny to glance up at him as she finished folding her letter.

`What's wrong?' she asked, walking over to Pigwidgeon who began hooting wildly with excitement as she tied the parchment to his tiny leg.

`I don't know,' said Harry honestly. `I think I'm having trouble getting my head around Neville and Hermione and it's only just stopped spinning from Ron and Hermione going back to being friends!'

`Well, I wouldn't say there's any “Neville and Hermione” just yet,' admonished Ginny as she carried Pigwidgeon to the chimney. `Neville wanted to discuss something with Hermione, something to do with some rare herb and her research. It's not really a date, or anything.'

`Crap.'

`Harry!'

`Sorry. It's just that I know Neville fancies Hermione - he has an agenda. This is no mere research discussion, trust me, Ginny. It's an excuse. He's on a mission.'

`Well, so what if he is?' asked Ginny as she returned to sit beside Harry, Pigwidgeon having taken off up the chimney like a bat out of hell, he was so anxious to perform his duties. `Hermione could do far worse than Neville. Which reminds me, I promised Ron I'd owl Mum about him and Hermione, but I'll just tell her when we get there today. I said we'd be there about noon, if that's all right.'

`S'fine,' mumbled Harry, feeling uncharacteristically grouchy.

*

It was a glorious summer afternoon as the Weasley family and their guests sat outside enjoying the wonderful lunch prepared by a very happy Molly Weasley; it was the first time in some months that so many family members were present, Ron being the only one absent. Hermione was sitting between Neville and Harry, a little bewildered by Harry's rather brusque manner all through lunch. On the other hand, Neville couldn't have been more considerate or happy.

While they were waiting for their lunch to settle before Mrs Weasley foisted dessert upon their very full stomachs, Hermione took advantage of Neville being engaged deep in conversation with Charlie on his other side about the effects on dragons of various herbs and the like and turned to Harry. Having ignored Ginny's attempts to engage him in her conversation with Fleur, Harry was staring morosely over at the curious garden gnomes peeking out from their holes; his hand was resting on the table, his fingers clasped around a glass of Ogden's. Hermione put her hand gently on his forearm to get his attention. `Harry,' she said quietly, `what's wrong? You seem rather cross this afternoon. What's the matter? Anything I can help you with?'

Harry's grip on his glass tightened and he closed his eyes and shook his head. He still didn't understand what was behind the turmoil that had been with him all day, threatening to utterly destroy any enjoyment he might glean from this wonderful afternoon - and that in itself was adding to his bad mood.

Hermione was concerned, unsure of what could possibly be bothering Harry. She leant a little closer and asked quietly, `Come for a walk with me, all right?'

Suddenly, the idea of being away from all the noisome chaos of the Weasley lunch table was very attractive and Harry nodded briefly, lifting his chair back as he stood up.

Ginny turned and looked up at Harry, but before she could say anything, Harry muttered, `I'm going for a walk,' and strode off across the yard towards the woods on the other side of the small lake. Since Harry had been quite grumpy all morning despite her attempts to cheer him up, Ginny was feeling rather fed up and had no inclination to follow him. Hermione quickly stood up and as the gazes of everyone around the table moved from Harry's retreating back to Hermione, she said, `I'll just make sure he's all right.' She looked at Ginny then, a question in her eyes. Ginny nodded. `You go,' she said. `I give up - he's been grouchy all morning. He usually always listens to you.'

The hum of conversation resumed behind her as Hermione walked hurriedly in Harry's direction; she could see his jean and t-shirt clad figure striding around the side of the lake. She caught up with him a minute or so later - he was sitting beneath a huge old hornbeam tree, his arms resting on his bent knees. He looked up at Hermione as she approached, a wry, lopsided grin in place. Hermione sat down beside him, thankful she'd also worn jeans that day, and found a comfortable spot on the gnarled old trunk to lean against.

`Got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning?' queried Hermione.

`No, I actually woke up feeling perfectly happy.'

`What happened then?'

`Well…' Harry paused and sighed deeply. What happened? he thought to himself. What happened was that you appear to be taking up with Neville and I think you're making a mistake. But can I tell you that without risking a telling off? What the hell - if I get it off my chest I might feel better. `I've been worried about you and - '

`Oh, Harry!' cried Hermione softly, `you don't need to worry anymore - things are fine with Ron and me now, you know that.'

`I'm not worried about you and Ron. It's Neville.'

`Neville?'

`I think you're making a mistake.'

Hermione sighed. `Harry, what are you talking about?'

`You taking up with Neville. I think it's too soon after you and Ron splitting up.'

Hermione was completely nonplussed. `Taking up with Neville? Harry, I'm not taking up with Neville at all! Whatever gave you that idea?'

Harry frowned at her. `Going for a walk with him last night. And out to some cafe this morning. Sitting next to him at lunch and talking and laughing with him.'

Hermione gaped at Harry. She was speechless.

`Well?' said Harry curtly. `Don't you think it's a bit soon?'

Hermione tried to find words to answer him, but she was still too dumbfounded.

Harry on the other hand seemed to have breached some internal wall that had been damming up the torrent of words that now poured forth.

`It's just that it's been really hard with you and Ron splitting up. I mean I didn't even realise until that night you told us about Luna at Hogwarts and everything that I've always counted on the four of us always being the way we were. But now everything's changed and somehow it's been hard to get used to it all. Then Ginny tells me about the problems she's having with that bloke at work and that was okay, I was happy to listen to her and so forth but now I feel guilty because I told her this morning she should just bloody well leave and stop complaining about him. And Dean's moved in, which is fine, except that I think he still fancies Ginny and the weird part is I don't even care. My best mate has gone off for a couple of months of so-called work that's going to be brilliant fun and then my other best friend - you - start acting as though you're interested in Neville of all people, not that I don't like him, he's a great bloke, but, well, you just need to be careful. He does fancy you, after all, and you might hurt him and I think you should just not go out with him…' Harry's voice trailed off and he managed to look as surprised as Hermione at his outburst.

As comprehension dawned in Hermione's eyes, she smiled and Harry groaned, hanging his head.

`Feel better?' asked Hermione, patting his arm in a comforting gesture.

Harry turned and looked at her, his green eyes filled with remorse. `I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that.'

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling at him. `Harry, what are friends for? You can talk to me anytime, you know that! And it seems as though you should do it a little more regularly, before things get so backed up! Now, to put your mind at rest, I'm not taking up with Neville, honestly! For some reason, last night when he asked me to go for a walk, it all got a bit awkward so I just said yes to get past that. We walked down to the stream and sat and talked. He's a lovely, interesting man and I've always enjoyed talking to him. Then, this morning -'

`But I'm positive he fancies you and -' interrupted Harry.

`Harry!' Hermione chided him. `Even if he does, he's not said a word and if he ever does, I'll worry about it then. Now, this morning, he just wanted to ask me about my department's work on the magical properties of a particular plant we've researched thoroughly because he's interested in trying to develop a new potion with it. As for laughing and talking with him -' Hermione nudged him `- I tried hard to do the same with you but you wouldn't be in it, as I recall.'

Harry had the grace to look ashamed. `Sorry,' he muttered again. `I was really out of sorts, wasn't I?'

`Just a little! By the way, are you jealous of Ron and his tripping around the countryside?'

`Not really, I guess I was just feeling sorry for myself, you know, no best mate to go down the pub with and solve all my problems over a pint or two.'

`You still have me,' said Hermione as she crossed her arms in mock indignation.

`So you'll hop down to the Two Hoots and have a pint with me, then?' teased Harry, grinning at her.

`Well…'

Harry's “Hermione-teasing” urge got the better of him once more as he said in his best condescending manner, `It's not the same chatting over chardonnay, you know.'

Hermione nearly choked when she tried to gasp and laugh at the same time. Harry couldn't help but laugh at her, although he did pat her on the back as she tried to regain her breath. When she did, she gave him an extremely indignant look as she shoved him playfully in the chest, making him laugh even harder.

`I'll get even for all your teasing one day, Harry Potter!'

`Always waiting,' chuckled Harry. `Come on, we better get back.' He stood up and held his hand out to help Hermione to her feet. As they brushed themselves off, Harry said gratefully, `Thanks, Hermione. I feel much better.'

Hermione smiled up at Harry as he lifted her hand and pulled it through his arm. And so it was in this manner they made their way back in contented, companiable silence.

`You're lucky!' called Charlie as soon as they were within hearing distance. `Fred and George were just about to eat the last of the pudding!'

`It's a lie! An accusation without any merit whatsoever!' cried Fred, gasping dramatically.

`And also totally untrue!' called George, trying hard to look sombrely innocent.

Harry and Hermione laughed along with everyone else as they sat down.

`I wouldn't have let them, you know,' said Mrs Weasley, giving her twin sons a quelling look as she waved her wand, sending a plate of treacle tart to Harry and a piece of cream sponge to Hermione.

`Thanks Mrs Weasley,' said Hermione. `Lucky I had a bit of a walk to make room for this!'

`I would always have room for your treacle tart,' Harry assured her, tucking in.

`You all right, now?' Ginny asked Harry, and because he had a mouthful of tart, he could only smile and nod.

`So you managed to cheer the grumpy bugger up?' Neville commented to Hermione, who giggled at his description.

`Yes - he just needed a friendly ear and to get a few things off his chest.'

`All's well that ends well,' said Mr Weasley expansively; he'd been indulging in some after-lunch sherry and was feeling very much at peace with the world.

`And it's going to end even better if everyone gives me a hand cleaning up,' retorted his wife, although a small smile played around her mouth.

With everyone lending a hand, it didn't take long for the tables to be cleared and put away and all the dishes to be washed and dried. Bill and Fleur, Percy and Penelope and Charlie and his wife, Cordelia, all left shortly afterwards. While Mrs Weasley put the kettle on to make some tea, those remaining made themselves comfortable in the small living room - Mr Weasley in his favourite armchair and Ginny, Harry and Hermione on the couch, while Neville brought out a kitchen chair which he sat on backwards, his chin on his arms which were across the chair back; Fred and George were sitting on the floor, leaning one on each end of the couch.

After Mrs Weasley had brought in the tea tray and poured everyone a cup, she took the other armchair opposite her husband and sighed happily as she sipped her own tea. `If only Ron had been able to make it, it would have been quite perfect,' she sighed.

`Never so perfect as it is when we're here, mother dear,' said Fred grandly, causing Molly to click her tongue and roll her eyes.

`Have you heard from him, Hermione?' Mr Weasley asked, covering his mouth as he yawned.

`Arthur, you shouldn't have had so much sherry, now you'll be falling asleep,' accused Mrs Weasley.

`It's Sunday afternoon, I always have a nap Sunday afternoons,' her husband retorted, winking at his wife over the top of his glasses. `Now, Hermione, have you heard from Ron? How's he going?'

`What's the matter?' asked Mrs Weasley when Ginny, Harry and Hermione all stiffened and began exchanging glances, all three wondering whether this was the right time to tell her about Ron and Hermione.

`He's probably been spending every night down the local in whichever town he's in and getting totally p-' began George with a cheeky grin.

`George Weasley!' his mother admonished sharply.

Ginny sighed. `I promised Ron, so I'll tell her,' she said to Harry and Hermione.

`Tell me what?' asked her mother, putting her teacup down on the small, rickety side table next to her armchair. `What's wrong? Is something wrong with Ron? Why didn't you tell me?'

`Mum, stop! Ron's fine,' Ginny assured her. `He actually came to see us - Hermione - yesterday.'

`Really? He was missing you, dear, I suppose,' she said to Hermione.

`Not as such,' said Hermione, looking down at her fingers which were twisting nervously in her lap. Ginny had told Harry earlier and had told Hermione that morning about Ron asking her to let their mother know about his and Hermione's new status. Hermione had said she'd be happy to do it, but Ginny assured her it was fine, she'd promised her brother and she would keep that promise.

Neville, sitting in the chair to Hermione's right, reached over and put a comforting hand over hers. Harry noticed and frowned, glancing up at Neville. There's that look again! he thought. Hermione just doesn't realise. I'll have to talk to her again soon, convince her. She needs to distance herself a little more from Neville before it's too late. Too late for what exactly, he wasn't sure…

Ginny took a deep breath and said steadily. `Mum, Dad, Ron and Hermione have gone their separate ways. They're still friends, though, very good friends. But that's all.'

There was a few seconds of utter silence during which Mr Weasley blinked rapidly as he stared at Hermione. Mrs Weasley's mouth open and closed as though she was trying to speak, but in vain, her blue eyes fixed on Hermione.

`Well,' said Mrs Weasley, her astonishment evident in her voice. `Well,' she repeated.

`So you're still friends, then?' asked Mr Weasley, squinting at Hermione as though he couldn't quite focus properly.

`Oh yes, we'll always be friends,' said Hermione, glancing sideways at Harry and Ginny; she noticed Harry was staring at her lap and looking down, she saw Neville's hand was still over hers. She gently pulled her hands out and gave Neville a quick nod of thanks as he moved his hand away.

`I don't know what to say,' said Mrs Weasley.

`That's a first,' murmured Ginny and Harry and Hermione both had to smother their laughter.

`I daresay it won't be much different, dear,' Mr Weasley assured his wife, yawning. `They'll all come over occasionally to visit, Ron will eat more than anyone else and Hermione and Ginny will sit and chat with you. I wouldn't worry.'

Mrs Weasley looked across at her husband who was yawning again, her expression bemused. `I suppose you're right, dear,' she said, deciding she'd have to think this over later when everyone was gone.

`Good,' said Ginny briskly, `that's out of the way.' She and Hermione exchanged relieved glances. Mrs Weasley appeared to have accepted the new state of affairs fairly well.

`So how is Ron going? How's this whole Quidditch article thing going?' asked Mrs Weasley, looking between the three of them seated on the couch.

`So far so good, lucky buggers,' answered Harry. `They've seen the Falcons, the Wasps and Puddlemere so far and they're in Tutshill till tomorrow when they leave for Caerphilly, home of the Catapults.'

A soft snore made them all turn and look at Mr Weasley who had slipped into sleep - his head fallen back, his mouth open.

`And Dad's in the Land of Nod, home of the Snores,' said Fred, grinning.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

I can't believe that the day after tomorrow I begin reading “Deathly Hallows” (along with a few million other people, lol!). I won't be stopping until I've finished it, either. I hope you all enjoy your first read of the last book, and I'll “see” you all next Monday...

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Author's Note

I've finished reading “Deathly Hallows” - but I won't make any comments that will give anything away in case some of you haven't yet finished…but, oh, are my fingers twitching! *grins*

Instead, I will simply say here is Chapter Six - I hope you enjoy it and as always, I look forward avidly to your thoughts and views! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER SIX

In which Ron worries when Luna confesses she wants to confess, Harry and Hermione have an interesting conversation over dinner before going to the fair at which Harry is hit really hard by an unexpected revelation for which he is totally unprepared…

`Isn't it beautiful?' breathed Luna as she and Ron stood gazing back at Caerphilly Castle, the second largest castle in Britain.

`Beautiful,' murmured Ron.

Something made Luna turn and look at him, only to find his eyes fixed on her, not the castle. A soft rose colour stole into her cheeks as she smiled up at him.

They were standing beyond the outer east gatehouse - the main entrance; it was Friday, their last day in the Welsh city and a perfect summer's day. After spending the previous four days with the various members of the Caerphilly Catapults doing interviews and taking photographs - Luna spending each day with them as they went about their work - Ron had insisted they do a little sight seeing on this last day, and that they do it alone. Seamus had smiled rather smugly as he and Colin assured them that was fine and arranged for them to all meet up at their hotel at four that afternoon before Flooing to the Isle of Anglesey.

Ron felt the soft warmth of Luna's fingers as they slipped into his hand and he felt his heart lighten at her touch.

`This has been a pretty amazing week,' he murmured, loving the feel of her hand in his and wondering how he could go about kissing her.

Luna's smile vanished and she averted her eyes; Ron was immediately concerned.

`What's wrong?' he asked, his concern clear in his voice.

`Could we go and have some lunch?' Luna asked. `There's something I'd like to tell you.'

Suddenly to Ron it seemed the day was no longer filled with lightness and he no longer felt quite so happy; instead, he now felt uneasy and anxious about what Luna was going to tell him.

`Of course,' he said, hoping his voice sounded normal. `There's the pub, the Court House, it's only about a ten-fifteen minute stroll from here.'

As it was still a little early for lunch, the pub wasn't overly crowded and because it was so warm, they decided to eat their meals outside in the beer garden.

`Pretty spectacular view, isn't it?' Ron couldn't help commenting, gazing across the lake to the castle. `That's the great hall, just there,' he said, jabbing his fork in the air. `Not as great as Hogwarts', though.'

Luna murmured in agreement as she, too, gazed out across the water to the castle. They ate in silence for a little while and then Luna, with her meal barely half eaten, put down her knife and fork and carefully dabbed at her mouth with her serviette before picking up her glass and taking a sip of wine.

Ron watched her intently, and when she smiled across the table at him, he felt the tension of the last hour ease a little.

`Ronald, I have a confession to make,' she said softly.

In an instant, the tension was back.

`Luna, you don't have to confess anything, honestly,' said Ron, trying not to sound desperate. He'd had such a wonderful week that he didn't want the memory of it spoilt by anything, least of all Luna wanting to tell him something he probably didn't need to know.

Luna gazed at him, her silvery grey eyes filled with determination. Ron sighed and shrugged philosophically.

`All right, fire away,' he told her, quickly taking one last mouthful before he, too, pushed his plate aside. He swallowed his half-chewed food nervously. `I'm ready.'

*

The evening of the same day, Harry stepped cautiously out of the fireplace into the sitting room of the Nook, looking around quickly for any sign of his loquacious landlady. Frewin hooted softly in greeting and Harry shushed him, afraid the noise would alert Esmerelda to his presence.

However, as the strains of Esmerelda's favourite music drifted down the hall from her office, Harry realised that if he moved quickly he would probably make it upstairs without being caught and regaled with yet another of Esmerelda's stories or bombarded with more of her seemingly endless supply of questions.

Once safely in his own flat, Harry changed into jeans and a deep emerald green shirt, then spent a few minutes with Hedwig before slipping across the hall to Ginny and Hermione's flat.

He knocked and entered as he usually did, calling out, `Ginny! Hermione!' before closing the door behind him.

`Hi, Harry,' replied Hermione from the kitchen as he walked into the living room.

Crossing the room, Harry pulled out a stool and sat up at the bench, saying as he did so, `Hi, Hermione. How was your day?'

`Interesting,' she replied with a smile. `Yours?'

`Satisfying. They finally dug up the old spell that had poor Cleaver out to it and he's on the mend now, well and truly. Thanks to you for pointing us in the direction of old hexes!'

`Glad to help,' said Hermione. `Speaking of help, make yourself useful and chop, will you?'

`Sure,' said Harry, taking the chopping board and knife Hermione handed across to him, then taking some celery from the basket of various vegetables sitting between them. `Making a stir-fry I'm guessing?'

Hermione nodded. `You want some?'

Harry grinned. `When have I ever turned down the offer of a meal here?'

Hermione laughed, `True. By the way, Ginny's not home yet - I'm not sure why. Have you heard from her?'

Harry shook his head as he chewed - he'd just popped a piece of celery into his mouth.

`Harry! Don't eat it before it's cooked!' Hermione scolded.

Harry grinned at her and swallowed. `Just making sure it's fresh,' he told her with a cheeky wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes. `Oh, yes, of course you are!'

Harry was reaching out for another piece of celery when a swooshing sound halted his hand. A dark brown owl flew out of the chimney and landed on the back of the stool next to Harry. It hooted and held out its leg and Harry removed the small scroll attached there. With another hoot, the owl flew back and up the chimney.

`It's from Ginny,' said Harry as his eyes scanned the note. `She's having a meeting with that Blakely fellow to try and sort things out. She didn't want to risk a meeting in office hours in case they lost their heads and Ida found out.' Harry looked up at Hermione and shrugged philosophically. `Looks like it's just you and me for dinner,' he told her, grinning; for some reason he found this a very agreeable prospect.

`That's if,' said Hermione, giving Harry's hand a light slap as it hovered over the bowl of chopped vegetables, `you leave anything for us to eat! Why don't you go and cook the rice and the chicken and stay away from the vegetables?'

Later, while they ate, Hermione - having successfully defended the remainder of the vegetables against Harry's repeated attempts to pinch them - asked him for more details about the injured Auror, Cleaver, and how he was managing.

`Fine,' Harry replied. `Once we knew what the spell was, the Healers were able to deal with it. The wizard that cast it is a bit of a puzzle, though.'

`How so?' asked Hermione, scooping up a forkful of rice.

Harry put down his knife and fork and leaning his arms on the table, he gazed across at Hermione.

`Have you ever come across the name, “the Dark One”, during any of your research?'

Hermione frowned. `I'm not sure - it sounds vaguely familiar - why?'

`Well, it's just that I've found out that the wizard who attacked Cleaver was captured a couple of days ago. The Department was over the moon because they've been after him for quite some time, but in the end, they found him lying drunk and incoherent in an alley way. They simply picked him up - no fuss, no fight.'

Hermione looked at Harry inquiringly and he continued. `It's just that this wizard has been on the loose since the days of Voldemort - they've never been able to pin him down, he was always too fast and too clever. It's just so weird that virtually overnight he became a drunken idiot.'

`Maybe he saw the error of his ways, couldn't face his life of crime, and took to the bottle,' said Hermione, trying to sound serious.

Harry threw her a sardonic look. `What's even more peculiar is that once they sobered him up and gave him Veritaserum, he began babbling about evil and treachery as though they were terrible things and he was afraid of them.'

`Bit rich coming from him, don't you think?' chuckled Hermione.

`Exactly! But then he blamed it all on someone he called “the Dark One”. He said that's who made him cast the spell - says the Dark One was inside his head, inside his mind. He kept begging the Aurors interrogating him to either given some Ogden's or Obliviate him.'

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. `And did they?' she asked.

`Oh, no! He's committed too many crimes for them to risk wiping his memory. They're bribing him with whisky to get him to confess to all his wrongdoings and give them details and names.'

`That's rather cruel, isn't it?'

Harry nearly choked. `Hermione! The man's done horrendous things in his life-time - and you're worried about being cruel to him?'

`It just doesn't seem right to me. I know he's a criminal, but…'

Harry sighed. `If it makes you feel any better, he's getting some cheap whisky every night which he says he needs to sleep, but only if he gives them answers to the questions they ask him during the day.'

`He needs whisky to sleep?'

Harry nodded, his eyes darkening. `He says he can't bear the dreams.'

`Dreams?'

`He says he has nightmares that seem real. It's as though the contact with this Dark One's mind has opened up a conduit between them.'

Hermione's fork fell to her plate with a clatter and she stared at Harry.

Harry nodded grimly. `Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

`First thing Monday morning I'm researching this Dark One,' said Hermione, her eyes glowing with purpose.

As they cleaned up after dinner, Hermione ventured to ask Harry something that had been at the back of her mind since the previous Sunday at the Burrow.

`Harry, I've been waiting for a chance to ask you about something you said last Sunday.'

Harry laughed as he scraped the leftovers into a bowl. `Which thing is that? I think I unloaded a couple of dozen things on you, didn't I?'

Hermione laughed with him, covering the bowl and taking it to the fridge. `That's true, but there was one thing you said about Dean fancying Ginny. Do you remember?'

`Yeah. I've been noticing that every time Dean sees Ginny he seems a bit, well, flustered. Not much - I don't think Ginny notices, but I have. I'm just wondering whether he still has a thing for Ginny dating back to our schooldays. He was pretty taken with her then and maybe he's not over her.'

`Not over her? You think so?' asked Hermione, pausing on her way to the sink, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. `Those school romances - well, look at and Ron and me. Even Luna said that night at Hogwarts that she thought Ron and I were just a “school thing”.'

`Ginny and I are a “school thing”, aren't we?' asked Harry, peering at her over the top of his glasses.

Hermione's widened and her hand came up to cover her mouth for a second. `Oh, Harry - I didn't mean to imply, I mean I didn't think - don't think - it was just what Luna said about Ron and I -'

Harry put his hands on Hermione's shoulders and smiled reassuringly at her.

`It's all right, I know what you mean. Or what you don't mean…' This made them both laugh.

`So, I've just been wondering why you said you didn't care about Dean having feelings for Ginny?'

Hermione's question seemed to reverberate in the air as they stood there, Harry's hands still on her shoulders, looking at each other, all signs of mirth gone from their faces.

`Did I say that?' asked Harry quietly as he dropped his hands.

Hermione nodded, her expression showing concern and a curiosity she couldn't help feeling.

Harry frowned, his green gaze troubled. `Perhaps I meant I wasn't worried - that I know it won't change things with Ginny and me.'

`That must be what it is,' agreed Hermione - a shade too quickly, Harry thought.

Their gazes locked and Harry could see in Hermione's eyes that she'd said that simply to try and make him feel better.

`I should though, shouldn't I? Be worried, I mean. Ginny has spent a bit of time talking to him since he's moved in. She says it's because they both work in publishing, that they have that in common. What if it's more?'

`How do you feel about that?' asked Hermione, her apprehension clear in her eyes and tone.

Harry stared off into the distance over Hermione's shoulder as he tried to think about it all. Why aren't I worried? he asked himself. I should be, I know. Or jealous. But I'm not. Why? A cold, sinking feeling made his stomach feel like a large block of ice. Why aren't I jealous? Because I'm not - I don't feel anything about it all... No, that can't be right! Why? He glanced back at Hermione who was watching him, one slender eyebrow slightly raised, her eyes questioning. Harry shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear the confusion that seemed to have taken up residence. To hell with it! I don't want to think about this right now, anyway!

`Harry?' Hermione's anxious voice broke into his reverie. `Why don't we go for a walk? It'll help clear our heads.'

Harry brought his eyes back to focus on Hermione's face once more. `Good idea. Let's go. I'll do the dishes.' With that, he pulled his wand from the special side pocket on his jeans and waved it once.

`You can come and do that every night, Harry,' said Hermione with a grin. `You're actually quicker than I am!' As good as she was, Harry was quicker, having cleaned everything and put it back in its proper place with one sweep of his wand.

`Don't want you getting out of practice,' he told her, waggling his eyebrows at her and dodging the playful swipe she aimed at his arm as he said, `Come on, let's go for that walk.'

`Mmmm, I love summer,' murmured Hermione a few minutes later as she and Harry strolled along Ambling Row towards the High Street. As they walked, Harry found himself feeling as though he was setting out on some unusually magical journey, although he didn't bother giving any consideration as to why he was feeling this; he simply carried on, his heart as light as his step. Impulsively, he put a friendly arm across Hermione's shoulders, smiling down at her. `I love summer, too,' he agreed.

As they turned the corner and passed Grimley's Grocery Store, they came upon the elderly witch and wizard who lived in Ambling Rose Cottage, next door to the Nook. The tenants of the Nook often came across either or both of their neighbours in the garden when they were in their own garden hanging out their washing.

`Evening, dears,' said Mrs Mallum, while her husband nodded and smiled at them. `Lovely night for a romantic stroll, isn't it?' she finished with a twinkle in her eye.

Hermione giggled, while Harry immediately pulled his arm from around Hermione's shoulders, beset with an unfamiliar embarrassment and unable to think of anything to say.

`We're on our way home from the green,' Mr Mallum volunteered, `there's a small Muggle fair set up there this afternoon in case you're interested.'

`Oh, lovely!' exclaimed Hermione, peering along the street in the direction of the village green. `I think I can see some of the stands from here! We'll go and have a look around.'

Harry gave the couple a wave as they passed. Hermione laughed and moved closer, putting her arm through Harry's. `You're so funny sometimes, Harry,' she told him, amused by his embarrassed reaction. `I suppose we must have looked like a couple, so they just assumed we were.'

For some reason, Harry's heart began to race and, desperate to avoid talking about the Mallum's notion of them being romantically involved, he quickly changed the subject. `So, you want to go to the fair?'

`Oh, yes! I've always loved them since I was a little girl. You don't mind, do you?'

Harry found he couldn't resist the joyful glow in Hermione's eyes, even if he'd wanted to.

`Of course not,' he told her. `Not that I've ever been to any, but I'm certainly open to the experience.'

Hermione once again silently cursed the Dursleys for yet another experience they'd deprived their nephew of. Horrible, selfish people! she thought.

Harminster Leigh had an unusually large village green, due in no small part to the original, magical inhabitants who had enjoyed gatherings and important celebrations there and needed room to do it. As they crossed the street, Harry forgot all about his embarrassment and couldn't help but laugh at Hermione's exclamations of delight as her eyes darted around the green, alighting on many familiar sights from her childhood experiences with fairs.

They passed a small roundabout complete with traditional music as well as a cup-and-saucer ride filled with laughing, squealing children and the odd parent. When Hermione spotted a candyfloss stand she made straight for it; despite having had dinner, she insisted she wanted some because her parents, being dentists, had never allowed her to when she was little and it was something she'd always dearly wanted. Harry happily obliged, highly amused by Hermione's almost child-like delight in the spun sugar sweet, pulling pieces off and putting them into her mouth, lightly sucking the sticky residue from her fingers.

As they wandered past the various stalls, each offering chances to win various prizes, Harry stopped in front of a large, square stand that was packed with clear glass bottles obviously sitting on a raised platform, as the tops of the bottles were just below waist height. `This one looks easy,' said Harry confidently. The stand was about ten foot a side; some of the bottles had coloured liquid in them, but most of them held what looked like clear, plain water. The fat, cheerful stall operator greeted them heartily, assuring Harry he could win a prize for his lovely lady, his hand sweeping in the direction of a nearby wooden stand whose three tiers held a jumble of plastic and stuffed toys of various sizes.

`Er - not my lovely lady,' said Harry, then as though he'd slighted Hermione somehow, he hastily added, `I mean she is a lovely lady - just not mine.' It didn't help that his discomfort was again a great source of amusement for Hermione who was laughing, her arm still looped through his.

`If yeh say so,' the operator said amicably, although Harry was sure he could see scepticism in the man's eyes. He looked at Hermione, expecting some sort of support, but met only a deliciously amused smile and twinkling eyes. `Pay back,' she murmured as she moved even closer and he somehow knew she was thinking of the foot tickling episode from some weeks ago; for just an instant, he reflected on how things had changed between then and now. His reflection was abruptly interrupted by Hermione moving closer; Harry's heart begin to race madly at the feel of parts of Hermione pressed up against him that he'd previously not given a lot of thought although, being a man, he'd naturally noticed them…in a purely platonic way, of course…

`Well, now, if yeh c'n tear yer eyes from the lovely lady that ain't yeh lovely lady, I'll tell yeh if yeh get a ring on a yeller bottle, yeh get to choose from the top shelf an' if yeh get it on a blue bottle, yeh pick from the middle shelf. Three pounds for ten rings.'

Grateful for an excuse to extricate himself from Hermione regardless of how embarrassingly wonderful she felt, Harry asked, `What about that red bottle in the middle?' as he handed over his money then accepted the rubber rings handed to him.

`Ah, not an easy task an' hardly ever done, but not fer lack of tryin'! Yeh get a ring on that an' yeh get that!' said the fair man rather over-dramatically, pointing to the largest stuffed toy on the bottom shelf of the stand. It was a huge dog which vaguely resembled a St Bernard that looked as though it had been drinking from plastic brandy cask carried around its neck.

`Fancy that sitting on your bed?' Harry asked Hermione with a boyish grin, his discomfort pushed aside by a very normal masculine competitiveness. Hermione couldn't help but laugh again. `Harry, this isn't as easy as you think it is, believe me!'

`We'll see,' said Harry confidently as he aimed and threw his first ring. To his dismay, while the ring landed around the neck of the blue bottled he'd aimed for, it then bounced!

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at Harry's consternation as each ring in succession bounced off a blue or yellow bottle onto a neighbouring clear bottle. By the eighth ring, however, a very determined Harry had managed to get two rings on a coloured bottle, one on a blue one, one on a yellow.

The fair man stood there placidly, smiling at them, his arms crossed on top of his large stomach, appearing almost smug.

`Last one,' said Harry, glancing at Hermione. `Wish me luck.' Harry winked at her and Hermione tensed as she felt the tiniest of tingles in her arm nearest to Harry. Magic!

The ring landed fair and square on the red bottle. Harry gave a jubilant cry and punched the air in triumph.

The fat fair man looked appalled, then amazed and finally disgruntled and gave Harry a very suspicious look as he handed over the huge dog. Hermione was desperately trying to catch Harry's eye and glare at him, but he was deliberately not looking at her. Then, when they were out of earshot of the booth man, Hermione hissed, `You cheated Harry! How could you?'

It was Harry's turn to laugh as he shook his head. `Not really. Well, not totally, at any rate. Bouncing rings are cheating in my books! I just stopped the ring from bouncing. But it was my aim that got it on the bottle.'

Hermione rolled her eyes resignedly. `So what are you going to do with that thing?'

`Me? This is yours, Hermione!'

Hermione tried in vain to convince Harry to keep it for himself or give it to Ginny, but he wouldn't have it. He ducked behind one of the green's old chestnut trees and taking out his wand, quickly reduced the toy so that it would fit into his pocket. `I'll give it to you later,' he promised.

They wandered around after that, looking at the various stalls, although Hermione wouldn't let him play any more games.

`I can smell coffee and it smells wonderful,' sighed Hermione a while later as they passed a food stand with some rather rickety tables and bench chairs set up on a low wooden platform.

Harry agreed and they found a spare seat at one of the old and slightly wobbly tables after which he bought them a cup of coffee each. Without being fully aware of the reason, they were both caught up in the close, warm camaraderie that seemed to have permeated the evening, teasing aside, and they smiled at each other as they spontaneously touched their coffee cups in an informal toast.

`What an absolutely great night,' said Harry, deciding he couldn't feel happier or more contented than he did right at that moment.

`I agree,' breathed Hermione, smiling as she looked up at Harry. `Thank you so much for coming with me. It's been so much more fun being here with you.'

So much more fun being here with you. Harry gazed back at her, the reply that had been forming in his mind becoming stuck in his throat and he simply sat and stared at her. It was as though another kind of magic had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and was glittering in the air around them. During that small moment of time, while Harry gazed into Hermione's glowing eyes, he found himself tumbling through a cascade of sensations and emotions. His senses were heightened and he was suddenly struck with a sharp, penetrating awareness of being a man - and of Hermione being a woman. Hermione's perfume, the scent of her hair, her laugh - her smile - he absorbed them all and they were all so familiar, and yet now they were somehow altered through his own changed perception. What's going on? What's happening? Why am I feeling like this? What does it mean? Hermione, why am I suddenly so excruciatingly aware of you, of every tiny little thing about you? I don't understand! He felt baffled and mystified, followed by a bewildering desire to be somewhere else because sitting here with Hermione somehow felt - dangerous…

`Harry?'

Harry blinked. Dangerous? Hermione, dangerous?

`Harry, are you all right?'

Am I all right? I don't know, Hermione. Is it all right for me to suddenly be so aware of you? Is it all right for me to want to bury my face in your hair, to hold you - to -?

Hermione reached up and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. `Harry? What's wrong?'

Harry continued to gaze at her, his eyes glazed over, lost to his turbulent thoughts. Wrong? Is it wrong? I don't know! I don't understand what's happening! I don't understand any of this!

Hermione's grip on his shoulder tightened. `Harry! Please, are you all right?'

His eyes returned to focus on her. He nodded. The nod was a lie. He wasn't certain what he was, but he didn't think “all right” described it.

`Are you sure?' asked Hermione as she took her hand off his shoulder and dropped it to rest on Harry's forearm, her brow creased with concern.

Harry barely managed to contain the gasp that threatened to escape him as Hermione's hand came into contact with his bare skin. He stared down at her hand where it was resting lightly on his arm - his skin was tingling from her touch. It had never done that before, yet before he could begin to think why that was, his whole body was flooded with a very familiar sensation that had no business being caused by Hermione. Then a single word echoed resoundingly loudly in his head: No!

Harry knew he had to pull himself together and shook his head slightly as though to clear it, failing completely. `Sure? I'm sure,' he managed, although he couldn't look at her. His voice sounded hoarse in his own ears, as though his throat was lined with sandpaper.

`Maybe we should head for home,' Hermione ventured and Harry nodded quickly. Yes! Go home. Go to sleep! Wake up tomorrow and this will all have been a dream...

As they walked home, Hermione linked her arm loosely through his, chatting happily about the evening. She knew there was something wrong with Harry, but she also knew him well enough to know he would talk about it when he was ready. Harry struggled to act and sound normal but had no way of knowing whether he succeeded. He was grateful for Hermione's casual chatter, which needed only nods or smiles by way of acknowledgement. His internal turmoil threatened to overwhelm him every step of the way and he didn't know how he was managing to keep it at bay. When they reached the top of the stairs of the second floor and Harry knew he was only minutes from being alone, he was suddenly overcome with a strange kind of fear. He knew once he was alone he'd be at the mercy of the commotion within and he also knew there'd be no turning back from what he would find there - if he was brave enough to face it…

`Good night, Harry, and thank you again,' said Hermione. Concern was still dominant in her eyes as she looked up at him; he was gazing at the round, stained glass window at the top of the stairs. He turned to look at her when she spoke, a crooked grin in place, his green eyes guarded.

`Don't forget you can talk to me anytime,' Hermione told him, then some impulse took hold of her and she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. With a last smile, she slipped into her flat leaving Harry standing stock still, staring at the shut door, his fingers unconsciously reaching up to touch the place where her lips had rested. Why did she do that? She might hug me a lot but she usually only ever kisses me on my birthday (`Happy birthday, Harry!'), on her birthday (`Thank you, Harry!) and at Christmas (`Happy Christmas, Harry!')…

Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there staring at Hermione's door, but eventually he remembered to turn around and walk across to let himself into his own flat. He muttered, `Lumos,' as he entered as well as a soft, `Hi, girl,' for Hedwig. He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep just yet, so he poured himself a glass of Ogden's and sat at the kitchen table. Hedwig watched him for a little while, but as he was just sitting and staring into space, she fluffed her feathers, put her head under her wing and went to sleep.

Harry caught the movement out the corner of his eye and felt envious of her ability to go to sleep. His mind felt stalled - he couldn't seem to match the speed of the maelstrom of thoughts as they spun around inside his head. Coherent thought eluded him.

Maybe if I start at the beginning, he wondered.

And just where is the beginning? asked another part of his mind.

I don't know, thought Harry, confused. And the beginning of what? What is it that's happened anyway?

What happened? Just concentrate - think hard. It'll come to you.

Right. It all started when we sat down for coffee. Or did it? I felt so good before we sat down for coffee. Although I felt really good after we sat down. I felt particularly good all night! Why?

You know the answer to that.

No, I don't! Harry felt something akin to panic rise within him.

There's no need to be afraid. Just think and remember…

He sensed the answer was sitting there and had been for some time, just waiting for him to simply acknowledge it. No! I'm not ready for this!

Ready for what?

Harry groaned, causing Hedwig to shuffle on her perch. There has to be a logical explanation for this!

There is.

He lifted his glass and as he dropped his gaze to look into it, he could see his reflection wavering in the amber fluid. Then he wasn't looking at anything as his thoughts turned inward and he found himself being swept along on a river of revelations, racing through memories and experiences from today and last week and last month…

The beginning. Did it begin the night Hermione told me and Ginny about Ron and Luna last Christmas? Was that the beginning? When she told me she didn't love Ron anymore? And that she felt Ron didn't love her anymore? Well, they do love each other, but not that way. Not like I love Ginny. He froze for an instant. Then he repeated the words to himself. I love Ginny. He felt no answering echo in his heart as the words sounded in his head, no desire or excitement - just, what? Warmth. Affection. He desperately tried to call up that feeling he'd once always experienced when he thought about Ginny. Fear trickled through him. It's gone! The trickle become a flood. I can't remember! I can't remember the last time I felt that! Why can't I feel it? What's happened to it? It can't just be gone! He tried again, but there was no quickening of his heart beat, no feeling of pleasure spreading through him, no feeling of anticipation - there was just a warm glow of remembrance, and love, but not the heart-racing kind; there was gratitude, too - he'd learnt a lot from Ginny. He felt a terrible, overwhelming sadness take hold of him as though he'd lost something infinitely precious. Ginny… Why haven't I noticed this loss? Of something that was so precious? He put his glass down and dropped his head into his hands. Ginny! What's wrong with me? Ginny! He forced his thoughts away from the icy knowledge that was settling into his very heart…only to find more questions beating insistently in his mind…

When did this happen? When did I lose…what? When did the end begin? The end of what? The answers to these strange questions seemed to be dancing tantalisingly at the outer edge of his consciousness, just out of his reach. He felt a strange reluctance to know what those answers were. But they moved inexorably closer. It was as though the questions that had formed in his mind were magnetic, drawing the answers to them against his will. He sat, unmoving, powerless to prevent the knowledge seeping into his mind. The knowledge that it was over… With a dragging, grey certainty, he knew that it was over. It was finished. And he felt an awful desolation take hold of his heart. Was this how you felt, Hermione, when you admitted to yourself you no longer loved Ron? He knew instinctively it was. It's as though a part of me has been ripped away without my permission! How did this happen without my knowing? How? And how can I tell her? I don't want to hurt her! I don't know if I can face her…

He felt a sudden urge to run to Hermione and ask her for advice - she would know what to do, she always knew. Hermione. A picture of her from that evening formed in his mind; she was smiling up at him as she pulled off a piece of the pink candyfloss and popped it into her mouth, taking a second to suck the sugary remains from her finger. It was followed by the memory of how she'd looked and how he'd felt when she'd moved so close to him he could feel - stop! he cried out desperately in his head.

As these images faded from his mind, he was able to follow the tracks they left behind; they took him through that night, the day of Dean's party, through all the myriad small moments in the last few weeks since he'd first learnt she no longer loved Ron, nor he her.

His mind pounced as though it knew. As though it had been waiting for these thoughts to surface. Yes! That moment was the real beginning! That was when somewhere inside him he realised she was free. Single. Available. Only he'd been blind. And now he understood that his resentment of Neville had been because while he, Neville, had been able to act on that, he, Harry, wasn't free to do so…

He let his arms and head sink to the table, his glass pushed aside. He felt as though he was made of lead and his heart was the heaviest of all. The sound of his heart beating pounded in his ears as desperate words echoed endlessly in his head…It can't be true! It can't be! Please, it can't be true… How? How did this happen? How can I stop this? And then foolishly: Perhaps I can Obliviate myself so I don't remember any of this. His shoulders shook in a self-deprecating laughter that held no mirth or joy. Because he knew there was no going back. He could feel the absolute inevitability of his situation permeate him. It had already become such an integral part of him without him ever being aware of it, that he knew he would never be able to erase it.

Why do you keep saying “it”? Why can't you say what you really mean? What you know you mean?

No!

Don't be afraid of the truth. You never have been before.

Harry moaned softly. He felt as though he was standing on the brink of a precipice and that once he took that final step, he would be in a very different place and he knew he would never be the same. His life would never be the same. And he would never be able to return to the way his life had been - to the way he had been. He knew then that he was in the throes of desperate denial… I'm afraid to admit it. I don't want to say it to myself because while I don't, while I choose not to recognise it or name it, I feel as though I still have some control over myself - my life…

And yet he knew, somehow, that facing the knowledge lodged in his mind and in his heart was as inevitable as sunrise and sunset - and just as inescapable. He remained there, his head on his arms, perfectly still, knowing he was experiencing the final moments of denial. And when he could no longer prevent it, as he finally allowed the words to form in his mind, he felt the fear and anguish leave him for the space of the few seconds it took to say them to himself: I love you, Hermione. And then he felt himself plunge into despair because he knew he would never be able to tell her, he knew that his love could not possibly ever be returned…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Author's Note

Hi everyone! I won't say anything about “Deathly Hallows” here, but if anyone comments in a review, I'll certainly reply - so if you haven't yet finished - or read - the book, don't look at the reviews! Cheers! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER SEVEN

In which Ron and Luna snog in public, Harry disappears, Ginny panics, Hermione writes a note and Harry harasses Ron at four a.m. in the morning…

Ron sat, open-mouthed, staring at Luna across the table.

`You did that?'

`I'm not proud of it,' said Luna softly, `and I won't blame you if you never want to see me again.'

Ron was stunned. Then he burst out laughing, causing Luna to now be the one sitting open-mouthed and staring across the table.

Ron reached out, holding his hands open in silent invitation; Luna looked from his hands to his face and tentatively brought her hands up and placed them in Ron's, her eyes questioning.

`You still behaved quite honourably, you never crossed the line and I'm as flattered as hell!'

`You mean that? Really?' Luna asked breathlessly, her usually misty eyes shining.

Ron nodded, still grinning. `Mind you, I might have to have a quiet word with Seamus.'

Luna laughed and Ron found himself joining her, his heart light once more. He stood up, leaning forward so that he didn't have to let go of Luna's hands, pulled her gently to her feet and without caring about the stares and smirks of their fellow diners, he drew her to him for their first real kiss.

*

Hermione woke with a start, wondering why her alarm hadn't gone off. Then she realised it was Saturday. She smiled, yawning as she stretched, then chuckling when she heard Crookshanks' plaintive miaow as her feet came up against his warm bulk, waking him up. He sometimes chose to forego the comforts of his basket to sleep on the end of Hermione's bed, as he'd often done whilst she was at Hogwarts. Hermione then rolled on to her side so that she could look out the window. She loved the view of the old white willow through her window, its pale leaves moving ever-so-slightly in a gentle morning breeze. She could see a clear, early morning sky through the branches and decided that later she'd pack herself a picnic lunch, along with her current book, and take a walk along the stream and through the woods. A lovely day, a little solitude and some reading. Perfect.

Pleasant visions of herself enjoying all this were rudely interrupted by Ginny's voice echoing down the hallway, calling her name. Because there was a strident note of fear in her friend's voice, Hermione sat up quickly and threw off the covers; she was just pulling on her powder blue dressing gown when Ginny burst into the room.

`Hermione, Harry's gone!'

Hermione stopped in the act of tying her belt, and stared at Ginny who was standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a pale yellow top, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

`What do you mean, gone?'

`We arranged last week to go up to Diagon Alley early this morning. I just went over to Harry's and he's not there!'

Hermione sat down and patted the bed beside her. `Come and sit down, Ginny.' Once Ginny was seated, Hermione continued, `Why are you so worked up? Harry's probably just down in the laundry or perhaps gone up the street to buy something.'

Ginny shook her head and Hermione could see fear in her eyes. `You don't understand; the door was open - he always locks it before he goes to bed - so that meant he was up and I went in, expecting to see him but -' Ginny paused and took a deep breath.

Hermione was beginning to feel worried as well; Ginny was right, Harry always locked his door and if it was open it had to be because he was up. Hermione reached out and took Ginny's hands in hers in a comforting gesture. `Go on,' she encouraged her, feeling Ginny squeeze her hands in appreciation.

`Right. The first thing I saw was a bottle of Ogden's and a glass on the table. It was nearly empty.'

Hermione's eyebrows shot up when she heard this. They'd never known Harry to be a big drinker.

`I was a bit puzzled,' Ginny continued, then shrugged as she said, `but, well - I suppose everyone does that at some time, although it's not like Harry at all. Anyway, I thought he'd probably still be asleep if he'd drunk all that whisky, so I went into his bedroom. His bed was still made.'

`What about the bathroom? Maybe -' began Hermione.

Ginny shook her head. `No, he wasn't there either - or in Ron's room or anywhere! Then I checked that special cupboard in his room where he keeps his broom. His broom's gone.'

Hermione stared at Ginny. If Harry's broom wasn't there, neither was Harry.

Hermione let go of Ginny's hands and sprang to her feet, Ginny following suit. Hermione went to her cupboard and pulled out some jeans and a shirt. `I'll get dressed and we'll go back and check Harry's again, all right?'

Ginny nodded. `I'll wait for you over there.'

A couple of minutes later Hermione walked through the open door of Harry's flat to see Ginny standing by the table, her fingertips resting on the glass top as she gazed down at the bottle and glass - as though she was trying to glean from them what they'd witnessed during the night.

Ginny turned the instant Hermione walked in, watching as Hermione's gaze swept the room from the living area on her left, past Ginny and the kitchen table, and to the kitchen itself. Nothing was out of place and she allowed herself a tiny smile. Only because Ron's not here, she thought. Then she noticed Hedwig sitting silently on her perch near the kitchen window, gazing at them. Of course!

`Ginny, we'll send Hedwig to Harry with a note.'

Ginny smiled with relief. `Why didn't I think of that? I suppose I was just too scared and worried!'

Hermione walked quickly around the kitchen bench to where Harry and Ron kept spare parchment and quills on a shelf against the back wall.

`What should we say?' she asked Ginny.

`I don't know,' said Ginny, still sounding anxious. `Maybe just, “where are you, are you all right?”'

Hermione nodded and wrote in her small, neat script, Dear Harry, Would you please send a note back with Hedwig to let us know that you're all right? Ginny was very surprised and is extremely worried about not finding you at home this morning (as you were supposed to be going to Diagon Alley). Hermione.

Hedwig watched calmly as Hermione tied the small rolled parchment to her leg. `Find Harry, Hedwig, and don't leave him until he's written a reply, please.' Hedwig blinked once as if nodding, then flew to the ledge of the window overlooking the side garden; it opened as soon as Hedwig's feet touched the ledge and she flew out, leaving the window to shut behind her. Ginny and Hermione both moved to the window to watch the beautiful, snowy owl fly away.

`Now we wait,' said Hermione.

*

`I'm just going to check again,' said Ginny, jumping up from the couch and heading for Harry's flat. She came back within a minute.

`Hedwig's still not back,' she said glumly, dropping on to the end of the couch once more, pushing aside the magazine she'd been reading. She sat with her head resting against the back of the couch, her eyes closed. Hermione, her book open in her lap, looked at Ginny from the other end of the couch and knew the tension in her friend's face was mirrored in her own.

Hermione was at a loss to understand what could possibly have driven Harry to drink by himself the previous night and then leave without giving any indication of where he was going or why. She'd explained how she and Harry had eaten some dinner and about their discussion concerning the injured auror, as well as the strange events surrounding his attacker. While she didn't specifically make any mention of the “Dark One” or the drunken wizard's dreams, Hermione went on to tell Ginny how she and Harry had gone for a walk, meeting the Mallums on the way, who'd pointed them in the direction of the fair.

Although Hermione omitted any mention of the discussion she'd had with Harry about Dean's feelings for Ginny, she did tell Ginny about Harry's strange reactions when they'd had some coffee at the fair.

`Everything was perfectly fine, then he just suddenly seemed to be somewhere else altogether,' she'd said over their umpteenth cup of tea. `I can't remember anything that would've made him so - well, really, he was a bit weird for a minute or two. I asked him what was wrong, but,' she shrugged expressively, `you know Harry. If he doesn't want to say, he doesn't. We walked home and he still seemed really preoccupied, even when we said goodnight. He was sort of staring into space. But for the life of me Ginny, I can't think of anything that happened at the fair that might've distracted him like that. I simply can't imagine what's wrong!'

Ginny had listened intently while Hermione explained all this and shook her head in bewilderment at the conclusion. `It just doesn't make any sense!' she exclaimed.

`Are you absolutely certain you can't think of any reason he'd drink himself so stupid he'd actually fly off somewhere in the middle of the night?'

Ginny began to shake her head, then stopped and looked at Hermione, a puzzled frown in place.

`What is it? Have you thought of something?' asked Hermione.

`It's just a feeling - not something I can really put my finger on,' said Ginny, pulling her knees up so that her feet were resting on the edge of the couch and wrapping her arms around them, `but when I think back, Harry has been, well - I'm not sure what to call it - distracted perhaps? Preoccupied? Just - different, and he's been that way for a few weeks now, although I don't know if it's anything to do with what happened last night. And I suppose I've been so preoccupied myself I didn't notice.'

`With work,' stated Hermione, and for some reason Ginny's conversations with Dean about her work crossed her mind and she wondered if she dared to broach the subject of Dean with Ginny.

Ginny nodded.

Hermione decided she was curious enough to try and find out if there was anything to Harry's supposition. `Well, since Dean's in publishing, too - has it helped talking to him?' she asked.

Ginny nodded again and smiled at Hermione. `He's been a great help actually, and he's really easy to talk to.'

`Harry doesn't mind?' Hermione felt her stomach clench with tension and wondered if she hadn't gone too far.

Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. `Well, no, I mean, why would he? He's not said anything to me - has he said something to you?'

Hermione bit her lip and looked down at her book, fiddling with the bookmark whilst she considered what answer she should give.

Ginny sighed. She could tell by Hermione's reaction that Harry had said something. Hermione looked up and, having decided that honesty was the best policy, said, `He has, but just that he's noticed Dean seems to be still - well, he thinks there's a chance that he's not over you, from when we were at school.'

Ginny's jaw dropped. `Are you serious?' she exclaimed. Then she shook her head and said firmly, `Nonsense.'

Hermione shrugged. `Who's to say?' Then, deciding a distraction was in order, she asked Ginny how things had gone with Blakely the previous evening. Ginny shuddered. `I really just don't like that man! We went to the Burning Broomstick for drinks after work, and you're not going to believe what happened a bit later. Oscar -'

`Oscar?' interjected Hermione.

Ginny rolled her eyes. `I was making an effort and we agreed we'd not call each other Blockley and Weasally.'

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. `Ginny, you sound like two school children calling names!'

`That's the effect we have on each other!' Ginny cried. `It's terrible - and stupid! Anyway, Oscar and I had agreed that we'd have a trial period of a month after Ida leaves at the end of next week, and that we would both do our utmost to be civil and polite, etcetera.' Ginny sighed. `I hope it works because I really love my job and that magazine!'

`Oh, Ginny, I hope it does work out for you!'

`That's not the end of it, though. You're not going to believe who turned up towards the end!'

`Who?' asked Hermione, mystified. `I can't even begin to imagine.'

`Draco Malfoy,' announced Ginny triumphantly, knowing it would shock Hermione.

Hermione was very shocked. `What?!'

`Can you believe it? Apparently he's an acquaintance of Oscar's. Mind you, Oscar introduced him as Malcolm Rafferty so I don't know whether he's aware of his true identity.'

`Are you serious, Ginny? You're sure it was actually Draco Malfoy?'

`Oh, yes. Even though he's made his hair black, he's still recognisable - you'd recognise him, too.'

`I thought Malfoy was a wanted wizard, a Death Eater!' said Hermione.

`He probably still is, but Malcolm Rafferty isn't.'

`Did he say anything? Do you know what he was doing there?' asked Hermione, wide-eyed.

`He was his usual creepy, snotty self, although he had a rather wild look in his eyes. He didn't recognise me at first and actually had the gall to make some snide comment about how pretty I was. You should've seen the look on his face when Oscar introduced me - he did a double take and suddenly looked sick. I made sure he knew I recognised him, too.'

`Did he stay?'

Ginny shook her head and grinned. `Oh no, he wouldn't sit down with a blood traitor like me!'

Hermione told Ginny she would check up on Malfoy's status with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement first thing Monday morning.

`Good!' said Ginny. `Let me know what you find, if you don't mind. I'd like to see the look on the face of the Dark One if one of his disciples gets chucked into Azkaban!'

Hermione gasped. `What did you say?' she whispered, staring at Ginny.

Ginny faltered. `What do you mean, Hermione?'

Hermione scrambled up the couch, disregarding her book which fell to the floor, and grasped Ginny's wrist.

`Ginny,' she said urgently, `where did you hear about the Dark One? Was it Malfoy?'

`Hermione, you're scaring me,' said Ginny, her face white. `Malfoy just made one of his superior, nasty comments after Oscar told him my name. He said something to the effect that disciples of the Dark One didn't associate with lousy blood traitors. Oscar looked shocked but I thought it was probably best not to explain who Malfoy really was and that I'd been at Hogwarts with him. Why?'

Hermione sank back, releasing Ginny's wrist.

`Hermione, what's wrong?' asked Ginny, worried by her friend's reaction.

Hermione looked steadily at Ginny. `You remember what I told you about that Auror, Cleaver, being attacked by some old spell?' Ginny nodded. `The wizard that attacked him - I don't know his name - was mentally attacked by someone or something he calls the Dark One. He's now a gibbering, drunken idiot. It just seems too much of a coincidence for that name to turn up in connection with Malfoy as well.'

Ginny stared at Hermione, speechless.

`Ginny, why would Malfoy be talking about the Dark One? And what if what happened to Cleaver's attacker happens to Malfoy and somehow Blakely gets involved since he knows him?' She gave Ginny an extremely worried look. `Just to be safe, I think you should keep your distance from Blakely, Ginny, as much as you can, at any rate, until we know for sure what's going on.'

*

Ron pushed aside his resentment at having his sleep interrupted because this was, after all, Harry Potter - his best friend. It wasn't easy though, considering it was four a.m. and he quickly realised Harry wasn't himself, to say the least…the very least.

`Harry, what the -?' he'd stammered when he was rudely awoken by an unsteady Harry, who was speaking, but sounding quite unintelligible.

`Ron, Ron, 'sa disaster. Dreadful. Awf'l. Dunno what t'do.'

`Harry, you - you smell! You're drunk! What the hell's the matter with you? And how did you find me?'

`Your sched - sched - your list - the kitchen at home - hotels.' Harry hiccoughed. `Don' love Ginny,' he said sorrowfully. `Nope. Not any more. D'saster. Catas - catas - tro-pee. Dunno what t'do.'

Ron pushed the covers off and swung his long legs over the side of the bed, then rubbed his eyes. He took another look. Yep. It was Harry, leaning over with his two hands on the end of his, Ron's bed, to steady himself. He was looking blearily at Ron through his spectacles, his hair even messier than usual - if that was possible.

`Harry, what the bloody hell are you going on about?'

Harry fell to his knees beside the bed and let his head drop to rest on the bed. `My life is in ruins.'

Ron stood and moved to grasp Harry's shoulders, pulling him back to his feet and slinging Harry's arm across his shoulders to keep him upright.

`Harry, mate, nothing is ever that bad, c'mon,' said Ron consolingly as he slowly walked Harry towards the armchairs in the corner of his room.

`Shows y'know fuck all.'

`Harry!' exclaimed Ron, genuinely surprised; Harry virtually never swore.

`Sorry,' mumbled Harry. `Drank too much bloody Ogden's.' Harry squinted at Ron, trying to focus.

`And it shows, mate,' said Ron sardonically. `Come on, you need coffee - I don't have anything else handy that will help. And no! Don't you even think about it Harry!' admonished Ron as Harry lifted his free hand. `You are not conjuring coffee or anything else in your state!'

Harry dropped his hand and nodded sadly. `Okay.' Then he hiccoughed. `'Scuse me. All ol' Ogden's fault.'

`Yeah, he just made you drink that much, didn't he?'

As Ron helped Harry to one of the two armchairs, he noticed Harry's broom leaning against the wall beside the window. He turned and stared at Harry. `Harry, tell me you didn't fly here.'

`I didn' fly here.'

Ron helped Harry sit down and stood with his hands on his hips frowning at his friend.

`You flew here, didn't you?'

Harry blinked at him, running his fingers through his hair. `Y'said to tell you I didn' fly here.'

Ron rolled his eyes and turned to the small nearby counter that had a gas ring and kettle.

`Bloody hell, Harry, you could've easily fallen off your broom in your state!' he said, thoroughly exasperated with his friend.

`Didn' though, did I? I mean, I'm here…'

Spooning some coffee into two mugs, Ron shook his head in amazement. `It's a bloody miracle is all I can say.'

A short while later Ron was seated in the second armchair and he and Harry were sipping strong, hot coffee.

`So, Harry, spill it - no, not the coffee! Careful, mate! So, what's brought you to Holyhead at his hour of the night in this drunken state? You were muttering something about Ginny?'

Harry, his head feeling slightly clearer than it had when he'd on arrival, peered at his best friend and tried his hardest to think of a good answer. In the end, though, he found he just couldn't think straight and shrugged apologetically. `Didn' know who else I could go to,' he mumbled mournfully. `You're my best mate…'

Ron sighed. `Harry, you need to finish that coffee, I'll go and organise a room for you so you can go to bed and sleep - for a long time. And tomorrow, when you're sober, you talk, and I'll listen.'

Harry nodded obediently, then carefully lined his cup up with his mouth and drank.

*

Harry woke far earlier the next morning than he would have liked, given his condition, thanks to Hedwig's insistent pecks and piercing hoots.

He initially tried to wave away the annoying sounds and bites, but Hedwig was also concerned about her master and not about to give up.

When Harry finally opened his eyes and pushed himself upright, it was to see a very blurry Hedwig sitting on the bedside table looking at him reproachfully.

`Sweet Mother of Merlin,' he groaned, `my head feels like it's spent a week being used as a Quaffle.'

Hedwig did manage to give a slightly sympathetic hoot but held her foot out in a very determined manner, nonetheless.

Harry groped feebly for his glasses and once on, he noticed they really needed cleaning and that Hedwig had a scroll attached to her leg. Deciding it was probably wiser to read the scroll first and clean his glasses later, Harry removed it, automatically looking around for some refreshments for Hedwig.

`Not much here I'm afraid Hedwig,' he muttered. `Try reception, they'll have some water and treats.'

Hedwig, however, didn't move so much as a feather.

`Fine,' grunted Harry, as he sat up on the edge of the bed and unrolled the small note.

Dear Harry, Would you please send a note back with Hedwig to let us know that you're all right? Ginny was very surprised and is extremely worried about not finding you at home this morning (as you were supposed to be going to Diagon Alley). Hermione.

Harry groaned. Crap! He'd been so distressed and he hadn't been in any condition to give a single thought to Ginny or the consequences of taking off the way he did. Double crap!

Hedwig gave him a mostly friendly peck on the finger. `And I suppose Hermione gave you orders not to leave without a reply?' he said sourly, looking at his owl who stared straight back. `I thought so,' he muttered.

He looked around the room and saw a quill on a small writing desk in the corner. I came here to see Ron, he remembered. I must be in his hotel. Wait, he got me a room…after coffee; it's coming back to me. He walked somewhat unsteadily across the room and took a seat at the desk, glancing at the rolls of blank parchment provided with “Prince of Wales Wizard Hotel” printed across the top. After a last look at Hermione's note, he dipped the quill into the inkpot and scrawled, Dear Hermione (oh, how very dear!) and Ginny (I'm so horribly sorry Ginny, it's not your fault!) I'm with Ron in Holyhead, Wales. I'm sorry I left no note - it was a last minute decision. I'm perfectly all right (oh what a lie!) but I'm not sure when I'll be home (at least that was true) - I'll let you know. Please forgive me - I forgot about Diagon Alley. Love, Harry.

He re-rolled the piece of parchment and affixed it to Hedwig's leg while she watched him with what he was sure was approval for replying so quickly.

`Back to Hermione, Hedwig,' he said, carrying her to the window and opening it with a wave of his hand. `Give her my love, will you?' he whispered as Hedwig took flight. As he watched his faithful owl soar into the air on her way back to Hermione, Harry had the peculiar sensation of simultaneously feeling as though he'd always loved Hermione and yet being aware of it as a newly discovered emotion.

After he could no longer see Hedwig, Harry turned his back to the window and ran his fingers through his hair.

Dear Merlin, what did I say to Ron? What did I tell him? I can't remember! And what am I going to tell him? Certainly not that I love Hermione! Harry groaned. He wasn't sure which was the better situation: being here with Ron or waking up at home. Then he thought of facing Hermione so soon after his revelation and decided being with Ron was definitely the less stressful of the two scenarios.

He stumbled into the shower and stayed there for nearly half an hour. When he emerged, he felt much better (and Ron would've vouched for him smelling better) but he was no closer to knowing what he should do. Or not do. As he pulled on his jeans, he felt something in the back pocket and when he checked, he pulled out a miniature stuffed toy dog. He lifted his hand to eye level, the tiny dog sitting on his flattened palm. He smiled at the happy memories it evoked of the previous evening spent with Hermione before putting it in his shirt pocket for safekeeping.

He then conjured a cup of coffee and sat on the single armchair provided in the room, gazing out the window. Hermione. It hurt like hell to think of her and yet it made his heart sing at the same time. How bloody ridiculous can things be? he wondered. The day before yesterday I would have laughed at anyone who told me I'd fallen in love with Hermione. The day before yesterday, I thought I still loved Ginny. And today? Today my life is upside down. Or is it actually now right-side up? He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. Hermione. How strange and yet how normal that your name sounds so sweet and the thought of you makes me smile! Well, you could always make me smile, but now…despite the prospect of never being able to tell you I love you or of ever being able to hold you as I'd like, I somehow feel complete and that should feel strange, but it doesn't. Just sitting here thinking about you makes me feel so good! And happy. And, oh yeah…he glanced down, laughing ruefully...let's not forget that kind of happy, as well, Potter. Bloody wonderful.

He finished his coffee and decided that despite the totally lousy feeling in his head, he'd go and find Ron and have breakfast with him and tell him…what? That I no longer love his little sister. I can do that. But I won't tell him that while I've stopped loving Ginny, I've discovered that the woman I do love is Hermione…

Which was probably a wise decision at this point in time, to say the least.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Authors Note

Hmm…can't think of anything totally fascinating or devastatingly witty to share this sunny (if cold!) Monday morning everyone so I'll just say: happy reading! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER EIGHT

In which Harry talks to Ron (after breakfast, of course), Ginny goes to Diagon Alley and then there's lots of walking - Hermione goes for a walk, Harry goes for a walk and Ginny goes for a walk…and then they all walk home again…

After asking at the reception desk which room Ron was in, the small, neat, middle-aged desk-witch (whose only sign of recognition of her famous inquirer was a slight widening of her brown eyes behind her spectacles), briskly informed him that Mr Weasley and his colleagues had not long entered the dining room, presumably to have breakfast. Harry thanked her, but groaned inwardly when he realised that of course Seamus and Colin would be with Ron. He stood for a moment, wondering whether he should go in or wait until Ron finished eating, when his stomach decided for him by rumbling and reminding him that hangover or not, it wanted breakfast if he didn't mind.

`Harry!' cried Seamus when he spotted Harry enter the dining room. Harry looked around and spotted Ron, Seamus, Colin and - Luna? What's Luna still doing here? Harry wondered. He could see Ron was saying something to Seamus and smiled. Ron knew better than to yell out to Harry in a public place because even his first name made people do precisely what every occupant of the dining room did when they'd heard Seamus: their heads turned this way and that until they found “Harry” just in case it was that Harry, the Harry…Harry Potter. And when realisation dawned on them all that it actually was the Harry, a collective but polite gasp could be heard, followed by a second's silence, and that was followed almost immediately by a surging hum of low, urgent whispers. There he is! Oh my, it really is him! Look, it's Harry Potter! Harry Potter!

Harry was all too familiar with the whole process and simply kept his eyes on his friends, not making eye contact with any of the other diners. As he sat down at the table next to Ron, a young waitress began making her way across the room. Harry turned and stared for a few moments at Luna.

`It's rude to stare, Harry,' said Luna with a smile, `as you should know.'

`Sorry, I just didn't expect to see you and I was surprised,' said Harry apologetically, feeling a momentary kinship with the staring occupants of the dining room.

`She turned up the night I came to Dean's birthday do and she's been with us ever since - I think we're stuck with her for the duration now!' said Seamus good-naturedly; he liked Luna and enjoyed her quirky sense of humour even when much of it was unintended.

`Harry! It's good to see you again!' said Colin enthusiastically.

`No photos, though, Colin, right?' said Harry, giving the camera hanging around Colin's neck a wary eye. He must sleep with that thing, I'm sure! Harry thought to himself.

Harry was sure he caught a flash of disappointment in Colin's eyes, but the young photographer happily agreed not to take any photos of the man who still remained his hero.

The young waitress, who had a very long, thick braid of chestnut brown hair thrown over one shoulder and hanging almost to her waist, arrived at the table, her blue eyes wide and fixed on Harry. `Good morning, sir,' she said in a very breathless voice, `I'm Sian, your waitress this morning. What would you like for breakfast?'

Ron caught Seamus' and Colin's eyes and tipped his head towards Harry, mouthing `Watch this!' at them.

The three of them looked on as Harry smiled up at the young girl, politely ignoring her furious blushing.

`Morning, Sian. First I'd like a glass of Salveo Valens potion and -'

`Feeling a bit under the weather, Harry?' asked Seamus, chuckling.

`So he should,' said Ron, grinning at Harry. `He smelt like a vat of stale Ogden's when he arrived at four a.m. this morning and on his broom, no less - all the way from the Nook!'

Seamus whistled in surprise but there was admiration in his eyes. `Well done, Harry!'

`Harry, it's very dangerous to fly when you've been drinking,' said Luna, frowning at him, while Colin looked as though he was working very hard at not taking some snaps of Harry across the table - his fingers kept twitching, reaching automatically for his camera so that he had to keep pulling them away..

Harry held his hand up. `All right you lot, we can discuss all this after I've had my potion and my breakfast. By the way, what have you all ordered?' he asked.

`Full breakfast,' said Ron, who then spoke to the waitress, `Can we have all our meals brought out together?'

`Certainly, sir,' she answered without taking her eyes off Harry.

Harry looked up at her once more as he said, `I'll have the full breakfast too, thanks. And tea, please.'

`Oh, my pleasure Mr Potter,' she said, unable to stop smiling, quickly adding, `sir!'

`Just “Harry” is fine, thanks,' said Harry, ever uncomfortable with the formality of “Mr Potter”.

`Certainly, sir - er - Harry -'

`Poor girl looks as though she's gonna turn into a puddle on the spot,' Seamus whispered in an aside to the others.

Unable to say any more, the waitress nodded and turned, almost running as she left to fill the order. She was back in less than two minutes with the potion Harry had ordered in a tall, crystal tumbler.

`There you are, sir…Harry.'

Harry thanked her and she once again almost ran as she left, blushing furiously but with her eyes sparkling; she was the envy of the other two waitresses working that morning, both of whom were begging Sian for a chance to take something, anything, to Harry's table..

`Does that always happen when you're in restaurants and such?' asked Luna curiously.

`Unfortunately, most of the time,' sighed Harry and while it all left him in no doubt as to the fact that he was a continuing source of fascination to the wizarding world, he could never truly understand it; he really did think of himself as just an ordinary person.

`Well, you are special,' said Luna almost off-handedly.

`Oi!' said Ron, putting on a hurt look.

Luna smiled at him and patted his cheek. `But not as special as you, Ronald,' she assured him.

Harry laughed at the satisfied look on Ron's face and realised he felt happy for his best friend, while at the same time he was envious of him because he was with the woman he wanted and who wanted him.

The potion Harry drank worked almost immediately and he was more than ready for his breakfast when all their meals arrived. After they'd finished, Seamus and Colin left, as they wanted to attend the Harpies' morning training session to arrange their schedule with the team for the week. Ron had told Luna that Harry needed to talk to him and she'd said that since she wanted to visit her father, she would Floo home for the day and be back in time for dinner.

After Seamus and Colin left, Harry, Ron and Luna returned to Ron's room which was quite a bit bigger than Harry's. `Not much available on such short notice at four in the morning,' said Ron wryly when Harry commented on this fact.

Shortly afterwards, Ron went downstairs to the public fireplace in the hotel's reception area to see Luna off. When he returned to his room, it was to find Harry sitting on one of the two chairs at the tiny table on the small balcony with a bottle of Gillywater. Grabbing a bottle of the same for himself from the sideboard, Ron joined Harry and told him how word about his presence in the hotel must have spread like wildfire, because there was a crowd at the front desk wanting to know about Harry and whether they could see him, or at least leave a message. The poor, harassed desk-witch no longer looked so neat, and her spectacles were sitting crookedly on her nose as she tried to deal with this unexpected chaos.

Harry groaned as he shook his head. `I wasn't thinking clearly when I came here - I'll have to make sure I go and see her and apologise.'

`Harry, mate, you weren't thinking period!' Ron told him with a lopsided grin. `I mean, you did a good job of proving how much of a git you can be by flying here. But it's not your fault people go a bit potty over you!'

Harry stared at Ron who was grinning hugely. `Potty?' groaned Harry, `That's the lousiest pun ever!'

Ron chuckled. `Sorry, mate! You know, at least at home everyone's gotten used to you - well, except maybe for Esmerelda. But I think we should stay right here in my room for now, I reckon you'll cause a bloody riot if you appear down there at the moment.'

`I suppose you're right,' conceded Harry, running his fingers through his hair in dismay.

`So, to what do I owe this chaos-causing visit?' asked Ron, his voice light, yet serious.

Harry hesitated. `I'm not sure I want to talk about it now,' he said quietly.

Ron straightened in his chair. `Harry, you were babbling last night about disasters, catastrophes and not loving Ginny and your life being in ruins. You're talking whether you want to or not - or else.' His tone brooked no argument.

Harry put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, groaning softly. So I did say something last night, damn it!

`Come, on,' said Ron firmly, `out with it.'

`Ron, it's really hard. This is your little sister I'm talking about - and I feel as protective of her as if she was also my little sister.'

`And?'

`Ron, I realised last night that I don't love her - Ginny - I mean I do, but not in the way I'm supposed to - I mean, it's not that I'm not supposed to love her the way I do, which is -'

`Harry, stop! You're giving me a headache already - try going for a simple explanation, please mate.'

Harry sat up, took a deep breath and turned to Ron. Just say it! he told himself forcefully.

`Ron, I've fallen out of love with your sister. I love her as a sister, as a friend - but that's it. I haven't told her yet and the last thing I want to do in the world is hurt her, because I love her, if that makes any sense. I don't know what to do. And that is why I woke you up at four a.m. this morning. That and because I was totally pissed. For which I apologise, by the way, now that I'm sober,' finished Harry, not a little sheepishly.

Ron sat perfectly still, staring at Harry who had no idea what was going on inside the mind of his best friend. His best friend who was the brother of the woman he used to love.

Ron, for his part, was trying to absorb what Harry had told him. It was only because he'd been through a similar experience recently himself that he had any understanding at all of what Harry was feeling.

When he spoke, his voice was low and even, as though he was carefully considering each word. `Harry, it's only because I discovered not too long ago that I'd fallen out of love with Hermione that I know what you're talking about. And I know you don't want to hurt Ginny because you still love her in the way I still love Hermione. But you need to tell her, for her sake and for yours. I know that if Hermione and I had had our talk sooner, things would've been better and easier for both of us.'

`Except that in your case,' said Harry heavily, `you both fell out of love with each other. Ginny still loves me, as far as I know.'

Ron nodded thoughtfully. `Oh, yeah. That does complicate things somewhat.'

Harry dropped his head into his hands again and groaned. `I think I'd rather face Voldemort again than tell Ginny I want to break up,' said Harry in a pained voice.

`Do you want me to talk to her first?' asked Ron, anguish in his eyes. `I mean, I'm sorta torn here - this is my little sister we're talking about and yet you're my best mate! Argh!'

Harry shook his head. `You don't have to do that, honestly. This is something I owe Ginny - I should be the one to tell her. And I don't expect you to do it for me - much as, well, you know…'

Ron looked relieved. `As much as you wish you didn't have to, right? I'm so very glad, mate, but I did have to offer…'

Harry gave him a half-smile. `Yeah, I know what you mean. But what am I going to do to make sure she's all right after I tell her?'

Ron shrugged. `Easy! Just get Hermione in on it - she's Ginny's best friend, she'll help you.'

For a split second Harry thought he was going to break out into hysterical laughter. Hermione? Tell the woman I love I no longer love her best friend so she can comfort her? Oh, dear Hades, the irony!

`Actually, I think you have something there,' Harry managed to say. He did feel as though some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders now that he'd talked to Ron. He was also glad he'd been the one to tell his best mate; now he just had to return home and face Ginny.

`Speak to Hermione first,' Ron advised. `Make sure she's around when you tell Ginny. And I guess I'm going to have to tell Mum and Dad, too.'

Harry began to feel miserable. He'd been right last night if, as Ron said, he'd called this situation a disaster, because he was sure Mr and Mrs Weasley would be upset and perhaps even a little angry at him for hurting their only daughter. Harry began to wonder if he was doing the right thing and said as much to Ron.

`Harry, one thing I do know is that no one can live that kind of lie. It might be hard and people will be hurt and maybe even angry, but it will pass - life goes on. Ginny will eventually find someone else and so will you. I'm lucky Luna was so determined - I mean, that I have Luna and I'm sure it won't be long before Hermione meets someone, too.'

Harry stared at Ron. `What?' asked Ron, when Harry remained silently staring at him.

Harry shook his head in astonished admiration. `That's very understanding of you. Didn't know you had it in you.'

`Hey, I'm not a fifteen year old school boy any more, you know. And I learnt a lot from Hermione.'

Harry nodded in acknowledgement as he stood up, Ron following suit.

`You going?' asked Ron.

Harry nodded. `You're right, I can't live a lie and I need to do this today, before I lose my nerve.'

Ron grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. `Harry! You lose your nerve? No way!'

Harry gave Ron a rueful grin. `This feels more nerve wracking than anything I had to do in the war, believe me.'

As the two friends walked inside, Harry asked, `Do you think by now those people downstairs will be gone? I want to Floo home rather than fly - it's much quicker.'

`Maybe,' replied Ron. `There's one way to find out.'

They made their way across the hall to pick up Harry's broom from his room before heading down the stairs. When they reached the ground floor, they could see a young couple at the reception desk but the crowd Ron had encountered earlier had cleared. Taking out his wand, Harry conjured a bouquet of flowers, then he and Ron made their way to the desk.

The desk-witch looked happier now that things were once more under control, and after wishing the couple at the desk a safe journey as they headed for the fireplace, she turned to Harry and Ron, smiling.

`Good afternoon,' said Harry politely, having glanced at the clock on the wall which read a few minutes after midday.

The desk-witch's smile faltered and her eyes widened. `Oh, Mr Potter, how can I help you?'

Harry held out the bouquet of flowers. `These are for you. I'm sorry about that commotion earlier. Ron - Mr Weasley - told me about it. I'm sorry you were put to so much bother.'

`Oh, no bother, Mr Potter, honestly!' said the now blushing desk-witch as she took the flowers. `But thank you, how lovely!'

`My pleasure,' said Harry, smiling as he said, `I'm leaving now and I'd just like to pay for my room and buy some Floo Powder, please; I left mine at home.'

`And he won't take any of mine,' said Ron, giving Harry an exasperated look.

With his receipt in his pocket and a small vial of Floo Powder in hand, Harry and Ron turned to head for the fireplace when the desk-witch exclaimed, `Wait! Mr Potter - your messages!' She picked up a thick roll of various parchments tied with a silver ribbon from behind the desk and held them out to Harry, who thanked her.

Harry and Ron shook hands as they stood in front of the large fireplace.

`Thanks for everything,' Harry told him. `I'm really sorry about the early morning wake up call.'

`Any time, mate,' Ron said. `I know I could do the same to you if I needed to!'

`Absolutely,' Harry assured him, laughing. Then, broom and messages in hand, Harry tossed a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames, quickly stepping in when they turned green, his voice firm and clear as he said, `Sorcerers' Nook!' and disappeared.

*

`Hedwig's back!'

Hermione heard Ginny calling out from Harry's flat - both front doors having been left open. Hermione quickly jumped to her feet and ran across the hall. Ginny was standing next to Hedwig's perch, unrolling the note she'd just removed from her leg. Hermione came up beside Ginny and read over her shoulder.

Dear Hermione and Ginny, I'm with Ron in Holyhead, Wales. I'm sorry I left no note - it was a last minute decision. I'm perfectly all right but I'm not sure when I'll be home - I'll let you know. Please forgive me - I forgot about Diagon Alley. Love, Harry.

The two women looked at each other in mutual amazement, Hermione speaking first, `He flew to Holyhead in the middle of the night, drunk? What was he thinking?'

Ginny shrugged as she shook her head in disbelief. `I can't wait to find out! I hope he comes home today.'

`I'm sure he will,' said Hermione reassuringly. `He was missing Ron, I think. And now that everything's okay and Harry's all right, I'm going to make myself a picnic lunch and my book and I are going for a walk along the stream. You'll be all right, won't you?'

`Of course,' Ginny assured her, `now that I know Harry's all right. And since Mum's meeting me there, I might just as well go on to Diagon Alley anyway; I really do need to buy a few things.'

Shortly afterwards, Ginny was about to head downstairs to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron while Hermione was making her lunch.

`I'm guessing I'll be home for dinner,' Ginny told her from the doorway, `since Harry may not be back. Will you be here tonight?'

Hermione nodded. `Why don't we see if Neville and Dean want to come over for dinner? And maybe we could do something with them?'

`Sounds great,' said Ginny. `I'll see you about five, then.'

Hermione waved as her friend left, humming to herself as she wrapped the sandwiches she'd made. Looking over at Crookshanks, lying idly in his basket, Hermione chuckled. `Don't suppose you want to come for a walk with me?' she asked, laughing when she received the expected look of total disinterest.

Hermione packed her sandwiches, some fruit, a couple of bottles of Gillywater along with a blanket and her book in a rucksack, humming happily as she did so. Then she changed her jeans for some dark blue shorts which went well with her white shirt, as well as some socks and her trainers. Finally, she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail before pulling on the rucksack; before leaving, she went over to Crookshanks' basket, bending down to give him an affectionate scratch behind the ear. She stopped on the next floor down to slip the notes she'd written under both Dean and Neville's doors, inviting them to dinner that night.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Hermione heard the familiar rustle of robes and the tapping of Esmerelda's shoes as she emerged from her office, spotting Hermione almost immediately.

`Hermione, my dear, you look lovely! Going on one of your walks, then?'

Hermione nodded, then thinking of Harry, she added, `And Ginny's gone to Diagon Alley to do some shopping. I'll be home about three and Ginny'll be home about five or so. Would you let Harry know if you see him?'

`Of course, I will. You have a lovely time, dear,' said Esmerelda merrily and Hermione couldn't help but grin at just how much Esmerelda would let Harry know if she saw him.

Waving as she said, `Thank you, I will!' Hermione pulled open the front door and went out. It was a perfect summer's day and she decided she hadn't felt this happy for a long time, as she passed under the archway through the hedge and walked down to the banks of the stream, veering left and heading upstream.

*

An hour or so later, Harry stepped out of the fireplace at the Nook and immediately spotted Esmerelda giving Frewin some Doogle's Deluxe Owl Treats.

`Harry! Good afternoon!' she cried, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her favourite tenant.

Groaning inwardly, Harry managed a smile. `Afternoon, Esmerelda, how are you today?'

While rubbing her hands together to brush off crumbs, Esmerelda said, `Very well, very well, and you?'

`Not too bad, although I'm rather tired. I've just come from Holyhead in Wales - I went to visit Ron.'

`How is he going?' Esmerelda felt about her tenants rather like a mother hen did about her chicks. `And that lovely Seamus, he was there too?' She'd met Seamus a number of times when he'd come to visit.

Harry nodded. `They're both fine - it's more like a long holiday than work, I think.' Harry desperately wanted to get up to his flat and fall into bed for a couple of hours but as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle a huge yawn, Esmerelda repeated what Hermione had told her.

Realising this was the perfect opportunity to talk to Hermione before he saw Ginny, Harry regretfully put aside his vision of some much needed sleep.

`Thanks for that, Esmerelda,' Harry said quickly before she could launch into some story of hers. `I actually need to talk to Hermione so I'd better hurry. I'll see you later!' Harry gave Esmerelda a big smile as he turned and almost ran up the stairs, congratulating himself on escaping so easily for a change. He dropped the roll of messages on the table then he returned his broom to its special cupboard in his bedroom. As he headed back downstairs, he hoped fervently that Esmerelda wouldn't be about, and felt relief wash over him when he reached the front door without seeing her.

Once down at the stream, Harry hesitated, wondering which direction Hermione had taken that morning. He studied the soft, moist ground for a minute and was sure he could see some impressions left by a light footfall. Must be Hermione, he told himself as he headed off to his left.

As he walked along, occasionally having to duck under the trailing branches and leaves of the weeping willows along the banks, Harry could feel the nervous tension growing in his stomach with each step. This was the first time he was actually going to see and speak to Hermione since he'd come to know he loved her, and he was deathly afraid that somehow he'd give himself away. His anxiety about keeping his true feelings from her conversely made him feel exposed and transparent; he was scared she'd see right through him and that his love for her would be completely obvious.

After walking for about twenty minutes or so, he was stopped in his tracks by the sound of light, happy laughter not too far ahead. He proceeded at a slow pace, not wanting to frighten Hermione by barging out of nowhere, since she didn't know he was coming.

He reached another of the old willow trees and sensed he was very close now to Hermione. He stopped at the trunk, keeping mostly behind it with one hand resting on the gnarled old tree. As he gazed at the sight before him, he felt sure his heart was stilled for one breathless moment before it began beating so rapidly he thought it would leap out of his chest.

Hermione had spread her blue, grey and white chequered blanket on the stream's edge just in front of another of the old weeping willows. She was lying on her stomach, resting on her elbows with her chin cradled in her hands; her book was open, propped up against her rucksack although she wasn't reading it at the moment. The stream narrowed here and was only about eight foot wide, and as he followed her gaze, he spotted the reason for Hermione's laughter - a little water vole was clearly visible on the opposite bank, sitting on its haunches as it nibbled delicately at some of the waterside grasses.

`Hello, Ratty,' he heard Hermione say softly. `Where's Mole and Toad? And Badger? Are they all up at Toad Hall?'

The child-like delight and joy in her voice made Harry's heart swell and as his gaze returned to Hermione he couldn't prevent his eyes from sweeping along the enticing curves starting from her shoulders all the way along her slender form to her bare feet. Harry shifted uncomfortably and cursed his newfound susceptibility to Hermione's physical charms. He felt hesitant about interrupting her peace and solitude, but thought this would probably be his only chance to speak to her alone before Ginny returned home.

He quietly retraced his steps for about three yards, then turned and walked back in Hermione's direction, trying to walk as noisily as possible and calling out her name.

As he neared the spot he'd just left, he heard Hermione call out, `Harry? Is that you?'

He ducked under the low branch of the willow and smiled broadly at Hermione as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, her knees to one side. `Harry! You're back! How are you?'

`Hope I'm not interrupting,' he said as he reached the blanket and stood looking down at her, his hands pushed into his pockets.

Hermione patted the blanket. `Of course you're not! Sit down - I'm dying to hear what happened and why you went flying off last night.'

Harry groaned at the memory of his reckless flight before sitting down, then laying back, propped up on one elbow. `It's not a good story, actually,' he said, his voice low.

Hermione was immediately concerned. `You are all right, aren't you?' she asked anxiously

Harry nodded. `Mostly. I have no idea how the hell I made it to Holyhead without falling off my broom, though, considering the state I was in. Just sheer luck, I suppose.'

Hermione shook her head. `Harry, what were you thinking, flying when you were drunk? It was madness!'

Harry looked down at the rug, picking at a loose thread with his free hand. `I know, I know! Trust me, I don't have to be told.'

Hermione sighed. `So, what made you get drunk in the first place? It's not like you!'

Harry continued playing with the thread as he said in a low voice. `I'm afraid I'm in rather an awkward position as of yesterday, Hermione, and I need your help.'

`Of course, what is it?'

Harry lifted his eyes to meet Hermione's; she was taken aback by the sorrow in his green gaze and moved, closing the short distance between them. She put her hand over his, which was continuing to unconsciously twiddle with the thread. Harry froze at the contact, his eyes dropping to their hands, unable to think with Hermione sitting so closely beside him. His eyes were riveted on her hand as it rested on his - the smooth, soft skin and neatly manicured nails. Also in range of his vision were the tops of her legs below her navy shorts and her bent knees; yet more enticingly smooth skin crying out to be caressed. Harry knew it would be impossible for him to talk to Hermione whilst sitting the way they were, so he gave her a quick, grateful smile as he pushed himself up to a sitting position then stood up, running his hands through his hair. Filled with apprehension and concern, Hermione stood also, her eyes fixed on Harry. She was getting a distinct feeling of déjà vu - Harry's manner reminded her strongly of how he'd been the night at the fair.

Harry pushed his hands into his pockets and turned to gaze across the stream; the little water vole had gone, no doubt frightened away by his intrusion. He cleared his throat, wishing it was all over. Come on, Potter, he admonished himself, get on with it for crying out loud!

`Hermione, I'll need your help - well, actually, it's Ginny that's going to need your help.' He took a deep breath and since he could think of no other way of saying it, he simply said, `I realised last night that I'm no longer in love with Ginny. I need to tell her, it's the right thing to do. But I do love her as I've always done - as a friend, almost like a sister - so I don't want to hurt her, although I'm sure telling her this will.'

Hermione's mouth had dropped open as she listened to Harry. When he'd finished, she continued to stare at him, dazed.

Harry glanced up at her and winced at the sight of Hermione's shocked and horrified countenance.

`Harry,' she whispered. `What are you saying? How - why - when did this all happen?'

Harry went back to gazing across the stream; Hermione's nearness was disturbing enough without having to see the look in her eyes.

`Now that I know, I can look back and see it's been a gradual process, but one I just wasn't aware of while it was taking place. That is, until yesterday.'

`Why yesterday? What happened?'

Harry couldn't think of an answer that would make sense - except the truth, and he certainly wasn't about to tell Hermione that.

`It doesn't really matter, honestly - it just did. The main thing now is that I have to tell Ginny. I spoke to Ron this morning about it. He helped, actually. When I wasn't sure if I could go through with telling Ginny because it would mean hurting her, he told me it was the right thing to do. He said we'll move on and be much happier than if we were living a lie.'

`He's right. And so are you, Harry - this is going to hurt Ginny, all right. You want me to be there for her, don't you?'

Harry nodded, still unable to meet her gaze. `I don't want her to be alone.'

`When are you going to tell her?'

`Tonight. I can't leave it.' Or I may just lose my nerve, he thought grimly. The way he felt was definitely worsening as the afternoon wore on and he was now dreading the confrontation with Ginny.

Hermione studied him and her heart went out to him. She knew he must be feeling something similar to what she'd felt before she'd spoken to Ron and she sympathised with him, even while her heart was breaking for Ginny. Glancing at her watch, she made a swift decision since there was nothing else either of them could do right at that moment about Harry's predicament. Taking one of Harry's hands, Hermione tugged on it, causing Harry to jerk around at her touch, his eyes wide as he looked at her.

`Harry, it's all right. It's hours before Ginny's due back. Let's just sit down, maybe have something to eat a little later - I made some sandwiches - and just rest. We can talk - or not. It doesn't matter. How does that sound?'

Harry, feeling electrified by Hermione's touch, nodded, not daring to speak. He was grateful that at least Hermione would attribute any unusual behaviour on his part to his distress and nerves.

They moved the blanket back so that it was right next to the trunk of the old willow, giving them something to lean on. Neither of them felt hungry at that moment, but they did drink some of the Gillywater Hermione had packed. Harry couldn't help but yawn and Hermione insisted he use her lap for a pillow. `I'll just be reading,' she said briskly, `you catch up on some sleep. I'll wake you when it's time to go.'

Harry decided he couldn't refuse without making a fuss, so he happily resigned himself to the luxury of having his head cradled in Hermione's lap. As he closed his eyes, he found it easy to imagine that everything was right with the world and that he and Hermione were here together - that he was free to show his love for her and that she loved him in return. He didn't think he could possibly sleep as he lay there, smiling to himself. He heard Hermione occasionally turn a page of the book she was reading and without even realising it, he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*

While Harry slept and Hermione read, Ginny was in Diagon Alley picking up various supplies. She had things on her list like Floo Powder, Mrs Scower's Magical Mess Remover and Sleekeazy's Hair Potion for Hermione as well as a number of other potions and solutions they were low on. As arranged, she met her mother for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, and while Ginny had planned on shopping for some new robes for work afterwards, Molly said she wanted to get home early as Bill and Fleur and Charlie and Cordelia were coming for dinner, Ginny then decided she'd wait to buy her robes and so she ended up returning home earlier than planned.

Esmerelda poked her head around her office door when she heard Ginny's footsteps on the stairs.

`Afternoon, Ginevra!' she called out, Ginny pausing on the stairs in response. `I thought it might be you, dear. Hermione asked me to let you know that Harry's home. He arrived just over an hour or so ago and he's joined Hermione on her walk, in case you're looking for him. Hermione did say she'd be back around three.'

`Thanks, Esmerelda!' Ginny called as she continued up the stairs. She glanced at her watch and saw it was half past two. Leaving all her packages on the kitchen bench, Ginny changed her shoes for her trainers, having decided she'd also go for a walk and meet up with Harry and Hermione.

*

Harry murmured contentedly in his sleep and Hermione glanced down from her book. She smiled to herself at the almost boyish innocence that Harry's sleeping countenance held and felt a soft tenderness for her long-time friend. As she went back to reading, her free hand absent-mindedly began playing with Harry's hair. Even in his sleep, Harry appeared to be aware of Hermione's touch and a dreamy smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

And so Ginny came upon them, having seen Harry's larger, heavier footsteps in the soft, damp earth of the stream's banks and following in the same direction. She paused in the same spot Harry had when he first saw Hermione in the dappled sunlight. At first she wasn't disturbed at what she saw, but something made her hold back from announcing her presence and she watched for an endless minute as Hermione read, slowly and tenderly playing with strands of Harry's hair, although it seemed she was so engrossed in her book she was doing it entirely unconsciously. She could tell Harry was asleep from his deep, even, breathing and yet still he smiled at Hermione's touch. They presented a tender, peaceful and loving tableau beside the old tree and Ginny felt her throat constrict with some unnamed emotion. Like everyone that was close to them, Ginny was aware of the very special bond between Harry, Ron and Hermione and as she'd grown up with it, it had never bothered her. At this moment, however, it struck her that there might be something more than their usual special bond present this day, although she wasn't sure just what. Then she chided herself for being so imaginative and creating situations that didn't exist, giving herself a mental shake as she stepped forward.

It was lucky Harry was asleep when Ginny appeared and called out a greeting, because he wouldn't have been able to prevent his guilt at being caught with Hermione like this from showing on his face. Hermione of course, simply looked up and smiled, completely guilt-free.

`Hi Ginny! You're home early - everything all right?' asked Hermione as she put her bookmark in place and closed her book, laying it down beside her.

`Fine,' she said as she sunk down on the blanket next to Harry's sleeping form.

Hermione suddenly came to herself, having been deeply engrossed in her book, and recalled what Harry had told her. Her smile faltered and she glanced at Ginny who was smiling down at Harry. `How long has Sleeping Beauty been asleep?' Ginny asked.

`Oh, probably only about half an hour or so.' Hermione looked at her watch. `It's nearly three - we'd better get moving,' she said, putting her hand on Harry's shoulder and gently shaking him as she repeated his name a few times.

Harry slowly came to, feeling very groggy from being woken out of a deep sleep. He squinted at both the faces swimming above him and wondered for a few seconds where he was and what was happening.

`Hermione? Ginny?'

Ginny poked him playfully in the side before standing up. `Come on Sleeping Beauty, up and at `em!'

Harry dragged himself up to a sitting position, turning and murmuring his thanks to Hermione for the “pillow”, desperately pushing away the awareness of how close their faces were as he did so - close enough to kiss… This thought startled him fully awake and he rose quickly to his feet.

`My pleasure,' Hermione replied, as she too got to her feet.

With everything packed back in the rucksack, Harry shouldered it and the three of them headed home, single file.

Harry was last, behind Hermione, with Ginny in the lead. They held a desultory conversation as they walked, mainly about the weather and Ginny's shopping trip. Ginny was unaware of Harry's growing tension as they drew nearer to home. He was dreading having to tell Ginny, while at the same time desperately wanting to get it over and done with.

As they reached the girls' flat, Harry dropped the rucksack on the kitchen table and gave Hermione a frantically anxious look. Hermione knew what Harry was thinking, and while Ginny put the kettle on and Harry emptied the rucksack except for Hermione's blanket, Hermione announced she needed a shower and a nap. `So I'll leave you both to it,' she finished, picking up her book and rucksack. `Feel free to eat those sandwiches if you're hungry, by the way.' She gave Harry a reassuring smile and headed for the hallway and her room.

Harry sat down at the kitchen table and stared glumly at its polished wooden surface. As she sat down with a tea tray, Hermione's sandwiches now set out on a plate, Ginny gave Harry a puzzled look.

`Something's wrong, isn't it?' she asked. `And last night - what on earth happened, Harry?'

Harry looked up and as his darkened green eyes met Ginny's bright brown gaze, she saw something in his expression that frightened her. But Ginny hadn't been in Gryffindor for nothing and she was a Weasley. So she put on a brave smile and said, `Tell me everything, Harry.'

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

And in case you were thinking of asking about the next chapter: Chapter Nine will up bright and early Thursday morning and to whet your appetite, here's the summary snippet:

CHAPTER NINE

In which Harry tells Ginny everything, Ginny guesses Harry's secret, Dean goes to the Burrow for dinner and Hermione has a few too many glasses of wine, while Neville ponders his chances with her…

-->

Author's Note

Finally, another Interlude (alayneni should like that) and this is the longest chapter yet (which should make mani12191 happy) - and a huge hug of thanks and affection is winging its way to Kirsti who miraculously finds time (I'm not sure how sometimes!) to run her inimitable eagle eye over each chapter! You're bloody brilliant dear! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

FOURTH INTERLUDE

The Ante-Chamber was filled with the sound of eerily muted murmuring, rising from the clustered Disciples of the Dark One, who had gathered together to hear the words of their master; they were all kneeling, facing towards a rough rock wall - with the exception of one figure that stood, its hooded face mere inches from the wall. The chamber was lit by black candles burning in sconces set in the wall behind the kneeling disciples. Their murmuring ceased abruptly as a harsh sound rent the cold, salty air, making the hairs on the necks of those present stand erect. There was a muffled cry from the figure standing at the rock wall, and in the flickering light, glistening droplets of its blood could be seen splattered against the rock. An instant later, the blazing silver outline of an arch appeared in the rock wall and with a barely audible moan, the bleeding disciple stepped into the inky darkness, immediately disappearing from sight. An intense silence settled on the kneeling, motionless figures as they waited…

What seemed an eternity later, there was a distant, stifled scream followed by a barely audible splash before the deep, still silence prevailed once more. A sound like the teeth of a saw scoring metal issued from the darkness, and the head of every disciple dropped to the ground as they were greeted by their master, captive to the sound of his voice as he issued orders and gave instructions...

*

CHAPTER NINE

In which Harry tells Ginny everything, Ginny guesses Harry's secret, Dean goes to the Burrow for dinner and Hermione has a few too many glasses of wine, while Neville ponders his chances with her…

As he sat with Ginny's words hanging in the air between them, Tell me everything, Harry realised he hadn't given any thought as to exactly how he was going to tell Ginny. His gaze dropped and he sat there staring at the table.

`I don't know where to start or how to say it,' he said miserably, suddenly feeling totally inadequate.

`Start at the beginning,' said Ginny and the mixture of tension and apprehension in her voice made him even more aware of the hurt he was about to cause her.

Harry almost groaned. He remembered his own painful realisation of just when it had all begun. Or had it? How long had this love for Hermione been growing without him being aware of it? During the war he'd matured enough to understand that what he'd always felt for his two closest friends was love - and that was what he'd felt for them even before he was old enough to be conscious of that. Now, he couldn't imagine not loving them…not loving Hermione… He wondered at what point in his life his love for Hermione had changed. He couldn't tell - he didn't really know - it was as though it had always been there. And he still didn't know how he was going to explain it all to Ginny. He decided he would just have to start talking and hope the right words came to him.

Harry glanced up at Ginny then, but the sight of her pale face and tense expression was too hard to bear and he dropped his eyes once more.

`I don't really know when it began, Ginny. But I know when I became aware of it. The other night, I was sitting at the table - at home - thinking. I was thinking about something - well, something that had come as a bit of a surprise, I must say. It was very unexpected - I'm still getting used to the idea. During all this, I thought to myself, “but I love Ginny”. Yet somehow, it didn't feel right. I didn't feel the way I always used to when I thought of you. I just felt - well, affection and sort of warm and grateful and -'

`Harry,' Ginny interrupted him, her voice choked, `we need to go to your place. We can't talk about this here in case - well, we just need to go to your place.'

Harry knew she was right. Hermione wouldn't want to overhear any of this, he was sure, nor did he want her to. He nodded as he rose, letting Ginny walk ahead of him, opening the door for her. They quickly crossed the hall and Ginny opened the door of Harry's flat, Harry closing it behind them as he waved his hand automatically to light the candles that hovered close to the ceiling; Harry and Ron had chosen that form of lighting when they'd moved in, rather than the more conventional wall sconces, as it reminded them of Hogwarts.

In silent assent, Ginny and Harry both sat down at the table, Harry at the end, Ginny on his left; the table was clear as Ginny had removed the empty bottle of Ogden's and washed the glass Harry had left there the previous night.

`What is it you're trying to tell me?' Ginny asked, and Harry could hear the fear and trepidation in her voice and thought, She knows - or she suspects. His heart sank. He found it almost impossible to continue because he knew it was going to hurt and he didn't want to hurt her. He told her so.

`Harry, look at me,' said Ginny, her voice breaking, her anguish and uncertainty evident.

Harry looked at her. There were tears rolling down her face and he felt his heart constrict at the sight of them. He could see by the look in her eyes that she knew something of what he was trying to say.

He pushed his chair back and knelt down beside her, putting his left arm around her shoulders, his right hand covering her two tightly clenched fists as they rested on the table. Ginny had dropped her head, her eyes closed against the pain she was feeling.

`Ginny, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to - to not love you anymore - not the way I used to - I wish I could! I'd give anything for things to be the way they were, I really would! And I hate hurting you so - I -'

`Harry, stop,' she ground out. “Please! I just don't understand! Why did you stop loving me? Why? What happened? Is it something I've done? Did I do something wrong? Have I done something to really hurt you?'

`No, no! You've done nothing wrong! It's me - I - well, I just…' Harry's voice trailed off. He couldn't tell her he'd realised he didn't love her basically at the same time as he realised he loved Hermione.

`You just what?' cried Ginny wildly, her eyes searching his face. `Fell in love with someone else?'

Harry froze, his eyes wide as he stared at her in shock, unable to tear his gaze away from her - unable to prevent her seeing the answer in his face. Ginny gasped as she pulled her hands away from Harry's. `There's someone else.' It was a statement, not a question.

Harry's mind was spinning crazily. He slowly got to his feet and stepped back, his eyes not leaving Ginny. I can't tell her! She can't know!

`Who?'

Harry shook his head. `It doesn't matter,' he whispered, his voice cracked.

`It does to me,' said Ginny as she also stood up, her eyes boring into Harry's as if she could see the answer written there. `Did she chase you? Did she -'

`No!' cried Harry, shaking his head vehemently. `She doesn't even know!'

Ginny's hand clenched themselves into fists by her sides. `What do you mean she doesn't know?'

Harry pushed both his hands through his hair. `Just that, Ginny. She doesn't know. She has no idea.'

`But you've seen Ron. You've told Ron.'

Harry was caught off guard by the sudden change of direction in their conversation.

He nodded as he said, `Yes.' Then he realised Ginny thought he'd also told Ron who and quickly corrected her. `Not who - who she is - but only that I don't - well, about us. I didn't say anything about anyone else.'

He turned to look at Hedwig who was sitting perfectly still, her large eyes reflecting the candlelight from around the room as she looked at Harry. For one slightly hysterical moment he wanted to say, “But Hedwig knows!'

`And Hermione.'

Harry turned his head back to look at Ginny so fast he almost staggered.

`No!' he cried. Then he took a deep breath as Ginny stared at him. `Well, I told her that I wanted to talk to you and she knows - what about - but I didn't tell her about - well, about anything else, either.'

`So Hermione knows you don't love me anymore but she doesn't know there's someone else?'

Harry winced at Ginny's forthright description. `That's right.'

Ginny stared at him. `So why haven't you told Ron and Hermione who you love now? You tell them everything else.'

`We don't tell each other absolutely everything, you know that Ginny,' said Harry, forcing calm into his voice.

`Why not, Harry? Don't you trust them?' she asked as she walked slowly towards him, her hands still clenched, her eyes almost feverish.

Harry stared back at her, wondering what she was getting at. It was only adding to the confusion he'd been living with for the last twenty four hours. `Of course I trust them - and I trust you. Ginny, I don't understand what -'

And then she was crying uncontrollably, her hands coming up to cover her face and Harry felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him at being the cause of such anguish. He stepped forward and put his arms around her to try and comfort her and Ginny reflexively wrapped her arms around his waist.

`Ginny, don't, please, I know this is horrible - I hate doing this, but - well, even Ron said it would be for the best in the long run - and Hermione -' He stopped, unable to go on. The thought of Hermione was as disruptive as it was soothing.

`Hermione? Hermione said what?' asked Ginny, her voice muffled against Harry's chest.

`Hermione wants to help.'

`Help who?'

`You - both of us!'

Ginny dropped her arms and stepped back away from Harry. `Do you realise that my brother and my best friend both knew before I did? I know the three of you are close - but this, this should've just been between us first, Harry!'

Not knowing what else to do or say, but not wanting to upset her any more than necessary, Harry simply nodded in agreement. Perhaps she's right, thought Harry, although since he'd spent more than half his life confiding in Ron and Hermione, he simply wasn't able to feel that he'd done anything wrong. And then he stood transfixed as a revelation unfolded in his mind: the one you love should be your best friend. And now she is. Hermione had always been his best friend - along with Ron, of course. Never at any time during his relationship with Ginny had he thought of her as his best friend. And you confide in your best friend. Of course he'd confided things to Ginny - but while there were things he'd told Hermione he'd never tell Ginny, the reverse wasn't true. And I do love my best friend. I've always loved my best friend. Now my best friend is the woman I love. As it should be. It somehow felt almost inevitable.

`Why couldn't you talk to me? Why is it Ron and Hermione always seem to come first?'

Not knowing what else to say, Harry told her, `Ginny, you know that's not true!' But it is. The thought appeared matter-of-factly in his head.

`It is! And with Ron away - well, since Hermione first told us about the changes with her and Ron, you've been -' Ginny hesitated. Harry could see the introspection in her eyes as she searched her memory before she focused on Harry once more. `That's it! I was telling Hermione only this morning that there was something about you lately I couldn't put my finger on - but that you'd been different. It started that night we went to the Dragon's Lair for dinner - you were so distracted that night after Hermione told us about her and Ron.' She looked at Harry, puzzled. `Why would that bother you so very much?' she murmured, more to herself than to Harry.

Harry felt dread creep through him. The last thing he needed was for anyone, let alone Ginny, to find out it was Hermione who had claimed his heart. In an effort to divert Ginny's train of thought, he said, `Remember what Hermione said? She said it was because I wanted everything to stay the same,' he offered; with his new knowledge he could now look back and clearly see that that night held the moment that his heart, unbeknownst to him, had recognised what it meant for Hermione to be free - it was just that he hadn't been listening to his heart at the time….

Ginny was watching him closely as he spoke, Harry desperately trying to keep his face deadpan. He saw something in her eyes and he was afraid.

`Is it one of your colleagues at work that you've fallen for?' Ginny asked coolly, as though she was asking a very deliberate question to which she already knew the answer.

Harry quickly shook his head and then wished he could kick himself. Idiot! You're not thinking fast enough! If I'd said yes, that would've been the end of it - she doesn't know most of the people I work with!

`Ginny, it doesn't really matter, does it? Please, let's leave it there, for now. Perhaps we should -'

`It does matter,' said Ginny, her voice cutting across Harry's. `It matters to me. I think I have a right to know, don't you? After all, if you hadn't fallen in love with this other woman, you'd still love me, wouldn't you?'

Harry shook his head slowly. Hermione has always been in my heart, he thought. She was there before you, Ginny. Realising I love Hermione didn't stop me from loving you because I can see now that what I felt for you wasn't destined to last. Of course, he couldn't say any of this out loud, so he tempered with, `But I do still love you Ginny - just not -'

Ginny dismissed his words with an impatient wave of her hand. `Harry, I'm not interested in being loved by you as a friend or a sister! But I am interested in who has taken -'

`No! I told you, she doesn't know and she probably never will! It ends here!' Harry's desperation was fuelled by the growing fear that if this line of talk continued, Ginny would work it out and what would happen then? Harry shuddered. It didn't bear thinking about.

`No, it doesn't end here, Harry! If it's not someone you work with, who else do you ever see that could possibly - I mean you don't ever really see any other women outside of work except - '

Harry watched in silent horror as Ginny's eyes took on the look of someone realising they were staring at the train or car that was just about to slam into them and they were helpless to do anything about it. She shook her head from side to side very slowly, her unmoving eyes not leaving Harry's face. She had snatches of conversation and a collage of images spinning through her head - Harry blaming Ron, not Hermione - Harry wanting to leave early to get home to Hermione - Harry's ongoing resentment of Neville once he found out how Neville felt about Hermione and finally, Harry lying asleep with his head in Hermione's lap while she unconsciously played with his hair…the pieces began to form a pattern and the pattern became a picture and the picture revealed…

`Hermione.' It was the merest of whispers and yet to Harry it sounded as though Ginny had shouted the name into a megaphone. He closed his eyes, his face a mask of anguish as he realised his ability to deny it was non-existent.

`Dear sweet mother of Merlin!' whispered Ginny, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she gasped.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at her. `Please, Ginny, don't say anything, please!' he begged her.

`Does Hermione truly not know?' asked Ginny incredulously, momentarily too amazed by her discovery to yet be hurt or angry by it.

`She has no idea,' he said quietly.

`Do you plan on telling her at some point?'

Harry took a deep breath as he shook his head. `Why would I? She doesn't love me that way. She never will.' She doesn't love me that way. She never will. Saying those words out loud caused a sharp pain to pierce his heart. While they had remained unspoken, he had been able to put them to the back of his mind and avoid the reality that was now unavoidably staring him in the face: living his life without the woman he loved. Living his life alone.

`Sometime in the future, Harry, I may actually feel sorry for you,' said Ginny, her pain once again evident. `But right now I need to go home - to the Burrow. I need to be away from here.' I need my mum…

Harry felt as though he was made of lead, his heart the heaviest part of all. `I'm sorry, Ginny, I'm so sorry - will you be all right?'

Ginny walked past Harry to the door, her voice trembling with sadness and hurt, tears glistening in her eyes, `That's no longer your concern, Harry, is it? Good bye.'

*

Hermione had been sitting in the armchair beside the fireplace in her room, reading, when she'd heard Harry and Ginny leave. She got up and went out to the living room; hearing Harry's door open and close as she passed her own front door, she realised they'd gone to Harry's for privacy; she felt relieved that she wouldn't have to hide in her bedroom for the duration of their discussion and wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Crookshanks following her and rubbing against her legs.

She smiled down at him. `Like some milk, would you?'

Crookshanks miaowed loudly in reply, making Hermione smile as she bent down to give him a scratch behind the ear. Pigwidgeon hooted excitedly from his perch, earning himself a disdainful flick of the tail from Crookshanks and a promise of an owl treat from Hermione.

A few minutes later, Crookshanks took to his basket for a post-saucer-of-milk-wash and Pigwidgeon struggled with his owl treat which was nearly bigger than he was, while Hermione sat down at the table with her tea and the sandwiches Ginny had put on the table - and of course, her book.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before she heard someone knock at the door.

`Hi! It's Dean!' came Dean's voice through the door.

`Come in, Dean, it's open,' called Hermione.

Dean entered, smiling at Hermione. `Hi, Hermione! How are you?'

`Fine, thanks, Dean. Come and sit down. Would you like some tea?'

`No, thanks - just had some. I was actually coming about the dinner invitation tonight,' he said as he sat down.

`Oh!'

Dean grinned at Hermione's look of distress. `You forgot, right?'

`Well no - but yes - I mean -'

`It's all right, honestly,' said Dean. `Neville and I were originally getting ourselves over to the Two Hoots for a meal. We didn't have anything else planned, so we'll just stick with that, it's okay.'

Hermione sighed. `It's just that things are a little complicated right now.'

Dean gave her a puzzled look.

`I'm not sure I should say anything just yet, but it's Harry and Ginny. They're at Harry's place now, having a -' she paused, searching for a suitable word, `- a discussion.'

`About what?'

Hermione looked away, a little embarrassed. `I can't really say, Dean, I'm sorry. It's Harry and Ginny's business, really.'

`That's okay - I understand, I know -' began Dean, but he was interrupted by a brisk knock on the door.

`That's probably Neville,' he told Hermione who called out, `Come in!'

It was indeed Neville and after he'd joined them at the table, Hermione apologised about having to take back the dinner invitation.

`Well, are you doing anything then?' asked Neville. `You should come to the Two Hoots with Dean and me.'

`I probably can't, sorry,' Hermione told him. `I think I'll need to be here with Ginny tonight.'

The door opened as she finished speaking and Ginny stood framed in the doorway, looking from Neville to Dean to Hermione, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. No one said a word.

Ginny turned away as she closed the door and said quietly, `I'm going home to the Burrow for the weekend. I'm just going to grab a few things and I'll be gone.'

As she disappeared down the hallway to her room, Dean and Neville turned and looked questioningly at Hermione. Hermione was now feeling horribly worried - she knew Ginny would be upset, but she somehow sensed there was something more to it than that.

`Is Ginny all right?' asked Dean, his voice heavy with anxiety and concern.

Hermione stood up. `I'll just go and make sure,' she told him, equally worried.

When she reached Ginny's bedroom, it was to find her friend throwing things into a suitcase, obviously too upset to use her wand.

`Ginny, are you -'

Ginny span on her heel to face Hermione, surprising Hermione with a dark, intense look. Hermione noticed that tears were still forming in her friend's eyes, then trickly slowly down her already wet cheeks.

`Hermione, I really don't want to talk right now - I just need to go.'

`But are you all -'

`I'm fine,' said Ginny, sounding anything but as she turned back to her suitcase. `Please, just leave me alone.'

`Ginny, are you sure there isn't anything I can do? I really wish I could -'

`Help?' snapped Ginny.

Hermione stood for a second, taken aback by her friend's manner and unable to think of anything to say. Then Ginny straightened up and looking at Hermione over her shoulder, she said darkly, `It's Harry you should worry about.'

Hermione felt her stomach clench with an awful unease at Ginny's words. She swallowed the lump that had appeared in her throat and said faintly, `I'll go and check on him, then.'

`You do that,' said Ginny tersely, as she resumed her packing.

When Hermione appeared in the pointed archway, Dean rose to his feet, his voice tense as he asked, `Is she all right, Hermione?'

Hermione looked blankly at him for a second then realised what he was asking. `I think so, Dean, although she's not herself. You'll have to excuse me, I have to go and check on Harry.'

As Hermione went out the front door, Dean strode across to the hall, making for Ginny's room, leaving Neville to shake his head in bewilderment at all the goings on. Pigwidgeon was still noisily chewing on his owl treat while Crookshanks lifted his head and miaowed sympathetically at a bemused looking Neville.

*

Hermione turned the door handle, knowing it would be open, and peered inside. The floating candles were lit, even though it wasn't dark as yet, and Hedwig was on her perch, her large eyes on Hermione as she stepped inside. Of Harry, however, there was no sign.

Thinking immediately that he may have gone to see Ron again, Hermione made her way down the hall to Harry's room with the intention of checking for his broom. When she reached the doorway, she was startled by the sight of Harry sitting on the end of his bed, shirtless and shoeless, with his head in his hands.

Hermione's heart went out to him. `Harry?' she said softly. `I just wanted to make sure you were all right.'

Harry lifted his head and looked at her. Hermione was shocked at the magnitude of confused anger and despair in his eyes, each fighting for supremacy. As his eyes rested on her, she could see them change, darkening and becoming guarded. Harry stood up, pushing his hands into his pockets. He looked away from her as he said, `I'm not really very good at all right now, Hermione.'

He walked to the window and stood looking out the branches of the white willow, a twin to the one outside Hermione's bedroom window.

Some corner of Hermione's mind noted absent-mindedly that he'd filled out somewhat since the last time she'd seen him without a shirt, a few years previously.

`It's just that Ginny said it's you I should worry about. What did she mean?'

Harry stiffened and without turning, he said, `I'm afraid I don't know.'

They're both acting a little strangely, even allowing for the current situation, thought Hermione. What on earth happened between them?

`Harry, I'm just worried about you - and Ginny. She's going to the Burrow for the weekend - what will you be doing? I mean, I've not got anything on so I can -'

`Look after me, Hermione?' He cast a short-lived, sardonic grin over his shoulder at her. `Not a saving people thing you're suffering from, is it?'

Hermione gave him a self-deprecating shrug and smile in answer, then drew her courage around her and walked across to stand beside him. Looking up at him, she said firmly, `I owe you a few of those saving things, Harry, and whether you like it or not, you're collecting on them. You're coming with me. Although, you might like to put your shirt back on,' she told him with a lift of her eyebrow.

`Oh yeah,' he said gruffly, glancing down. `I was about to get into the shower when - well, it all just hit me and…' his voice trailed off as he shrugged.

`That's fine - have your shower and come over, I'll be waiting.'

She turned and left and Harry watched her as she did, relief swamping him that he managed to not give anything away despite her unexpected appearance, which had set his heart racing madly. He realised sadly that, knowing what she did, Ginny wouldn't have wanted to talk to Hermione or accept any comfort or support she would undoubtedly have offered. But he was greatly relieved and very grateful that Ginny hadn't said anything to Hermione about his - what? My secret, he thought with a self-deprecating grin. Harry loves Hermione. But Hermione doesn't love Harry. Simply splendid.

He sighed as he turned away from the window and headed for his ensuite and the shower. And things just keep getting better, he thought wryly. Now I'm going to be alone with Hermione for the night and that's really the last thing I need right now, while at the same time it's probably the one thing that can make me feel any kind of happy at the moment…

*

When Hermione reappeared, Neville was still sitting at the table, chin in hand, as he flicked unseeingly through the previous day's copy of the Daily Prophet, wondering what the hell was going on. Hermione had run off to check on Harry, Dean had disappeared to check on Ginny and then Ginny had come back into the living room with a small suitcase and a very worried looking Dean in tow. She'd given Neville a tense smile and said goodbye before walking over to Pigwidgeon and telling him to meet her at the Burrow.

`I'll help you downstairs with your suitcase,' Dean had said. Ginny had looked as though she was about to refuse, then changed her mind. `I'd appreciate that, Dean, thanks.' And they'd left. Pigwidgeon had flown to the fireplace, half-eaten owl treat in claw, and disappeared up the chimney while Crookshanks looked on with approval.

`Neville?'

Neville jumped a little, then looked up at Hermione as she stood in the open doorway.

`Has Ginny left?'

Neville nodded. `Dean went downstairs with her.'

Hermione spoke as she crossed the room to stand behind her chair, her voice sounding sharper than she'd intended. `Dean? Did he go with her?'

Neville blinked at her. `Just to help her with her suitcase.'

`Oh, of course,' said Hermione, abashed. `Right, well, Harry's coming over shortly. Is that invitation to go to the Two Hoots with you and Dean still open?' she asked, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

`Of course it is,' said Neville, his heart suddenly lighter at the prospect of Hermione's company.

`I think Harry and I will come, too; I think he needs some company tonight.'

`Hermione, can you tell me what's actually going on?' asked Neville, a concerned frown creasing his brow.

Before Hermione could answer, they heard the door opening and they both turned at the sound to see Dean's head appear around the door.

`I'm just back from Ginny's - I went with her, she seemed awfully upset,' he told them. `Mrs Weasley's invited me to dinner so I'm just letting you know I'll be at the Burrow tonight.'

`Is Ginny all right?' asked Hermione quickly before Dean could go; she was still worried and a little puzzled at Ginny's sudden departure and hurtful rejection of her attempts to comfort her.

Dean shrugged. `Well, when we arrived at the Burrow, she sort of fell into her mum's arms and she was crying a lot.'

`Oh,' said Hermione quietly, thinking that it wasn't that Ginny hadn't wanted to talk to her, it was just that she wanted her mum; quite understandable in the circumstances.

`What happened, Hermione?' asked Dean, fairly certain his suspicions would be proven correct despite Ginny refusing to answer his query as he'd walked downstairs with her.

Hermione looked from Dean to Neville. `She and Harry have just broken up.'

Dean nodded while Neville made a nonplussed “oh” sound.

`Well, I'm off - I'll see you later,' said Dean, giving them a quick wave before closing the door and leaving. He tried not to feel too pleased about Ginny and Harry breaking up as he ran lightly down the stairs, since Ginny was so upset, but a warm glow crept into his heart nevertheless.

Neville glanced across at Hermione and found himself thinking how nice it would be if Harry decided he'd rather stay home and be miserable so that he could have her to himself.

Hermione stood up once more. `Harry should be here shortly - I'll go and get changed,' she told Neville.

`Are you ready?'

`Yeah, I am,' he replied, looking down at his jeans and dark grey and white checked shirt; he was becoming accustomed to Muggle clothing, which seemed to have become more and more common among young witches and wizards these days; Muggle clothing usually proved to be far more practical than wizard robes. `You go and get changed - I'll be here if Harry turns up.'

Ten minutes later Hermione returned, having changed into what Neville thought of as very fetching black jeans with a fitted, long-sleeved powder-blue shirt and a lightweight white jumper slung across her back, the sleeves knotted in front. She'd brushed her hair out and thanks to Sleekeazy's, it tumbled down her back and over her shoulders in a very well behaved fashion. Neither of them noticed the front door opening as Neville rose to his feet, smiling. `You look really great, Hermione,' he said impulsively, his smile faltering at the look of surprise Hermione gave him.

Then she smiled. `Why thank you, Neville - I don't often get compliments like that.'

`You should,' said Harry gruffly as he walked in the front door, `you certainly deserve them when you look like that.' He felt awkward, not quite at ease with his newly single status, especially around Hermione. But he sure as hell wasn't going to let Neville - or any man - better him in the compliments department when it came to Hermione.

Hermione laughed lightly, looking from one to the other. `Why gentlemen, I'm overwhelmed!'

Harry stepped across the hallway and into the living room, his hands pushed into his jean pockets; he was wearing a striped shirt of various shades of dark green that Hermione had given him last Christmas. Hermione met his gaze and Neville looked on enviously as they held a silent conversation; Hermione's look asked Harry if he was all right and Harry's small nod let her know he was. Hermione smiled then and said to Harry, `The three of us are going to the pub for dinner, all right?'

`That's fine.' Harry glanced at Neville. So he wasn't to be alone with Hermione and thought that was probably good and bad, especially since the reason was Neville. `What about Dean? Isn't he coming too?'

Neville and Hermione exchanged glances as Hermione said, `He was invited to dinner at the Burrow.'

Harry stared at Hermione for a moment before saying quietly, `I see.'

Hermione quashed the urge to try and explain it away, knowing it wouldn't help. Instead, she hooked her arm through Neville's, pulling gently as they walked over to Harry so she could hook her left arm through Harry's right. Smiling at them in turn, she said in a bright, determined voice, `Let's go, gentlemen - we're off to eat, drink and be merry!'

*

Harry found himself torn as they sat at a corner table of the Two Hoots, overlooking the village green. The old pub was a wizard establishment, but Muggles naturally weren't aware of this and were served alongside witches and wizards; magic was not allowed until after closing and only then because no sane witch or wizard would want to clean up using Muggle methods. Of course, if anyone inadvertently slipped up, all the staff were well-versed in Memory Charms that Gilderoy Lockhart would've been proud of…

It was late afternoon and the fair on the village green was in full swing. Harry was torn between a fierce desire for Neville to evaporate and an equally fierce desire not to be alone with Hermione because of the danger he felt lurked there. He knew he appeared to be introspective and that Hermione and Neville would assume it was because of Ginny. In actual fact, he found that although he was despondent at having hurt Ginny and no doubt upsetting the whole Weasley clan, he was nevertheless a little relieved that the ordeal of telling Ginny he was no longer in love with her was now behind him. He risked a sideways glance at Hermione, who was sitting to his left; she was watching the fair through the window opposite her, nodding occasionally as Neville explained something to her about his latest research. He moved his gaze to Neville, feeling a jolt when he saw Neville was looking straight back at him, his expression unreadable. They'd been there for less than half an hour and their first drinks were barely half drunk. Giving Neville a crooked smile, Harry lifted his glass of Ogden's and turned to look out the window once more.

Neville lifted his own glass of whisky, but turned to Hermione. `Enough shop talk! What do you think about going over to have a look at the fair after we've eaten?'

Harry turned and looked at Hermione on hearing Neville's query. Despite looking at Neville, Hermione felt Harry's gaze and had a distinct feeling that Harry didn't want to go to the fair again. She smiled apologetically at Neville as she said, `Actually, Harry and I went last night, Neville, so -'

Neville broke in with, `So you don't want to go again - I understand, that's fine. Fair's aren't something you go to more than once I imagine, at least not once you've grown up. What was it like?' He, like Harry, hadn't been to a Muggle fair either, albeit for different reasons.

Harry sat sipping his drink while Hermione told Neville about the fair, grateful for Hermione's intuition.

Was it really only last night? Harry wondered, bemused. It feels like a lifetime ago. He was looking out the window and he could make out the fat man with his wooden stand of stuffed toys - there was a new, large toy dog in place on the bottom shelf, different from the one that was now sitting on his bedside table, still miniaturised. He watched a young man attempting to impress the pretty girl looking on as he valiantly tried to get one of the rubber rings to settle on one of the coloured bottles. I still didn't know then - last night, he thought to himself. It almost seems like another lifetime - when I was with Ginny and Hermione was - well, she was just Hermione. My friend. Always there. Harry put his glass down and leant forward, resting his chin in his hand while he continued to watch out the window. Earlier, after Hermione had left him to have his shower, he'd come to a decision. He'd never been the kind of person to sit by and do nothing and so he'd decided that he owed it to himself to try and win Hermione's heart. He may not succeed, but unless he tried, he'd never know if it was possible - and he couldn't bear to think it might be possible and he'd missed the chance simply for lack of trying. As to how he might go about this, he wasn't yet sure, but he knew he was going to try.

Hermione and Neville's laughter drew him out of his reverie; Hermione had just finished explaining to Neville what Harry had done to win a first prize at the fair.

Hermione turned to Harry, her eyes sparkling with laughter. `Where is my dog, by the way? The one you insisted on foisting on me?' she asked.

Harry gave her a slow smile and said, `Safe and sound. I'll give him to you, don't worry - all in good time.' Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but didn't pursue the matter any further.

They ordered their meals shortly afterwards and when their food arrived they all ate slowly, picking at the various ingredients on their plates since none of them was really ravishingly hungry. They were on their third round of drinks at this point, although Harry, his recent escapade fresh in his mind, had switched to Butterbeer. Neville was sipping his glass of Ogden's very slowly while Hermione was uncharacteristically downing her glasses of wine quite quickly; she'd just finished her third glass and had just politely asked the drink waiter for another.

Harry and Neville exchanged concerned looks, but Hermione smilingly accused them both of being patronising and told them she was quite capable of looking after herself. She then gave a little hiccough, which seemed to belie her assertion and as her fourth glass was placed before her, she said, `I'm perfectly fine, thank you,' with a smile, pushing her plate away, less than half her meal eaten. `I'm just relaxing after a rather trying week.'

`If you say so,' said Harry, although he was beginning to feel a little concerned. `Mind you, we -' he indicated himself and Neville, `could make that claim as well when it comes to a trying week, but we aren't attempting to drink our friends under the table.'

Hermione frowned thoughtfully at Harry as she twirled her glass by the stem. `That is true,' she conceded, `but…'

`But what?' prompted Harry, putting his arms on the table and leaning forward to rest on them as he gazed at her.

Hermione flashed him a rather cheeky grin. `At least I'm not going to be flying off on my broomstick in a less than sober state which would need a miracle to keep me from falling off!'

Harry gave her a lopsided grin, but the flash of pain she saw in his eyes was enough to make her regret her flippant remark. Feeling contrite, Hermione moved her chair around so that she was closer to Harry and leaning over, she put her hand on his arm. `Harry, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry - I didn't mean to -'

`It's all right,' said Harry quickly, `I know you didn't mean anything, Hermione.' He was excruciatingly aware of Hermione's proximity and was hoping with all his might that she would move away now. She didn't. In fact, with a soft sigh, she slid her arm through Harry's and put her head on his shoulder. Harry wondered hopelessly how he would have reacted before - before having you so close or touching me had this effect on me! he thought as he put his hand over Hermione's and gave it a conciliatory pat, desperately hoping he appeared to be behaving normally, murmuring softly that it really was all right. He glanced across at Neville and because he knew how Neville felt about Hermione, he recognised the look in his eyes: Neville was envious and Harry knew he was wishing it was his shoulder Hermione was resting her head on, not Harry's.

Hermione tilted her head and then, to Harry's horror, put her chin against his shoulder, her face so close to his he could feel her warm, wine-tinted breath. Harry turned his head slightly, tilting it up and back so that he didn't touch her; with a half smile as he raised his eyebrows, he said, `Do you think there's a chance you've had just a little too much wine?'

`Maybe,' said Hermione, smiling, but not moving.

Harry turned his head, rolling his eyes at Neville, trying to appear to be an amused and tolerant friend.

`Maybe we should go,' said Neville who was trying to appear as though he didn't really care that Hermione was cuddling up to Harry, wine or no wine.

`I think maybe we should, too,' agreed Harry, turning his shoulders gently so that Hermione reflexively lifted her head, although she left her arm through Harry's.

`I'll just finish this,' said Hermione, lifting her glass with a smile, `and then we'll leave.'

`It's still pretty early for a Saturday night,' said Neville, wanting to remain in Hermione's company, `so what d'you think we should do next?'

Hermione leant forward, drawing Harry and Neville with her. `I could show you my special book,' she whispered.

Even Neville couldn't stop himself from smiling as he sat back. `Hermione, a book? Only you would think of that as fun!'

Harry laughed along with Neville but Hermione was shaking her head at them. `You don't understand, this isn't just any book, no, no, no! This is a one-of-a-kind book. It's a secret.'

`Well that makes it all the more interesting, I'm sure,' said Harry, winking at Neville.

Hermione sniffed. `Fine. I won't show you. What grand suggestions do you two have, then?' And to Harry's great relief, Hermione finally removed her arm from his and sat up; he no longer had to suffer the excruciatingly painful pleasure of having the warm, soft firmness of her breast resting lightly against his arm. It seemed to him that women always underestimated the effect even the slightest contact with that enticing part of their anatomy had on their male counterparts.

While all Harry really wanted was to go home and fall into bed to catch up on his sleep, he wasn't about to leave Hermione alone with Neville, especially not a tipsy Hermione. `What about we watch a movie at my place?' he suggested.

Harry had bought himself a Muggle home theatre system the previous year; he'd never gotten into the habit of watching much television thanks to the deprivation he suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, but he did enjoy watching movies occasionally. While watching a movie at home was also a perfectly normal activity for Hermione, to Neville, watching movies anywhere was a rather peculiar thing to do; he'd watched a movie at Harry's when he'd first bought his system, but hadn't particularly enjoyed the experience, mainly because he'd had very little contact with Muggles and their world whilst growing up, so there was much in their movies that didn't make sense to him. Still, he wasn't about to leave Hermione alone with Harry, especially not a tipsy, cuddly Hermione. He'd also sensed something different about Harry and he could've sworn there was that silent, competitive undercurrent peculiar to males running through the evening - he felt as though he was somehow up against Harry, for Hermione's attention. Although he couldn't for the life of him think why that should be, he put his feeling down to Harry and Hermione's “trio-bond”, despite an underlying uncertainty that that wasn't actually the case…

`Can I pick the movie?' asked Hermione innocently, sipping the last of her wine.

`I think we should have a majority vote,' said Harry, positive he wouldn't be able to stay awake if he had to watch something like “Pride and Prejudice”, a movie which both Hermione and Ginny never seemed to tire of watching.

`We can't,' said Hermione firmly as she put her empty glass down, `because there are two boys and one girl.'

`How about we decide when we get there?' suggested Neville, smiling indulgently at her.

`Done,' said Harry briskly, not like the quality of Neville's smile. `Let's go. I'll pay on the way out - it's my turn.'

*

While the layout of Ron and Harry's flat was the mirror-reverse of Ginny and Hermione's, its decor was very different. The two women fortunately had similar tastes and so soft pastels and full couches and many decorative items abounded; Ron and Harry's taste on the other hand was far more sparsely modern, partly because there was less to clean and partly because they weren't terribly interested in interior decorating. Not having much choice, Ron had agreed to Harry buying all their furniture on the premise that Harry would keep it if either he moved out or Ron did.

The black leather modular lounge Harry had chosen (`black doesn't show as much dirt', he'd informed Ron with masculine wisdom), was put together in a “U” shape with slightly uneven sides and a low, glass coffee table in the centre. Despite there being more than sufficient room for each of them to stretch out on their own bit of the lounge, Hermione had chosen to sit next to Harry, her legs curled to the side, her head tucked into his shoulder; Harry had both his arms out, resting along the top of the back of the lounge, a remote control in one hand. He'd already lowered the screen down in front of the fireplace after putting the DVD into the player.

He'd given Hermione a quizzical look as she sat down and she'd shrugged as she'd pulled her legs up, a self-deprecating smile in place. `I guess I miss the hugs and cuddles the most,' she said quietly. Neville, sitting comfortably in the corner of the lounge, felt a little despondent as he watched Hermione cuddle up to Harry although realistically, he knew he couldn't expect her to do such a thing with him. Hermione certainly wasn't averse to hugging him, but it was mostly reserved for special occasions like birthdays and such; he was, after all, just a very good friend - he wasn't Harry…

`What movie are we watching?' asked Neville, having left it up to Harry and Hermione since he knew very little about the world of Muggle movies.

`It's the first movie in a trilogy called “The Lord of the Rings”. I've seen it before and I'm sure you'll both enjoy it,' Harry told him, although Neville had no idea what a “trilogy” was.

`I've only ever read the books,' said Hermione, surprising neither Harry nor Neville, `but I've heard the movies are good.'

`Let's see then, shall we?' said Harry, as he pointed the remote control at the projector on the ceiling behind them and the haunting strains of the theme music filled the room.

A very drowsy Hermione fell asleep just as Frodo awoke in Rivendell; Harry had been glancing at her frequently and had seen her eyes slowly growing heavier, no doubt mostly weighed down by the wine she'd had. When they closed for the final time, Harry smiled; it felt particularly nice having Hermione snuggled up to him, sleeping peacefully. He wasn't even sure at what point his arm had left the back of the lounge and wrapped itself around Hermione's shoulders, but there it was, holding her securely up against him.

Throughout the movie, Neville's eyes were constantly and compulsively drawn to the sight of Harry and Hermione - Harry's arm around Hermione's shoulders, Hermione's head nestled in the crook of Harry's neck. He felt uncomfortably like an intruder and since he was unable to keep his mind on the movie, now around half-way through, he decided he should leave. He certainly wasn't going to be making any sort of impression on Hermione tonight.

`Harry, I think I'll go.'

`What?' asked Harry, startled, his gaze torn from Hermione as he turned to look at Neville.

Neville stood up, a lopsided grin in place. `I'm going - I've got a long research paper I need to get through before Monday and I think I should get a head start on it.'

Harry lifted his arm from around Hermione, intending to rise and see him out, but Neville waved his hand dismissively. `No, stay there! Don't worry, Harry, don't disturb Hermione. I'll probably see you both soon, maybe tomorrow - good night!'

As Neville made his way down the stairs to his own flat, directly beneath Harry's, he pondered on what he'd seen - and he wasn't thinking about the movie… He'd watched Harry watching Hermione and he'd seen Harry's arm drop slowly from the back of the lounge to curl around Hermione's shoulders. Neville wondered if Harry was even aware of what he'd unwittingly divulged with that simple, tender gesture.

As he opened his front door and stepped inside with a habitual “lumos”, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He crossed the room to his large, rather ornate wooden dining table (given to him by his grandmother) on which were set dozens of rolls of parchment in an orderly fashion - the old research paper he needed to read. He sat down and picked up the last parchment he'd been reading, unrolling it and putting the two, very old, house-elf shaped paperweights (also given to him by his grandmother), on the top and bottom of the parchment before proceeding to read the first line of spidery, crabbed writing four times before giving up in disgust.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes, then stretched, smiling as his tortoiseshell cat, Trevor, wandered around the kitchen bench, having left his basket to wind himself around Neville's feet; his toad, Trevor, had gotten lost years before and stayed lost, perhaps deliberately, as neither had felt they'd ever truly bonded. Trevor-the-cat, so named because Neville knew he wouldn't forget that name, jumped onto his master's lap and settled down. He purred contentedly as Neville scratched him gently behind the ears while thinking how much nicer it was patting a cat than holding a toad; he'd always envied Hermione at Hogwarts after she'd acquired Crookshanks.

`Well, Trevor, old boy, it looks as though I've got a rival in the quest for Hermione's affections and it's none other than Harry Potter himself. He's just broken it off with Ginny and d'you know, I think he and Hermione have been friends for so long, I wouldn't be surprised if Harry's not even aware of his feelings for her. But you should've seen him tonight. So, what d'you reckon old friend? Do I stand a chance?' Trevor opened one lazy eye, looked up at Neville and gave him an encouraging miaow. `Thanks for that probably misplaced vote of confidence, Trevor,' smiled Neville wryly as he once more bent to tackle his task of reading.

*

Harry knew that if she asked, he would tell Hermione he'd let her sleep because he didn't have the heart to wake her, knowing it was really because he was enjoying holding her that he sat until the movie ended. He spent most of the time gazing at her rather than at the screen and then, as the credits came up, he knew he could put it off no longer and reluctantly began to wake her up.

As Hermione slowly came to, she sat up, yawning. She rubbed her face, then looked at Harry who was smiling.

`Hi, sleepyhead,' he said, unable to keep the tenderness out of his voice.

Hermione gave him a soft, sleepy smile before glancing at the credits that were still rolling up the screen. A slight frown creased her forehead as she asked, `I slept through the movie?' As she turned back to Harry, she noticed Neville was gone. `And where's Neville?'

`He went home a little while ago - some research paper he has to read by Monday. I don't think Neville's ever really going to be a movie fan.'

Hermione stood up, unaware of her avid audience of one as she lifted her arms above her and stretched sinuously. `That'd be about the ingredients for the new potion. He's really putting a lot of work into that.'

`Would you like a cup of tea or coffee before you go?' asked Harry hopefully as he stood up.

`Tempting, but I think I need to get to bed. My head still doesn't feel right. I can't believe I drank virtually a whole bottle of wine!'

`Not as bad as drinking a whole bottle of Ogden's,' commented Harry dryly.

Hermione chuckled in response as she moved towards the door, Harry following. `Will you be reading your special book - the secret book you told us about?' he asked teasingly.

Without warning, Hermione froze in her tracks and Harry stumbled into her, instinctively grabbing her shoulders for balance. They managed to stay upright, but the grin on Harry's face disappeared when Hermione turned to face him.

`What did you say?' she asked, her eyes wide in her white face.

`At the pub, you said you'd show Neville and me your special book. You said it was one-of-a-kind and a secret. I was just wondering what it was about.'

Hermione's hand flew up to cover her mouth as she looked at Harry, aghast.

Harry was baffled by her reaction. `Hermione, what's wrong?'

`It's just that I promised the person who gave me that book that I'd never mention it to anyone. I can't believe I did that and I haven't even read it yet!'

`I'd say it was the wine talking, Hermione. Don't worry, I won't mention it ever again if it's that important to you.'

`It is, and thanks, Harry. I hope Neville forgets what I said,' said Hermione anxiously as she reached the door.

Harry shrugged as he leant around her to open the door. `Chances are good he might - he didn't take you very seriously at the time. If he says anything to me I'll tell him, all right?'

Hermione turned to smile up at Harry. `Thanks again Harry. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night.'

Harry wished she'd hug him or kiss him on the cheek again, but he wasn't so lucky this night; Hermione simply smiled, waved and left.

As Harry turned away after closing the door, he heard the window open and Hedwig flew in, fresh from a hunting session.

`Hi, girl,' he said as he walked towards her. `Have a nice night?' Hedwig fluffed her feathers and blinked at him once. `I'll take that as a “yes”,' he told her with a smile. He stopped at the end of the bench and saw the roll of parchments the desk-witch at the Prince of Wales Wizard Hotel had handed to him. Deciding he owed the writers the courtesy of reading them after they'd gone to the trouble of leaving them for him, he slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen bench and unrolled the letters, tapping them with his wand to charm them flat.

He was in turn amused, exasperated and embarrassed by the contents of the various notes, but as he added one to the growing “read” pile from the young waitress who'd served their breakfast at the hotel, his eyes fell on the unpleasantly grey-coloured parchment beneath it covered with black, uneven, scrawled writing.

The Disciples of the Dark One are rejoicing for they have at last found the Enemy.

You, Harry Potter, are the Enemy.

You committed an unforgivable act: You vanquished the First Disciple of the Dark One and in doing so, condemned the Dark One to the Abyss.

Through the devotion of his Disciples, the Dark One has been resurrected and now retribution can be exacted from you.

We, the Disciples of the Dark One, inform you thus so that when firstly, those close to you die and at the last, you die, you will know at whose hand and why.

Retribution begins.

As his eyes followed the words back and forth across the page, his heart turned to ice in his chest and he felt dread and horror seep through him - not for himself, but for those close to him, those he loved. And most of all, for Hermione…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Author's Note

Enjoy. See you Thursday.

Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER TEN

In which Molly paces and worries, Frewin's slumber is disturbed by rocking chairs and chatter, Harry spends the night on the couch and Ginny moves out…

Molly Weasley was wringing her hands as she paced the floor beside her bed, her pale blue nightgown billowing around her ankles.

`Molly, dear, come to bed and stop worrying so!' pleaded her husband.

`Oh, Arthur, I know I should be angry at Harry, but for some reason I'm not!'

`That's because you're worried about him, dear. You've always worried about him. He'll be fine. Ginny will be fine. They just need time. So stop worrying and come to bed.'

Almost absent-mindedly, Molly climbed into bed beside her husband and pulled the patchwork duvet up to her chin.

With a sigh of relief, Arthur murmured `Nox,' to put the candles out and then rolled over to cuddle up to his wife.

`Do you think Bill and Fleur and Charlie and Cordelia were upset about it all?'

Arthur suppressed a sigh. `It certainly didn't seem to affect their appetites, dear.'

`Arthur, what do you think Dean's intentions are?'

Rolling his eyes in the dark, Arthur replied patiently, `Molly, frankly I'm not really concerned right now what Dean's intentions are - I'm far more concerned with mine - all of which include sleep! We can discuss this tomorrow to your heart's content, all right dear?'

`Mmmm. Do you think he's comfortable in Ron's old room?'

`Of course he is.'

`Will Ginny be annoyed when she finds out we put a little Sleeping Draught in her cup of tea?'

`I think she'll thank us, dear.'

`Should we owl Harry?'

Arthur sighed. `Let's think about that tomorrow.'

`What -'

`Tomorrow.'

`But -'

`Good night, dear.'

*

Frewin, the Nook's “house owl”, was woken just before sunrise by the creaking of the two rocking chairs in the portrait over the fireplace. Having not long returned from a night's hunting, he stared at them balefully for disturbing his sleep before once more tucking his head under his wing.

`Emrys, where is he? He hasn't come home!' fretted the elderly woman, the pace of her rocking much faster than that of her companion.

`Don't worry sweetheart - he's probably just staying with some friends; he did leave with Ginevra, didn't he? And she's not yet come home either; you know what youngsters are like these days,' her husband replied placidly.

`But Emrys, what if he's hurt?'

`Verity, I'm sure if he was hurt, he would be taken very good care of, so there's no need for you to worry.'

`I suppose you're right, but I just know I'll worry until he comes home.'

`You do that sweetheart, if it makes you feel better.'

For a few minutes, the only sound to be heard was that of the two rocking chairs, creaking. Then the old woman spoke again.

`Emrys, did you know that he has no idea about his real father? He thinks his stepfather is his father!'

`How is it you know that dear?' asked Emrys, straightening in his chair and looking at his wife with interest.

Verity smiled smugly. `His mother and her husband popped in for a visit the other day; you were having a nap at the time.'

Emrys frowned disapprovingly at his wife. `You peeked, didn't you?'

Verity fussed with her apron, smoothing it over her lap. `Just a teeny little peek. I just had to know if he was who I thought he was!'

Emrys sighed. `Sweetheart, you mustn't do that - it's not ethical!'

`Oh, pish tosh! Neither of them even noticed!'

Emrys sighed again. `Verity, you especially shouldn't go peeking into the heads of Muggles - you never know what you might do to their non-magical minds!'

Verity sniffed, as if deeply hurt by the suggestion that she was less than capable; once again, the only audible sound was that of their rocking chairs.

`All right, sweetheart, I give in. Tell me what you found,' said Emrys in a resigned voice five long minutes later.

Verity smiled a very small smile before smoothing down her perfectly smooth apron. `Well, I was right - Dean Thomas is Alexander Riley's son, although he has no idea that's the case, and of course we know Alexander never told his Muggle wife he was a wizard and an Auror. It's all rather complicated because I've learnt that after Dean received his letter from Hogwarts, his mother did wonder about her first husband; however, since she wasn't certain, she decided to say nothing to Dean and so she let him grow up thinking Cary Thomas was his father. Now, Dean did ask his mother and stepfather about their families, because he's certain there must be another witch or wizard in amongst their relatives, but of course there isn't. And his mother doesn't see any point now in telling Dean about his real father - especially since she has no idea why he left her and Dean. She believes he simply abandoned them and she doesn't want Dean to know something hurtful like that.'

Emrys shook his head in amazement. `You really are something, sweetheart, you know that? So, are you planning on saying something to Dean?'

`Not as such,' said Verity by way of explanation; despite finding this rather unsatisfactory, Emrys knew better than to press his wife for any further information if she didn't wish to give it.

`You will keep me up-to-date though, won't you sweetheart?' asked her husband wryly.

Verity cast him a slightly disparaging look. `Of course I will, dear.'

*

Hermione woke to sunlight streaming through her window, dappled by the willow outside. She smiled at the sight and stretched, then put her hands beneath her head as she gazed out the window, recalling the events of the previous evening and going over them once more in her mind. She was just wondering about Dean going to the Burrow with Ginny and then being invited to stay for dinner, when she heard the faint chink of a cup being put back onto a saucer.

Ginny must be back, she thought, quickly throwing off the covers. Dropping her feet to the floor and sliding them into her waiting slippers, she reached for her dressing gown on the end of the bed, pulling it on as she walked.

At the archway opposite the front door, Hermione stopped in utter surprise. Harry was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, reading the paper. He looked up when she appeared and gave her a lopsided smile.

`Morning,' he said, `feeling better?'

Hermione put her hands on her hips, her head tilted to one side. `I'm fine - but, Harry, what on earth are you doing here?'

From his basket over beside the fireplace, Crookshanks miaowed loudly as though underscoring his mistress' question.

`Come and sit down and have some tea and I'll tell you,' he said, reaching for the teapot that Hermione only then noticed was sitting on the table, together with another cup and saucer. As she reached the table, Hermione “tched” in disgust and gave up pushing her fingers through her unbrushed, tangled curls in an attempt to tame them.

`Looks fine to me,' Harry told her with a grin as Hermione sat down. It actually looks downright sexy, Miss Granger, Harry thought to himself, although Hermione's wry, unthinking comment, `You're as bad as Ron,' wiped the grin off his face.

Hermione stirred some milk into her tea, then picked up her cup and looked at Harry expectantly over the rim as she sipped delicately at the hot contents.

`I actually spent the night here,' Harry began, nodding his head in the direction of the couch behind him. Hermione looked past him and saw a pillow sitting atop a folded blanket, then putting her cup down, she frowned in puzzlement.

`Why did you do that? What's wrong?' She didn't need to ask how he got in - she knew he simply would've Flooed.

Harry folded the Daily Prophet he'd been reading and put it aside. Underneath lay a piece of grey parchment with black, scrawled writing. Harry picked it up and handed it wordlessly to Hermione, watching her intently as she read; he knew the contents off by heart, having read them countless times during the night.

The Disciples of the Dark One are rejoicing for they have at last found the Enemy.

You, Harry Potter, are the Enemy.

You committed an unforgivable act: You vanquished the First Disciple of the Dark One, and in doing so, condemned the Dark One to the Abyss.

Through the devotion of his Disciples, the Dark One has been resurrected, and now retribution can be exacted from you.

We, the Disciples of the Dark One, inform you thus so that when firstly, those close to you die and at the last, you die, you will know at whose hand and why.

Retribution begins.

He knew when she'd reached the end because her eyes stopped moving and she simply stared at the parchment, speechless, for a few seconds. As she slowly lifted her eyes to look at Harry, he could see the fear in Hermione's that he'd felt himself. As he watched, he saw a calm fury, tempered by determination, banish the fear.

`Where did you get this?' asked Hermione, her voice tight and low.

Harry explained and Hermione looked disappointed. `So there's no real way of finding out who handed over this particular parchment,' she lamented.

`Probably not - Ron said there was quite a crowd and the desk-witch was pretty overwhelmed and flustered; I doubt she'd remember at all.'

`Voldemort was the First Disciple of this Dark One.' It was a flat statement.

`My thought, too,' said Harry.

Hermione's brown eyes bored into his. `So what do you make of this Dark One? And why couldn't he protect his precious First Disciple? Where was he when you defeated Tom Riddle?

`Must've been busy with some evil problem at home, wherever that is.' Harry grinned at her and Hermione could only grin in return.

Then more soberly, Hermione said, `You were worried something might happen to me, weren't you?'

Harry knew she was alluding to him sleeping on the couch.

Harry nodded. `“Retribution begins” sounded pretty immediate to me, and you were the first person I thought of.'

Hermione gave him an odd look. `I suppose since I was the last person you saw,' she said.

Harry nodded again, avoiding her gaze. And the person who means the most to me, he added to himself.

`What about everyone else? Or am I the only one who can't look after herself?' Hermione's voice was casual, but Harry knew he'd unwittingly hit a nerve. His face tightened visibly. `I can't be with everyone at once,' he said tersely, sounding as though he wished he could. `And for the record, Hermione Granger, I am more than aware of just how capable you are of looking after yourself - more aware than any other wizard alive, save Ron. I do, however, uphold my right to worry about you as well as my right to my protective instinct.' Harry took a deep breath. `Besides, you're my best friend - you are very important to me and I love you.' Harry felt a spurt of triumph at successfully telling Hermione he loved her in a perfectly acceptable way.

Hermione gazed at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. `I understand,' she said quietly, `and I would - do - feel the same.'

`I know,' he said, meeting her gaze. Their eyes held each other's for a heartbeat, then the spell was broken as Hermione picked up her teacup, saying briskly, `Well, I know what I'll be doing tomorrow when I get to work.'

`I'll be coming with you, if that's all right,' Harry told her, grateful for the return to discussing everyday life and grinning when Hermione pulled a face and groaned.

`They should be used to seeing me by now,' Harry assured her.

Hermione fixed him with a sceptical look. `That's what you said last time. Wishful thinking, Harry.'

Harry shrugged. `Just ignore them. That's what I try to do.'

Hermione grinned at him then, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. `You could wear a disguise.'

This time it was Harry's turn to groan. `Not funny, Hermione! I refuse to resort to such ridiculous tactics.'

`Harry, when every witch under a hundred in my Department stops smiling coyly, batting their eyes and just plain drooling the second they spot you, I'll stop suggesting such ridiculous tactics.'

`Why can't we just Floo directly into your office?' Harry asked plaintively.

Hermione sighed. `Harry, you know as well as I do no one in the Department can do that for security reasons - it'd be chaos.' Then she flashed him a smile. `You'll just have to face your fans.'

`You don't have to sound so damned amused by it,' grumbled Harry, as Hermione's smile became laughter.

*

That same morning, Ginny was momentarily startled on waking, wondering for a second where she was. Then she remembered she was at the Burrow, in her old room. With that realisation came the memory of the previous night's events; as they came crashing in on her, she buried her face in her pillow so that she could groan and curse without being overheard.

Damn you Harry! Damn you, damn you and damn you again! We were supposed to live happily ever after! We were supposed to be blissfully happy and have children and love each other for ever! Hot angry tears flooded her eyes, soaking into her pillow. She'd said as much to her mother the night before as they sat together on the couch after dinner. After Bill and Fleur left with Charlie and Cordelia, and Dean was taken to Ron's old room, she'd had time alone with her parents. Her father had been sitting in his favourite armchair, apparently trying to listen to the radio and let the women talk.

`I'm so sorry my dear,' crooned Molly as she sat, her arm around her daughter's shoulders; Ginny's head was nestled in the crook of her mother's neck, a miserable expression on her tear-stained face.

`It's not always the first person you love that you end up marrying,' her father said gently, turning the radio off, his mind not really on it.

`What about you and Mum?' cried Ginny.

Arthur cleared his throat. `Well, I must say I never loved anyone before your mother.'

Ginny heard her mother sigh. `Oh, Arthur, you can't seriously still be put out about that after all these years?' Her mother sounded distinctly exasperated to Ginny's ears.

Arthur shrugged, steepling his fingers, his elbows resting on the arms of his seat; it seemed as though something on the ceiling had caught his eye as he was gazing fixedly at a point above their heads.

`No, no, not at all.'

Molly clicked her tongue.

`Mum, what's Dad talking about?' asked Ginny.

`Nothing, dear.'

Arthur was instantly overcome with a paroxysm of coughing and Ginny barely caught her mother's irritable, `Oh, for goodness' sake!'

Ginny sat up, looking from her mother to her father and back again. `What happened? What are you both talking about?' she demanded.

`Since your mother tends to gloss over the details, I'll explain it,' said her father in a pained voice, straightening his spectacles which had come askew during his coughing fit.

So it was that Ginny learnt that her father had fallen for the very pretty and popular Molly Prewett during their first year at Hogwarts.

`What?' cried Ginny amazed. `At eleven?'

Her father nodded sagely. `I knew even then,' he told her.

`Slight exaggeration,' whispered Molly to Ginny, but she didn't interrupt as Arthur continued.

`I sat by, watching, as the girl I adored grew into the woman I loved and knew I would one day marry.'

`That's very poetic, Dad,' said Ginny admiringly.

`I could always be poetic about your mother,' her father replied, winking at his wife. `There was just one small hitch in my grand plan to live happily ever after with her - she didn't love me.' Arthur paused and Molly chuckled.

`Are you serious?' asked Ginny, looking from her solemn faced father to her smiling mother.

`Completely,' her mother told her. `While he loved me, I loved someone else.'

`Owen Wallace,' said Arthur, his tone of voice suggesting he'd just revealed the name of something nasty and contagious.

`He was a Gryffindor too,' Molly explained with a far away look in her eyes, `in the year above us. I fell for him my first night at Hogwarts - spotted him during the Sorting Ceremony.'

Arthur snorted derisively. `Her and just about every other witch at Hogwarts.'

`He was handsome, funny, clever and nice.'

`Sounds like Harry,' said Ginny quietly.

`Well, yes, a little - although he wasn't quite as swashbuckling as Harry -'

`”Swashbuckling?”' repeated Ginny, unable to prevent a chuckle from escaping her. `You make him sound like a pirate!'

`I was actually thinking more “hero” than “pirate”,' laughed Molly.

`It's just that I feel as though I've loved Harry nearly all my life,' Ginny told her mother, tears welling in her eyes again.

`I know just how you feel,' her mother said tenderly. `That's how I felt about Owen, and I met him almost at the same age as you met Harry. He was always polite and nice and helpful - and -'

`She was his girlfriend for nearly two years,' said Arthur flatly, sounding as though he was still disgusted by this fact all these years later. `And don't you dare sit there and reminisce, Molly Weasley - you know how it upsets me!'

`Then perhaps it should be your turn to go and make a pot of tea, dear,' said Molly.

With a loud “humph!” Arthur pushed himself out of his armchair and plodded off to the kitchen.

`Now,' said Molly as she took Ginny's hands, `I can tell you my side of the story without being interrupted.'

Ginny looked at her mother almost in awe. `Mum, I just never thought about you and Dad being - well, being young and in love and all that sort of thing!'

Molly chuckled. `No child ever does. I think what your father wants me to tell you is how convinced I was about Owen being the wizard for me. And Dad was right; Owen was my boyfriend for two years - my fifth and sixth year - his sixth and seventh. He told me he loved me and I told him the same. We made plans. We spent all our spare time together - whether it was Hogsmeade trips, studying in the common room or researching in the library. Even in the holidays we always saw each other. I hardly knew your father existed. Oh, he'd asked me out a couple of times - but I only ever had eyes for Owen. I was so confident my happiness lay with Owen, I even told my mother that one day I would be Molly Wallace.'

`What did Grandma say?' asked Ginny.

`Not much,' said Molly with a wry smile. `She just told me she was very happy for me. I think what she didn't say was that she'd wait and see.'

`Wait and see?' queried Ginny.

Molly nodded. `Wait and see - whether it all lasted.'

`Did you feel like that about Harry and me?' asked Ginny curiously.

Molly nodded. `A little. I have to admit I hoped it would last once you and Harry became girlfriend and boyfriend, but I knew from experience that there was an equally good chance it wouldn't.'

Ginny sighed. `I just had so many dreams about -'

`Living happily ever after?' put in Molly.

Ginny blushed. `I know it sounds stupid, but -'

Molly spoke firmly. `No, Ginny, not stupid - never stupid. I wasn't going to say that at all. Your father and I have always believed in having dreams and pursuing them and fulfilling them - especially now for our children. But sometimes, if a dream isn't fulfilled, you take a little time to get over it and then you move on. You create a new dream for yourself. Do you know, our dream now is for all our children to be happy in their lives. I think that's most parents' dream. And while it feels sad for you right now, you will eventually come to know that your happiness isn't tied up with being with Harry.'

`So what happened with you and Owen? And why didn't you tell me about this before?'

`Well, until you've been in love yourself I don't think it would make much sense, do you?' Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded in agreement as Molly continued, `And Owen? Well, we weren't able to see each other after he finished at Hogwarts. His family moved to France, where his father had been given a job in the French Ministry of Magic. Even though we wrote - every week to begin with - eventually, it sort of slowly petered out. I was heartbroken at first, but I got over it. And your father helped, of course.'

`So you got together in your last year at Hogwarts?' asked Ginny, and Molly nodded.

`Is it safe to come back now?' came Arthur's voice from the doorway, accompanied by the rattling of teacups and saucers on the tray he was carrying.

Ginny and Molly both laughed. `Yes, dear, perfectly safe,' Molly told him.

`By the way, Ginny,' said Arthur as he set the tea tray down on the small table in front of the couch, `why did Dean come with you?'

Ginny shrugged. `He helped me downstairs with my suitcase when I was coming here and insisted on Flooing with me to help me with it here in case there was no one home.'

`I see,' said Arthur, sharing a knowing look with his wife.

`Didn't you go out with Dean at Hogwarts?' Molly asked Ginny, taking the cup of tea offered to her by her husband.

Ginny nodded absentmindedly. `Yes, but that was years ago.'

Arthur caught her eye then and raised his eyebrows as he handed her a cup of tea.

`You think it's impossible for him to still like you?' he asked her gently.

Ginny frowned thoughtfully at him. `Hermione was saying something about that last night - but I told her it was nonsense.'

`Maybe not,' said Arthur.

`Don't worry about it now, dear,' advised Molly. `But you would probably get quite a lot of comfort from accepting any help Dean offers. He's still your friend, and he's obviously more than happy to help you and no,' she emphasised on seeing her daughter's cynical expression, `accepting his help doesn't mean you have to then commit yourself to him or anything like that. Accept it in the spirit in which it's given - friendship.'

Arthur nodded in agreement. `That's what I thought too, dear.'

It was shortly after that, that Ginny had drained her teacup and yawning, announced she was going to bed.

As she hugged her mother tightly, Molly whispered, `Please don't say anything about this to anyone, will you, Ginny? It does upset your father.'

`I won't and thanks Mum, I do feel a bit better now,' Ginny whispered back.

Ginny then crossed to her father and dropped a loving kiss on the top of his head before hugging him as well.

`Thanks, Dad, you both helped me a lot.'

A minute later, when the sound of Ginny's door closing reached them, Arthur chuckled. `Never fails,' he said proudly. `I'm most grateful to Owen Wallace -'

`And I'm most grateful to Rowena Wallace,' put in Molly, beaming. `That was quite a clever idea of yours, dear, back when Bill suffered his first heartbreak.'

Arthur sighed. `That'll be the last time we'll need either Owen or Rowena,' he said wistfully.

`Oh, they might be needed again one day, dear; once we have grandchildren. First loves and heartbreak often seem to go hand in hand.'

*

Since he was already there, Hermione asked Harry to join her for breakfast.

`Making your usual Sunday omelette?' asked Harry hopefully.

Hermione laughed. `Yes, and I take it you'd like one too?'

`I'll help,' said Harry as he nodded, grinning; they both stood up and took their empty cups and the teapot over to the kitchen bench and Harry added, `I'll set the table and make some fresh tea.'

While Harry went about his self-appointed chores and Hermione began chopping up ham and grating cheese, Harry said gratefully, `Thanks, Hermione. I really don't want to be alone today. I think having company will really help.'

`That's what friends are for, and I'm glad of the company, too,' she told him with a gentle smile.

As he put two placemats on the table, Harry picked up the grey parchment and frowned. `Maybe we should Floo or owl everyone today and let them know about the possible danger. What do you think?'

Hermione put her knife down and looked thoughtfully over at Harry. `I'm not sure, perhaps it's best if we find out something more, first. I mean, there's nothing to really tell, not yet.' Hermione paused and stared off into the distance for a few seconds, thinking. `I'm almost certain I'll be able to turn up something at work tomorrow; we can owl everyone then. At least I'll be able to give them something more than just a vague warning.'

Harry put the parchment down again and looked at Hermione pensively. `I don't think we should leave it any later than tomorrow, Hermione. I think we should owl everyone then, regardless.'

Hermione nodded as she said, `You're right, Harry. It would be irresponsible not to warn them.'

She resumed her chopping as Harry slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen bench, the table now set and the kettle on. He looked at Hermione expectantly. `Who exactly should we write to?' he asked.

`I think we should write to Ron,' replied Hermione, `and he'll tell Luna, Seamus and Colin, of course. Ginny will probably still be at the Burrow so we'll just write to Mr and Mrs Weasley and they'll tell the rest of the family. And Dean and Neville as well. Oh, and Professor McGonagall! I'll ask her to liaise with the Ministry if she thinks it's necessary.'

`That just about covers it, I'd say,' Harry told her with a lopsided grin.

Hermione gave him a rather grim answering smile. `I'm sure we'll be able to find out something tomorrow,' she said again as she glanced at the parchment on the table, her eyes burning with her customary fervour for finding out. `Perhaps when we write to them, we should also arrange a meeting for next Friday. We can tell them to be careful in the meantime, that we strongly suspect someone is plotting to attack randomly. And here -' she handed him a bowl, a carton of eggs and a whisk, `- make yourself useful.' Harry's eyebrows shot up. Hermione grinned and added, `Please.'

Harry then reached for his wand but Hermione frowned at him. `Harry, no! Do it yourself - it tastes better.'

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled good-humouredly. `If you say so, Hermione.'

`I do say so - no swish and flick - you need to crack and whisk, Harry!'

They were both laughing and so neither heard the front door open. Hermione, still chuckling, glanced up from her cutting board and so it was she who spotted Ginny first, the change in expression on her face causing Harry to turn and look. On seeing Ginny, he shot to his feet, an egg in each hand, his eyes locked with Ginny's. He knew how things would look to her: he and Hermione making breakfast together, sharing a laugh, but he could say nothing for fear of giving anything away to Hermione. He prayed Ginny wouldn't feel the need to say anything, either. In the meantime, Hermione had dropped her knife, wiped her hands on a tea-towel and was already making her way around the bench.

`Ginny! I'm glad you're home,' said Hermione, her relief evident in her voice.

`I'm not staying,' Ginny replied, her face stiff with the effort of maintaining a neutral expression; Hermione faltered, her expression one of surprised confusion. Behind her, Harry put the eggs he was holding in the bowl and stood watching Ginny, waiting.

`I'm going back to the Burrow - I'm not sure for how long.'

`Oh.' Hermione had stopped and was staring at Ginny, her eyes sad and sympathetic at the same time.

Ginny's expression softened at the sight of her friend's obvious compassion and distress. `Come and help me pack,' she said softly, before turning and walking down the hall to her room.

Harry watched them go and then dropped back onto the stool, pushing his hands through his hair. Crap! he thought, angry at the unfairness of Ginny walking into the cosy little scenario he knew he and Hermione would've presented. Not for his sake, but for hers; with the pain he'd already caused her, he didn't want her to think he'd just tossed her aside as though their time together had meant nothing and turned immediately to Hermione. He sat and waited for what seemed an age, determined to have a few words with Ginny before she left. Crookshanks miaowed just as Hermione walked back into the room; Harry could tell she'd been crying and was on his feet in an instant. His long strides had him halfway across the room before Hermione could say anything. Harry took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

`You all right?' he asked softly.

Hermione nodded. `Ginny'll be out in a minute. She wants to have a word with you - you should walk her downstairs.'

`Of course,' said Harry. `Actually, I'll go and help her now. But I'll be back for that omelette,' he finished as he let her hands go, lifting his own to frame her face, his thumbs gently wiping the remains of her tears away. Hermione gave him a watery smile and he dropped his hands before stepping around her and heading for Ginny's room, his heart racing from even that small moment of contact with Hermione; he'd wanted to crush her to him, holding her tightly until she was no longer sad, but smiling once more.

When he walked in, it was to see Ginny sitting on the end of her bed, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared at her trunk on the floor beside her.

Harry stopped in the doorway, his hands pushed into his pockets.

`Ginny, I'm sorry you walked in just now and it looked as though -'

Ginny looked at him, her expression unreadable as she waved her hand dismissively. `I know, Harry. You'd've come to cry on Hermione's shoulder even if she wasn't the woman you love.' Harry winced as Ginny continued. `The three of you have always been that way with each other and none of you is even really conscious of it.' She stood up. `I told Hermione I can't live here - so close to you - for the time being, and she understands.'

Harry nodded. `Thank you,' he said gravely, and he knew she would understand he was thanking her for not saying anything to Hermione. `How are your mum and dad?'

Ginny gave a sardonic chuckle. `Mum's worried about you, can you believe it? She didn't actually come out and say so, but I know that look of hers.' Harry looked abashed and Ginny sighed as she continued, `Don't worry, Harry, they don't hate you.' She gazed steadily at him. `And neither do I. Actually, talking to Mum and Dad really helped.'

`I'm really glad you've got them,' said Harry, wondering fleetingly what it would be like to have such parental support.

Ginny nodded then looked at Harry, her eyes full of a heart-rending sadness. `But I no longer have my best friend, and she doesn't even know it,' she whispered, and it was then Harry realised that Ginny's knowledge of his love for Hermione was now a barrier to their friendship. `I wish now I didn't know.'

Harry gazed at her, unable to think of anything he could say that would give her comfort. Then, with a flick of her wand, Ginny's trunk rose a few inches from the floor and waited patiently as she took the few steps that brought her to Harry. Reaching up, she curled her free hand around the back of his neck and at the same time as she exerted pressure to bring his head down, she lifted hers and kissed him, one last time.

`Goodbye, Harry,' she whispered against his lips and he could hear tears in her voice. Then she was gone, her trunk gliding obediently after her.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

To make up for planting the picture I imagine you have in your heads after that last little paragraph, here's a sneaky peek at the summary snippet for the next chapter…

CHAPTER ELEVEN

In which Verity and Emrys get chatty, some things are revealed while others are kept hidden; Hermione and Harry get to work on research and at the end of a long day, Harry pampers Hermione who has some rather unsettling thoughts while soaking in the bath and something quite unexpected and rather surprising happens after dinner…

-->

Author's Note

I think, without a doubt, that this chapter will be your favourite so far…

Janie xoxo

P.S. If there are any mistakes, I sincerely apologise; my Spell-Check Quill's charm has worn off and I'm having trouble being anything other than horizontal at the moment, due to a bout of 'flu. I'm really bad at being sick, by the way, since I virtually never get sick - you wouldn't want to know me. *Janie staggers off looking for her Pepperup Potion…*

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER ELEVEN

In which Verity and Emrys get chatty, some things are revealed while others are kept hidden; Hermione and Harry get to work on research and at the end of a long day, Harry pampers Hermione who has some rather unsettling thoughts while soaking in the bath and something quite unexpected and rather surprising happens after dinner…

Hermione was up early the next morning, intent on getting to work as soon as possible so that she could begin researching this new threat which had materialised. She also made a mental note to check with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement about Draco Malfoy, Malcolm Rafferty and even Oscar Blakely, just in case.

She'd been firm with Harry the previous night when he'd wanted to sleep on her couch again.

`You're sleeping in your own place, Harry. I'll be fine and you'll be comfortable.'

Harry knew when it was pointless arguing with Hermione, although for his own peace of mind he surreptitiously cast a Comperio Charm on her flat that would notify him of anyone or anything entering her flat during the night. He'd been relieved, although not terribly surprised, when it hadn't been activated. He decided to put it in place permanently, just in case, making a mental note to do the same to all the flats in the Nook.

Hermione normally Flooed to the Ministry at half-past eight, but on this Monday morning she was up and ready to leave at half-past seven. Harry, ready since six a.m., had come over at seven and they'd enjoyed an amicable breakfast together while discussing where they'd look and what they'd be looking for. Hermione made a list as they talked, the sound of her quill on the parchment bringing back vivid memories of school to Harry.

As they made their way downstairs shortly before half-past seven, Esmerelda called out a cheery, `Good morning, early birds!' from her office.

After they'd returned their landlady's greeting, Hermione said, `We should ask Esmerelda to the meeting, too,' and Harry had murmured his agreement.

When they reached the fireplace, Harry went to the mantel to get the Floo Powder. Hermione was watching him when she saw something out the corner of her eye and she glanced up at the portrait of the Leighs. The old couple were, as always, asleep in their rocking chairs, although she could've sworn she'd just seen one of them move.

`Good morning, Verity, good morning, Emrys,' she said, despite knowing that, as always, there would be no reply. She'd asked Esmerelda about the couple in the portrait not long after moving into the Nook, but learnt only that her landlady had scant knowledge of them beyond the fact that they'd built the Nook and weren't known to talk to anyone.

Harry chuckled as he placed the pot of Floo Powder back on its stand, some of it now sitting in his hand. `Why do you bother?' he asked. `They never answer.'

Hermione smiled and shrugged as Harry dropped a good pinch of the powder he held into her outstretched hand.

`See you there,' said Harry as Hermione cast the magical powder into the fireplace and with a clearly spoken, `Ministry of Magic!' disappeared in a brilliant green flash.

Just as Harry was about to do the same, he heard his name and stopped, looking around to see who was speaking; there was no one else in sight.

`Mr Potter! Up here!'

Harry turned and looked up at the portrait over the fireplace, his open-mouthed expression showing his amazement at seeing Verity Leigh sitting up straight and looking right at him; her husband was doing the same, a small smile curving his mouth.

`Close your mouth, Mr Potter - there's no need to gape.'

As Verity spoke, her husband chuckled and Harry quickly closed his mouth as he gazed mutely at the grey-haired couple, unable to think of anything to say.

`Mr Potter,' said Verity in a voice that reminded Harry very much of Professor McGonagall, `I would ask a favour of you and would be very grateful if you would consent to carry it out.'

Harry nodded, still speechless with surprise.

`I need to have a certain book returned to me. It was given to me for safekeeping some time ago and it has been kept in a safe place here at Sorcerers' Nook ever since. However, when I last checked to see that it was still safe - as I do regularly - I was greatly dismayed to discover that it's no longer there.'

Harry gazed at the elderly woman blankly. `Book? What book? Why are you asking me?'

Verity sniffed. `I am perfectly able to sense that you are the most powerful wizard around here, Mr Potter, and you do need to be powerful to deal with this book.'

Harry shook his head. `I don't understand - how can a book -' and then he stopped, the events surrounding Tom Riddle's diary suddenly blazing in his memory. He gazed thoughtfully at Verity. `What sort of book is this?' he asked her.

`It's a private book, Mr Potter, somewhat in the nature of a diary - or a book of records. It's an old book - very old.'

`What could happen to the person who has it?'

Verity and Emrys exchanged a quick glance before Verity replied. `No actual harm would come to them; it's more in the nature of experiences that may be detrimental to their peace of mind.'

Harry frowned. `Do you mean a person who read this book could actually experience the memories it holds? Like a Pensieve?'

`A Pensieve?' queried Emrys. `What's that?'

Harry looked at the old man. `It's a special magical device that you can store your memories in and look at them as an unseen, objective observer - anyone can. You can retrieve the memories at any time, too. Or you can store them in the Pensieve.'

`Impressive,' murmured Emrys.

`But what about this diary, this book of yours?' asked Harry. `Is it a similar device?' He couldn't help but feel a certain dread stemming from the memory of Tom Riddle's diary.

Verity looked thoughtful as she spoke. `I think perhaps it may be similar in that you can experience the memories written in it, also as an unseen observer, although I'm not certain the experience is equivalent to that which one is faced with through the Pensieve.'

`You have no idea who may have taken it?' asked Harry.

Verity leant forward in her chair and said quietly, `We believe it had to have been Esmerelda, as she is the only one that normally has access to the spot where it was kept. However, we know she no longer has it and we can only surmise that she has given it to someone else.'

Just then the fireplace filled with green flames and Hermione stepped out, her blue robes swirling around her.

`Harry! Why are you still here? I've been waiting for an age and I was beginning to get really worried!'

Harry jumped. `Hermione! I'm so sorry - I forgot - I was -' He glanced up at the painting, only to see Verity and Emrys once more asleep - or appearing to be.

Hermione followed his gaze. `You were what? Talking to Emrys and Verity?'

Harry looked back at Hermione and nodded. Hermione's eyes widened in amazement but before she could begin plying him with questions, Harry said, `Come on, let's go - we've lost enough time already.'

Hermione fetched some more Floo Powder from the pot on the mantel and told Harry he should go first this time, which he did so quickly, impatient to tell Hermione what had just taken place.

Giving the apparently peaceful, sleeping old couple a piercing look, Hermione stepped into the fireplace virtually on Harry's heels, then a few seconds later, stepped lightly out into the Atrium to find him waiting for her. They'd arrived through the fireplace closest to the security desk; without needing to speak, they turned together and headed through the golden gates to catch the lift up to Level One and the Department of Magical Research, the security guard giving them a welcoming wave and a smile as they passed him.

Since there were others in the lift, Hermione had to refrain from asking Harry the many questions spinning in her head. It was only after Level Two they found themselves alone, save for a couple of inter-departmental memos circling over their heads, and Hermione said in a rush, `So what did Emrys and Verity say?'

`They - well, no, it was actually Verity - she asked me if I'd do her a favour.' Harry stopped as they'd reached Level One, and he waited for Hermione to leave the lift first. They both then stood in the vestibule, sunlight streaming in through the magical window at the end of the room.

Harry continued as the lift doors clanked closed, `Verity says she had an old book, a sort of diary or a book of records I think she called it, which was in a hidden spot. She says it's gone and that it must have been taken by Esmerelda because she's the only one with access to the hiding place.' Harry paused, puzzled by the look on Hermione's face. `What's wrong?' he asked her.

`Nothing, keep going,' urged Hermione, shaking her head slightly.

`Well, somehow she knows that the book isn't in Esmerelda's possession anymore and assumes she's given it to someone. Hermione, what is it?' asked Harry, exasperated; Hermione was almost bouncing on the spot and she looked desperately as though wanted to say something.

`No, nothing - please, keep going!'

Frowning speculatively down at her, Harry hesitated, but Hermione urged him on again and so he continued.

`Apparently it's a book that has similar powers to a Pensieve, which I had to explain to them - they mustn't've had them back in their day and they're not exactly a common magical object - anyway,' Harry drew a deep breath, `this book is very old and Verity's worried about someone having a “detrimental experience”, I think she called it, if they manage to use the book. It sounds to me as though it could be dangerous, regardless of what she says.'

Hermione's hand had flown to her mouth and Harry decided he wasn't saying another word until she explained herself. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but Hermione didn't give him a chance as she gasped, without any prompting, `It's me, Harry! I have Verity's book!'

Harry was thunderstruck. `What? How on earth did you get it, Hermione?' Harry stared at her, feeling as though something icy cold had just Apparated into his stomach.

At that moment the lift clanked open once more and an elderly wizard stepped out, smiling at Hermione.

`Morning, Miss Granger, you're early,' he said, lifting his pointed wizard hat. His eyes popped as they came to rest on Harry - and his scar. `And - oh my! Mr Harry Potter!'

Harry gathered himself and acknowledged the old wizard with a nod before giving Hermione a slightly desperate “what now?” look.

`Good morning, Mr Finch,' she said cheerfully. `Harry and I are working on a special research project today, so we'd better be getting along.'

`Oh, of course,' said Mr Finch, sounding happily eager, as though he'd been let in on some monumental secret. He tipped his hat at Harry once more before disappearing through the shiny, black door over which hung the sign, “Ministry of Magic - Department of Magical Research”.

`Let's go,' said Hermione as she turned and led the way to the dark green, unmarked door that was between the one Mr Finch had just gone through and another, navy blue door, that was also unmarked.

Hermione lifted the brass knocker on the green door and tapped once. `I thought I'd spare you the ordeal of walking through my department,' she said, looking up at Harry with a mischievous grin, which faltered and disappeared when she saw the grim expression on Harry's face. `We'll just go straight to the library which is where we'll need to work, anyway,' she finished with a sigh, knowing Harry was probably going to give her an earful about the book - and the danger he believed it presented.

`Name?' asked the door.

`Hermione Granger.'

`Password?'

“Evolutio.'

`Good morning, Hermione!' said the door happily as it swung open. Harry followed Hermione through, their robes swirling impatiently around their ankles.

The door had barely closed behind them when Harry grabbed Hermione's arm, pulling her around to face him. `Hermione! Where is it? That book is probably dangerous! Verity warned me only powerful witches or wizards could deal with that book!'

`Harry, stop!' cried Hermione as she pulled her arm free of Harry's grasp. `I haven't opened the book yet - Esmerelda told me it was probably dangerous when she gave it to me; she said it felt as though it was full of Dark Magic.' Hermione's hands went to her hips. `And so you think I'm lacking in enough power to -'

Shaking his head impatiently, Harry said, `Of course I don't! But what the hell is wrong with Esmerelda?' he said fiercely, his eyes blazing behind his glasses. `I can't believe she gave you something she thought was dangerous! It's not her book to begin with and she had no right touching it, let alone giving it to you!' He even surprised himself with the force of the anger coursing through him, all because he believed Hermione's safety was being compromised.

Hermione stared at him and the mixture of confusion and puzzlement in her eyes brought him to his senses. He took a deep, uneven breath and pushed his hand through his hair, dropping his head a little so he didn't have to meet her eyes.

`I'm sorry - I just - well, I don't like to think about you being in danger and…' His voice trailed off and he heard Hermione sigh. Raising his eyes he looked at her; she was shaking her head, her lips pursed, one eyebrow arched as she gazed at him.

`Harry, I'm not silly - I've taken every precaution with that book. Esmerelda didn't know who it belonged to and when she stumbled across it, the first thing she did was bring it to me - she could feel the Dark Magic in it and knows better than to take chances with such things. I've got it here at work so I can research it in complete safety - it's in the Armarium with a Tutis Charm placed around it.'

Harry gave her a rather mortified grin. `I'm sorry, Hermione. I know you're not silly - I guess I just reacted without thinking.'

`Without a doubt, and not the first time,' replied Hermione with a wry smile.

`By the way,' Harry asked, his eyes now quizzical behind his glasses, `what's an Armarium? And a Tutis Charm?'

Hermione looked mildly surprised before smiling. `Of course, I'm just so used to it having worked here - the Armarium is a wizard safe, and anything kept in one is usually protected with its own Tutis Charm which keeps it safe and secure. It's just that the different things kept in the Armarium often need to be protected from each other.'

Harry shook his head, grinning. `Magic! Every time I think I've heard it all, along comes something to remind I probably never will.'

Hermione smiled at him. `All right, let's get on with what we came here for. Esmerelda's - or rather, Verity's book, is safe and sound for the time being. You can tell her so when you get home,' she finished, removing her cloak. Harry followed suit, and they hung their cloaks on a row of hooks beside the door; removing the list she'd made earlier, Hermione then hung her bag up beside her cloak.

She turned and stood for a moment, eyes closed, taking a deep breath; Harry rolled his eyes, positive he knew what she was doing. `Smelling the books, Hermione?' he asked her with an indulgent smile.

Hermione grinned at him as she nodded. `I just love the smell of this place.' “This place” was the research library attached to the Department of Magical Research and it was where Hermione spent most of her time when at work. It was a large room with a white, vaulted ceiling from which hung many large candelabras. Along two sides of the room were rows of old, polished wooden bookshelves stuffed with tomes, large and small, above which candles floated, providing extra light in the aisles. Because some of the books and other objects stored here were very dangerous, there was limited access and the security door would only allow certain people in.

As they passed an oak trolley laden with books waiting to be returned to their places, they heard a dusty sneeze. `Bless you,' said Hermione automatically, while Harry chuckled as he spotted a book on top of the trolley with its cover blown open; its title was, “Magical Aid for Allergies - Lose Your Sneeze and Wheeze” by Messrs Sniffilles & Hakke.

Harry continued to follow Hermione past two unoccupied desks, both of which had tottering stacks of books on them as well as myriad scrolls. On the other side of the room was her office, the cheerfully yellow door standing open. In contrast to the organised chaos in the library, Hermione's office was as neat as pin. Harry had visited Hermione at work a number of times, but on each of those occasions she had been working in the Department next door, not here in the library. He didn't say so, but he hoped they wouldn't need to go next door later, after everyone had arrived at work - he found their reactions to his presence rather embarrassing and a little tiresome.

Hermione took her seat behind her large, wooden desk - which Harry thought looked more like a table and said so as he sat down opposite her.

Hermione nodded as she unrolled the list she'd written earlier. `Most desks are too small and I need room for a lot of books at times.'

Harry picked at his black robes, worn because Muggle clothing - while not actually banned at the Ministry - was nevertheless frowned upon and would have been out of place.

Drawing out her wand and tapping a long, square box that sat to her right, Hermione said to it, `I need books that contain references or even mentions of “the Dark One” or “disciples of the Dark One”, please.'

The long box made a muffled noise that sounded like paper being riffled before it shot open to reveal that it was actually a drawer.

`Thank you,' said Hermione as she took a handful of cards that had sprung up from the many hundreds contained in the drawer. She smiled at Harry, her eyes alight with enthusiasm as she said, `More than I expected!'

`What, there are books here you haven't read? Hermione, I'm shocked!' said Harry facetiously, gazing at her in mock amazement.

Hermione poked her tongue out at him in an uncharacteristically playful manner as she handed him a card. `Let's begin, shall we?'

*

They then spent most of the day reading, following various leads through different books - some that shed a little light, some that told them nothing. Hermione had been most excited by a mention in one old history book of a “Book of Records” that was last known to be in the possession of the Rileys, a very old Wizarding family. This book apparently held first hand accounts of many Dark battles from long ago, even before the battles of the Goblin Rebellions in the sixteen hundreds. It was also noted as containing significant information pertaining to the Dark One.

However, when the trail of this book grew cold and it became apparent that it was very doubtful they'd be able to get their hands on it, Hermione was bitterly disappointed. Harry on the other hand had spent some time after lunch composing letters to everyone, Hermione going over them with him before they sent them off.

Rather than overtax Hedwig with so many letters, Hermione used Ministry owls to send most of them. Aside from the warning they'd decided on, the letters also included an invitation to meet at Hogwarts the following Friday, Hermione feeling certain Professor McGonagall would agree to host such a meeting. They asked Hedwig to deliver only two of the letters, one to Hogwarts and the other to the Burrow.

`I hope we've said enough to make everyone wary without scaring them to death,' commented Harry after the letters had gone.

`I don't think it matters how we put it - they'll all be worried, as anyone would be,' said Hermione. `At least they know we can all meet up next Friday, and hopefully by then we'll know more.'

`Wouldn't be hard, since we know next to nothing now,' said Harry wryly. `I don't feel as though we've found out that much really. There are those mentions and references but no real information.'

`I'll find out more,' said Hermione grimly, her brown eyes darkened with determination as she gazed across her desk at Harry. `There's no way that some foul creep is going to threaten us or get the better of us. If we can defeat Voldemort, we can defeat this Dark One.'

Harry felt his heart swell as Hermione spoke. She was saying precisely what he was thinking - he knew she would be as fearless and determined as he was himself to defeat anyone - or thing - that tried to disrupt the lives and happiness of those they loved, together with the rest of the Wizarding world. The smile he gave her said so, too, and Hermione impulsively held out her hand to Harry who leant forward and took it across the top of all the books lying open on Hermione's desk.

`We'll win this one, too,' she whispered.

`I know we will,' said Harry, squeezing her warm fingers, wishing more than anything else at that moment that he could walk around her desk, pull her to her feet and kiss her…

Later, at Hermione's insistence, Harry Flooed home and left her at the Ministry; she was determined to try and catch up on some of the work she'd neglected due to their research efforts that day, and also wanted to send off an inter-departmental memo to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement requesting up-to-date details on Draco Malfoy, Malcolm Rafferty and Oscar Blakely...

*

Ron, Luna, Seamus and Colin were still in Holyhead, not due to leave for Kenmare in Ireland until the following Thursday. Seamus and Colin were out with almost the whole of the Holyhead team; they'd gotten on particularly well with the Harpies, not least because it was an all-witch team…

Ron and Luna were enjoying a quiet dinner for two in the hotel restaurant when an owl arrived and landed at their table, drawing curious glances from the other diners.

Ron's expression was perplexed as he removed the scroll from the owls' leg on which he could plainly see his name and the Ministry of Magic seal. After the owl flew off in a flurry of efficient feathers, Ron was left wondering why on earth the Ministry was writing to him and said so aloud.

`Perhaps it's from the Magical Games & Sports department,' ventured Luna, curious.

As he opened the scroll, Ron recognised Hermione's handwriting immediately and as he began to read, he told Luna quietly, `It's from Hermione.'

Luna watched while a deep frown formed on Ron's face as his eyes quickly scanned the parchment. His sharp intake of breath as he read increased Luna's concern. However, with great patience she waited until Ron had finished reading before saying anything. As he looked up at her, his expression dazed, Luna felt her stomach lurch.

`What's wrong?' she whispered, reaching out and taking Ron's hand; his fingers closed around hers convulsively.

`We're all in danger,' he said tersely, his expression grim.

Luna's fingers tightened in his. `What do you mean? What's happened?'

Ron passed the scroll to her and Luna read quickly, a small gasp escaping her as her eyes travelled down the parchment.

`We all have to go to Hogwarts this Friday,' said Ron, his fingers tightening around Luna's. `We need to hear everything Harry and Hermione can tell us.'

*

Minerva McGonagall was in her office when Hedwig delivered her letter. Almost as soon as she'd finished reading it, she began to write her own series of letters which she personally took to the Owlery, sending them off with school owls, her expression bleak as she watched them go. A strong feeling from the past washed over her as she stood there gazing out the window at their diminishing forms - a strong sense of deja vu. She wished very much at that moment for the presence of her dear friend and mentor, Albus Dumbledore. Her heart continued to ache at his absence; the contact with his portrait in her office had long ago proven to be second best to his living presence which, together with his wisdom, had always given her an unassailable sense of security…

*

At the Burrow, Molly was waiting for Arthur and Ginny to come home from work, enjoying a quiet cup of tea at the kitchen table whilst reading the Daily Prophet, a delicious dinner bubbling away on the cooker. When Hedwig flew out of the chimney unexpectedly, Molly jumped in fright before smiling at the beautiful snowy owl as she landed on the back of the chair next to her.

`Evening, Hedwig,' said Molly, `what do you have there?'

Hedwig was holding out her leg and Molly quickly removed the last remaining scroll. `Would you like some water and an owl treat?' she asked. Hedwig hooted softly and Molly went to a nearby cupboard, bringing back an owl treat which she gave to Hedwig. Then she used her wand to conjure a small container of water which balanced itself on the back of the chair beside Hedwig. While Hedwig enjoyed her refreshments, Molly picked up the parchment and read. As her eyes travelled down the page, she felt an awful pain in her chest as though a huge hand was squeezing her heart. When she finished, she looked up at Hedwig, white-faced. `You'll take letters to Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins for me, won't you, girl?' Hedwig hooted softly through a beakful of owl treat and Molly moved quickly back to the cupboard to retrieve some parchment, ink and a quill.

*

When he Flooed home, Harry stepped out of the fireplace and the first thing he saw was Esmerelda, sitting in one of the armchairs. The second Harry appeared, she was on her feet, wringing her hands, her eyes constantly darting to the portrait above the fireplace.

`Harry, I'm so glad you're home! I need to talk to you - in my office.'

She scuttled off, throwing a desperate glance over her shoulder at a bewildered Harry who looked up at Emrys and Verity, not surprised to see them sitting up, their eyes open, both of them leaning forward to watch Esmerelda as she disappeared around the corner past the staircase.

`Mr Potter,' said Verity in a subdued voice, `have you found out anything about my book?'

Harry looked from Esmerelda's disappearing figure back to the portrait, feeling a trifle confused.

`What's going on?' he asked. `Why is Esmerelda being so - so - un-Esmerelda-like?'

`Probably,' said Emrys quietly, `because we just asked her about the book she found and which we now know she gave to your friend, Hermione Granger.'

Harry shook his head and held up his hand. `Wait a minute, why did you ask Esmerelda about the book after asking me to track it down?'

Verity and Emrys exchanged glances. `Well,' said Verity, sound strangely hesitant to Harry's ears, `we - Emrys and I - thought that it would be best to find the book as soon as possible and so we thought we should use every avenue open to us to do so as quickly as possible - including speaking to Esmerelda.'

`Your book is at the Ministry of Magic,' Harry explained quickly, wanting to join Esmerelda and hear what she had to say. `It's being held in the safe - the Armarium - in the Department of Magical Research and has a protective spell around it. It's perfectly safe. I'm sorry, but I have to go - Esmerelda's waiting and she's obviously upset.'

As Harry followed in Esmerelda's footsteps, Emrys and Verity watched him as well, before settling back into their rocking chairs, their expressions grim.

*

Esmerelda was pacing in her office and when Harry entered, she quickly crossed to the door and closed it behind him, turning to stand with her back to it, her eyes darting around the room.

`Esmerelda, what's wrong?' asked Harry, moving to stand in the middle of the room.

`Harry, sit down, please,' said Esmerelda, as she took one last look around the room before walking across it to sit down behind her desk.

Harry, still feeling confused and now also a little worried, took the seat across from Esmerelda.

`I don't think they can hear me in here, although I'm not absolutely certain,' said Esmerelda, her eyes roaming around the room.

`Who?' asked Harry.

Esmerelda's eyes snapped back to Harry. `Emrys and Verity, of course,' she said, sounding a little exasperated, as though Harry should somehow have known this.

`Esmerelda, start from the beginning please, I'm a bit confused,' said Harry, wishing desperately that Hermione was with him.

`All right. Well, it began a couple of weeks ago, when I found an old book, hidden here in my office, and gave it to Hermione. I was worried, because I could sense Dark Magic in it - something I've always been able to do, sense Darkness. That's why I gave it to Hermione - I know she deals with that sort of thing at work.'

`Esmerelda, since you gave the book you found to Hermione, and it's now safe and sound, what's wrong? What's the problem?'

Esmerelda took a breath before continuing. `I asked Hermione to let me know when she had the time to take a look at the book, although she did warn me it could be a while. I wasn't worried, though. Then tonight, Emrys and Verity actually spoke to me, something they've never done before.' Esmerelda's eyes still held the amazement she'd felt at this unusual occurrence. `They said they knew I'd removed their book and wanted to know who I'd given it to. At first, I didn't what they were talking about because it had been a little while, but then I remembered. I answered without thinking, telling them Hermione had it.'

Harry was beginning to feel impatient, he didn't understand what it was that had upset Esmerelda so much and as she kept talking, he failed to see how anything she'd told him so far explained her nervous, harried manner.

`But I still don't understand what the problem is,' Harry said, working at keeping the exasperation he was feeling out of his voice.

Esmerelda sat motionless, staring at Harry. When she spoke, her voice sounded strangely hollow. `They told me that the book had been given to them by a wizard named Alexander Riley.' Esmerelda took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. `Alex Riley was the wizard who murdered my father. Riley disappeared afterwards, and was never convicted. There might be something in that book that could lead to his whereabouts. I want that book - I want to know, I want to find out what happened, so my father can rest in peace.'

*

Hermione glanced up at the clock, dismayed to see how late it was. She pushed aside the report she'd been reading, a report she was supposed to have read, researched and summarised that day for Mrs Morley, the head of the department. Hermione rubbed her eyes and thought longingly of a hot bath and some dinner. To hell with it! she thought. I can come in early again tomorrow - I really just want to go home. She stood up and stretched before leaving her office, collecting her cloak and bag from beside the dark green door which bid her a sleepy good night as it closed behind her. Her footsteps echoed eerily as she emerged into the Atrium a few minutes later, where the security guard on duty had his hand over his mouth, covering a yawn. Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile as she waved at him before Flooing home.

As she emerged into the small sitting room at the Nook, she was grateful to find herself alone - no Esmerelda to be seen or heard. She'd barely taken two steps, however, when she heard a woman's voice whisper her name.

`Miss Granger!'

Hermione froze. It had to be Verity. She groaned inwardly - so many times she'd wished the Leighs would speak to her but right now, tonight, it was the last thing she wanted. A crooked smile of irony touched her lips as she turned to look up at the portrait.

`What is it?' she asked wearily.

The old witch's eyes held sympathy as they rested on Hermione. `I'm sorry, my dear, I know you must be tired. It's just that we know Esmerelda gave you my book and I'm very anxious to have it returned.'

`It's in a very safe place at the moment,' began Hermione; she got no further however, as Verity spoke again.

`Mr Potter told us that, but please, Miss Granger, it's imperative we have that book back. It does belong to me, after all.'

`Please, call me Hermione. Now, aside from pointing out that you are, in fact, dead, Verity, and therefore not actually entitled to own anything, per se, I would also point out that this book appears to contain Dark Magic. It goes without saying that it's therefore not something that should be kept here, unprotected - it poses a threat to all of us, especially since we don't know the extent of its powers.'

Verity sniffed and gave Hermione a cool look. Emrys leant forward then and spoke softly. `Miss Granger - Hermione - we need that book to help - well, an old friend, I guess you could say. Granted, there appears to be Dark Magic in that book, but it wasn't created with Dark Magic - that comes from the records it contains. It's the Dark Magic that occurred in events recorded in the book that can be sensed. It poses no danger to anyone unless they use it unwisely.'

Hermione shook her head wearily. `I'm sorry, I really am - but I can't do anything right now. And I am very tired and hungry. I'll talk to you again tomorrow, I promise.'

Hermione turned to go, hoping their voices hadn't alerted Esmerelda to her arrival; she desperately wanted to get upstairs and relax.

`We'll hold you to your word, Hermione,' said Verity, smoothing her apron. `We'll talk again tomorrow, then. Good night.'

`Good night,' Hermione replied quietly as she reached the stairs, walking up them as quickly as she could. When she reached her flat, she hesitated, her wand out, hovering over the handle. It sounded as though someone was inside. Frowning, Hermione tried the handle - it opened. Ginny? she wondered. Perhaps she came back for some more of her things…

As she stepped inside, her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp of surprise, her eyes wide as they took in the sight before her: the table was set for two, a cluster of low candles burning in the middle. A delicious aroma was drifting from the kitchen, making her achingly aware of how hungry she was, while she could hear water running in the bathroom. She looked to her left and could see a wedge of light coming from the open bathroom door with swirling clouds of steam dancing in the light.

`Knew you were back,' said Harry's head as it popped round the bathroom door, grinning. `Charmed your kitchen clock to tell me the second you stepped out of the fireplace. Go put your things away and get into your bathrobe. You can come and have a soak while I finish dinner.'

Hermione stood, her lips parted in astonishment; the strain of the day, coupled with her tiredness, caused her throat to tighten as tears of gratitude filled her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. Somehow, Harry seemed to know, and within seconds he was beside her, looking at her through slightly steamed-up glasses. He took her hand and led her along the hall to her room where they crossed the room to her bed. Taking her bag from her unresisting fingers, Harry placed it on the bed, doing the same with her cloak. Crossing back to the door, Harry took her bathrobe from a hook on the back of it, then walked back and dropped it lightly on the bed. He smiled at Hermione, lifting his hands to frame her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks.

`You deserve a little TLC and pampering, Miss Granger,' he told her softly. `This is going to be a rather harrowing week for us. Now, you are going to get into that bath and I'll knock on the door when dinner's almost ready.'

Hermione smiled at him, tears still glistening in her eyes. `Thank you,' she managed, her voice husky with emotion.

For you, Hermione, anything. `What are friends for?' he said out loud, repeating her own words back to her before leaning forward and dropping a quick, light kiss on her forehead. `Now go!'

A few minutes later, lying in the warm, fragrant water with her eyes closed and her head resting on a soft, rolled towel, Hermione felt her tiredness and tension slowly drift away with the rising steam. A smile played around her mouth as she thought of how wonderful Harry was, doing this for her. A true friend and an extremely thoughtful man, she mused, feeling particularly grateful at that moment; after she and Ron had realised they were destined to be just friends, she'd felt a little lonely...

Hermione's thoughts began to drift as the spiralling tendrils of steam floated around her… And Harry no doubt feels lonely, too, with Ginny gone. I wonder why he stopped loving her? He never did tell me. I'll have to ask him again, sometime. At least he's free to spend time with me, to help me research. He was always much better at that sort of thing than Ron. In fact, it's worked out rather well at the moment for Harry and me - we have each other. Well, I suppose really we've always had each other. He's the best, best friend you could ask for. I wonder what would have happened if I'd married Ron and Harry had married Ginny? I suppose that all four of us would've been best friends…but now? Ron and Harry and I are all right, but what about Ginny? Will she and Harry be able to be friends again? I hope so. I suppose I'm lucky; even though Ginny's gone, I still have Harry. And we've certainly been looking out for each other - keeping each other company. And Harry is such good company - just what a girl needs after… Then completely unbidden and totally unexpectedly, a picture burst into her mind: Harry standing, looking out the window in his bedroom, wearing only his jeans, no shirt covering his smoothly muscled back …

Hermione sat up abruptly feeling horrified, bubbles and water sloshing around her unheeded. What in the name of Merlin's Mother am I doing thinking about Harry's back?!

`Hermione?'

Hermione let out a small scream at the sound of Harry's voice.

`Hermione! Are you all right?'

Harry's voice was tense with concern and Hermione felt her heart begin to race madly as Harry's fingers appeared around the edge of the door, which she'd left ajar an inch or so.

`I'm fine! You just gave me a fright,' said Hermione quickly, her eyes glued to Harry's fingers.

`You sure?' persisted Harry.

`Absolutely,' said Hermione, her heart still thumping.

`All right, sorry I frightened you. Dinner's almost ready, by the way.'

`I'll be right out,' said Hermione faintly as she watched Harry's fingers disappear, her gaze remaining fixed on the spot where they'd been. Then she slowly slid down into the bath, fully immersing herself. As she sat up a few seconds later, water streaming from her hair, she determinedly told herself she'd left those strange, stray thoughts about a half-naked Harry beneath the water, resolving never to return to them…

Ten minutes later, resolution intact, Hermione was sitting at the table with Harry, her cheeks rosy from the warm bath, damp, curling tendrils of hair falling around her face and neck having escaped her hair clip. She'd put on her pyjamas, her favourite pale blue satin pair, with a matching dressing gown; Harry had insisted it was the best thing to do, so she could just fall into bed after they'd eaten.

`This is delicious!' exclaimed Hermione, spearing a perfectly cooked piece of carrot. `Did you do all this yourself?'

Harry beamed as he nodded. `I did,' he told her, `and I didn't “swish and flick” either - well, aside from peeling the vegetables and such. There's a whole swag of Mrs Weasley's recipes in one of the kitchen drawers and this one seemed the easiest. It's really just a vegetable and beef casserole,' Harry finished modestly.

`It's divine,' said Hermione, her eyes glowing as she smiled at him and Harry thought how perfect this evening would be if they could end it sitting on the couch to finish their glasses of wine, curled up together, his arm around Hermione, her head on his shoulder, her soft lips so close he only had to drop his head an inch or two to feel them against his own…

Hermione's voice interrupted his happy reverie.

`We should do this more often, don't you think? We could take turns with the cooking.' Hermione felt her new resolve twitch a little, but chose to ignore it.

`Sounds like a worthwhile plan to me,' said Harry, picking up his glass and taking a sip of wine. His heart was racing as much from thinking about kissing Hermione as from the prospect of future dinners-for-two.

`By the way,' asked Hermione, `have you heard back from anyone?'

Harry nodded. `Hedwig only arrived home a short while ago with a note from Mrs Weasley. Professor McGonagall owled back as well, and so did Neville and Dean. I didn't expect anything back from Ron.' They shared a laugh as Harry said this, then he continued, `And since we asked everyone in the letter to not come here or contact us beyond saying they'll be at Hogwarts on Friday, we won't be deluged with visitors and questions. We can't really tell them anything just yet, anyway.'

Hermione smiled appreciatively at him. `That was a good idea of yours, so we don't get inundated,' she told him, making Harry feel quite pleased with himself.

After they'd finished - Hermione trying in vain to stifle a yawn - Harry insisted he would clean up and that Hermione should go to bed. As they both rose from the table, Hermione walked round to him, her arms held out; they closed around Harry's waist as she reached him, laying her head on his chest.

`Thank you for everything,' she said quietly, feeling deliciously tired, yet perfectly content.

Harry had been caught off guard by Hermione's hug - the feel of her pressed against him sending his heart rate rocketing. He wrapped his arms around her hesitantly, wondering what she thought of his pounding heart, which she had to be able to hear since her ear was pressed against his chest right over the top of it.

`You're more than welcome,' he managed to say, his voice uneven with emotion.

Hermione moved slightly against him, sending a rush of fierce desire flooding through his whole body; she tilted her head back to look up at him, her expression puzzled.

`Harry, do I frighten you? Your heart's racing!'

`Frighten me? You? Er - no, of course not,' stammered Harry, unable to think clearly with Hermione's arms still wrapped around him, parts of her pressed against him that he really couldn't afford to think about right at this instant. He brought his arms up to rest on her shoulders, trying to put any sort of distance between them, but to no avail. Then Hermione's eyes drifted to Harry's mouth for no reason she could fathom and she seemed to have forgotten she had Harry in a tight embrace.

He has a very nice mouth, she thought. I wonder what it's like to kiss him? He's almost as tall as Ron, not quite, but he certainly feels - what? - leaner and harder, more muscular. And once again the picture of Harry naked to the waist pushed its way into her mind. But this time it didn't shock her. He did look pretty damn good, she thought, feeling as though she was in some tenuous dream state - halfway between waking and sleeping, where her resolve was irrelevant...

Harry was in an agony of indecision. Hermione's silent thoughts had taken up only a heartbeat or two as she gazed at his mouth and he was fighting an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her, while at the same time, he knew it could well have disastrous consequences at this early stage.

`Harry?' Hermione whispered his name, making it a question as she lifted her eyes to his once more.

He felt his insides churn at the imploring look in her eyes. Does she know what she's doing to me? Does she know that look in her eyes is doing? That it makes me want to kiss her? Does she want me to kiss her? Harry struggled with his unruly emotions, certain Hermione was simply caught up in the moment, following a long, hard day, then coming home late, so tired and hungry. Now, warm and fed, and sleepy and full of gratitude for him, and perhaps a small part came from missing the warm, physical closeness of a man; `I guess I miss the hugs and cuddles the most,' he remembered her telling him. But for Harry, her lips seemed to have taken on the properties of a powerful magnet - an irresistible force. As though of their own volition, his hands moved gently up from her shoulders to frame her face. Harry thought his heart was going to burst from his chest it was beating so wildly, his breathing was shallow and rapid, his senses becoming overwhelmed with the feel and scent and warmth of her. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her luminous brown eyes.

Their lips were an inch apart and Harry knew he could no more stop this kiss than he could stop breathing. He moaned her name softly in the last second before their lips met and then he knew nothing as a fierce, rapturous joy encompassed him and he was aware only of the achingly delicious softness of Hermione's lips beneath his - parting to deepen the kiss as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He couldn't get enough of her - his hands left her face, sliding back to her shoulders then down the delightful curve of her back to her waist, pulling her hard against him. And Hermione kissed back as fiercely as he was kissing her. She had no idea where this desire to kiss Harry had come from - she wasn't capable of thinking, so she couldn't even begin to imagine why Harry was reacting to her and kissing her as though she was what he wanted more than anything in the world. Her heart was now beating as frantically as his, and it was only as the heat of desire began to ignite her whole body that from somewhere deep inside, she heard a cool, logical voice - or was it that damned resolve? - `This is Harry - what on earth are you doing?'

Hermione immediately let go of Harry, her hands flying up to his shoulders in a vain attempt to push away from him. She could feel the straining, knotted muscles beneath her fingers, his strength so much greater than hers and she knew she was helpless. But Harry felt her pull back, and calling on an iron will, he loosened his grip and lifted his head. They stood, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her waist - staring at each other, their eyes mere inches apart. They were both breathing quickly, as though they'd been running for their lives.

Hermione attempted to speak - although no sound came out at first and she had to clear her throat.

`I'm so sorry, Harry - I don't know why - I shouldn't have -' gasped Hermione, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.

Harry shook his head, his jaw set, unable to speak at that moment; then he pulled her to him, her arms reflexively going from his shoulders to wrap around his neck. Hermione felt a desperate need to draw some sort of reassurance from hugging him, something she'd done countless times over the years.

`You have nothing to be sorry for,' he managed hoarsely, his lips pressed against the side of her head. `I'm the one who should be sorry.'

He felt Hermione shake her head.

Harry laughed shakily. `Do you want to argue about it, then?'

Hermione made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob as she shook her head in reply.

`Sensible choice,' joked Harry, his voice still a little hoarse.

He felt Hermione's arms loosen as she leant back, her hands coming to rest on his chest. He lifted his head and looked down at her, unable to prevent an indulgent smile crossing his lips at the sight of her flushed cheeks. She looked down at her fingers as they began to fidget nervously with the buttons on his shirt.

`That was, erm - unexpected,' she said, feeling extremely confused and distinctly faint-headed.

Harry was only able to manage a mumbled “mmm” by way of agreement.

`So, what should we do?' asked Hermione, still quite breathless and unable to meet Harry's eyes.

`Do?' echoed Harry, gazing down at the top of her head.

`Well, I mean, should we pretend it didn't happen - that it was just one of those inexplicable moments - or should we…' Hermione hesitated, wondering, Could I ever pretend it didn't happen?

`Or should we what?' prompted Harry. Before Hermione could answer, however, he continued, unable to stop the words tumbling out, `I don't think I can pretend it didn't happen, Hermione.' There's no way I could ever pretend it didn't happen! Impossible!

`Oh.' Admit it, Hermione! There's no way you can pretend it didn't happen…

`Hermione? You don't hate me, do you?' Harry groaned inwardly. You idiot, Potter! What a stupid question! Why is it my brain always seems to shrink to the size of a walnut at times like this?

Hermione made a slightly strangled sound, ceasing her button-fidgeting as she looked up at Harry, her eyes wide with surprise.

`No! Of course not! I could never hate you, Harry!'

Harry heaved a sigh of relief.

`You don't think I'm - well, a bit of a scarlet woman as Ron likes to say, do you?' ventured Hermione tentatively, wondering how it seemed to Harry; she'd not long broken up with Ron and here she was kissing him! Hermione closed her eyes in self-disgust. Oh, brilliant, that's a really intelligent thing to say, Hermione!

Harry quickly suppressed a grin, although there was amusement in his voice as he said, `Hermione, I would never think of you as a “scarlet woman”!'

They smiled at each other, at their joint silliness and awkwardness and somehow the tension seemed to evaporate. It was Hermione's turn to sigh with relief. `So what just happened? What do we do?' she asked, her face serious.

`To be honest, Hermione, I can't say. But I do know you are tired and you need to get to bed. How about we sleep on it, get through tomorrow and have dinner together tomorrow night so we can talk about it? That also gives us a little time to think about it all, too.' Which I sure as Hades need! thought Harry.

`I couldn't have come up with a better idea, myself,' said Hermione, smiling and sounding as relieved as she felt. `I do feel a little confused and a good night's sleep should help - and you need one, too, Harry.'

`Don't worry, you go - it was part of my plan to clean up, and then I'll go to bed myself.'

Harry hated the emptiness he felt when Hermione moved out of his arms and walked away towards her room. She paused in the pointed archway and turned, smiling gently as she said, `Thank you for tonight, Harry, good night,' before disappearing. He drew his wand out and with two flourishes cleared the table and the kitchen. As he reached the front door and darkness descended with a final wave of Harry's wand, Crookshanks miaowed sleepily from his basket. Harry paused, his fingers on the door handle, looking over his left shoulder towards Hermione's bedroom door at the end of the hall. He wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, but he did know that by some miracle Hermione seemed to have actually enjoyed kissing him, and had said emphatically that she'd never hate him. He let himself out, using his wand to lock Hermione's door before crossing to his own room, humming under his breath.

*

Soon after she fell asleep, Hermione had a dream that she was a young lady of the realm, living in a castle that looked an awful lot like Hogwarts, being courted by two young, ardent gentlemen - one with light brown hair who looked suspiciously like Neville and the other with an untidy, jet black head of hair that definitely resembled Harry… She smiled in her sleep as their rivalry unfolded and they tried to outdo each other and impress her. And all the while, dream-Hermione knew exactly to whom her heart belonged…

*

For his part, Harry found he didn't feel in the least sleepy, and so he lay in bed, his hands behind his head, reliving every second of the kiss he'd shared with Hermione, over and over. His heart soared at the thought that it was quite possible after all for Hermione to fall in love with him. Just don't rush it, he told himself sternly, you don't want to crowd her. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop smiling into the night as he began wondering what the next evening would bring…

Neither of them, for that one night, had any room in their heads for thoughts of the Dark One or his Disciples…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Author's Note

Morning all! Here, at last, is the latest instalment - so sorry about missing last Monday! This update actually includes the Fifth Interlude, Chapter 12 and the Sixth Interlude, mainly because they all “fit together” and it also works out well because Chapter 12 is rather shorter than usual - but as always, my chapters finish where they need to…

Janie xoxo

PS I just have to send a huge, heartfelt “thank you” to the truly wonderful Kirsti - I don't know what I'd do without you, dear! xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

FIFTH INTERLUDE

In a dirty lane behind an old pub in the heart of London, a crouched figure was leaning against the wall being violently ill. As he straightened up, the man drew his tattered sleeve across his mouth. Once he was certain he wasn't going to be sick again, he turned to head back into the pub. Even before he reached the door, a harsh, cold voice sounded inside his head, causing him to freeze in his tracks.

`Arnold Fuller, I have something for you to do.'

Arnold's head swivelled madly from side to side, his eyes wide with fear.

`'Ere, 'oo's that? Where are yer?'

`That is irrelevant. You will go back inside the pub, you will go to the gents' and you will clean yourself up.'

`An' jus' 'oo are yoo to order me 'roun', I'd like t'know?'

Arnold's answer was an excruciating stab of pain that saw him fall to his knees, clutching his head as he screamed; then the pain began to spread slowly - setting fire to every nerve fibre as it made its way to his very fingertips.

The pain stopped abruptly and once more he heard that harsh voice. `Get up, go inside and clean yourself up.'

Arnold staggered to his feet, gasping in the aftermath of the most violent pain he'd ever experienced.

`Please,' he whimpered, `jus' don' do that again, all right?'

`At any time you disobey me or disappoint me, I will most certainly do it again. If you don't go inside this instant, I will -'

`I'm goin', please, I'm goin'!' cried Arnold desperately, stumbling towards the door.

The Dark One felt a sickening disgust at having to deal with such a filthy, stupid creature and a Muggle, no less, but he also knew it was necessary to use someone who would not be missed, as this derelict, middle-aged man would not be missed. And he needed a Muggle, because only a Muggle would be able to carry Dark Magic and yet not trigger the magical alarms in place throughout the Ministry of Magic…

*

CHAPTER TWELVE

In which Harry and Hermione discuss the night before…Hermione puts her foot down, but Harry is still determined to protect her and someone calling himself Neville Longbottom makes a surprise visit to Hermione's department at work…

Hermione woke the following morning feeling wonderfully refreshed. For the first few minutes, as she lay there stretching the sleep from her muscles and enjoying the happy haze she found herself in, she didn't give a single thought to the evil threat that was once more hanging over her head - and the heads of her friends and family…

Instead, her memory seemed to work backwards as it reached full wakefulness, beginning with the previous night; warm colour stained her cheeks as she recalled the unexpected kiss she and Harry had shared. She still felt uncertain as to just how it had come about, and she hadn't had time to analyse her feelings, nor was she confident that she was brave enough to confront Harry about his… Although, she mused, he did say he couldn't pretend it didn't happen. This thought sent her memory reeling back to the kiss itself and Hermione felt her stomach flip over as she relived the feel of Harry's arms around her, his hands pressing her against him, his mouth on hers, passionate and demanding… She shivered beneath her covers, although she was far from cold.

Thinking about that kiss was very unsettling, and so she forced her thoughts away from it and on to how wonderful it had been to walk in her front door and find a hot bath and delicious dinner waiting for her, courtesy of Harry. Before that, her mind darted back to her arrival home and her talk with Emrys and Verity…Hermione groaned softly as the rest of the day crashed in on her. She glanced at her bedside clock and threw off her duvet, steeling herself for the day ahead.

Seven o'clock. Good. I can get to work early again. She padded into her ensuite bathroom, emerging twenty minutes later, showered and dressed. She waved her wand absently at her bed and it began to make itself as she crossed to the door, taking down her cloak from the back of it before heading up the hallway.

Crookshanks miaowed “good morning” from his basket, stretching lazily, when she appeared.

`Morning, sleepyhead,' said Hermione, smiling indulgently at him.

She had just poured herself a cup of tea while her toast cooked, when there was a knock at the door. She felt her cheeks grow warm again as she thought, It's Harry!

`Come in,' she called, and Harry entered, wearing deep green robes and carrying his black cloak over his arm. Hermione found herself very aware of how good he looked and immediately felt self-conscious in his presence.

`Morning,' said Harry, his voice a little gruff with embarrassment, although he managed a jaunty smile.

`Morning,' said Hermione brightly to cover her own embarrassment, `tea and toast?'

`Please,' said Harry as he draped his cloak over the back of one of the chairs before sitting up at the kitchen bench, his eyes taking in every nuance of Hermione's expression as she busied herself, desperately trying to appear nonchalant.

`Did you sleep well?' he asked, as he watched Hermione pouring more tea and buttering toast.

`I did - very well. You?' she asked, risking a quick glance up at him.

`Hardly a wink,' said Harry cheerily.

Hermione's hand froze halfway between the butter dish and the toast on the plate as she stared at Harry.

Harry grinned at her. `But I feel fine,' he assured her.

`Why didn't you sleep, though?' asked Hermione, concerned.

`Too busy thinking,' replied Harry, without elaborating on what he'd been thinking about. `And you'd better keep buttering or we'll be eating cold toast.'

`Oh, yes,' said Hermione distractedly as she resumed buttering, wondering what it was Harry had been thinking about that kept him awake. Perhaps it was that horrid letter…or could it have been their kiss? Determinedly pushing the matter from her mind, Hermione reached across and placed two plates of toast on the bench, followed by two mugs of steaming tea.

Harry began spreading marmalade on his toast as Hermione walked around to sit beside him. After spreading marmalade on her own toast, Hermione picked up her tea before eating, sipping gingerly at the hot liquid and looking sideways at Harry. She felt a desperate desire for the whole matter of the kiss to just evaporate, conflicting with an extremely acute longing to talk about nothing else.

Harry smiled as he took a bite, turning and catching Hermione's eye, his green eyes alight with amusement - he could feel her eyes on him - and a lopsided grin in place. Hermione smiled back at him, wondering why butterflies seemed to have suddenly taken flight in her stomach.

Harry swallowed his toast, then picked up his mug and took a sip of tea before speaking.

`Feels a little strange, doesn't it?' he commented, proud that his voice sounded so calm - when in fact he felt the complete opposite.

Hermione nodded, knowing exactly what he meant, glad that he'd brought it up first.

`How did it happen?' she asked softly as she watched the steam rising from her tea. `I mean, I've never thought about kissing you before, but last night it just seemed - well, strangely, it seemed so natural.'

Harry couldn't help but grin at her as a wonderful glow spread through him. Natural? I like the sound of that Hermione! Out loud, he said, `I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I can't say I have any complaints.' Lame, Potter, dismally lame...

`I take it that was meant to be a compliment,' said Hermione, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

`Oh, definitely a compliment, although not a very well put one,' said Harry, abashed.

Hermione held Harry's gaze, determined to be as open as he was.

`I can't say I have any complaints, either,' she said with a tentative smile, cursing to herself as she felt the heat spread across her cheeks. She put her mug of tea down, not trusting herself to keep it steady.

Harry's expression became serious, his green eyes intense as they rested on her; Hermione felt as though her stomach had been replaced by a flutterby bush as she struggled not to look away.

`I'm not sure what happens next - what we should do,' said Hermione, the words coming out in a nervous rush.

`I think,' said Harry, sounding far more confident than he felt, `that for the moment we should just get on with trying to find out as much as we can before the meeting on Friday.' Harry paused, reaching out his hand and putting it on top of Hermione's, both of which were now tightly clasped together on the bench in front of her, and squeezing gently in reassurance as he continued. `And then perhaps we can go out to dinner on the weekend - depending on what happens this week. That gives us some time to - well, think things over, I guess. What do you say?'

Harry's eyes seemed to darken with some intense emotion as he watched her, waiting for her reply; he wondered that she couldn't hear his heart, pounding as fast and as fiercely as it was. Hermione felt a shiver of anticipation as she nodded. `I think you're right,' she said a little unsteadily.

`Good.' Harry took his hand from Hermione's and picked up his tea and toast. `Right now, I think we should finish our breakfast so we can get back to the library.

`That was always my line, wasn't it?' asked Hermione, somewhat shakily, and Harry laughed.

`What about your work?' Hermione asked then, hoping discussion of everyday things would help her begin to feel normal again.

`I sent a memo to my department yesterday while you were busy reading. Told them I needed the week off for a special case.'

`And they gave it to you?'

Harry grinned as he nodded. `One of the rare benefits of being Harry Potter.'

*

Lunchtime passed unnoticed as Harry and Hermione continued their search, ignoring their hunger. There was a lingering, underlying tension between them, although it wasn't unpleasant and it didn't distract them from the job at hand.

If anyone had asked him, Harry would have sworn they'd read nearly every book ever written. For her part, Hermione wasn't sure what it was that put Verity's book into her head as she ploughed through yet more vague references to an ancient evil and a Dark Realm. She thought it was quite possible it was because Verity had spoken to her again that morning before she and Harry Flooed to the Ministry. Verity had asked Hermione when she intended to speaking to them, and Hermione had promised to do so when they returned that evening.

So it was, as she sat poring over an old, fragile parchment that contained an ancient wizard's account called The Beginnings of Evil, the words she was reading brought to mind Verity's “Book of Records” as she'd called it. This very parchment mentioned a Booke of Recordyngs.

While she didn't imagine it could be the same book, Hermione thought that perhaps Verity's book, being so old, may have some relevant information in it and she said so to Harry, whose turn it was to write down the name of every book and each parchment they read, together with the information, if any, they found in them.

`You're not thinking of looking at that book, are you?' asked Harry, frowning.

Hermione looked very determined. `Yes, I am. Emrys said it wasn't created with Dark Magic - it's just that it has events recorded in it that included Dark Magic and that's what Esmerelda sensed. Besides, I wouldn't try and use it to view the memories - I just want to read them.'

Harry sighed. `I spoke to Esmerelda last night when I arrived home - or rather, she spoke to me.'

Hermione looked at him, confused. `What's that go to do with -'

Harry gave her a crooked smile. `This is actually about that book. I was going to tell you about it tonight; I didn't think it had anything to do with our work here.' Harry indicated the scrolls, parchments and book spread out over the table with a sweep of his hand. `But since it's come up - well, Esmerelda told me she wants that book because she thinks that somehow it could lead to her father's murderer.'

Her eyes wide with shock, Hermione gasped, `Her father was murdered?'

Harry nodded. `That's what she said. And she said the wizard who did it owned that book. And he disappeared after the murder and was never convicted.'

`How awful!' exclaimed Hermione.

Harry stood up as he said, `It is awful, but I don't think it's a good idea to go poking around in that book. We don't know enough about it for starters, and on top of that, for some unknown reason, Verity doesn't seem to want to tell us much about it.'

Hermione stood, too, her hands going to her hips, her expression one of fierce determination. `Harry, we've basically come to a dead end - every reference and mention we find is the same as the last - there's no real information and we can't seem to find any fresh leads. There's a slim chance there may be information in that book we could use, so we have to read it. And if we find anything about Esmerelda's father, we'll tell her.'

Harry shook his head. `I don't want you touching that book. I'll do it.'

Hermione's eyebrows shot up.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. `It's just that Verity originally asked me to track the book down because she said it needed a powerful wizard to deal with it.'

`I see, and you still think I'm not powerful enough, is that it?'

Harry sighed. `Hermione, you are a powerful witch, but there's no way I'm going to let you risk yourself.'

`If I choose to risk myself, that's my decision, not yours,' said Hermione tersely.

Harry knew he was getting into deep water, but he was determined to keep Hermione unharmed.

`Of course it's your decision. But we could deal with this book together,' he suggested.

`You mean you'll read it while I watch.'

Harry shook his head. `No, I mean we read it together - but you don't touch it, just in case.'

Hermione looked thoughtful, then eventually nodded, although somewhat reluctantly. `Which means you turn the pages, I suppose,' she said dryly.

`If that's all right with you,' said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his enormous relief to himself.

`I'm only interested in reading it, so I suppose that's fine,' said Hermione. While exasperated with what she saw as Harry's over-protectiveness, she couldn't help but feel suffused with a curiously delightful warmth at the same time. `Let's go,' she said, telling herself she didn't have time to delve too deeply into the why of that feeling…

Just then, an inter-departmental memo flew out of the fireplace and landed on Hermione's desk. She picked it up and began unfolding it as she walked around her desk. She stopped when she reached Harry, looking up him, her expression puzzled.

`Apparently Neville's here to see me and says it's urgent. He's next door, at reception.'

`We'd better go and see him first, then,' said Harry. `I wonder what it's about?'

*

SIXTH INTERLUDE

Arnold Fuller stood before a heavily graffitied wall, trembling. Since that morning, when the terrible voice had first spoken to him, he'd done things he hadn't done for a long time. For instance, he'd not had a single ale all day and he'd had a bath and put on clean clothes, bought with money that the voice had said he'd find in his pocket (and he had!). He'd eaten an early lunch - at the strangest pub he'd ever been in, where things floated, the customers wore very peculiar clothes (whilst staring at his) and holding conversations that made no sense. And he'd seen things he still didn't understand. After eating, he left through the back door and had then gone through an arch that had appeared out of nowhere in a solid brick wall before walking down the most unlikely street with a myriad of impossible shops. But he'd only been to two - Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and a junk shop. He'd been fitted for what the squat, rather untidy woman had called, `Very handsome robes, sir!', for which he'd paid with the oddest money he'd ever seen. The money had appeared in his pocket earlier, accompanied by a soft “pop”. Then he'd been directed to the junk shop where, quite bewildered, he'd purchased a second-hand wand and a small, lethal looking dagger that had an entwined snake wrought in silver for a handle and a tag that assured the purchaser it was “Muggle Made”. He'd tucked the wand and knife into a special pocket on the inside of his new robes. The knife he could understand - but the wand? He was left wondering if he'd gone totally crackers and just didn't know it…

Then the hideous voice had directed him here - to a street of shabby-looking buildings. And an old red telephone box with several panes of glass missing.

`Go into the telephone box and dial six-two-four-four-two.'

Arnold shuddered. The voice terrified him - but the memory of the pain that had been inflicted on him that morning terrified him even more; he stepped up to the telephone box and pulled open the door. He stared at the telephone apparatus that was hanging crookedly from the wall. It was an old-style dial telephone; he hadn't seen one like it for years. As he moved forward and picked up the receiver, he wondered if it would work.

`Six, two, four, four, two,' he muttered under his breath as he dialled each number. As the dial whirred smoothly back into place after the last number, a cool female spoke, making him jump and yelp in fright.

`Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.'

Arnold's mouth dropped open. Had he heard right? The Ministry of Magic?

`Tell her your name is Neville Longbottom,' said the cold voice, `and tell her you're here to make an inquiry at the Department of Magical Research.'

Arnold was stunned. What kind of name was Neville Longbottom? And on top of everything else he'd experienced today, he was now making an inquiry at the Department of Magical Research? What the hell -?

`Speak!' ordered the voice and Arthur jumped again. Deciding it was best to ignore what he didn't understand, he dutifully repeated his instructions.

`Thank you,' said the cool female voice, `Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.'

A square silver badge slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up; it said, “Neville Longbottom, Inquiry, Dept of Magical Research”.

`Visitor to the Ministry,' said the female voice, drawing a high-pitched, `What?' from Arnold before it continued as though he'd not spoken, `you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.'

While Arnold was frantically trying to decipher what he'd just heard, wondering what an Atrium was and how he'd get there, the floor of the telephone box shuddered and began sinking slowly into the ground, accompanied by a dull grinding noise. His knees trembled as the pavement rose around him until he was in complete darkness, while the telephone box continued its downward journey, a journey that seemed far longer than in fact it was.

He gasped in fright as a bright light suddenly appeared at his feet, growing until the door of the telephone box sprang open and he heard the woman's voice say, `The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day.'

`Walk to the other end,' ordered the voice in his head. Arnold stepped timidly out of the telephone box, gaping at the sight before him. He was looking down a long hall and his head ached at the sight of more impossible things - gleaming golden symbols on a peacock blue ceiling that kept moving and changing - gilded fireplaces that people either disappeared into or came out of - and before he could stop himself, he thought at the voice in his head, `What is this place?'

`It's the Ministry of Magic. Now walk! At the other end there is a desk on the left hand side where you have to stop.'

Arnold stumbled along, his mouth open as he gaped at everything around him. He thought vaguely it was a good thing he was wearing these strange clothes because at least he didn't look out of place. He passed a fountain that made him shake his head - statues of strange figures standing in a circle, facing outwards - and then he spotted the sign that said “Security” to the left of a set of golden gates.

He had no idea what he was to do here, but the man behind the desk peered at his badge and, apparently satisfied, held out his hand and said crisply, `Wand, please.'

Arnold stared at him uncomprehendingly.

`Give him your wand,' hissed the voice inside his head.

Arthur reached inside his robes and drew out the wand he'd acquired earlier and put it in the outstretched, waiting hand. He watched as the man put it on what looked like some scales, which vibrated briefly before a narrow piece of paper was spat out of a slit in the base at high speed. Arnold thought it resembled a shopping docket.

`Twelve inches, beech. Hmm, in use only three hours?'

`Tell him your old wand was damaged and you've just purchased this replacement.'

`My, uh, old wand was, uh, damaged and -'

The man nodded impatiently. `Had to buy a replacement. Fine. Stand over here.'

Arnold moved closer and the man passed a long, thin flexible rod all over him.

He then handed the wand back to him and said dismissively, `Department of Magical Research, Level One, Black Door,' before turning back to the ledger he'd been writing in.

`Move!' said the voice in his head impatiently. Arnold was sure he could hear suppressed excitement in the voice, too, and a cold trickle of fear worked its way down to his toes.

As he walked through the golden gates to another hall, this one much smaller, Arnold felt a moment's relief at the sight of twenty lifts - something he recognised, although these ones did look very old. However, when one opened and two short, rather grotesque looking beings emerged, talking loudly about dragons, Arnold's relief evaporated instantly.

`Get in!'

Arnold walked forward into the lift, although his head turned as he followed the two dragon discussers - he literally couldn't take his eyes off them.

Fortunately for him, he was alone in the lift - except for two lilac paper aeroplanes that zoomed in at the last second before the grill slid shut with a crash. He stood with his head back, watching them as they flapped around the lamp hanging from the lift's ceiling.

He was perhaps beyond being capable of taking in any more strange things and occurrences as he barely registered the woman's voice that announced each level, or the paper aeroplanes that zoomed in and out each time the grill opened. He'd giggled hysterically when he'd noticed they had “Ministry of Magic” stamped along the edge of their wings; the voice in his head warned him to be quiet, or else, and he quickly swallowed his hysteria.

When the woman's voice announced, “Level One, Department of Magical Research and Library for Magical Research, including the Departmental Armarium,” the voice in his head directed him to leave the lift and head for the black door. Arnold automatically glanced at the sign above the door. “Department of Magical Research.”

Now what? he wondered.

`You knock,' said the voice, so knock he did.

The door opened with a musical, `Good afternoon, welcome to the Department of Magical Research. Please come in.'

A desk, just inside the door and to Arnold's left, had a thick piece of parchment floating just above the surface at the front with the words, “Research Reception - Lucy Cloud” on it. The young, dark-blonde witch behind the desk looked up as Arnold entered and smiled at him, her hazel eyes friendly.

`Can I help you, sir?' she asked brightly.

`Tell her you wish to see Hermione Granger,' the voice instructed him.

`I'm afraid Miss Granger is in the library, at the moment,' the young witch told him after he'd repeated his request.

`Ask if it's possible to see her there, then.'

Arnold asked, but was told it wasn't possible - the public weren't allowed in the library. He cringed at the curses that reverberated in his head on hearing this and as they continued, he looked hopelessly at the young witch.

`How about I send her a memo and let her know you're here?' She drew a piece of lilac parchment towards her from a neat pile on the side of her desk. `What name shall I say?' she asked.

Repeating what the voice told him, Arnold watched as the young witch wrote, “To Hermione: Neville Longbottom is here to see you and says it's urgent. Lucy.”

`You can wait over there,' Arnold was told, Lucy indicating a couple of armchairs opposite her desk.

Arnold crossed to them and sat down, picking up a newspaper on a table beside the armchair, nearly dropping it again when he saw the people in a photograph on the front page were moving.

`So what next?' he muttered quietly, wondering who Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom were.

The words that resounded in his head made him break out in an instant sweat. All his limbs began to tremble and his throat constricted with overwhelming nausea and a terrible fear.

`When Hermione Granger comes in that door, you take the knife from inside your robes and you kill her.'

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Hmmm…I suppose that ending could qualify as a “cliffie”, couldn't it? Guess I'd better make sure I don't miss updating next Monday…

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Author's Note

It's absolutely pouring with rain as I write this - which I really shouldn't complain about, I know…so I won't. Here's lucky Chapter 13 - lucky, because at last you get a glimpse inside that book…

Janie xoxo

PS I've left Hermione as “Hermione Jane Granger” because that's how she's lived in my head for the past three years or so - “Hermione Jean Granger” just doesn't sound right…

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

In which a tormented Muggle pleads for help, a murder is committed and Harry and Hermione visit the Armarium and make some rather startling discoveries when they finally begin to read the Book of Records…

When Harry and Hermione emerged from the library, the door locking itself securely behind them, they were surprised to see Minerva McGonagall and Alcott Brayden, the Minister for Magic, standing in the vestibule; they had apparently just arrived, as the gates of the lift were busy closing noisily behind them.

`Miss Granger, Mr Potter,' Professor McGonagall greeted them gravely, the Minister tipping his official looking black wizard's hat. Harry and Hermione stopped and greeted them, their faces revealing their curiosity.

`We are here,' said the Minister, his voice as grim as his expression, `to speak to you about this latest threat. Professor McGonagall owled me yesterday and I was most anxious to speak with you both myself.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. `We're more than happy to do so, Minister,' said Harry, looking from the Professor to the Minister and back again, `it's just that we've received an urgent memo from our friend, Neville Longbottom - he's waiting to see us.' He indicated the black door with a slight inclination of his head.

`Then by all means,' said the Minister, making a sweeping gesture with his hand in the direction of the black door, `let us first enter the Department of Magical Research, and seek out Mr Longbottom.'

*

Sitting demurely behind her reception desk, Lucy couldn't stop herself from glancing up curiously at the strange wizard who'd said his name was Neville Longbottom. She was sure it had been Neville Longbottom that Hermione had once brought into the Department - she remembered being rather taken with his gentle, reticent manner, which she'd found very charming. She glanced again at the middle-aged man as he sat down, uncertainty gnawing at her. Shuffling some memos in an attempt to look busy, Lucy continued to watch the visitor surreptitiously and saw him almost drop the Daily Prophet as soon as he'd picked it up and looked at the front page. It was as though he'd seen something completely unexpected, after which Lucy was positive he'd muttered to himself. Feeling a tiny tendril of alarm unfurl inside her, Lucy watched the strange wizard's mouth twist with fear and his face suddenly turn an awful, pasty-white colour; his clenched fists were squirming on his knees while glistening beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead.

Then Lucy unexpectedly found herself looking into two terrified grey eyes and blushed, quickly looking away. After a minute or so, when she'd heard no sound, she chanced a swift glance at the strange wizard; her stomach suddenly tried to tie itself in knots when she saw abject terror clearly etched on his face - and she knew his eyes hadn't left her for the last few minutes; it was as though he'd become a statue, frozen with fear.

While she was filled with trepidation and wondering what on earth was going on, a small brass bell on the corner of Lucy's desk rose off its round wooden base and rang as loudly as it could. Simultaneously, the words, “The Minister for Magic, Miss Hermione Granger and two visitors” appeared in loopy, silver writing on the back of the black door to Lucy's right.

Unnoticed, the wizard who had said he was Neville Longbottom made a peculiar, strangled sound as he staggered to his feet, his trembling hand reaching into his robes. As the door swung open and people began to file in, Lucy rose to her feet, greeting the Minister for Magic as he entered, he in turn tipping his head in her direction with a polite smile. Still unnoticed, Arnold sank back into his seat at the sight of the Minister, his eyes screwed shut in pain. Within seconds, however, he forced his eyes open; the owner of the terrible voice in his head wanted to see…

The Minister was followed by an elderly, black-haired witch who Lucy recognised immediately from her time at Hogwarts.

`Professor McGonagall,' she said respectfully, inclining her head.

`Lucy,' responded the Headmistress politely with a tiny smile, after a momentary glance down at the floating name plaque.

Lucy then smiled broadly as Hermione entered, although her smile faltered when her eyes moved beyond Hermione and came to rest on Harry, directly behind Hermione, his hand hovering just behind her waist in an unconsciously possessive gesture.

Hermione couldn't help but smile as Lucy gasped, her eyes widening and her cheeks reddening. Nor did Hermione need to turn around to know that Harry's expression would be part exasperation and part embarrassment, as the young witch stared at him. Looking around in an effort to avoid the gaze of the gaping young witch, Harry noticed that since he'd last been here, a screen had been erected around the reception area. He felt relieved as it meant that at least they weren't immediately visible to the rest of the department.

`Professor - Minister -' said Lucy breathlessly, `Hermione - I mean Miss Potter - no, Mr Granger!'

`I think,' said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, `that you should, as I've heard said, quit while you're ahead Miss Cloud.'

Lucy subsided into her chair, her face now as red as a post box, her arm sweeping awkwardly in the direction of Arnold as she said in a rush, `Hermione - Miss Granger - Mr Longbottom's waiting to see you.'

They all turned together, four pairs of eyes coming to rest on Arnold, who was now hunched miserably in his armchair across the room, his head in his hands, looking at the floor. The voice in his head had made a sound of disgust and sworn vilely at the sight of the Minister, his anger increasing when Professor McGonagall had appeared. When Harry walked in behind Hermione, however, Arnold barely had time to wonder why the sight of this particular man caused the entity in his head to experience an overwhelming surge of fury before he felt the searing pain tear through his head once more - the pain he'd been trying to avoid at all costs.

Harry, Hermione and Professor McGonagall spoke simultaneously: `That's not Neville Longbottom!'

There was a second of perfect silence, broken by Arnold's sudden, wracking sobs as his hands clutched at his head and he fell forward out of his chair to his knees.

`Please help me!' he cried piteously, one clawed hand reaching out towards them in a futile gesture. Then the air was rent by a dreadful scream as pain beyond bearing ripped through his whole body and he collapsed to the floor.

The Minister stood by, shocked and helpless, as Harry, Hermione and Professor McGonagall rushed to the stricken man's side.

`He's a Muggle!' exclaimed the Headmistress, shocked, as her wand passed over him from head to foot.

Arnold's pain-wracked screams were suddenly replaced with pitiful whimpering. When Harry spoke, his voice was cold and flat, his eyes fixed on Arnold's face. `He has a knife in his robes.'

`That's not possible!' squeaked Lucy, standing and straining to look over her desk. `It would've been picked up by the security charms!'

`Not when he's a Muggle. No one has yet found a way for magical security to work on Muggles,' said Hermione who found herself both horrified and fascinated by this man.

`I'll guarantee that knife is Muggle-made, too,' ground out Harry. His gaze met that of the headmistress across the now shivering, prostrate body of the sobbing man.

`We have to get him out of here,' hissed Harry, sensing some innate danger, `now!'

`Will you do it, Harry?' asked the Headmistress, looking at him steadily. `Will you put him in the holding cells?'

Harry knew what she was asking and he nodded, his expression grim, as he waved his hand; the pain-wracked, shaking man vanished with a sharp crack!

Everyone unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief as the man disappeared, shoulders slumping and crooked smiles appearing as they gazed uneasily at each other. The Minister quickly excused himself to go and check on the Muggle who was now their prisoner, and to explain to the guards how he'd suddenly appeared in one of the holding cells.

`Harry?' whispered Hermione.

Harry stood up, anger coursing through him as he contemplated what he knew to be an extremely close call. His face was etched with the tension he felt as he looked down at Hermione.

`He was going to kill you,' he said flatly, unable to stop the words from spilling out. He was barely able to contain his fear and anger at the thought of what might have happened. If Hermione had been alone…

Hermione stared at him. `How do you know that?' she asked faintly.

`It was clear in his mind - although it wasn't his idea,' replied Harry, his expression grim.

Hermione shivered, her gaze locked with Harry's. Voldemort had been the only wizard whose mind Harry had ever been able to access and she knew they were both thinking the same thing.

`The Dark One,' said Hermione in a hushed voice and Harry nodded as he said quietly, `It has to be - and it must be my old connection with Voldemort and Voldemort's with the Dark One that enabled me to sense what this poor fellow was thinking.'

`Potter, I think we should go and see this Muggle who was impersonating Longbottom,' said Professor McGonagall briskly. `I'm sure we all have a few questions for him.'

`I'll be coming, too, Professor,' said Hermione firmly, and her tone brooked no argument.

Lucy, the receptionist, had dropped back into her chair, dazed at what had just happened; she was still staring fixedly at Harry.

`Mr Potter,' she managed, `how did you - I mean, no one can - you're not supposed to -' she was pointing feebly at the spot where Arnold had been.

`It's perfectly all right, Lucy,' said Professor McGonagall. `You don't need to worry yourself about anything. I don't doubt the Minister will be looking at ways to set up separate security measures so that Muggles, too, will be detected in future - if that's possible. Although it is virtually unheard of for Muggles to gain access into the Ministry. You just go back to your work, we're leaving now.'

Despite nodding, Lucy looked as though she hadn't taken in a word of what the Professor had said as she watched them depart, her eyes wide and staring.

Less than ten minutes later, Harry, Hermione and the Professor stepped out of the lift onto Level Two, which housed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The heavy oak doors - behind which lay the Aurors' Headquarters - were directly ahead of them; today, however, they entered a single oak door on their right. This door led to Law Enforcement division's holding cells and when they entered, they found the Minister and the Guardwizard on duty were waiting for them, their expressions grim; the Guardwizard's eyes flicked to Harry - automatically seeking out his scar - before staring at Harry with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

`I'm afraid,' said the Minister heavily, `that the Muggle is dead.'

Hermione and Professor McGonagall both gasped quietly while Harry swore under his breath.

`Rogers, here,' said the Minister as he indicated the guard, `heard the Muggle's arrival and ran to the cell to see what was going on. It was too late - he was already dead.'

`I don't suppose it'll tell us anything, but we will find out who he was, won't we?' asked Harry.

Rogers nodded, then as though he was unable to stop himself, he burst out with, `Did you Apparate him here, sir?'

Harry nodded. `I'm sorry about that - but I believed he was dangerous, he had a knife. I had no choice.'

Rogers shook his head, gazing at Harry with admiration. `I didn't think it was possible to do that!'

`Don't sound too impressed, Rogers,' said the Minister dryly. `It's going to take a bit of work to fix the protector charms that Harry's put out of commission doing what he did. The fellows in the Security and Protection Division won't be impressed, I can assure you.'

`Maybe not with fixing the charms,' muttered Rogers to himself, `but they're supposed to be impenetrable…'

`Can we see the Muggle?' Harry asked the Minister.

`Of course,' he nodded, and led the way down through another door to a stone corridor which had barred cells on either side, torches crackling in sconces on the wall between each one.

Rogers fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a key as they drew level with the third cell on the left which was illuminated with dingy, yellow light from a small, high magical window; it contained only a single, metal, four-poster bed with no drapes which was pushed up against the wall to the right. Lying on it was a body, whose outline could be seen through the sheet that had been hastily drawn over it. Rogers inserted the key into the lock and turned it, muttering something under his breath. The key seemed to glow for a second, then Rogers withdrew it, walking backwards as he pulled the door open. The Minister stood aside so that Harry, Hermione and the Professor could enter the small, gloomy cell.

Harry dropped to one knee beside the bed and pulled the sheet back. Hermione and the Professor, who were both standing behind him, grimaced and turned their faces away.

Arnold's face was set in a rictus of horrific pain; his open, staring eyes, even in death, held echoes of horror and pleading.

`Poor wretch,' said the Minister who was now standing behind Professor McGonagall.

The Professor straightened, waiting until Harry had replaced the sheet over Arnold's face and stood up before speaking.

`I think, Mr Potter, we need to convene a meeting at Hogwarts as soon as possible. Friday may be too late.'

*

After agreeing with the Professor to a meeting at Hogwarts the following evening, which she assured them she would arrange, Harry and Hermione returned to the library. On the way, they discussed what they hoped to find in Verity's book. After entering the library once more, they walked in silent unison to the very back of the large room, Hermione leading the way. When they reached a pair of midnight blue doors, Harry found himself gazing at a modest, carved wooden plaque affixed to the left-hand door. In gold inlay it read simply, “Armarium”. Hermione took out her wand and tapped it on the door three times.

`This won't take too long,' she assured Harry.

A deep, resonant voice that reminded Harry of Kingsley Shacklebolt sounded from within the doors themselves.

`Please state your full name.'

`Hermione Jane Granger.'

`Please state the three passwords in the correct order.'

`Ineo. Ingressio. Insisto.'

`Which object do you wish to view?'

`Object number seven-one-three.'

Harry heard a distant rumbling that brought to mind the sound of a train in the distance. After less than a minute, the left-hand door swung smoothly and noiselessly open, and Harry attempted to peer past Hermione into the room beyond. He could see nothing, however, as the room appeared to be filled with a bright, all-encompassing light. He saw Hermione step forward and instinctively reached out to grab her arm and pull her back, but she was gone - disappearing into the light as though it had swallowed her up. He tentatively put his outstretched hand towards the open door, but couldn't put it through the doorway - it was as though there was an invisible barrier. He ignored an impulsive urge to force his way in, pulling his hand back instead. As he waited, the tension he was feeling increased with each minute that ticked by.

Where is she? This was the thought that passed through his head at roughly ten second intervals and just as he was contemplating taking out his wand and blasting the door, or barrier - or whatever it was - to smithereens, Hermione reappeared with a black box clutched to her chest. As she stepped out of the room, the door to the Armarium closed on her heels with a dignified snap.

Harry felt relief course through him at the sight of her and realised only then the extent of his apprehension. `Took a while,' he said, smiling weakly.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. `It was only a couple of minutes,' she said.

For you! thought Harry as he shrugged and smiled for her benefit. It felt like a bloody lifetime on this side of that damn door!

`Come on, we'll go into the reading room,' said Hermione as she turned and headed to her left, Harry following her to a small alcove with a single square wooden table surrounded by eight chairs. They sat down side by side, Hermione placing the box on the table with care. She removed the lid of the box then looked at Harry. He nodded, then reached out and lifted a large, thick, leather-bound book out. As Hermione pushed the box out of the way, Harry put the book on the table in front of them, commenting, `It doesn't feel as though it's anything more than just a book.'

In the centre of the table was a writing box and Hermione reached over and removed two pieces of parchment, one for herself and one for Harry; Harry noticed the parchment held a Ministry of Magic watermark. There were quills in stands and inkpots set along the side of the writing box and Hermione deftly flipped open the small lid of one of the pots and picking up a quill, dipped it into the ink. She nudged Harry and indicated with a nod that he should do the same.

`We should write notes as we go,' she told him, underlining her heading which read: Verity Leigh's Book of Records - Notes - HJG - Tuesday, 15^th July.

Harry hastily scribbled the date before returning the quill to its stand and sitting back, studying the book. It was a tooled leather volume and the leather - no doubt due to some charm - still looked soft and almost new. The name, Book of Records, was etched into the leather. Looking at Hermione sitting to his right, Harry said softly, `Ready?'

Hermione met his gaze and nodded. Harry lifted his right hand and grasped the edge of the cover, lifting it slowly. Two pairs of eyes, one brown, one bright green, eagerly scanned the page that was revealed as Harry carefully placed the cover down on the table. The inside of the cover was bare, but on the front page, there was an inscription, `This Book of Records was first begun by Oswyn Riley. It shall remain in the possession of the Riley Family by Magical Decree.'

`Keep going,' whispered Hermione impatiently.

Harry turned the page and they both sat back, gasping in surprise. A full page portrait of a handsome, yet fierce-looking black wizard was glaring at them.

Harry's eyes dropped to the caption at the bottom of the page. `That's Oswyn Riley,' he said quietly.

Hermione nodded. `Next,' she said quickly as though she couldn't wait to turn the page on the scowling wizard; Harry didn't blame her, Oswyn Riley certainly didn't look very friendly at all.

The next page was a contents page - although not like the usual contents page you find in a book. This page listed various battles and historical events in the magical world, giving instructions on the simple charm necessary to find that particular event in the book as well as a spell to enable it to be viewed.

`I've seen similar things in other, old magical books,' Hermione told Harry, `but not quite so sophisticated. I wonder how the entries are able to be viewed?'

Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. `Don't wonder now, Hermione. Let's just worry about trying to find which event might give us any clues about the Dark One.'

Hermione gave him an answering smile before they both looked back down at the page. However, nothing they read seemed to suggest anything other than the usual battles and rebellions, many of which they'd heard Professor Binns drone on about during their years at Hogwarts.

`Next page,' said Hermione, although the next page, to their disappointment, proved no more enlightening. Nor the next, or the one after that.

`How many pages of contents are there?!' cried Harry, feeling distinctly exasperated. He was beginning to realise he'd been counting on finding some miraculous entry in the book that would explain everything.

`There may not be anything in here that will help,' Hermione reminded him. `Although there are so many entries, it would take an age to go through them all!'

It was on the eighth page of contents that they came across the final entry. It was different from all the other entries in that it didn't involve a battle, war, fight or rebellion or the story of some uprising or return of evil - it simply said, “My Family.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged puzzled glances. `We have to have a look,' said Harry, his tone determined, and Hermione nodded, as curious as Harry. Harry took out his wand and did as instructed to read the relevant pages.

The book began to glow with a misty light, then trembled as the pages flipped over in such quick succession they were a blur. It was nearly at the end of the thick book that the pages became still once more and a heading in large, black print announced, “My Family”. They both instinctively leaned forward to read the small writing beneath the heading and without even realising it, Hermione began reading out loud…

`Monday, 20^th April.

My mother handed me this book some months ago. I knew that her doing so meant my father was dead. She explained he'd been killed by Death Eaters. But I haven't had the heart to make any entries before today. I know that I am supposed to continue recording the history of the war against Voldemort as experienced by our family. However, I don't doubt that everything will be documented by others far more capable than I at such things. And so I have decided to write about my family, because it is my family that matters to me more than anything else in the world. I found out only yesterday that my mother, too, has been murdered by Death Eaters. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has become so powerful, I fear for Wizardkind. He has minions and slaves everywhere, and where he doesn't, he has used the Imperius Curse so that no witch or wizard feels safe any longer. No one can trust another, not even their own family members. Every day, more innocent people are dying - including Muggles. My beloved wife, Alma, whom I've never burdened with the knowledge of my Wizard ancestry, and my baby son, Dean, whom I love more than life itself, are both in dire danger. Because of me. And even more so because I am an Auror. Voldemort's followers are always trying to recruit or enslave others and I know it won't be long before I am approached. It is rumoured Voldemort particularly desires Aurors to join his ranks, although none have done so as yet. Apparently he is unaware of the hidden strengths of Aurors. It is becoming so dangerous for my family, and my darling Alma doesn't even know about this danger. I fear my only recourse is to simply leave so that the Death Eaters follow me, and leave Alma and Dean alone. I can only hope.

`Monday, 1^st June.

I have left my home to keep Alma and Dean safe. I didn't even dare tell her this morning that when I left that I wouldn't be home tonight. If I tried to explain why, I would have to tell her I'm a wizard. That information in itself would be a lot for her to handle, and if I then told her that we are all in danger because I am a wizard… I just can't ask that much of her. I do know that she wouldn't let me go - she would want us to see this through, as a family. She is the bravest woman I know. I love her so much and I love our little boy. My heart is breaking - but I remain certain that leaving is the only way I can help them to stay alive.

`Monday, 22^nd June.

I am still in the room I took at the Leaky Cauldron when I left my home. Last night, when I was downstairs eating dinner, I was approached by a stranger who claimed to be looking for a wizard named Alfred Riley. He assured me Tom had shown him the guest register in total confidence. He'd seen an “A. Riley” registered and asked Tom to point me out, thinking I was the one he sought. He told me his name is Colby. He never explained why he was looking for “A. Riley”. I don't believe a word he says. I sense he is a Death Eater and he ensures his arms are totally covered at all times. I assured him I was not the Riley he was looking for, then excused myself and returned here, to my room. I haven't left it since last night. I plan to leave the Cauldron this evening after dinner. I will say nothing to Tom and hope that Colby - or whatever his real name is - will believe in his innocence. I will head north - away from London, even further away from my family.

`Monday, 6^th July.

Yesterday was Dean's first birthday. My little son is one year old and I haven't seen him for more than a month. I haven't held my wife. I feel such enormous pain at having left without an explanation, but I know the pain would be unbearable should anything happen to them. I am moving almost every night now so that they can't find me - and I know they're after me. Voldemort's Death Eaters and followers seem to be everywhere - even in the Muggle establishments I am now frequenting in an effort to avoid them. I will take as many of them with me as I can when the time comes, as I know it will eventually. They are getting closer. I can see the change in the Muggle innkeeper here - I'm certain he is now under the Imperius Curse. I will try to leave here before sunrise tomorrow, but I wonder about the two new guests I saw at the desk this afternoon when I came back from the village. My sixth sense tells me they are Voldemort's men.

`Monday, 31^st August.

I can hardly believe my luck. Somehow, I have managed to keep ahead of Voldemort's minions. And my family are still alive and well. I managed to get an owl to my good friend, Caradoc Dearborn, whom I had hoped remained untouched by the Imperius Curse. It appears Cary is still himself, as only this morning I received his return owl in which he has told me as much as possible about the current situation with Voldemort. The deaths continue on a daily basis, and it appears Voldemort is now after James and Lily Potter, although Cary doesn't say why. I remember James in particular from Hogwarts - he was brilliant on a broom - an outstanding Quidditch player. I saw his first game when I was in my fifth year. Cary tells me that James and his wife are both members of the Order, just as he is; I pray that this may ensure their safety - Dumbledore is a formidable ally.'

Harry and Hermione both lifted their heads slowly and stared at each other.

`Dear mother of Merlin,' whispered Hermione, shocked. `This was written in the months before your parents were killed, Harry.'

Harry nodded, unable to speak, his face as white as parchment.

As one, their gazes returned to the book, and Hermione continued reading, her voice low.

`Monday, 14^th September.

I have managed to procure some Polyjuice Potion and I am currently staying in a small flat where I have begun brewing some more with the ingredients an old friend managed to get to me. As do all Aurors, I have a selection of hairs in my work kit for just this purpose. I am using those of an old Muggle who died some years ago now, although I don't know what his name was; I am calling myself Jeffrey Cox.

`Monday, 5^th October.

Despite the fact that this book is charmed to appear each Monday, wherever I may be, I have not had the heart to make entries every Monday. I am doing everything I can to survive, simply so that I can get back to my family some time in the future. It is hard - so horribly hard - to stay away from them and to not even send Alma a letter to let her know I'm all right. I feel heartsick at what she might be thinking of me. I choke back tears at the thought that my little son may forget me. Yet I must resist the temptation to communicate with them - my sleep is filled with nightmares of what would happen to them if Voldemort or his followers captured them, especially since my wife is a Muggle.

`Monday, 25^th October.

I received another owl from Caradoc late last night - he ensures his owls always arrive in the middle of the night so as to avoid detection. He says that Severus Snape is now teaching at Hogwarts. It is beyond my comprehension as to why Dumbledore would employ a rumoured Death Eater, but Cary says that Dumbledore vouches for Snape. I hope he's right to do so - the thought of a Death Eater loose at Hogwarts is enough to scare anyone witless, Dumbledore aside.

`Monday, 9^th November.

I can scarcely believe it! Cary owled me last night - he says Voldemort is dead! His letter was short as things are, understandably, rather chaotic at the Ministry. He says the Potters were betrayed by their friend, Sirius Black - that Black told Voldemort where the Potters could be found and Voldemort himself went to their home to kill them - including their little boy who is apparently around Dean's age. Something went wrong though, and while James and his wife were murdered, their son, Harry, survived the Killing Curse. I don't understand how this is possible - how could a baby survive the Killing Curse? How could anyone survive it? Yet Cary assures me it is so. He advises me to stay undercover a little longer. Despite the general wizarding population's wild celebrations, there are still Death Eaters roaming around, intent on murderous revenge.

`Monday, 23^rd November.

Finally, last night, an owl from Cary - it has been two weeks since I heard from him. It held dreadful news - the Longbottoms were captured by Death Eaters! First Frank and then Alice were tortured by them in an attempt to find out where Voldemort is - his followers refuse to believe he's gone, saying it's impossible. Frank and Alice are in St Mungo's - I will pray for their recovery. They are a truly devoted couple and exemplary Aurors. They dote on their little boy as I dote on Dean. We even talked about the time they will attend Hogwarts together [I'm sure Dean will be a wizard], and I imagine James's little boy will be there with them, too. Despite this, I am growing impatient - if Voldemort is truly gone, I want to go home to my family! Cary says they are hoping to arrest those responsible for Frank and Alice's deaths shortly. I desperately want to help!

`Monday, 21^st December.

I have been travelling south and I am now in a small village in Kent called Harminster Leigh. I am taking this circuitous route as I feel sure I am still being followed. Tonight is my first night in this flat I've taken. It's in a quaint building with an equally quaint name: Sorcerers' Nook. I am here as myself as I am once more out of Polyjuice Potion. I know from Cary's last owl, which arrived last Sunday week, they've arrested those responsible for Frank and Alice's torture - he says they will be convicted and sent to Azkaban within days. I was shocked to find out that Barty Crouch's own son was one of them! I am hoping that very soon I will be able to return home. The couple in the portrait over the fireplace in the front room spoke to me this afternoon. The old lady, Verity, is a little too gushy in my eyes, but her husband, Emrys, seems a nice fellow. They tell me they originally built the Nook and loved it so much, that even when they died they didn't want to leave it!

`Monday, 28^th December.

I feel as though my heart is bleeding within me. Emrys and Verity - the old couple in the portrait - have told me that two strangers came in this morning and that the landlord, Hugo Wilkes, is now under the Imperius Curse - they saw it happen. The strangers are staying upstairs in Flat 2 - I don't know what they've done to poor Mrs Phipps (an elderly witch who was living in that flat). I feel such dreadful anger and hatred towards these cursed dark wizards who are keeping me from my family! Emrys says that I should flee - but I am tired of running and hiding. I will fight these evil devils and I will survive - I WILL see my wife and son again! I am giving Emrys and Verity this book for safekeeping. I have decided what I will do - I will tell Wilkes I am going for a walk down by the stream. He will pass this information to the two strangers and they will come after me, I'm certain. But I will ambush them; I will know they're coming, but they won't know I'm waiting for them. And then, finally, I will be free to go home to my family.'

Harry turned the page, but there were no further entries. A smallish square of paper was tucked into the centre of the book though, and Harry automatically reached for it. Without stopping to read what was written on it, he turned it over to see if there was anything on the other side. A hoarse cry escaped him and Hermione grasped his hand and turned it towards her so that she could see what had made him exclaim. Hermione gasped, her eyes going from the photograph Harry held to Harry's face to find that he was staring back at her.

`Harry,' she whispered, `that's Dean's mother! And the baby she's holding - it must be Dean! But that man with them is not his father and yet he looks like Dean! How is that possible?'

Harry slowly shook his head. `I have no idea, Hermione. But I think we need to speak to Emrys and Verity as soon as possible.' He looked at the photograph once more. It showed a slender, pretty black woman - still easily recognisable as Dean's mother - cradling a tiny baby wrapped in a blue blanket. Standing beside her, with one arm around her shoulders, his other cradling the baby with his wife, was a tall, striking black man who bore an unmistakeable resemblance to Dean Thomas. He turned the photograph back over. Written in the same neat script as that of the entries was, “The Riley family - Alex, Alma and Dean - 16^th August”.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

OK, now here's the bad news *gulp*. I have my darling dad staying with me this week from the country, then I'm going away for the weekend, next weekend…which doesn't sound like bad news, in fact it's not really, it's actually very good. But it means I won't be able to update next Thursday or Monday *Janie drops to the floor and peeks over the top of her keyboard, eyes darting here and there fearfully* But I swear on my hard drive that I will post next Thursday week!! I just can't bring myself to post a chapter that I haven't given a proper going over and enough thorough revision to make me happy (which I won't be here to do, you see…) I'm so sorry!!! (I didn't want to tell you this at the beginning of the chapter in case it distracted you.) So please bear with me - I will be back! *waves hopefully* Janie xoxo

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Author's Note

YES!! *Janie bounces around like Tigger* I am updating!!! *beams* And since you are all no doubt overcome with uncontrollable curiosity and not in the least bit interested in any “pre-chapter waffle”, here is the Seventh Interlude and Chapter Fourteen (with an ocean of gratitude to the brilliant Kirsti…hugs dear!) Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

SEVENTH INTERLUDE

The Dark One was writhing with impotent fury. Failure was not acceptable. It left behind a dreadful need - an overwhelming desire - to vent his enormous fury. He viciously cursed the Muggles and Wizards alike who had, in his eyes, let him down. If only that foul, spineless Muggle had simply gotten to his feet and just killed that filthy Mudblood Granger! He was certain even the thrice-cursed Potter would've been caught by surprise! The thought of Potter caused a wrath so great it was painful. Potter! The Dark One felt the intensity of his rage increase ten-fold at the mere thought of Harry Potter - the festering thorn in his side!

The Dark One lashed about in a frenzy of rage. The unexpected sight of his despised enemy had caught him by surprise. Only for a mere second, but the filthy Muggle had grasped greedily at the momentary lapse in control and the vermin's cowardice had prevailed…he'd begged for help, the useless piece of filth! The Dark One cursed anew. Again he cursed the wretched Muggle idiot for making him kill him. The fool had failed him in every way - what choice had he had but to kill the wretch? And yet now, he was left without a tool - without a Muggle - and he desperately needed one, for without one he could not exact the revenge that was necessary to his continued well-being and existence…at least not yet. He thrashed violently, sending distorted waves of hatred and loathing rippling throughout the Realm. He felt a fierce desire to make his Disciples, who were even now kneeling in the cavern, suffer as he was suffering. But as the fit of hatred abated, the Dark One endeavoured to calm himself and came to realise that it would not be sensible to kill all of his Disciples, much as he'd like to…but perhaps the exquisite torture of just one would allay the anguished torment eating away at him…

*

In the Ante-Chamber, the Disciples were desperately murmuring the words of the Chant of Greatness - something they'd been doing for many long hours now in an attempt to assuage the fury of their master, hoping to calm his angry turmoil. They were all frighteningly aware of the consequences if the Dark One decided their attempts were not enough, and he had to use one of his Disciples as a means of soothing himself.

Then a jarring, discordant screech split the cold, salty air of the cavern, causing the kneeling Disciples to cry out involuntarily in pain and fear. They quickly recovered themselves though, the words of the chant once more falling from their lips in an endless stream, louder than before. But they knew the hours they'd spent chanting in physical agony had not been enough when one of their number at the front, closest to the rock wall, shrieked in terror and unimaginable pain. The sound ended abruptly as though a switch had been flicked, and the chanting ceased just as suddenly. The few seconds of terrified silence that followed ended with a spattering sound. A few of the nearby Disciples, unable to stop themselves, retched violently, sickened by the sight of their comrade's fate.

The black candles set in the wall sconces behind them were snuffed out by a sudden, chill blast of air that carried the unmistakeable stench of death. Silence descended once more, the Disciples knowing that to recommence their chanting now would only serve to infuriate their master. And so they waited, accompanied by an occasional, pitiable whimper from what was left of their fellow disciple - his mangled remains lying against the rock wall. Then the blazing outline of an arch appeared in the rock face, causing them all to avert their eyes. Yet they knew from the sounds that followed what was happening…the last, feeble shriek of their comrade…a wet, dragging sound as his remains were pulled into the inky blackness…the sounds growing slowly fainter. Finally, a faint splash as he joined his new comrades in a lake whose black, glass-like surface hid horrors no sane witch or wizard would wish to dwell on…

*

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In which Harry and Hermione manage another unexpected kiss, Harry uses the old “swish and flick” to conjure up dinner with Hermione's heartfelt approval, Dean and Neville make Hermione laugh and Harry and Hermione find themselves in a very unexpected time and place…

Not wanting to risk possible magical repercussions if they kept the photograph of the Rileys, Harry reluctantly closed the book on it. Hermione then returned the book, once again reposing in its box, to the Armarium. They'd just collected their cloaks and slipped them on before leaving, Harry pulling the library door shut behind them, when the lift clanked open and an inter-departmental memo streaked out and flapped around above Hermione's head. She held out her hand, and it landed obediently; as she unfolded it, Hermione exchanged a puzzled glance with Harry.

After reading the first few lines, Hermione sighed, saying softly, `Of course - I forgot about this with everything that's happened today. Look…' She turned so that Harry could also read the memo with her, over her shoulder. Harry dropped his head slightly so that he could see the small, crabbed writing more easily. This small action meant that a mere inch now separated his cheek from Hermione's hair and as her soft perfume filled his senses, his eyes closed, his heart beginning to race. He suddenly found himself thinking about burying his face in her hair - or tenderly moving it aside so that he could kiss the soft skin of her neck beneath it -

`Harry?'

Harry's eyes flew open as he jerked upright, unable to think of a single word to say in reply, his gaze fixed on some point above Hermione's head as he tried to gather himself.

`Are you all right?' He forced himself to meet Hermione's gaze. She was looking up at him in a very speculative way and he gave her a self-deprecating grin as he said, his voice a little gruff, `Sorry, miles away.'

It did his composure no good whatsoever when Hermione's gaze unexpectedly dropped to his mouth and somehow he just knew she was thinking of the kiss they'd shared the previous evening. And he was right. Hermione had tried to force herself to focus on reading the memo, but found she'd been so intensely aware of Harry's closeness as he leant over her shoulder; she simply hadn't been able to concentrate properly, and the sudden intrusion of the memory of their kiss certainly hadn't helped matters. When she'd reflexively turned to look up at Harry, it had been to find his eyes closed and his expression unreadable.

Hermione's eyes moved back up to meet Harry's and their gazes locked. Harry was torn between an almost overpowering longing to kiss her again and an equally fierce desire not to push things too far, too fast, for fear of harming his chances.

But Hermione had that same imploring expression in her eyes again, the one he'd seen the previous night, just before they'd kissed. He was as helpless now as then in the face of that unspoken appeal, and as he lifted his hands, she turned to face him so that they came to rest on her shoulders. Hermione's face was tilted up to him, her lips slightly parted as she moved up against him while her arms stole around his waist, the forgotten memo crumpled in her hand. The experience of their previous kiss had only given him an even greater desire for her and this time he didn't hesitate, his lips claiming hers completely. While passionate, their first kiss had still had an underlying tentativeness; this kiss, however, held no trace of tentativeness. Harry's right hand moved swiftly to clasp Hermione's neck, his other wrapping around her shoulders to hold her as tightly as possible against him. Hermione could only press even harder against him, her now flattened hands pressing into his back, the memo falling unnoticed to the floor.

There was no cool, logical voice admonishing Hermione this time, although it's highly doubtful she would've taken any notice of it had it tried. She still didn't understand why kissing Harry felt so wildly amazing and while he was kissing her, she didn't really care why. She was more than happy to submerge herself in the incredibly pleasurable sensations she was experiencing and just enjoy it without wasting precious time on something as mundane as why…

When the kiss finally ended, Harry released a shuddering breath; he'd never felt a desire this potent and overwhelming for Ginny and he was shaken by the restraint it took not to just pick Hermione up, carry her off and… A sound that was half laugh, half groan escaped him as his images of just what he'd like to be doing with Hermione filled his head. Hermione, sounding quite breathless, asked, `What is it?'

Harry shook his head slightly, smiling at her. `I'll tell you some other time,' he said hoarsely, managing a lopsided grin as his hands moved back to rest on her shoulders.

`Harry, I still don't know why - why -' Hermione hesitated, frowning thoughtfully, `- well, why -'

`Why we've suddenly started kissing each other and enjoying it?' Harry broke in gently, his voice nevertheless deep and husky, sending unexpected shivers through Hermione.

Hermione's cheeks took on a rather fetching shade of pink as she nodded. `I suppose I'm wondering if it's a rebound thing, you know - we've always been so comfortable with each other - and I've always felt, well, safe, with you…' Hermione's voice trailed off. Harry thought it was just as well she couldn't see what was in his head at that moment - if she could, he was certain she'd stop feeling quite so safe pretty damn fast…

Harry also knew that this wasn't the time to tell Hermione he'd fallen in love with her and that there was no “rebound thing” about it whatsoever. Instead, he said carefully, `Hermione, I can only speak for myself when I tell you that I fell out of love with Ginny some time ago, I just simply didn't realise it. So, I don't feel as though this is on the rebound - but we don't need to rush anything, okay? You're far too important to me for me to risk that.'

The colour in Hermione's cheeks deepened as she said earnestly, `I just feel a bit confused - half of me feels as though this is a perfectly normal progression and the other half is wondering how on earth it all came about and - I mean, what's everyone's going to think if you and I - well, so soon after - you know…'

It was very rare for Hermione to be lost for words and Harry suppressed an indulgent laugh as well as the almost overpowering urge to kiss her again. Dropping his hands from Hermione's shoulders, Harry took a deep breath and gave her a smile he hoped was reassuring.

`Hermione, I think we should just take our time, and deal with things as they come. I don't think it helps that we've got a lot to deal with at the moment, including this -', Harry bent down and retrieved the crumpled memo, pushing it into an inside pocket of his robes, `- which we'll finish reading when we get home.'

Hermione nodded. `Maybe we should just get past this whole thing -' she waved her hand expressively, `- and worry about, erm,' Hermione's now clasped hands twisted and turned in front of her, `well, yes, I think you're right.'

Hermione felt a desperate sort of relief at being able to put the “thing with Harry” as she'd begun to think of it, aside for the moment, almost glad she had something else to claim her time and attention, however awful it was. She didn't feel as though she was quite ready for something like this just yet…

Harry, on the other hand, was cursing the timing of this wretched Dark One; he thought he'd much rather have Hermione as his only “project” at the moment…

Grinning at his own thoughts, Harry said, `I'm glad you agree. And right now, I think the most important thing is to go home and eat - do you realise we didn't even have lunch? I'm ravenous!'

Hermione laughed, relief replacing the slight, momentary awkwardness she'd felt. `So,' she said, `who's cooking?'

`I will,' said Harry firmly, `and since it's getting late and we're both starving, you will not say a word about my using the old swish and flick, Miss Granger!'

*

During the short trip back to the Atrium before Flooing home, Harry and Hermione barely had time to agree that they wouldn't say anything just yet to anyone about their discovery that afternoon; they wanted a chance to spend the following day exploring the Book of Records as much as they could before the meeting at Hogwarts.

It was perhaps fortuitous that they'd at least managed that as, when they arrived home a short while later, it proved impossible to avoid Emrys and Verity who had obviously been waiting for them. After using quite a bit of cajolery and promising faithfully to talk to them the day after attending the meeting at Hogwarts, they headed for the stairs, only to be set upon by Esmerelda before they'd reached the first step. She was in a fluster over what was happening, and after Harry and Hermione patiently assured her the best thing to do was to wait for the meeting the following evening, which they explained she was welcome to attend if she wished, Esmerelda asked about the possibility of having the book returned.

After exchanging glances with Hermione, Harry said, `We can't return the book to you right now, Esmerelda, I'm sorry.' They didn't have the heart to explain right at that moment that they'd learnt only that afternoon that the book was apparently the rightful property of Dean Thomas, her newest tenant.

`And Esmerelda, I was so sorry to hear about your father - Harry told me,' said Hermione, her voice soft with compassion. `We had no idea he'd been murdered.'

Esmerelda gave them a weak smile. `Of course you didn't, and I suppose since it all happened some time ago, it can wait until this current situation is sorted out.' Harry and Hermione, feeling light-headed with hunger and tiredness, wearily agreed, and with sympathetic pats to Esmerelda's shoulder, finally headed up the stairs.

Without either of them needing to say anything, Harry followed Hermione into her flat; they'd barely had time to remove their cloaks when they heard a knock. With an exasperated sigh, Harry turned and headed back to the door.

From the kitchen, where she was putting some dinner in Crookshanks' bowl, Hermione marvelled at the patience in Harry's voice as she heard him say, `Neville, hi - come in. We just got home.'

Harry had no sooner shut the door behind Neville and followed him across the hall, when it was knocked on again. This time it was Dean.

`Hello Neville - hello Dean,' said Hermione, giving them a quick smile as she walked carefully around the end of the bench - Crookshanks was weaving around her ankles in anticipation of his dinner. She and Harry exchanged a glance as she passed him and she knew he was thinking about what they'd read earlier concerning Dean.

`Sorry to pounce the minute you're in the door,' apologised Neville, `but we received an owl from Professor McGonagall not long ago - the meeting's been brought forward to tomorrow night. We just wondered what's going on.'

`Sit down,' said Harry, indicating the table, `I'll get us all a drink. Wine? Butterbeer? Or something else?'

Dean and Neville both asked for a butterbeer, while Harry poured himself and Hermione a glass of wine, emptying the bottle of wine he'd opened the previous night. The night we first kissed, he thought with a smile. Hermione joined Neville and Dean at the table, leaving Crookshanks happily eating his dinner. Harry excused himself for five minutes as he needed to see to Hedwig and while he was gone, Hermione filled them in on the day's events.

`You know Harry's letter you received yesterday?' she asked.

Dean and Neville both nodded, Dean commenting, `The one that didn't really say much except we should be careful - we were in danger,' he said wryly.

`Without saying exactly what it is we should be careful of or why we're in danger of being murdered or tortured,' said Neville, his expression equally wry.

Hermione gave them an apologetic smile. `We didn't want to alarm anyone,' she said.

Dean and Neville looked at each, expressions of mock shock on their faces. `Alarmed?' said Dean in a high voice. `Neville, why ever would we be alarmed?'

Neville shook his head, a puzzled frown in place. `I don't know, Dean. No reason I can see. I mean, after all, being in danger of being murdered - or worse, tortured - well, really, no reason to be alarmed, is there?'

Dean shrugged. `Quite right - nothing to be alarmed about there.'

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at their antics. `You idiots!' she cried.

`Oh, so now we're endangered idiots?' Dean sniffed, his eyes dancing nevertheless.

`Alarmed, endangered idiots,' said Neville, deadpan, although his eyes too, were twinkling with mirth.

`All right, enough!' cried Hermione, still chuckling. `I appreciate your humour though - honestly, it's good to laugh after today.' She leant forward and rested her arms on the table with a sigh. `However, I have to be serious, much as I wish there wasn't a need to. We don't know an awful lot as yet, nowhere near as much as we'd like to or need to, but something happened today - something that is the reason for the meeting being changed to tomorrow night. A Muggle died today. We're certain he was murdered, actually - by the same - well, we're not sure what he is, but he's evil, and we're certain he's the one we're all in danger from. He wants revenge.'

Dean and Neville's expressions immediately became serious. Hermione rubbed her forehead, beginning to feel overwhelmed as anxiety joined her hunger and tiredness.

Dean and Neville exchanged a look. `Hermione, we should've waited instead of turning up the minute you arrived home,' said Neville apologetically, his heart going out to her. `We'll find out what there is to know along with everyone else tomorrow night. You're tired and you haven't had dinner yet -'

`And no lunch,' said Harry as he returned and crossed the room to join them at the table. `Have you both eaten?' he asked as he sat down. `I have some chips in the freezer and Hermione has some steaks and salad in the fridge.'

`I've eaten, thanks,' said Dean and Neville nodded that he had as well as he and Dean both rose to their feet.

`We'll leave you to it - you both look tired,' said Dean.

`We'll see you tomorrow night at Hogwarts,' said Neville, `and don't worry - we'll see ourselves out,' he assured Harry who was halfway to his feet.

`Thanks,' said Harry with a grateful smile as he sank back into his chair.

As the door closed behind them, Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

`Not telling Dean is much harder than I thought it would be,' said Hermione. `Do you think we're doing the right thing?' she asked, chewing her lip in an all-too-familiar gesture.

Harry nodded. `I just hope that Dean will understand when we do tell him.'

Hermione looked puzzled. `I always had the impression that Dean thought Mr Thomas was his father, didn't he?'

Harry nodded. `He did, up until about fifth year, I think it was. He never stopped wondering where his magical blood came from and his mum finally told him that Mr Thomas wasn't his real father. Dean said he was sort of shocked, but not surprised. He reckons his real dad must've been a wizard, although there's no way he can prove it and his mum told him his dad never said anything about it to her, either.'

Hermione shook her head in amazement. `I never knew any of this!'

Harry shrugged. `Dean never made a big deal of it. He said since he'd grown up thinking his step-dad was his real dad, he still felt like that, and that his real dad was a bit of a tosser anyway, nicking off without a word.'

`Well, I guess that makes sense - but if it was me, I'd want to know!' said Hermione.

`Of course you would, you're you,' said Harry, grinning. `Now, I seriously need to eat - soon!'

`Me too,' said Hermione as Harry pulled out his wand and waved it over the table.

`How's that for a bit of swish and flick?' he asked, his green eyes dancing as he smiled at Hermione.

Surveying the meal that had appeared on the table before her, Hermione smiled back at him. `Ten out of ten, Mr Potter. I love steak, chips and salad!'

Picking up his knife and fork, Harry said, with a deprecating grin, `You're probably hungry enough to love anything at the moment, Hermione, but thanks. And as Dumbledore was fond of saying, tuck in!'

After they'd eaten and Harry had cleaned everything away, Hermione said she really needed to go to bed and wished Harry goodnight, yawning as she did so.

`I'll see you at seven in the morning,' she told him, smiling sleepily over her shoulder as she headed for the hallway.

`I'll be here,' he replied, his green eyes intense as they rested on her retreating form.

Hermione paused in the archway and gave Harry an appraising look. `You're not planning on sleeping on the couch again, are you?' she asked.

`I am sleeping on the couch again,' said Harry, and his tone brooked no argument.

`Why don't you sleep in Ginny's room?' suggested Hermione, covering another yawn. `A bed will be much more comfortable.'

`Don't you worry about me, Hermione - you just get yourself to bed.'

Once she'd left, too tired to argue, Harry conjured his pillow and duvet and settled himself on the lounge. Crookshanks was now curled up in his basket, his yellow eyes gleaming in the light from the candles sitting on the coffee table.

`The couch is fine,' Harry told him quietly, as he fluffed his pillow, `and besides, sleeping in Ginny's bed would be too weird. And it's too far away from Hermione, anyway.'

With a quiet miaow that Harry took to be agreement, Crookshanks closed his eyes. After putting his glasses on the coffee table beside his wand, Harry gave a nonchalant wave of his hand to extinguish the candles before closing his eyes and falling asleep almost instantly.

*

Hermione slept like the proverbial log. Harry, on the other hand, found himself waking every hour or two for no reason he could fathom. Finally, at five in the morning, after waking for the umpteenth time, he decided he may as well get up and make himself a cup of tea, dismissing his disturbed night as a result of his anxiety over Hermione's safety as well as everyone else's.

Or perhaps I'll have some cocoa, he thought, shivering in the cool, morning air and thinking he'd start a fire to warm the room before Hermione appeared. As he swung his legs off the lounge, pulling the duvet around himself for warmth, his eyes fell on Crookshanks' basket beside the fireplace. It was empty.

Harry frowned, forgetting all about starting a nice, warming fire. Surely Crookshanks didn't usually leave the warm comfort of his basket this early? And where would he go? It dawned on Harry then, and instead of heading for the kitchen, he crossed the room and walked up the hallway to Hermione's room. The door was open and he peered in; Hermione was just visible in the grey, pre-dawn light seeping into her room - as was Crookshanks, curled up on the bed beside her. Harry couldn't resist; he crept carefully to Hermione's bedside and stood there, watching her. She was facing the window, her back towards him, only the tumbled mass of her soft, brown hair visible above the edge of her duvet. Crookshanks was lying in the space behind his mistress's knees, purring softly in his sleep with quiet contentment. Harry could just discern the slight movement caused by Hermione's slow breathing. For one fleeting, crazy second he actually considered lying down and cuddling up to her - how deliciously delightful it would be to wake up next to her! Then he realised Crookshanks had stopped purring and as his eyes travelled back to the large ginger cat, he saw he was now being watched. With a crooked smile, Harry raised his finger to his lips before turning and walking away, leaving his love undisturbed.

Almost an hour later, Harry returned from his own flat after having a shower, bringing with him the Daily Prophet that he'd sent Hedwig out for. As he walked back into Hermione's flat, he could hear the shower running and leaving the paper on the table, walked around the bench into the kitchen to make some tea and toast for breakfast.

When Hermione appeared twenty minutes later, dressed and ready for work, it was to find Harry sitting at the table, reading.

Harry peered at her over the top of his paper. `Morning,' he said with a smile. `I take it you'd like some tea and toast?'

Sitting down, Hermione thanked him as she pulled the cup of tea and toast towards her, both still hot thanks to the charm Harry had put on them.

`Anything interesting in the Prophet?' asked Hermione, waving a slightly jammy finger at the paper, which Harry had folded and put aside when she sat down.

Harry shook his head. `Not terribly.' He looked up at Hermione. `Although the same can't be said for that.' With a nod, he indicated a crumpled looking piece of parchment, now folded, sitting on the table beside him. `I found it in my robe pocket this morning.'

`Oh, that memo I received yesterday - I'd forgotten all about,' cried Hermione, quickly sucking the jam from her finger before picking it up. `I didn't really take it in yesterday,' she said a mite self-consciously. As she spoke, she deliberately avoided looking up at Harry who was grinning to himself, feeling rather chuffed at the thought that he'd distracted Hermione to the point where she wasn't able to concentrate on reading.

`That's right, oh yes, I remember now…' Hermione murmured to herself as she read.

`That fool, Oscar Blakely, is in way over his head.' Harry made it a flat statement, unable to wait until Hermione had finished before saying something.

Hermione nodded. `Draco Malfoy is still on the wanted wizards list, whereabouts unknown. But there's nothing on Malcolm Rafferty.' Hermione threw a puzzled glance at Harry before continuing. `So they don't know Malfoy's using a false identity?'

`It's sort of like hiding in plain view, I guess,' said Harry, shrugging. `They wouldn't expect Malfoy to stay in London for fear of being caught, so they don't look for him here.'

Hermione frowned. `Still, it does seem a bit strange, though, doesn't it? And why would someone like Oscar Blakely want to associate with someone like Draco Malfoy, or even Malcolm Rafferty?'

Harry shook his head. `Who knows? They have nothing on Blakely - he's apparently just what he appears to be - the new editor of advertising at Witch Weekly who lives alone, parents dead, no siblings, no girlfriend, very few friends.'

Hermione rubbed her forehead. `Sounds a bit sad - he's got no one, really. Maybe that's why he's taken up with Malfoy. I mean, Rafferty.'

`You'd have to be pretty desperate to take up with Malfoy,' said Harry disparagingly, gulping the last of his tea.

Hermione agreed as she pushed aside her mostly untouched toast as she, too, finished her tea. Replacing her cup on its saucer with a determined chink, she stood up. `Let's forget about those two and get back to the library. We've got to find out more today, Harry - it's imperative!'

*

Hermione retrieved the Book of Records from the Armarium as soon as they arrived at the Ministry. Once more seated in the small alcove at the square table, the large, leather-bound book before them, Harry and Hermione sat for a moment, staring at it. Hermione reached out tentatively and touched the cover, tracing the letters of the title with her forefinger.

`It looks like an ordinary book, and there's obviously no danger in just touching or reading it,' she said softly, glancing up at Harry.

Watching Hermione's hand with a slight frown, Harry said, `I think you're probably right. Verity may just have been trying to frighten us off from looking at it.'

`You know,' said Hermione, her voice distant, `I have a feeling that what we need to know is somewhere in this book.'

`We just don't know where in this book,' said Harry.

`There has to be someone who knows,' said Hermione, sounding vexed.

`Besides Emrys and Verity, you mean?'

Hermione nodded. `I'm sure they're not telling us everything they know, although I don't know why. In the meantime, I think we should keep trying to find out for ourselves.'

Harry nodded in agreement as he lifted the cover of the book, quickly turning the page on Oswyn Riley's fierce expression.

`Let's go through each of these titles more carefully,' said Harry as they once more found themselves looking at the first contents page. `Maybe we'll notice something on a second reading.'

Hermione reached for the thick roll of parchment she'd brought with her which contained all the notes they'd made that week. `Right,' she said as she unrolled the parchments and tapped them with her wand so that they lay flat before looking back at the book, `the first entry is in the fourteenth century - the witch burnings. I definitely don't remember coming across anything relating to those anywhere else.'

`And then a recount of the Scourging of Sussex in 1326,' read Harry.

`That,' said Hermione, `was started by Adney the Addled. He wanted to eliminate the giants there.'

Harry turned his head slowly and gazed at Hermione. `And you know this, how?' he asked, somewhat awe-struck.

Hermione gave him a smile that held a touch of pride. `Because I listened in History of Magic classes,' she told him.

`The listening I recall - it's the remembering that amazes me,' he told her. `So, nothing there?'

Hermione shook her head. `No, didn't come across anything about that. Keep going.'

`The Somerset Skirmish, 1385.'

`Started by Bromwell the Brave. Not it.'

`The Battle of Dorsetshire, 1399.'

Harry's head turned when Hermione didn't answer and he heard a shuffling sound as she riffled through the sheets of parchment, murmuring to herself.

`Wharton the Great? Warlock Wharton? Struck down by Edmar, the Evil Lord…here it is!' said Hermione triumphantly as she drew out a sheet of parchment covered in her small, neat script.

`What've you found?' asked Harry, watching as Hermione's eyes quickly scanned the parchment.

`I remembered reading about the Lord of Evil - Edmar - that he credited his rise to power in the Battle of Dorsetshire to his discovery of the Realm of Darkness. Here it is, see?' Hermione put the parchment on top of the open book, her finger pointing to a paragraph halfway down the page.

Edmar of Devonshire of the Noble House of Ryedille, now Duke of Dorsetshire, Harry read, in this Year of Ascension to the Throne of Henry the IV of the Noble House of Lancaster, the said Edmar of Devonshire having defeated and shamed Wharton the Great, Warlock of the Defeated House of Wyllkes, gladly pays homage to the greatness and generosity of the Overlord of the Dark Realm, come to this land recently, who saw fit to elevate his humble servant, Edmar, to the exalted rank of Lord of Evil. As Lord of Evil, Edmar pledges, without reserve, his own life, and those of his minions, first and last, to the eternal service of the Overlord of the Dark Realm.

Harry lifted his eyes to find Hermione watching him. `What now?' he asked.

Hermione moved aside the parchment and said, `That, now,' as she pointed to the instructions written in parentheses after “The Battle of Dorsetshire, 1399”.

Harry grinned at her. `I had a feeling that's what you'd say.'

They both stood up. `Before we do this, I'll need to seal this room, just to be safe,' said Hermione. She drew out her wand as she turned and tapped each of the six, small blue tiles set into the wall beside the alcove opening. With a sharp, smacking sound, the opening was filled with a blue door, although not a conventional door, as it had no handle.

`Nifty,' said Harry, his eyebrows raised in admiration.

Hermione turned back to the book, but before she could say anything, Harry spoke. `I'll go first,' he stated. `No,' he continued, as Hermione opened her mouth to speak, `this is not negotiable, Hermione. I'll go first and I'll be waiting for you.' Hermione closed her mouth, deciding it was wiser not to argue with Harry at that point, and simply nodded in assent; she didn't think it really mattered who went first, anyway.

Harry, feeling relieved, looked down at the contents page and began chanting the appropriate spell. As he spoke the final word, he was enveloped in a whirling cloud of darkness. He reflexively closed his eyes against the falling sensation that followed, opening them only when he “landed”. He looked around, but it was night time, and all that he could see by the feeble starlight was the outline of many trees; the moon was glowing very faintly behind the edge of a thick cloud. He could neither hear nor see anything else. A strange sound assailed his ears - it reminded him of water being sucked quickly down the drain - and then Hermione was beside him; he certainly didn't need bright light to recognise her.

`Harry? You all right?'

`Fine. You?'

`Fine.'

`What now?'

`We wait,' replied Hermione. `I think it's likely that the memory written in the book begins here - and probably very soon.'

`This is different from Dumbledore's Pensieve,' whispered Harry, scanning their surroundings for anything out of the ordinary, `because it was Dumbledore's memories, he was always there. Or to whomever the memory belonged - they were there, in it.'

`This isn't a Pensieve, though,' said Hermione, looking around in a similar fashion to Harry. `I'm not too sure about how it works in comparison. I'll have to research this when I have the time. I've never come across something quite this sophisticated before, especially from something so old.'

Harry smiled to himself at Hermione's calm discussion of such things whilst they were standing in a dark forest somewhere in Dorset during the fourteenth century, waiting for some sort of battle to occur. Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

`Hermione,' he whispered urgently, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him, `I can hear something, I think there's someone coming.'

They both crouched down behind a thick shrub growing at the base of a large tree. Just then, the moon came out from behind the cloud that had been obscuring it. Its ghostly white light shone down, and Harry and Hermione could make out a leaf-strewn clearing through the shrub; a dirt road wound through the trees before crossing the clearing. The sound Harry had heard was that of horse's hooves, accompanied by a faint jingling which could have been the horse's tackle or perhaps its rider's armour or weapons.

They looked instinctively to their right, where the sound was coming from, and saw a large black horse emerging from the darkness. Despite its size, the horse was stepping along almost delicately, picking its way carefully on the rough road. The rider on its back was wearing a black cloak that rippled around his tall, lean figure, his face in darkness beneath the overhang of his hood. Then as the horse made its way around a slight bend in the road that brought it into the clearing, the moonlight struck the face of the rider and Harry's throat constricted with horror and loathing as he looked upon the hideous snake-like visage of Voldemort.

`Voldemort!' gasped Hermione.

`Not possible,' hissed Harry through clenched teeth.

The horse stopped abruptly in its tracks.

`Who goes there?' said the rider, his voice as hard and cold as ice.

Harry's grip on Hermione's arm tightened reflexively, but neither made a sound, although he felt Hermione wince slightly and loosened his hold. The rider waited for a few agonising seconds before slowly moving on.

`I didn't think we could be seen or heard,' said Hermione weakly, as she watched the darkness on the other side of the clearing swallow the horse and its rider.

`Perhaps whoever that was has extraordinary powers like Dumbledore. Perhaps that rider is a wizard who has similar abilities.'

They stood up slowly, both feeling a little unsteady after their unexpected encounter, Harry maintaining his grasp on Hermione's arm.

`What now?' asked Hermione apprehensively, looking up at Harry.

`We follow that rider,' he replied grimly.

Hermione shuddered as she unwittingly repeated Harry's earlier words to her, without the grin, `I had a feeling that's what you'd say.'

`Come on, let's go, before he gets too far ahead of us,' whispered Harry as he dropped his hand and grasped Hermione's. They began walking, Harry striding out so that Hermione almost had to run in order to keep up and they very quickly reached the point where the horse and rider had been swallowed up by the darkness. Then they, too, were lost from sight as the gloomy night surrounded them like an Invisibility Cloak…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

I have finished Chapter 15 dear readers - but unless there's a miracle in the form of an extra 24 hours suddenly becoming available to me before next Monday (somehow I don't see that happening), it probably won't be ready for posting until… *Janie's voice drops to a whisper* …next Thursday.

I'm really sorry!! This wasn't supposed to happen!! When I started posting, I'd actually finished Chapter 12 (including the Interludes) and had started on Chapter 13. Now, I was POSITIVE back then that there was no way my posting would catch up with my writing. But would you look at that?? I was wrong!! (Dang, double damn blast, buggering, bloody hell! To paraphrase a friend. *Janie cyber-grins at Timbo*). But believe me, I will be doing my utmost to write as much as possible so that I can post as often as possible!! (I feel really quite wretched at not keeping up the twice weekly updates - on top of which I am now living with my usual self-imposed pressure to write, write, write!!! *~*) So if all goes well (fingers crossed!), I'll see you next Thursday! Janie xoxo

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Author's Note

Hi everyone!! Better late than never, right? I hope so! *grins winningly* My very dear friend Kirsti, who usually does me the honour of being my beta, wasn't able to do so for this chapter for very good reasons so, if you notice anything amiss - it's all my fault! I truly hope you enjoy this chapter - I'm really looking forward to your thoughts and reactions…

Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

In which Harry and Hermione unearth more questions than answers…

Harry and Hermione found they were easily able to keep the cloaked rider in sight due to his horse's slow, careful stepping along the rough dirt road. Harry wasn't sure whether he was glad or not when the thick cloud that had returned to dull the moon's light drifted on, leaving an almost full moon to cast its transparent, silvery beams down through the trees. He was grateful, though, that it enabled them to see well enough not to trip over exposed rocks and ruts in the road. It also allowed them to keep well back from the rider, both of them still uncertain about the possibility of being discovered.

They weren't sure how long they walked, hand in hand, neither speaking for fear of being heard, but after what Harry swore later was well over half an hour, they came to a fork in the road with no signpost to indicate where they were, or where they were going. The rider veered left onto a road that was slightly narrower than the one on which they'd been travelling. As they walked, a light breeze rustled through crops in planted fields to their left, while they could hear the nervous, muffled bleating of a flock of sheep behind a low hedge to their right, no doubt disturbed by the sound of the passing horse and rider.

Ahead of them, Harry and Hermione could see towering elm trees flanking the road, their leaves moving very gently with the soft breeze, although they made hardly any sound. The rider disappeared into the wavering shadows of the trees and as he did so, the soft clopping of his horse's hooves gave way to a crunching sound and Harry and Hermione quickened their pace. When they reached the first of the elms, they both glanced down to see that the rough road had been replaced with a reasonably level surface covered in what appeared to be light-coloured gravel. They stepped forwards gingerly onto the loose stone, expecting to hear the same crunching sound caused by the horse's hooves; when they heard nothing, they looked at each other, puzzled.

`We'll have to figure it out later,' said Harry. Then, with a slight jerk of his head in the direction taken by the rider, he added, `C'mon, we don't want to lose him.' Hermione nodded in agreement and they set off at a smart pace to catch up with the rider.

After walking barely ten steps on, they heard the faint crunch of footsteps behind them and immediately froze. With their hands still clasped, their heads whipped around in unison and looking back, they could see the outline of a tall, cloaked figure moving slowly towards them, obviously endeavouring to be as quiet as possible, for after the noise of his initial step onto the gravel, he made almost no sound at all. When he was almost upon them, it became evident that he was oblivious to their presence, for he walked straight towards them and they found themselves moving instinctively aside.

`Harry,' whispered Hermione as close to his ear as she could reach, `perhaps it was him back in the clearing that Voldemort's look-alike heard, not us, and -'

Harry nodded, pulling urgently on Hermione's hand, relief in his voice as he said quietly, `Must've been - and that makes more sense. It'll also be a lot easier if we can't be seen or heard. C'mon, let's keep moving - we don't want to miss anything.'

They hurried on, stopping once more when they reached the end of the avenue of elms, moving to their left to stand behind the last old tree; ahead of them was a large circular area, also covered with gravel. They looked across at the front of a large manor house, gleaming whitely in the moonlight. They could see the now dismounted rider standing beside his horse near the entry porch, speaking quietly to a stooped figure that was holding the horse's reins. The stooped figure nodded vigorously before leading the horse away, the rider turning and walking lightly up the two low steps into the porch, his black cloak making an almost sibilant sound on the stone. One of the tall wooden front doors was standing open, held by a very fat, bald man in a brown cloak, the hood puddled around his short, thick neck; he reminded Harry of Horace Slughorn, minus the former potions master's moustache. He was holding a candelabrum aloft, the flames of the candles it held flickering in the night breeze.

Although they could see that the two men were talking by the wavering candlelight, Harry and Hermione were too far away to be able to hear what they were saying. Just then, the hooded figure that had been behind them reappeared, stopping as he drew level with them although he kept back far enough to ensure he remained well within the shadows of the trees. As they watched him, a low bang signalled the closing of the manor door and they turned just in time to see the thin sliver of candlelight beneath the door disappear as the two men inside moved away. As the light vanished, the hooded figure stepped forward out of the shadows and crossed the circular courtyard area, clearly visible in the moonlight. This meant they were able to see his cloak and that it was a deep, dark red colour with silver stitching of some sort on the back, although it was difficult to see what form the stitching took as the cloak swirled and rippled with its wearer's movement.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, nonplussed.

`How are we going to get inside?' whispered Hermione.

Harry grinned. `Alohomora should do it, don't you think?'

Hermione grinned back, knowing Harry was also remembering the very first time she'd used that very same spell. `Will our magic work here? I mean, we can't be seen or heard - it's as though we're not really here - so perhaps we can't use magic, either.'

`Only one way to find out,' said Harry, once again tugging gently on Hermione's hand as they moved forward and away from the cover of the shadows.

As they reached the low steps of the porch, they could hear the red-cloaked figure muttering to himself as he stood at the door; Hermione gasped as he lifted a wand into view. Harry's hand tightened around hers as they watched the thick, wooden door swing open silently. The figure entered swiftly, the door closing behind him so quickly the hem of his cloak barely made it through.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and then Hermione drew her own wand out, pointing it at the door.

`Alohomora!'

To their dismay, nothing happened.

`I thought so,' said Hermione, sounding disheartened.

`I don't get it,' said Harry. `In a Pensieve you're just always with the person whose memory you're in. So far this is similar in that we can't be seen or heard, so we should just be able to follow the memory.'

`But whose memory is this?'

Harry shrugged, frowning. `We should still just be able to go wherever the memory does,' he insisted.

`I think you're right, Harry,' said Hermione and she grinned at him and pulled on his hand, leading him up the shallow stairs.

`What are you -?' began Harry, but before he could finish, he found himself being drawn towards the door - and then they were through it - then they were inside, and Hermione was smiling triumphantly up at him.

Harry shook his head, chuckling. `Seems rather obvious, doesn't it?' he said wryly.

`It does now,' said Hermione. `Come on, let's find Lord Lookalike.'

*

As the door closed behind him, the red-cloaked stalker stood, unmoving as a statue, listening intently. His eyes moved swiftly around the silent Hall, its tapestry-draped walls wreathed in flickering shadows cast by the few wall sconces left burning. He moved to his left where a wooden armour cabinet was placed beneath a row of high, narrow, arched windows. Removing something from inside his cloak, he slid it beneath the cabinet, pushing it back as far as possible. The object made a scraping noise, that of stone on stone and as he straightened, the stalker turned to look around instinctively, afraid he may have been heard.

Where are you, accursed one, thief of righteous souls?

Flickering light caught his eye - it came from a doorway to his right, in the back wall of the Hall. He crept forward, crossing the Hall almost noiselessly, the faint swish of his cloak on the stone floor the only sound. As he reached the door, he turned so that he stood with his back against the wall, the door now to his left; he could hear voices from within the chamber.

`Your Grace, you risk exposure with these nocturnal excursions!'

`Hold your tongue, Wharton, and keep your place.' The voice made the stalker shudder; it was as cold as a winter wind and lacked humanity.

`I am sorry, your Grace, but you must know that your countenance, if seen, would -'

`Would mean death for the one by whom it was seen.'

`Of course, your Grace.'

`Bestir yourself, Wharton, I am hungry.'

The stalker's suspicions were confirmed; he was outside the manor's kitchen room. He pushed himself away from the wall, crossing swiftly to the other side of the door; it was hinged on the right and stood partially open so that he was now able to see into the room. He managed to prevent a shocked gasp from escaping his lips as his eyes came to rest on the back of the head of the man he'd followed; it was deathly white and completely hairless; he could see only indentations where there should have been ears. Despite finding the sight of his now-unhooded quarry rather unnerving, the red-cloaked figure nevertheless watched, and listened, waiting for the opportune moment…

*

Harry and Hermione hesitated, looking around the large Hall. It was Harry who spotted the red-cloaked figure standing across the other side of the room next to a half open door, his back against the wall. He nudged Hermione gently with his shoulder, pointing. Hermione immediately saw the watching figure then she and Harry turned and looked at each other. With the slightest of nods, they began to make their way across the room.

They were halfway across the hall when the cloaked wizard suddenly moved to the other side of the door, turning as he did, so that they were looking at his back. As the dark red cloak settled around the now perfectly still figure, Hermione's fingers tightened convulsively around Harry's hand. He looked down at her with a questioning frown.

`That insignia! Harry, I've seen it somewhere before!' Hermione whispered urgently, pointing to the silver stitching on the back of the stalker's cloak; it glinted richly as it caught the little light available in the dim hall.

`You can't remember where?' asked Harry.

Hermione shook her head, frustrated.

`It'll come to you,' Harry assured her. `Come on,' he continued, tugging her hand, `let's keep moving.'

As they reached the door through which the stalker was looking, Harry and Hermione got their first glimpse beneath the red hood, both gasping when they saw that the cloaked wizard was wearing some sort of pale mask that covered his whole face.

`Do you think perhaps he's disfigured in some way?' asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. `Maybe. Hermione, I think - '

But Harry didn't finish saying what he thought because he was interrupted by the sound of something smashing within the kitchen. He looked down and saw the masked wizard pointing his wand through the partially open door.

`You thrice-cursed fool!' Harry and Hermione felt the hairs rise on the back of their necks at the sound of that chillingly familiar voice as it rang out from within the kitchen.

Still holding hands, Harry and Hermione closed their eyes - despite knowing it wasn't really necessary - and stepped forward. When they opened their eyes a second later, they were standing in the kitchen, now facing the door from across the room; through the partially open door they could just discern the pale mask of the stalker. They knew from the flickering shadows thrown around the room that there was a fireplace at their backs while they could see three candelabra, each holding a dozen or so candles, standing in a row down the centre of a long, rough wooden table. At the head of the table, facing them, was seated the Voldemort look-alike. He was glaring at the fat man they'd seen at the front door; the now terrified looking man was still wearing his brown cloak. Although Harry and Hermione couldn't see it as he had his back towards them, the petrified man's face was glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration from his cooking efforts - which now lay spattered on the floor at his feet amongst the shattered shards of a brown platter.

`That masked wizard caused that,' said Harry firmly.

`For what purpose, I wonder,' murmured Hermione.

They watched in horror as the Voldemort look-alike pulled a dark wand from his robes and pointed it at the quivering fat man.

`Please, your Grace,' he whimpered, `my Lord Edmar, I beg you -' His words were cut off abruptly by a long, piercing shriek as he fell to the floor, writhing, blood mixing with the mess on the stone floor from cuts inflicted by the sharp pieces of the broken platter as he thrashed about.

Revolted by the sight, Hermione turned her head and buried her face in Harry's shoulder. Harry instinctively let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her against his chest.

`Hermione, he's coming in!' Harry whispered urgently a few seconds later as he saw the door to the kitchen open a little further. The masked wizard was gently pushing on it and once it was open enough, he moved slowly and soundlessly into the room, his wand held at the ready. Watching from across the room, Harry realised out of the blue that there appeared to be no protective charms in place around or within the manor house. He could only wonder at the arrogance of this Voldemort doppelganger and his obvious belief in his own infallibility - so similar to that of Voldemort-who-had-been-Riddle.

The wizard that the fat man had called “Lord Edmar” rose to his feet, his black cloak whispering as it brushed the stone floor. Harry was certain he saw enjoyment in Edmar's red gleaming eyes as they rested on the writhing, piteously screaming figure on the floor. Edmar was holding his wand pointed at his victim in an almost nonchalant manner, his thin mouth twisted in a macabre smile of pleasure at the torture he was inflicting.

What happened next happened so quickly it took their breath away. Hermione had lifted her head when Harry had spoken and was watching the masked wizard while Harry, despite being sickened by the sight, was glaring at Edmar, wishing desperately he could put a stop to the ghastly torture he was inflicting.

Still unnoticed, the masked wizard lifted his wand arm, obviously ready to strike - but somehow Edmar sensed his presence, perhaps his hearing was preternatural, and he turned with frightful speed, casting what had to be a shield charm because the spell thrown by the masked wizard appeared to bounce off an invisible wall in front of its intended target.

The blood-and-food smeared figure on the floor had fallen still, unconsciousness claiming him the second his torturer's wand was no longer pointed at him.

The masked wizard had leapt awkwardly to one side to avoid his own spell as it rebounded and while he attempted to regain his balance, Edmar swung his wand around so that it pointed at the stumbling wizard's heart, the words of the killing curse falling harshly from the thin, repulsive lips. The masked wizard twisted violently to avoid the spell, throwing himself to the floor as the green light of the death curse blasted into the stone wall above him, showering him with dust and rubble.

Harry and Hermione looked on in horror as the masked wizard's wand left his hand, flying through the air to be caught deftly by Edmar.

`Rise!' roared Edmar, his eyes flashing an even darker red with fury. `I wish to know the fool who would think it possible to kill me before he himself dies!'

The masked wizard lifted himself up slowly, creating a small avalanche as the rubble that covered him fell to the stone floor; dust was drifting in the air making it appear as though he was standing in a strange, powdery mist, the dark red of his cloak dulled by a layer of the grey dust.

`A mask?' sneered Edmar. `What is it you hide? Remove it at once!'

Standing straight, his shoulders thrown back, the masked wizard reached up and pushed his hood off his head, revealing shoulder length, tightly curled black hair. A strange hissing sound issued from Edmar at the sight.

`Who are you?' he demanded, his voice cold and harsh.

`I am Cynric, of Riley Hall,' said the black-haired wizard, his voice deep and powerful. `You, vile creature, I know to be Sivis Edmar, defiled servant of the Realm of Evil.'

Because Edmar had his back to them, Harry and Hermione were unable to see the expression of pure loathing and disgust on his face as Cynric announced himself.

`You!' spat Edmar. `The black filth who has no right to the noble blood of Wizardkind!'

`Speak not to me with your evil tongue!' shouted Cynric as he reached up and removed his mask, throwing it down, his brown eyes blazing from a clean-shaven face that was as black as velvet. `It is I who belong to a truly noble line. It is you, Edmar, that is reviled filth! It is you that has debased the name of Wizardkind with your cowardly submission to darkness and evil! With your murder and torture of innocents!'

Edmar stared at Cynric through narrowed eyes and when he spoke, his voice held a deadly, sinister silkiness. `Innocents you say? Surely you cannot mean those two meanly-statured males from your litter of filthy brats?'

Cynric growled - and there was fury and anguish and sorrow in the sound. Then he raised his arms, his fists clenched; loathing and revulsion blazed in his eyes as he looked at Edmar, his voice filling the room as he roared: `They were my sons!'

Edmar through back his head and laughed. Yet strangely, instead of increasing Cynric's rage, Edmar's harsh, cruel laughter seemed to calm him down and he spoke softly and lovingly.

`Edgardo was but thirteen in years and Farrell only eleven. They had greater valour and honour in one of each of their young fingers than you could ever possess in a hundred lifetimes, Edmar. They were loved and cherished.'

`Valour? Honour?' Edmar sneered. His voice sounded almost bored as he continued, `You know nothing of which you speak, fool. You know nothing of power, of immortality. These are things of importance. You, Cynric, and your wretched tribe are as nothing in the face of such things.'

Edlyn, my beloved wife, you were right! He spurns the values and virtues that are precious to us and all those like us! His soul can only be lost and he will be unable to continue without it. I must place the Just Curse upon him to ensure that there will no more deaths or tortures - I must not fail, for your sake and the sake of our remaining children and in honour and memory of our lost sons!

`Those things that are significant,' said Cynric sombrely, splitting his concentration between what he would say aloud and the silent words of an oft-rehearsed curse…

I call on the great Strength held within the Righteous Magic of Noble Wizards.

I draw together that Strength and that Magic to this Place and Time.

`to such as you,'

In the name of all Noble and Righteous Wizards,

I use that Strength and Magic to belay the Evil here present,

`are not the true tools of power.'

To choke and remove the breath and life from this Vessel of Evil.

And I name the Vessel: Sivis Edmar, Duke of Dorset!

`Such belong to one being only,'

The Tablet has been carved and placed,

And so now justly cursed is Sivis Edmar,

Lord of Evil, servant of the Overlord of the Dark Realm.

`a being that could not ever be known by such as you,'

The Manner of the Just Curse is entrusted to the Stone.

`for He counts as important,'

The Stone has been laid,

The Just Curse is now cast.

`those values you eschew in your foolish evil.'

And so now shall Evil perish,

And from its ruins shall nothing rise.

Perfectus. Ilicet.

`And so I am gone from here, at your hand, knowing where I go, and who will greet me. And also knowing where you will find yourself, come your time, and knowing also that you will truly deserve your fate -'

`Silence!' roared Edmar. `I am done with your foolish ramblings! Avada Kedavra!'

And with a flash of green, the tall, strong figure of Cynric collapsed, his eyes wide and staring as he sank to the floor, the shadow of a smile on his lips…

*

Harry and Hermione would never know that during their sojourn from the night-shrouded clearing to the manor house of the Lord of Evil, a tall, willowy woman was standing in the kitchen garden of her home some distance away, staring up at the almost full moon, a large, leather bound book clasped to her breast. She had been there for some time, silent and still; her maid watched from the small window beside the kitchen door, worried for her mistress.

A young girl, aged about four years, entered the room and crossed to where the maid was standing. Standing on tiptoes, she could just see through the window, her eyes sad as they came to rest on the statuesque woman standing in the moonlight. She reached over and tugged on the maid's skirts.

`Is Maman well, Yedda? Is she casting a spell?' she asked in a trembling voice.

The maid looked down at the young girl. `Sweet Maitane, you should be abed. You can see for yourself that your mother is well.'

`Then why is she watching the moon in the garden?'

Yedda gave the little girl a sad smile. `She is worried for your father, little one, as do all good wives of brave and courageous men. She would worry more would she to know you were awake at such an hour. Come, I'll walk with you to your room.'

As she took the little girl's hand, the maid glanced over her shoulder one last time and what she saw through the window caused her hands to fly to her face, an inarticulate cry escaping her. All thoughts of her young charge fled her mind as she dropped the little girl's hand and pulled open the door with such force it slammed back against the wall. She ran as fast as she could towards the prostrate figure of her mistress while Maitane, momentarily forgotten, followed as quickly as her young legs would allow.

`Mistress! Mistress Edlyn!' cried Yedda as she fell to her knees beside the still figure, her hands grasping the shawl-clad shoulders and shaking them.

`Maman!' cried the little girl breathlessly in her piping voice as she reached the two women; there was also fear and terror in her tone at the sight of her unconscious mother.

`Maitane!' cried Yedda, distressed that she had forgotten the child. `You must return to your room, please!'

`No! I want to stay with Maman!'

Yedda barely heard her - she was once more trying to rouse her mistress, but to no avail. The now crying maid wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth on her knees, forgetting about sending the child away.

`He is gone! Master Cynric has been taken!' she cried desolately, scaring the young girl even more.

`Maman!' screamed the child, kneeling beside her mother, her small hands clutching at her mother's arm. `Please wake, Maman!'

At the sound of the child's terrified voice, the woman stirred. Yedda sobbed with relief, pulling her own shawl from her shoulders and placing it beneath her mistress's head, berating herself for not having done so earlier.

`Mistress!' she repeated softly, prising the woman's hands from the book they'd clutched, even as she'd fallen; the sobbing maid took her mistress's hands in her own and, finding them cold, began to rub them.

`Yedda?' The woman's voice was soft and hesitant.

`Yes, Mistress, it is I!'

`And…Maitane?'

`Oh, Maman!' The terrified little girl could speak no more and dissolved into heartbreaking sobs, tears streaming down her face.

The woman struggled to push herself into a sitting position, the book falling aside, unnoticed, as she reached out for her daughter, pulling her into her arms; she glared at her maid over the small head resting under her chin.

`I am so sorry, Mistress! She caught me unawares in the kitchen! I was watching, waiting for you!'

The little girl's sobs had subsided at her mother's familiar, loving touch as she curled up in her lap; she seemed to become oblivious to anything but the embrace of her mother's arms and the comfort she was deriving from them.

Dropping a gentle kiss on the top of her daughter's head, Edlyn looked across at Yedda, her eyes filled with an awful, empty sadness.

Silent tears fell from the maid's eyes. `He is gone, is he not?' she whispered.

Edlyn nodded, her grief so profound she was unable to speak.

`Did he finish it? Is the Tablet in place?' asked Yedda, reaching out to absentmindedly stroke the little girl's back in an automatic gesture of comfort.

Edlyn nodded once more, her own tears, against which she had fought, now running silently down her cheeks. She thought her heart was breaking into so many tiny little pieces inside her, the pain was so great…

`My Cynric, my brave, wondrous Cynric completed his self-appointed task,' she sobbed, `the Tablet was secreted and the Just Curse was put in full upon the Lord of Evil.'

`Then all will be well.'

Edlyn looked across at her maid - her friend and her ally - and smiled a wan smile she didn't feel.

I believe so and hope so, dear Yedda, she thought, and I will pray so, every day! But…we will never know for certain… not in our lifetime. I pray that my beloved Cynric is not gone from us in vain…

*

As Cynric sank to the stone floor, dead, Harry and Hermione found themselves enveloped by the same swirling cloud of darkness that had earlier brought them into this memory.

After feeling the jolt of “landing”, they opened their eyes and found themselves once more in the reading alcove, standing as they had in the kitchen where Cynric had died - Harry's arm around Hermione's shoulders; they looked at each other, speechless, horrified by what they had just witnessed.

It was Hermione who first found her voice.

`Harry, I remember now where I've seen that insignia before.'

Harry looked a little dumbstruck. `What?' he asked, deliberately keeping his arm around Hermione's shoulders, wanting to keep her close for as long as possible.

`The insignia on Cynric's cloak - I've seen it at Dean's.'

Harry shook his head slightly; it was buzzing uncomfortably with images of what they'd just seen.

`Hermione, now you remember this?'

Hermione gave a small shrug. `I don't know why, but it just came to me.'

Harry finally, reluctantly, dropped his arm and putting his hand on Hermione's waist guided her gently towards their seats. `Come on, let's sit down.'

Once seated, Harry turned to her, wishing he could take her hand but deciding it wouldn't be wise.

`So, you saw it at Dean's? That does makes sense, though, doesn't it?' he said.

Hermione nodded. `Since the Book belongs to the Rileys and Dean is the latest descendant.'

`So where at Dean's did you see it?' asked Harry.

`You've seen that cloth that Dean has over that old trunk he uses for a coffee table? It has a pattern of that same insignia woven into it.'

`Well,' said Harry with a lopsided grin, `I can't say I have. I don't think it's the sort of thing blokes notice.'

Hermione chuckled. `Now that's so very true!' she cried, while Harry good-humouredly rolled his eyes.

`So, what next?' asked Harry, looking down at the book, still open at the first contents page.

Hermione sighed. `Do you know, I'm positive we're missing something - some sort of key to the best way to use this book instead of this hit and miss method.'

`Isn't it more likely that the entries were made by each Riley as it was handed down and we have to just keep going through them?'

Hermione leant forward and propped her chin in the palm of her hand, her elbow resting on the table beside the book which she gazed down at thoughtfully as she answered, `That is possible, but I think it's also possible that one of those Rileys organised the contents somewhere along the line.'

`How on earth would they do that?' asked Harry, raising his eyebrows. `Look at how much is in there!'

`Well,' replied Hermione, `since this is not just a book, it's actually a magical object, so the magic it contains can be modified, added to. As long as no one used a spell to prevent that.'

`Maybe, but Hermione, I don't want to ruin your fun. Aside from having to go home and no doubt face more demands from Esmerelda and Verity about returning the book, shouldn't we -'

Hermione sat up abruptly. `Oh no!' she cried, scandalised. `We can't return it before we know more!'

`Hermione, that book rightfully belongs to Dean. I think we need to speak to him and ask his permission to keep it so that we can keep searching it.'

Hermione looked crushed, but she nodded. `I know you're right,' she said, her voice tinged with regret, `I just wish we could - well, go for it!'

`Why doesn't that surprise me?' laughed Harry.

`Harry, it's still early - not even lunch time - we have time to look at more in the book.'

Harry sighed. `Do you think that's wise, Hermione? I was going to say, shouldn't we work on what we're going to tell everyone tonight?'

`We'd still have time to do that if we looked at just one more chapter,' said Hermione, her tone earnest, her gaze entreating.

Harry sighed again. `Well, I can't say I'm not just as curious as you are, Hermione.' And as if I'd be able to say no to you when you look at me like that, Hermione Granger…

Hermione tucked her arm through Harry's and smiled up at him. `Good,' she said, `then let's get on with it.'

*

Elsewhere, while Harry and Hermione were sequestered with the Book of Records, the thoughts of some of those who would be attending the meeting at Hogwarts that evening were centred on that night and what was involved in being there…

Ron, for instance, was rather pleased the meeting had been brought forward from Friday to Wednesday. This was because on the day the meeting had been originally scheduled, he, Seamus, Colin and Luna had been invited to have dinner with most of the Kenmare Kestrels. This was something Seamus in particular was highly excited about being Irish, and didn't want to miss. As it was, they were due to leave Anglesey for Kenmare tomorrow - Thursday - morning. In Ron's mind, it had all worked out rather well; they now knew they would be leaving for Hogwarts late that afternoon to attend the meeting, after which they'd stay overnight and then head off to Ireland the next morning. And Luna would be with him the whole time.

Ron found it highly amusing that since the beginning of their working journey, he'd been looking forward to their stay with the Holyhead Harpies, all of whom were quite attractive and for the most part, unattached, witches. That was, of course, before Luna had come along. After that, Ron had looked on happily as Seamus and Colin had revelled in the attention of the all-witch team. Luna had been quite composed about a number of the team members' attempts to “catch his eye” as she'd commented to Ron - after all, aside from being the next best thing to Harry Potter as a member of the Trio, he was also a celebrity in his own right in the world of Quidditch. The Harpies' collective disappointment that he was “taken” had simply made Luna look quite proud as he stayed by her side, smiling rather smugly at the disappointed Harpies all the while…

Ginny, on the other hand, wasn't so thrilled about the meeting being brought forward as it would mean seeing Harry even sooner. She wasn't sure how she'd feel seeing him again so soon after breaking up with him, although she was relieved that there would be a large group of people attending. This would mean, hopefully, that the situation would be less awkward.

Aside from the pain of losing Harry, Ginny was also hurting from the lingering sadness in her heart for the loss of her closeness with Hermione - and the fact that she wasn't at liberty to even explain any changes to her best friend. Whilst all this was foremost in her mind, she was aware that the reason for this meeting would have to take the upper hand on the night.

Minerva McGonagall was kept busy all that Wednesday afternoon with the necessary arrangements for overseeing the arrival of those attending the meeting, ensuring those staying the night in the castle would be catered for as well as making certain that simple things, such as food and drink, would be plentiful.

The headmistress didn't regret for an instant her offer to hold the meeting at Hogwarts, despite the fact that it involved quite a lot of work, what with the Minister for Magic attending together with various other heads of department. As she sat back with a much-needed cup of tea, the headmistress thought of how she was relieved that the current Minister was taking this threat seriously. She remembered with great disapproval and chagrin the reactions - and lack of action - of some of his predecessors, who had ignored even the most obvious signs, to the detriment of Wizardkind...

Meanwhile, the scattered Weasley family, while all concerned about this new danger and still somewhat “battle-weary” from the war with Voldemort, hardly gave a thought to any hardships involved in attending the meeting or what would be required of them to fight this new threat - they would just simply be there and do what had to be done - Gryffindors all, indeed.

And so, as the day drew to a close and the various officials arrived and were seen to, it was Minerva McGonagall who was left waiting in her office for the two people without whom the evening couldn't proceed: Harry and Hermione.

*

It was a little after three o'clock in the afternoon when Harry and Hermione once more found themselves in the secured reading alcove. having returned from viewing yet another memory in the Book of Records.

Horrified, they gazed at each other in silence for a few seconds. Then Hermione said, `Harry, we must get Dean alone tonight and talk to him. We must make sure we can come back tomorrow and continue our research! We can't stop now!'

Harry looked steadily at her. `Of course we will Hermione, but we've already discussed this - right now we need to think about what we're going to say at the meeting tonight, or had you forgotten about that?'

Hermione looked crestfallen. `Yes. No. Not really, but I'm so excited about the history we're uncovering, horrible as some of it is -'

`That everything else pales into comparison,' finished Harry, doing his best not to smile indulgently.

Hermione stood up abruptly. `I just feel so frustrated, Harry! Look at what else we've found out today! I feel as though I want to just stay here and keep searching the memories of this book! I don't want to waste time sleeping or eating, I don't want to - well, I feel as though I don't want to leave - I don't want to have to go to Hogwarts - I just want to -'

`Find out,' said Harry as he stood up also. `Hermione, I know what you're feeling, I know you, remember? But -'

`We have to go to Hogwarts tonight,' finished Hermione resignedly.

Harry nodded.

Hermione gave him a weary smile. `I know we do. Of course we do.' She sighed. `And we will.'

`And we'll speak to Dean,' said Harry. `I'm sure he'll let us continue searching the history in the book. And I agree with you totally - it's very important we keep going. I'm sure there's a lot more information in there that will somehow help with the Dark One.'

`I'm convinced it will,' said Hermione, taking out her wand and stepping across to where the alcove entrance was blocked by the blue “door”, tapping the six blue tiles in the reverse order she'd done so previously, while Harry returned the book to its storage box.

`Let's just hope we have time to find out everything we need to know before someone is hurt,' said Harry, worried, as the opening to the alcove reappeared.

`If I have anything to do with it, we will,' said Hermione determinedly as she walked out of the alcove, Harry on her heels, carrying the box.

`I don't doubt that for a second,' murmured Harry under his breath as he followed her, greatly enjoying the view he had of Hermione as she walked ahead of him…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Fingers crossed, I'll “see” you in about a week with the next chapter dear readers! I'll certainly be working hard at doing just that, believe me! Janie xoxo

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Author's Note I'm back!!!!! *smiles and waves* You have no idea how sorry I am about the length of time since I last posted *groans pathetically* Thankfully, my life has recently regained some semblance of normality and so I've been back at the keyboard *does happy dance!*. And as always, my grateful gratitude *grins* to my dear friend Kirsti - thank you dear!! *hugs* And now I think that's quite enough of my waffle - happy reading! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

In which Harry notices another wizard noticing Hermione and is pleased when Hermione notices another witch noticing him…and oh yes - there's that meeting at Hogwarts where some questions are answered (even a few that haven't been asked) while more are raised…and Harry and Hermione find themselves kissing again, only this time, they're seen…

When Harry and Hermione emerged from the reading alcove, it was to find two pairs of curious eyes looking at them from amongst the tottering piles of scrolls and books on the desks at which their owners were sitting. As Harry and Hermione had been arriving early each day, skipping lunch and departing late, they'd not come across Hermione's two assistants before now, who knew better than to disturb her when she was working.

`Hello,' Hermione greeted them, smiling. `Harry, this is Riley Worth,' she said, indicating the young, sandy haired wizard with warm, brown eyes sitting at one desk, `and Cady Newton,' this time indicating the raven-haired, blue-eyed young witch at the other desk. Hermione continued, `Cady, Riley, this is my friend, Harry Potter.' Which, of course, she said purely out of politeness, knowing full well that they would've recognised Harry instantly.

`Good afternoon, nice to meet you,' said Harry, with a small nod and slightly self-conscious smile.

`Nice to meet you, too!' exclaimed the pair in unison, unabashedly staring at him.

Harry turned and gave Hermione a somewhat desperate “help me” look, making her laugh.

`We're just leaving,' Hermione told her still-staring co-workers, `and there's a slim chance I won't be in tomorrow.'

`That's all right, Hermione,' said Cady, `there's nothing come in we can't handle. What about Friday then?' She was still staring fixedly at Harry, who appeared to be busy studying one of the large candelabras hanging from the vaulted ceiling.

`I'm fairly certain I'll be in then,' said Hermione, one eyebrow lifting as she watched Cady watching Harry, `but if I'm not coming in either tomorrow or Friday, I'll let you know.'

`Does Max know you may not be in?' asked Riley who, having looked his fill at Harry, turned his gaze to Hermione, unable to prevent the admiration he felt for her showing in his eyes.

Hermione gave an exasperated, albeit amused sigh, drawing Harry's eyes away from the candelabra he'd been feigning interest in. His gaze came to rest on Riley's visibly appreciative expression, giving Harry a slight jolt. He fancies Hermione!

`Riley, please refer to our boss as “Mrs Morley” - “Max” sounds disrespectful!' Hermione chided him.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Riley shrugged one shoulder and grinned cheekily at Hermione.

Harry almost smirked. Showing off? You obviously don't know Hermione, Mr Riley Worth, he thought smugly to himself. He wasn't surprised in the least when Hermione didn't return Riley's smile and that her voice, when she replied, was cool, although not overly harsh. `I've sent a memo to Mrs Morley a short while ago so she knows what's going on.' As she turned and began to walk towards the Armarium once more, Harry fell in step beside her, daring to put his hand on her waist and smiling as they walked away, a warm feeling of triumph sweeping through him at the sight of Riley's distinctly crestfallen visage.

Once behind the towering bookshelves and out of sight of Riley and Cady, Harry said in his best nonchalantly amused voice, `Did you notice the way Riley was looking at you?'

With a delicately arched eyebrow, Hermione looked up at him, genuinely surprised. `No, I didn't notice,' she said, then with a decidedly mischievous grin curving her lips she continued, `but then you probably didn't notice the way Cady was staring at you, did you?'

`You're right, I didn't notice,' said Harry, grinning back, his heart doing a happy somersault as he wondered if Hermione realised what her comment revealed.

Once the Book of Records had been returned to the Armarium and they were making their way back, Harry made certain that he walked particularly close to Hermione as they passed Riley's desk, his hand once more resting lightly, but possessively, on her back, in the dip of her waist. So preoccupied with making sure Riley noticed, Harry missed the look of wistful longing in Cady's eyes - although Hermione didn't…

*

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace at the Nook first, and was immediately struck by a sense of unusual quiet; there was not even a welcoming rustle of feathers from Frewin, whose perch was empty. She barely had time to turn back to the fireplace when Harry stepped out of a flare of green.

`Quiet, isn't it?' he commented, looking around.

At the sound of a loud, disdainful sniff, they both looked up at the painting over the fireplace.

`Of course it's quiet,' said Verity snippily, `everyone's gone, haven't they? I expect you two will also be rushing off to Hogwarts any minute now, too busy - again - to talk, even though you've promised -'

Hermione winced. `Verity, I'm so sorry, honestly - '

`Of course you are,' retorted Verity acidly, `but not sorry enough to spend a little time letting us know what is happening.'

`Verity, dear,' said Emrys patiently, `I have already said to you that Harry and Hermione will no doubt need to be away quickly. And I'm sure -' he shot a meaningful glance at them `- they will have plenty of time when they return from Hogwarts to explain things to us.'

Harry took Hermione's hand, tugging on it gently as he took a step towards the stairs.

Hermione looked up at the old couple apologetically. `Verity, we're really sorry for all this rushing about - but Emrys is right. And honestly, we will explain everything as soon as we can.'

Verity's distinctly cool glare and scornful silence seemed to follow them as they made their way to the stairs. Neither said a word until they were inside Hermione's flat, sighing with relief as they removed their cloaks.

`I think I'd rather be waylaid by Esmerelda than Verity these days,' said Harry with a grin, making Hermione laugh.

`What do you think Verity meant by “everyone's gone”? Esmerelda's the only one who will have left since she was planning on going into Hogsmeade first, and Dean and Neville wouldn't be home from work yet,' said Hermione as she stooped to pick up Crookshanks.

Harry glanced at his watch, frowning. `It's only four and Professor McGonagall said to be there at six. I think Verity's just got her nose out of joint because she can't be at the meeting and we haven't had time to fill her in as yet.'

`You're probably right,' replied Hermione, smiling indulgently at Crookshanks who was purring ecstatically as she scratched around his ears.

`Well, since we only have a couple of hours until we leave for Hogwarts, we'd better get on with it,' sighed Harry, pushing his fingers through his unruly hair. `I'll just go and see to Hedwig; I won't be long.'

Hermione nodded in acknowledgement. `That's it for tonight, I'm afraid,' she murmured to Crookshanks as she carried him to his basket. As she straightened up after gently placing him on his bed, she continued, `Well, I suppose it's best I get your dinner while Harry checks Hedwig so we can start as soon as he gets back.'

When Harry returned a short while later, Hermione had fed Crookshanks then made some coffee and put out some cauldron cakes; she was sitting at the table, parchment, quills and ink at the ready.

Sitting down beside her and taking a sip of his coffee, Harry looked at Hermione. She looks the way I feel, he thought, a bit grim and strained.

`Feels as though we're on the brink of something pretty awful, doesn't it?' said Hermione quietly.

Putting down his coffee, Harry reached out and took one of her hands in his, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

`We are, but I believe we'll come out on top in the end.' We have to believe that - we all have to believe we'll overcome this threat…

*

Minerva McGonagall had asked those attending the meeting to arrive at Hogwarts between five and half-past that afternoon. She felt it best that all necessary introductions and greetings be concluded by six o'clock, thereby ensuring the meeting could begin immediately upon Harry and Hermione's arrival.

At the request of Professor McGonagall, Hagrid had made his way to the ante-chamber off the Great Hall shortly before five o'clock, ready to greet everyone as they arrived, while she continued to work in her office and await Harry and Hermione's arrival.

Molly and Arthur were first to step out of the fireplace, quickly followed by Ginny, their three eldest sons and their wives, then Fred and George, all of whom had met up at the Burrow. Remus and Tonks were next and Hagrid had barely said hello to them, when Mad-Eye Moody emerged, his gruff greetings interrupted by the arrival of a very nervous Esmerelda. Carrying a bulging shopping bag, she immediately moved to stand with Ginny whom she knew best of everyone there, although she had met most of Ginny's family at one time or another.

`Hello, Ginevra,' said Esmerelda, looking around with a tentative smile. `Do you know who else is coming this evening?'

`Mum and Dad said the Minister was coming, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards. I think besides them, Ron and Dean and Neville are still to come.'

Esmerelda's bright blue eyes widened. `The Minister himself?' she asked in a hushed voice.

Ginny nodded, smiling gently at her landlady's wonderment.

`Do you know what time Harry and Hermione are coming?'

Ginny felt her stomach clench at the sound of those two names. `Hagrid said they'll be here about six,' she said, striving to sound normal despite the tightness in her throat.

Esmerelda gave her a sharp glance. `Are you not well, Ginevra? You do look rather tired and a little pale.'

Ginny shrugged. `It's been a trying week,' she said and Esmerelda, apparently satisfied with this explanation, nodded in agreement.

`I'm just going to say hello to your mum and dad,' said Esmerelda and Ginny nodded in acknowledgement, watching as the sprightly witch made her way across the room to speak with Molly and Arthur. Then she looked up at the portraits lining the room, noticing that most of the paintings' occupants were snoozing happily in their frames. She wondered, for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, how she would feel when she saw Harry. And saw him with Hermione - for while Hermione may not yet have stopped thinking of Harry as simply a friend, something told Ginny that she would, sooner or later. Probably sooner, if Harry has anything to do with it. She smiled sadly to herself. I know Harry, and I know he'll do something; he wouldn't be prepared to just sit back and accept he had no chance with Hermione. A slightly bitter smile lifted the corners of her mouth. And since Harry is pretty damn hot on top of everything else, I don't think Hermione stands a chance! For a fleeting moment, Ginny thought desperately of walking to the fireplace and Flooing home to avoid having to face Harry and Hermione and hide her feelings. Enough! she chastised herself. This meeting is more important than my feelings at this moment. She unconsciously squared her shoulders and took a calming breath.

The flare of green announcing another arrival drew her gaze to the fireplace as Dean stepped into the room; he saw her immediately and smiled, waving. Hagrid remained beside the fireplace, greeting each arrival and she watched as they shook hands, both obviously delighted to see each other again. As green light flashed behind him, Dean left Hagrid to welcome the new arrival and made straight for Ginny.

`How are you?' he asked when he reached her, his voice and expression both full of concern.

`I'll be all right,' she replied with an unconvincing smile.

`Are you sure? It's not even a week since -'

`I know,' Ginny interrupted, unexpected tears filling her eyes, `and I suppose I'm not really all right. But I will be. I just need time.'

`Ginny, if you're not up to this meeting tonight, I'll take you home. We can find out from one of the others what we need to know.'

Ginny took a deep breath and swallowed her tears as she gave Dean a grateful smile. `Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to have to get used to seeing Harry and -' she bit her lip and quickly glanced away, horrified; she'd almost said, “Harry and Hermione together”! Which they weren't. Yet.

Dean naturally assumed she was upset talking about Harry and put a sympathetic arm around her shoulders. `You will get used to it, in time. But since it's so soon after - well, I just thought it might be too overwhelming. Are you absolutely certain you don't want me to take you home?'

Ginny tilted her chin determinedly as she looked up at Dean. `Absolutely. I need to be here.'

Dean dropped his arm, looking at her with admiration. `I'll stay with you,' he told her and Ginny found this rather reassuring, smiling her thanks for his support.

Just then, Ron arrived and Ginny and Dean went to join her parents and other brothers in greeting him; Luna arrived next, then Seamus and Colin. They were all so busy talking amongst themselves they didn't notice Neville arrive until he walked over and called out to them all. For a short time the serious nature of the evening was lost in the warmth and camaraderie of friends and family, broken up only when the Ministry officials began to arrive; shortly afterwards, Hagrid announced it was time to move out into the Great Hall as the Professor was due to arrive shortly with Harry and Hermione.

*

It was five minutes after six when first Hermione then Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the familiar surroundings of the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts. The Head herself was seated at her desk, quill in hand. She looked up at them, watching as they removed their cloaks; they had both changed into jeans and jumpers for the meeting, knowing it would be cooler at Hogwarts. Hermione was wearing her hair out, and she fussed a little with the long, thick curls tumbling down her back; Harry felt his fingers twitch with longing, wanting to reach out and touch the soft brown tresses.

`Miss Granger, Mr Potter - I'm so glad you're here,' said Professor McGonagall as she rose to her feet, dropping her quill back into its stand; her relief at the sight of them was evident in her voice. `I trust that you've managed to uncover more information since we last spoke, and that you'll be able to explain more fully what the current situation is?' she asked, sounding tense.

Harry and Hermione nodded. `We certainly know more than we did when we first contacted you, Professor,' said Harry, exchanging a glance with Hermione.

`Good,' said the professor briskly as she stood straight, clasping her hands in front of her, `then we can proceed to the Great Hall. I believe everyone has arrived, and they are no doubt as eager as I to hear what you have to say.'

*

Harry, Hermione and Professor McGonagall made their way down to the Great Hall, chosen as the venue for this meeting given that it would be difficult to fit thirty people comfortably in the Professor's office. Hermione commented that it was quite fortuitous this crisis had occurred during the summer holidays, ensuring the castle was virtually empty.

In the Great Hall, the High Table had been moved back away from the steps so that chairs could be placed along both sides; the four house tables stood empty under the starry ceiling. As Harry, Hermione and the Professor entered the hall, silence descended over the crowd gathered on the steps of the dais and all eyes were on them as they walked the length of the Great Hall between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Hermione sought out Ron in the crowd, giving him a quick wave which he returned; she then noticed Luna standing beside him, their hands clasped, and smiled in greeting. Luna's silvery grey eyes widened and she gave Hermione a delighted smile.

`Please, everyone, take your seats,' said Professor McGonagall, her voice clearly heard in the silence which was then immediately swallowed by the sound of numerous footfalls and low murmurs as people acceded to the Professor's request.

Harry and Hermione followed the Professor around the end of the table to their seats in the centre of the side facing the empty hall; Harry sat on the Professor's right and Hermione beside him. Once seated, they were able to look around the table, nodding and smiling in greeting, Harry's throat tightening at the sight of Ginny, seated on the other side of the table towards his left; she looked drawn and pale and barely glanced at him. Hermione, too, noticed Ginny's strained expression and her heart went out to her friend.

All the Weasleys had come, Luna, Seamus and Colin returning with Ron; Dean and Neville had Flooed straight from their respective offices. It was a few seconds before Harry recognised a tall, dark-haired witch with a face as thin as the rest of her; it was Maxine Morley, the Head of Hermione's department and beside her was an over-awed Lucy Cloud, clutching a sheaf of parchment and a small, business-like quill. Harry was pleased to see Remus and Tonks as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt, now the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; he was amused by the sight of Mad-Eye Moody delivering whispered advice to the Head of the Auror Office, Gawain Robards, who'd replaced the now deceased Rufus Scrimgeour when Scrimgeour had become Minister of Magic. He saw the current Minister, Alcott Brayden, talking quietly to a very nervous looking Esmerelda and when his eyes came to rest on the person seated at the end of the table to his right, a huge grin split his face and he waved enthusiastically at Hagrid, who returned Harry's grin with an equally huge one of his own, inadvertently knocking over his goblet of pumpkin juice as he waved back.

Once everyone was seated, Professor McGonagall rose, looking in turn at each of the faces ranged around the table - some apprehensive, some expectant - and took a deep, preparatory breath.

`Good evening everyone. I would have preferred any other reason for this gathering; nevertheless, the truth is that we face a new threat to our safety and peace in our lives and those of our friends and loved ones. I'm sure you've all read the letter from Mr Potter and Miss Granger, but there is a lot more to tell you, especially after the information gathered over the last two days.' The Professor went on to describe the events culminating in the death of a Muggle they now knew to be a Mr Arnold Fuller. She read out the letter Harry had received from the self-styled “Disciples of the Dark One”, explaining that during the research it engendered, a certain book had come to light and had provided a lot of information relating to the Dark One. The Headmistress finished with, `Mr Potter and Miss Granger believe - and I see no reason to disagree with them - that Voldemort was the First Disciple referred to by the Dark One and it is for the destruction of Voldemort that the Dark One seeks revenge on Mr Potter and those close to him. As for the remainder of the information gathered since we were all first alerted, I will let Mr Potter and Miss Granger explain that to you.'

Without a word being said, all eyes turned to Harry and Hermione, who had earlier agreed between themselves that Hermione would speak initially, so she stood, giving the Headmistress a nod of thanks as she did so.

`Good evening, everyone. Well, there is a story behind our acquisition of the Book of Records, the book from which we've gained as much information as we'll probably find anywhere on the Dark One. It's not really relevant how we acquired the book at this point; however, what we've learnt from this book is invaluable. I'm afraid what I have to tell you may sound suspiciously like a history lesson, and I'd appreciate it greatly if you would refrain from telling Professor Binns I'm poaching on his territory.' There were quite a few chuckles around the table at Hermione's last remark while Fred called out, `Hermione for History of Magic Professor!'

Hermione smiled at Fred before straightening and unconsciously squaring her shoulders. `All right, down to business everyone.'

Hermione then described what they knew about the workings of the Book of Records without referring to its original source or current ownership; she and Harry had agreed they'd speak to Dean in private at the first opportunity following the meeting.

She then went on to recount their first foray into the book's contents, although she could tell from the perplexed and mystified expressions on the faces around her that her story was creating countless questions, clamouring to be answered.

When she ended with the death of Cynric at the hands of the Duke of Dorset, there was a moment of utter silence. Before anyone else could break it, Hermione said, `I know you will all have many questions, but please be patient for just a little while longer. We ventured into the Book a second time and Harry will now speak to you, as it ultimately concerns a place that he alone of all us here, has seen.'

No one said anything as Harry rose to his feet, waiting until Hermione was once more seated before speaking.

Looking around at his silent, expectant audience, Harry felt a surge of unpleasant déjà vu, and for just a moment he was flung back in time to the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, the venue of many such gatherings and meetings during the war; taking a deep breath to dispel the bleak memories crowding his mind, he began to speak.

`I'm sure you are all wondering about the meaning of what Hermione has just told you; I hope it will become clearer as I go on. I don't want to waste time over fine details about our second trip; instead, I will simply explain what it was we learned from that trip. To begin with, we came to know that Edmar, Duke of Dorset, was the first “chosen one” in a long, continuing line that stretches to the current day.' Harry paused by way of acknowledging the shifting and shuffling that greeted his use of the words, “chosen one”, knowing most of the Wizarding world considered they applied only to him. `It was the beginning of the evil that culminated in the wizard known as Tom Riddle - the last of the chosen ones.' Harry paused once more, this time to allow the shocked murmurings to subside.

`The Dark One that now threatens us is the remnant of that ancient evil. Its existence ensures the continuation of evil on an unprecedented level - an unacceptable level. The Dark One is the essence of evil and we believe that it must be destroyed.'

`But if Voldemort is gone, how is it this Dark One is still carrying on?' asked Fred, his expression perplexed.

`I'm just about to explain that,' replied Harry, reaching for the goblet of pumpkin juice placed on the table for him. He took a mouthful and cleared his throat before continuing. `Perhaps the best way to explain it is to say that the Dark One is an original vessel of evil - it dispensed evil through wizards it chose and when that wizard died - being a separate entity - his death did not affect the Dark One, who simply chose a new successor. The first wizard ever chosen was Edmar. I'll read you a short paragraph about him that Hermione unearthed during her research.' Harry picked reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of parchment which he unfolded. `Edmar of Devonshire of the Noble House of Ryedille, now Duke of Dorsetshire,' Harry read, `in this Year of Ascension to the Throne of Henry the IV of the Noble House of Lancaster, the said Edmar of Devonshire having defeated and shamed Wharton the Great, Warlock of the Defeated House of Wyllkes, gladly pays homage to the greatness and generosity of the Overlord of the Dark Realm, come to this land recently, who saw fit to elevate his humble servant, Edmar, to the exalted rank of Lord of Evil. As Lord of Evil, Edmar pledges, without reserve, his own life, and those of his minions, first and last, to the eternal service of the Overlord of the Dark Realm.'

Harry heard a long, low whistle and glanced up, although he wasn't able to see who it was.

`While the history of the Lords of Evil down through the ages is pretty fascinating, it's not really relevant to us right now, aside from the fact that as each of them was defeated or died, they passed into history as evil individuals - and consequently there was no connection made between them, so each of them was eventually lost to memory. Hermione and I were lucky enough to come across a chapter in the Book of Records written by a wizard who devoted his life to researching the source of evil: the Dark One, or, as he was originally known, the Overlord of the Dark Realm. This wizard wrote of the whereabouts of the Dark Realm, which we believe - and hope - can be reached through a place I visited once, during my sixth year here at Hogwarts. I was taken there by Professor Dumbledore. Some of you know of that visit to the cave by the sea, most of you don't. We now know that the lake within that cave is connected with the Dead River that runs through the Dark Realm. We believe it is possible to use the lake within the cave to get to the Dead River and so to the Dark Realm. Once the Dark Realm is entered, then we hope to destroy the Dark One at its source.'

`Harry, does that mean if the Dark One is destroyed, then evil itself will cease to exist?'

Harry turned to look at Ron and shook his head. `Unfortunately, no. The Dark One, we believe, is a single, specific source of evil - a magical and very powerful and potent source at that, given how long he's survived. But his destruction won't prevent bad or evil individuals from continuing to exist. Think of him as infecting the wizards he chooses - that's how he thrives and grows. When that wizard dies, he needs to find a new host to infect to ensure his survival.'

`Do you know how long it is between one of these chosen ones dying and the next one being found?' asked Neville.

Harry looked down at Hermione and said quietly, `This one's yours.'

Harry remained standing as Hermione rose to her feet beside him. She looked along the table at Neville and said, `Since the days of Edmar, it seems that a new chosen one usually emerges within a year. The length of time that has passed since Voldemort was destroyed is far longer than in any other case.'

`Why is that, do y'know?' asked Dean, looking from one to the other.

`We're not sure,' Harry told him. `We have speculated though, or rather, Hermione has speculated.' He turned and grinned at her and Hermione smiled back at him.

`I think,' began Hermione, noticing as she addressed Dean that Ginny, sitting beside him, was keeping her gaze fixed on Dean without once looking in Harry or Hermione's direction, `that perhaps the Dark One was weakened far more by Voldemort's destruction than at any other time in his existence; whether this was due to the strength of his connection with Voldemort or the magnitude of Voldemort's destruction - or perhaps both - I'm not sure. But I believe that's the best explanation for why it's been so long since the Dark One was last active - he's basically been recuperating or regenerating, if you like.'

`Hermione, if I may,' said Arthur, seated a little way down the table from Dean and Ginny, `could I ask whether you know who the Dark One's chosen one is this time round?'

Hermione shook her head as Harry said firmly, `Not yet,' then continued, `but that's our main priority.' He looked straight at Arthur, wondering whether there was any anger or bitterness towards him hidden behind his questioning countenance; Harry couldn't discern anything of that nature - Arthur appeared as he always had.

`This Arthur - Arnold? - Fuller - he was a Muggle, wasn't he?' queried Arthur. `Why was he used? Why not a wizard?'

`More speculation, I'm afraid,' Hermione told him, while she also wondered about Arthur's feelings towards Harry as she continued, `I think that although the Dark One has taken a lot longer to recover from the effects of Voldemort's destruction, he wasn't totally annihilated and so he has still managed to regenerate, for the want of a better word; it's just taken time. But he hasn't yet regained enough strength to enable him to use a wizard as yet. The mind of a wizard, being magical, would naturally be more resistant and so that's why he used a Muggle - easier prey for him with his reduced powers.'

In the thoughtful but strained silence that followed, Hermione became aware of the sound of quills scratching on parchment. She glanced towards the Ministry contingent, seated together at the other end of the table. Lucy was bent over, whispering furiously to what Hermione assumed was a Quick Quotes Quill; the Minister, seated between Kingsley and Gawain Robards was having a whispered conversation with them both while Maxine Morley, the head of Hermione's department, was looking back at her with an expression of intense concentration. Hermione was familiar with that look and knew she wouldn't get through another day at work without being called to her boss's office for an in-depth conversation.

`Any idea where these Disciples, as they call themselves, have sprung from, Hermione?' asked Mrs Morley.

Hermione shook her head. `We're not really sure about that, although Harry and I both think it highly likely that one of them will be the Dark One's next chosen one - or First Disciple as they now seem to prefer.'

`Highly likely, but not necessarily guaranteed?'

`No, not guaranteed unfortunately; that would've made our work a lot easier. As it is, those Disciples will be our starting point and we'll be needing your department's assistance, Kingsley,' finished Hermione, looking at the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, `and of course yours, Mr Robards,' she finished, moving her gaze to the Head of the Auror Office; both men nodded. Hermione then looked at Alcott Brayden and said gravely, `Minister, if you have any questions at this point, please ask; we'll do our best to answer them.'

The Minister shook his head. `I think you've both managed to cover the main points, Hermione. I'm sure everyone else here, however, is full of questions. Since I'll be able to see you and Harry at the Ministry if needs be, I think it best if you answer the questions of others here tonight and perhaps give them a little peace of mind if that's possible.'

For a few seconds, no one spoke following the Minister's words. Harry looked around the table; there were white, dismayed faces staring at them from amongst the bowed heads of those talking in furiously fast undertones to each other. Professor McGonagall rose to her feet then, drawing all eyes as she did so and an uneasy silence once more settled over the table.

`Thank you, Minister.' The Professor turned and looked at Harry and Hermione as she said, `Firstly, I'd like to propose that we all meet here again next week. This will give Mr Potter and Miss Granger time to correlate the information they've gathered, consult with the various departments, and decide on the best course to be taken. As the Minister pointed out, since they'll be working within the confines of the Ministry, it will be a simple matter to ensure the Minister and the relevant departments are kept up-to-date and informed of their progress.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, Hermione nodding almost imperceptibly before Harry in turn nodded firstly in the direction of the Minister, then at the Headmistress. `We do agree that would be best,' said Harry, `so perhaps next Thursday night if that's all right with everyone?'

There was much nodding of heads and an accompanying murmur of assent from around the table.

`Then I think now is the perfect time for some light refreshments before we bombard Miss Granger and Mr Potter with questions,' announced the Headmistress and at her words, the centre of the table was instantly filled with pots of tea and coffee, jugs of milk and platters of small sandwiches and many kinds of biscuits and cakes. Hermione smiled when she realised the china plate in front of the Headmistress was full of Ginger Newts, certain its positioning wasn't a coincidence…

*

It was nearly ten o'clock before it looked as though anyone was going to leave; Harry and Hermione had answered what seemed to be an almost endless stream of questions and looked visibly tired by the time Professor McGonagall called a halt to the proceedings, declaring it was time for everyone to depart.

Harry had been relieved when Arthur and Molly had approached him and assured him they weren't about to hex him for breaking up with Ginny. Hermione had hoped that she'd be able to talk to Ginny alone, if only for a few minutes, but it proved impossible since only she and Harry could answer everyone's questions and so they were effectively kept by each other's side the whole evening.

While Ginny had found the thought of Harry and Hermione together rather painful, the actual sight of them, side by side, totally at ease in each other's company with their rapport quite obvious for all to see, was even more so. Hermione did notice that Dean didn't leave Ginny's side all night and was glad that her friend had that support. She did manage to catch Ginny's eye on a number of occasions and smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging and sympathetic manner each time.

Hermione also couldn't help but notice that Lucy, once her official duties were over, had made a point of singling out Neville and speaking to him. To Hermione's amusement, he looked rather flustered by this unexpected attention.

After Professor McGonagall had announced the evening was done, Hermione and Harry took their leave of everyone as quickly as possible without appearing rude and Flooed home.

As they stepped out of the fireplace at the Nook, Hermione noticed Frewin was once more on his perch, asleep with his head under his wing. They also found Verity and Emrys snoring softly in their rocking chairs, for which they were very grateful.

As they made their way upstairs, they both began to yawn, and when Hermione told Harry that she had hoped they'd have time to talk over the night before going to bed, he suggested with a tired smile that it would be best to wait until tomorrow.

`I'll be ready by seven and I'll come over for breakfast. We can talk then,' he told her and Hermione nodded in agreement.

When they reached Hermione's flat, she turned and leant back against the wall beside her door, her head dropping back as she smiled wearily up at Harry.

`If I wasn't so tired, I think another one of those lovely baths you ran for me the other night would be wonderful right now.' Stifling a yawn, Hermione continued, `But I'm afraid I'd fall sleep in it!'

Harry lifted his left hand so that it was resting on the wall beside Hermione's head, his other hand brushing her cheek in a brief, gentle caress. `I promise I'll do that for you again as soon as possible,' he told her, his voice low and tender.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat - the look in Harry's eyes and the huskiness in his voice combined with his soft touch, immediately altered the atmosphere between them, electrifying it. Suddenly, the work, worries and cares of the last couple of days seemed to vanish and Hermione felt her heart begin to race as she gazed into Harry's eyes. Harry raised his right hand once more, but instead of a fleeting caress, his fingers now curved around the side of her neck, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across the line of her cheekbone, sending unexpected, but highly delightful sensations coursing through Hermione's body.

Hermione thought she may have stopped breathing as Harry's head began to drop closer, and closer - and just as she could feel the delicious warmth of his breath on her lips, a tiny moan of anticipation escaped her which had a galvanising effect on Harry; he closed his mouth swiftly and firmly over hers as he pressed against her, his hand dropping from the wall so that he was cupping her face, preventing her from escaping the kiss - not that Hermione had any thought of doing that. On the contrary, the second Harry's lips had come into contact with hers, she'd instinctively wrapped her arms around him. They were both so caught up in their kiss that they didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs and so it was that Dean and Neville, intending to invite them down for coffee, stopped and stared, open-mouthed, at the entwined couple, lost in what was obviously a very passionate kiss…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

I've actually finished the next two chapters and the Eighth Interlude, but they need “revision, polishing and Kirsti-fying” - so I'm hoping *fingers crossed* to post at least weekly from now on. So if all goes well, I'll “see” you next Thursday! Cheers dears, Janie xoxo

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Author's Note

So nice to “see” you all again! *smiles and waves* Hope you don't mind, but this chapter is basically just about Harry and Hermione…

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In which Dean and Neville recover from an unexpected surprise after which they stay up late, talking; Harry and Hermione forget all about being tired and while they don't finish their coffee, they do have a very interesting chat and share yet another kiss…

Harry and Hermione were spared the embarrassment of knowing they'd been seen because Dean, after a few seconds of gaping at them, elbow-nudged Neville who was standing on the step below him, then turned and grabbed his friend's arm and led the way back down the stairs.

Once Dean had shut the door of his flat behind them, they stood and stared at each other for a few seconds.

`What the hell was that?' exclaimed Dean, looking outraged.

`I'd say it was a pretty serious bit of snogging,' replied Neville despondently, adding in an undertone not meant for Dean's ears, `Damn it!' But even as he said it, he realised he didn't actually feel overly shocked or surprised. Disappointed is how I feel, he thought glumly, disappointed that it wasn't me kissing Hermione. Disappointed to realise that Hermione will probably never kiss me the way she was kissing Harry…

Dean was too busy trying to process what he'd just seen to hear what Neville was saying, quietly or otherwise. He marched across to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of Ogden's out of the cupboard along with two glasses.

`To hell with coffee,' he told Neville who'd taken a seat at the bench. As Dean set the whisky and glasses down, Neville found himself reliving the memory of Harry and Hermione in the Two Hoots the previous weekend and his initial feeling in the pub that he was somehow vying with Harry for Hermione's affections; then, after returning to Harry's flat to watch a movie, the way Hermione had curled up beside Harry and fallen asleep with her head nestled in the crook of his neck, Harry's arm around her shoulders. He had realised that night that Harry had feelings for Hermione - but it was on this night he'd been made unexpectedly aware that Hermione must reciprocate those feelings; after all, surely you wouldn't kiss someone like that unless you had feelings for them...

Dean had poured them a drink each and holding up his glass, he said to Neville, `Here's to surprises!'

`Good or bad?' asked Neville dryly, picking up his glass and touching it to Dean's.

`Either. Both,' said Dean, then emptied his glass in one swallow.

`I'm curious,' said Neville, sipping his drink a little more sedately, `as to why you would be upset by Harry and Hermione having a snog?'

Something in Neville's tone caught Dean's attention and he studied his friend's face carefully for a short while before replying, `I'll tell you why I'm upset, if you'll tell me why you are.'

Neville shrugged, watching as Dean topped up his drink; while being naturally reticent, he'd never deliberately hidden his feelings for Hermione, it was just that no one had ever asked him. `I suppose I've been in love with Hermione for what feels like forever.'

Dean's hand froze in midair, the bottle suspended above his glass; he stared at Neville.

`You? In love with Hermione?'

Neville gave his friend a self-deprecating smile as he nodded. `Why wouldn't I be? Aside from being downright beautiful, at least to me, she's clever, smart and she's also kind and gentle and caring.'

`Well, yes, I guess she is - I suppose I understand - I just never thought of anyone being in love with Hermione except Ron.'

`And Viktor Krum,' put in Neville.

Dean grinned. `Forgot about that one.' He took another sip of his drink before saying, `But Harry? It's just - well, it's a bit weird.'

`Why?' asked Neville. `Any weirder than me being in love with her?'

Dean frowned into his glass. `I suppose not. It's just that I'm now wondering if Harry broke up with Ginny because of his feelings for Hermione.'

Neville sighed. `Could be. But I've been living here at the Nook with them for a few years now and until very recently I never noticed anything with Harry and Hermione. Not until after he split up with Ginny, at any rate.' Although there were times at Hogwarts when I did wonder about them…

`You're not just sticking up for him?' asked Dean.

Neville shook his head. `Nope. I've always been very aware of Hermione and erm, well,' Neville paused, looking distinctly uncomfortable, `also very aware if anyone's noticed her, if you know what I mean.'

`Yeah, I do know what you mean.'

`Well, I never noticed Harry noticing Hermione before last Saturday, so definitely not before he broke up with Ginny.'

A thoughtful frown creased Dean's brow. `Well, I suppose it's not too hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's always been one of the most honest blokes I know.' If Dean sounded a little begrudging, it was because he was feeling rather conflicted. On one hand he was feeling furious with Harry on Ginny's behalf for appearing to have “moved on” from her so easily after hurting her so much, while on the other hand he was glad Harry was now “out of the way”, giving him hope for his own future with Ginny; despite knowing it was illogical to do so, he couldn't help but feel that this somehow showed disloyalty to Ginny

`So you're upset about this on Ginny's behalf?' asked Neville.

It was now Dean's turn to look uncomfortable; he didn't meet Neville's eyes as he mumbled something that sounded like, `Well, yeah. Sort of.'

Neville's eyebrows shot up. `So you have a thing for Ginny, do you?'

Dean now looked distinctly embarrassed. He shrugged, then as he caught Neville's eye, he couldn't help but chuckle. `Yeah, I admit it. I never stopped having a thing for her. Not since we were at school. I was pretty pissed off when she took up with Harry after breaking up with me.'

`You haven't stopped liking her since school? Seriously?' asked Neville incredulously.

Dean's smile said it all. Then Neville burst out laughing. `We're a fine pair, aren't we?! You in love with Harry's ex and me in love with Harry's latest!'

They spontaneously touched their glasses together and drained them, still laughing as they put them down.

`So, you gonna tell Ginny about that?' asked Neville, holding out his glass for a refill and jerking his head upwards by way of indicating what they'd seen on the floor above.

`I don't think I should,' said Dean, `I mean, it's not really any of my business and I don't think it'd help Ginny right now.'

`And it might look to her as though you're trying to make yourself look good in her eyes by making Harry look bad. Never a good thing.'

Dean looked mildly surprised at this notion, then shrugged and nodded in agreement.

Neville then asked, `So now that we've sorted out our love lives, what d'you think of the whole situation with this Dark One and that book of Hermione's?' As he finished speaking, Neville was suddenly struck by the memory of a somewhat tipsy Hermione offering to show himself and Harry a “special book”; he realised in that instant that she must've been talking about the Book of Records she and Harry were using in their research. He explained all this to Dean who, like Neville, wondered how the book had been acquired. So it was that the two former school mates finished their drink, switched to coffee and went on to talk until past midnight.

*

When Harry and Hermione's kiss finally came to an end, Harry dropped his hands from Hermione's face and wrapped his arms around her, holding her closely against him, his cheek resting against her hair. He wished he could hold her like that every day - he wished he could tell her how much he loved her, but right at that moment, more than anything he wished he could pick her up and carry her to bed…

`Harry?' Hermione's muffled voice interrupted his wishful thinking.

Loosening his arms so that Hermione could turn her head to look up at him, Harry murmured, `Yes?'

`I think we need to do something about this kissing-each-other-at-random-moments thing.'

Harry stared at her for just a second before giving her a lopsided grin; he knew that unfortunately, Hermione's idea of what the “something” they needed to do didn't match his current idea of the “something” he desperately wanted to do...

`What do you think we should do then?' he asked, willing to go along with whatever she suggested, desperate for anything that would distract him from the undeniably wanton thoughts churning in his head.

Hermione smiled. `Get out of the hallway, for a start.'

Harry smiled back, then reluctantly dropped his arms and followed Hermione into her flat, shutting the door behind them; not surprisingly, they both seemed to have forgotten how exhausted they'd felt a mere five minutes ago…

`Tea or coffee?' asked Hermione, automatically glancing at the basket over by the fireplace; Crookshanks was curled up in it, fast asleep.

`Coffee, please,' said Harry, walking into the kitchen behind Hermione. Leaning back against the bench and folding his arms, found a simple, private enjoyment in watching her go about opening cupboards and filling the kettle, her movements and hands all naturally graceful.

Hermione was acutely aware of Harry's scrutiny, while at the same time doing her utmost to appear as though she was oblivious to it. She took her time, partly to make sure she didn't fumble anything, partly because she needed to think before she and Harry sat down with the coffee she was making and talked. But talk about what? The fact that I've discovered kissing Harry is…good? What a pathetically feeble description, Hermione! she smiled to herself. Kissing Harry is…exciting. Hmmm, better. And then a thought presented itself, making her fumble slightly with the coffee jar. Sexy. Kissing Harry was sexy. And hot. Very! Harry was sexy. And hot. Very! Hermione risked a quick glance at Harry, smiling nervously when she saw he was still watching her, his green eyes clouded with some emotion she didn't dare try to fathom just at that moment. She had the illogical and uneasy feeling he'd somehow heard her thoughts, although she knew that was impossible. Then she wondered frantically how it was she'd started thinking of Harry as sexy and why kissing Harry made her feel - well… Enough for now! I know we've been so preoccupied and busy recently that I haven't had a chance to give any time to thinking through this whole kissing Harry thing. And what would Ginny say? Hermione froze, her fingers curled around the handle of the fridge. What would Ginny say? What would she say to Ginny? `Ginny, how are you? By the way, I've found out why you were so hung up on kissing Harry.' Ginny. Her best friend. Not once since she and Harry had kissed the first time had she given a thought to Ginny!

`Hermione? You all right?'

The sound of Harry's voice startled her and she jumped. Then realising she was still holding the fridge door handle, Hermione pulled on it and said as casually as she could manage, although her voice sounded shaky to her own ears, `I'm fine - I was just thinking.'

`About what?'

Hermione lifted a carton of milk out of the door shelf and before she could stop herself, she said, `Ginny.'

`Oh.'

Hermione drew out her wand as she carried the milk across the kitchen, levitating the two mugs of hot coffee to the bench beside Harry, then poured some milk into both after which, with a casual wave of his hand, Harry returned the milk to fridge. By unspoken agreement, they remained standing where they were rather than sitting down at the table or up at the bench; they each picked up their coffee, Hermione turning and leaning back against the bench, mirroring Harry.

`Why are you thinking about Ginny?' asked Harry quietly.

`She didn't speak to you tonight, did she?' asked Hermione, as though she hadn't heard Harry's question.

`No, but I didn't expect her to.'

`Mr and Mrs Weasley did.'

`Yes, and they were very kind and understanding, I have to say.'

`You didn't expect that?'

Harry shrugged. `I wasn't sure what to expect from them, actually.'

`Dean didn't leave her side the whole night.'

`I noticed that too. I'm glad she had his support. I have a strong feeling he's been carrying a torch for Ginny since school.'

Hermione nodded in agreement. Neither said anything for a minute as they sipped cautiously at their hot coffee. Then Hermione spoke again.

`I've only just realised that I hadn't thought of Ginny once since you - since we - I mean after we…' Hermione's voice faded away; for some reason she found that the words, “we kissed”, just wouldn't come out.

Harry suffered no such qualms. `You mean since we kissed that first time?'

Hermione winced slightly, then nodded, staring into her coffee cup. Harry and she had kissed today. And yesterday. And the day before yesterday. Three days, three kisses. Only three days? It feels like three months, so much has happened…

Harry had been somewhat horrified when Hermione said she'd been thinking of Ginny. He was afraid it may mean that Hermione would pull away from him, believing it was wrong for them to go beyond friendship because of Ginny. He couldn't bring himself to contemplate such a thing and Harry's jaw tightened as he found himself feeling distinctly aggravated at this prospect. As Hermione's silence continued, his aggravation increased, building up swiftly. His fear and insecurity, however baseless, then forced their way out and he found himself speaking with no knowledge of what he was going to say, each word forming as he spoke it. He listened to himself, appalled at what he said, even as he said it.

`Hermione, I really hope you're not going to tell me that “this ends here” or “we can't let this happen” or some such utter rubbish just because you're worried about Ginny or what people might think.'

Harry grimaced as he closed his eyes, feeling instant regret for even to his own ears, his voice sounded petulant and his words puerile. And because his eyes were shut, he felt rather than saw Hermione stiffening with indignation beside him.

After what seemed an interminable silence, Harry slowly opened his eyes, daring only to stare fixedly down into his coffee. He wondered if the painful band tightening around his chest meant he'd stopped breathing. He was in a quandary with no clear idea of what he could say, or do, to resolve it. He tried to speak, to say her name, but instead of “Hermione”, he heard some peculiar, strangled sound.

And then Hermione finally spoke, and each softly-spoken word was like a jagged shaft, piercing his heart.

`Is that what you truly think of me, Harry? That I would heartlessly dismiss you, someone I've known and cared about, and respected, since I was eleven?'

Harry could only shake his head, feeling numb with despair.

`Harry?'

Harry lifted his head slowly, staring straight ahead, and when he finally managed to speak, it was in a hoarse whisper.

`I'm so sorry, Hermione. More than anything, I wish I could take back what I said. I don't know why I said it - it's not what I think of you at all. I think I'm just -' Harry hesitated, not sure he wanted to say the first word that had come into his head, then since he knew it to be true, he took a deep breath and continued, `- I'm scared, Hermione.'

`Harry, please look at me.'

Harry turned his head slowly and looked down at Hermione. His heart skipped several beats as he saw hurt - caused by me! - mingled with heartrending tenderness and a touch of uncertainty.

`How do you feel about me?' Hermione asked him softly.

Harry stared at Hermione, his initial amazement quickly replaced with admiration. She has more courage than I do, he thought. I'd be too afraid to ask that question right now. Taking another deep breath to steady himself, Harry turned and put his mug down on the bench, gently taking Hermione's from her as well and placing it beside his. Then he took her hands in his, drawing her around so that they were facing each other.

I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to answer that, Hermione, he thought, desperately afraid of saying the wrong thing again. Without having the actual words for it, Harry nonetheless recognised that Hermione had put herself in a very vulnerable position by asking how he felt about her; it filled his heart with hope and an exquisite tenderness for her - and love so poignant, his breath caught in his throat.

Should I tell you how much I love you? No, I can't blurt that out just yet - too soon! I like you very much, Hermione? Bit weak. I guess honesty is the best policy.

`Hermione, you are one of my best friends - you're my closest friend. My dearest friend. You always will be. But I no longer only think of you as just my friend. You've become so much more than that. And I know this probably isn't the best time to tell you this - and I know it may feel a bit strange at first, because of you and Ron and me and Ginny - but I want to…' Harry faltered, unsure of how to continue.

Then words were forgotten - they didn't matter - because Hermione smiled at him and the look in her eyes caught him and held him spellbound; it was as if her thoughts were there for him to see in the warm, lustrous brown depths of her gaze: He watched as her perception of him altered, he could see as her newly discovered awareness of her own feelings unfolded; he saw, too, understanding of what it was he'd been trying to say and as this fascinating journey came to an end, he was certain he caught a glimpse of desire to match his own…

`I think,' whispered Hermione, sounding slightly breathless, `I think that I might feel the same, Harry - that I see you as more than just my best friend. I can hardly believe it, but there it is.'

With Hermione's words, Harry suddenly felt his whole body become ultra-light, as though he was floating - suspended in mid-air. He wanted to jump and cry out - he wanted to laugh! He fought down a wild impulse to pick her up and swing her around and shout for joy, but his irrepressibly radiant smile and glowing eyes gave him away and Hermione's expression became uncertain and apprehensive as though the strength of his elation was too overwhelming for her.

Harry felt an unpleasant swooping sensation in his stomach when he saw the change in her and immediately tried to reassure her.

`Hermione, please! You needn't be afraid - especially not of me!'

`I'm not afraid, Harry, never of you - it's just that I'm trying to make sense of all of this, when it seems to be so sudden and so much, so quickly! And Ginny - even though she's my best friend, somehow I don't feel as though I'm betraying her and I don't know why and I don't suppose things will be the same between us, at least not for a while - maybe never! I mean, I'm so used to you, but now it's different! And I feel safe with you, I've always felt safe with you, so even though I'm sort of afraid, I'm not really. And I feel excited, too, and happy - ' Harry found himself grinning uncontrollably, happiness bubbling up inside him as he listened to Hermione and without thinking, he leant down and silenced her with an impulsive little kiss. Hermione groaned, then grinned back at him before finishing with, `Dear Merlin that all sounded so ridiculously lame and confused!'

Harry let go of her hands and for the second time that night, pulled her into the circle of his arms, murmuring soft words of reassurance. Hermione sighed and relaxed into his embrace, wrapping her own arms around him.

`I do know what you mean,' he told her softly, `because I went through that a couple of weeks ago when I first realised I didn't love Ginny any longer, and that I hadn't for some time and that I had feelings for you. So I guess I'm a jump or two ahead of you in that department. I feel quite clear headed now though, and I know - well, at the risk of sounding really corny - I know what's in my heart. And I'm the happiest I've ever been now.'

He felt her begin to shake and knew she was crying - something Ginny had never done before the night he ended their relationship. And yet, instinct kept his lips closed and his arms tight; he simply held her and waited patiently, knowing that when she was ready to speak, she would do so.

When he felt her pulling back, he brought his hands to rest on her shoulders while she wiped her eyes with her fingers, trying to apologise for crying all over him.

`Don't,' he told her gently, `If having a good cry makes you feel better, I'm all for it.' Especially when it's me that gets to hold you like this, and comfort you.

Hermione gave him a watery smile as she brought her hands up and laid them on his chest, very aware of the feel of his fingers gently rubbing her shoulders.

`I honestly don't know what to say Harry! I feel half confused and half happy - and part of me feels a strange sort of peace about all this, while another part is still trying to figure out how we're going to destroy that accursed Dark One!' Hermione's tone sounded slightly hysterical and she looked as though she wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry again.

Harry felt as though he could defeat a thousand Dark Ones at that moment and he grinned at Hermione as he told her, `Well, we can work on the confused half and personally, I'm really, really happy about the happy half and the peace part. As for how we destroy the Dark One - I have no doubts about us managing that, especially with all the help and support we've got.'

Hermione sighed and smiled. `I believe there's a strong possibility I'm going to wake up in the morning and think that I dreamt all this.'

Holding her gaze, Harry let his right hand drop from Hermione's shoulder to follow the curve of her back down to her waist; he exerted gentle pressure, drawing her closer to him. He could feel his heart rate begin to climb and when Hermione's hands slid up over his chest and her arms wound around his neck, he thought his heart was going to jump out his chest. He was intensely aware as every delicious inch of her slowly came into contact with him.

`Do you know,' whispered Hermione, `I've just realised that each time we've kissed, for those moments I don't feel confused or mystified; I just feel -' Hermione paused, searching for the right word. She frowned thoughtfully, a small crease between her eyes; then the frown disappeared and she smiled up at Harry as she finished, `I just feel right. That everything is as it should be.'

`I believe that everything is as it should be, when I'm with you, Hermione.' Harry felt surprised at hearing himself say those words. He'd never been terribly eloquent with Ginny, with whom there hadn't been this depth of feeling of sureness and rightness. And yet, the words were simply there, plucked from some corner of his mind as though they'd been waiting for the right moment - or for the right person to say them to…

And then his mouth covered hers once more, only this time there was so much more behind the meeting of their lips - a newfound awareness and a sense of wonder at the discovery of feelings previously unacknowledged - all adding to the enjoyment and passion they were experiencing. Harry now had both his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione, one still around her waist, the other around her shoulders, his hand enmeshed in the tangled curls of her hair, his fingers clasped around the back of her neck. Hermione found herself lost in a kiss such as she'd never before experienced; Harry was agonisingly aware of the rushing tide of desire that threatened to take control - all his senses were being overwhelmed by the impact of this one, single kiss.

As though aware of Harry's escalating desire, Hermione began to slowly pull back from the kiss, aware that she was also in danger of losing herself to a longing that was unexpectedly strong - and she wasn't quite ready for that, at least not yet. Harry sensed her withdrawal and managed to reign himself in, although not without a struggle; his every instinct and feeling cried out for him to go on, to demand, to plead, to cajole, for more. When their lips finally parted, Harry was shaken by the strength of his reaction to Hermione, both physical and emotional. Hermione too, felt dazed. `Well,' she managed, feeling as breathless as if she'd just run a mile, `that was - that was…'

`Yeah, it was,' offered Harry with an attempt at a grin, experiencing an identical loss for words. He and Hermione stared at each other for a few seconds; it was as though they were seeing each other for the first time which, in a way, they were, for they were now looking at each other as a man and a woman, the ability to exist and continue within the confines of a purely platonic friendship gone forever. They both felt a shiver of apprehension, for on some deeper level, they were both aware of this. And the fact that there was no going back.

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. `I'd better go,' he said, his voice sounding gruff to his own ears.

Hermione nodded. `We both need a good night's sleep,' she offered.

`We do,' agreed Harry. `So, I'll see you in the morning, then?' He gazed at her, his heart in his eyes, his desire clearly blazing through his glasses.

Hermione nodded, the look in Harry's eyes robbing her of the power of speech.

`Good night,' he whispered huskily as he walked to the door, doing so almost sideways so that he didn't lose eye contact with Hermione. Hermione stood as still as a statue in the kitchen, holding his gaze unblinkingly as he departed.

When the door closed behind him with a faint, reluctant click, Hermione turned and leant over, putting her arms on the bench top beside their forgotten coffees, dropping her head to rest on them as she moaned softly to herself.

Oh my God! Harry! And me! It's so incredibly crazy and yet so - so sane, all at the same time! She could feel hysterical laughter beginning to bubble up and quashed it, at the same time ignoring the milling crowd of thoughts threatening to overwhelm her. Not now! she told herself firmly. Not tonight! Tonight I need to rest and sleep - there is so much to be done and so little time in which to do it…

Needless to say, it took both Harry and Hermione quite some time to fall asleep, and when sleep did finally claim them, they both found themselves immersed in very pleasant dreams. About each other, of course…

*

The next morning Hermione found herself suddenly and wide awake and sat up in bed; the sun hadn't risen properly yet and it was still mostly dark outside. Her first thought was that neither she nor Harry had spoken to Dean the previous night, something they'd hoped to do; they would have to arrange a meeting with him as soon as possible. Then her head became full of nothing but Harry and she sank back down, closing her eyes as her head hit the pillow. Harry... Harry likes me, he really, really likes me! Harry wants me… she felt a familiar warmth flood her cheeks at this thought. And I want Harry. Hermione gasped out loud then laughed, feeling intoxicated. It's all so strange - but so exciting! It's as though there was a part of me I knew nothing about until Harry kissed me - and now I feel like someone else, a new person, but still me… Hermione chuckled to herself, wondering how long it would take to get used this new part of her. But I'm fairly certain I'm going to enjoy doing so!

Although he didn't know it, Harry woke up shortly after Hermione. His was a much slower awakening; he was reluctant to give up sleep when it held a tantalising dream vision of Hermione which he wished fervently was real. One thing that was real, was the level of his discomfort; not that this discomfort wasn't a familiar morning experience, but this particular morning it was distinctly greater…or should that be harder? Harry laughed at himself. Hermione. He felt impatience sweep through him. He cursed the need to deal with this latest threat when all he really wanted to do was spend time with Hermione. The memory of how it had felt having her pressed against him, having her arms around his neck… Harry groaned. Enough of that! he told himself firmly. First things first. Dammit.

He rolled out of bed and made his way out to the kitchen, automatically waving his hand to light the candles as he headed for the kettle. Hedwig hooted softly from her perch and Harry gave her a mumbled `morning, girl'. Half an hour later, feeling much more awake after a coffee and a shower, he put some owl treats and fresh water in Hedwig's small bowls fastened to the end of her perch, then headed for Hermione's flat.

The strip of light across the bottom of her door told him that she too was up, but as he lifted his hand to the doorknob he froze, and while his body was motionless, his mind was filled with a fast flowing stream of thoughts and visions. Harry shook his head to disperse them. How many hundreds of times over the past couple of years have I done this? Just walked up to this very door and walked in, more often than not, without knocking? But this is the first time that it's different. Everything's different. He grinned and opened the door.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

See you next Thursday! Janie xoxo

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Author's Note

A couple of reviewers got the impression that when Harry opened the door at the end of Chapter 17, he was going to find … well, I won't speculate on exactly what they were thinking Harry might find because they didn't actually say *grins* but I'll bet it wasn't Hermione, fully dressed and looking demure and ready to leave for work! Lol!! Sorry to disappoint you guys, it was just a very happy Harry entering Hermione's flat as “now-much-more-than-a-friend” for the very first time! I hope Harry and Hermione's first date in this chapter will make up for it - Janie xoxo

PS To my dear friend Kirsti: how can I thank you enough??? Your help is priceless. Love & hugs dear.

PPS Holly - hope this brightens your day sweetie! xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

EIGHTH INTERLUDE

The night air was chilly and enveloped the two, black-cloaked figures in a bitterly damp and icy shroud as they stood in a pool of darkness between two street lamps somewhere in London.

`Why the hell do we have to meet here?' asked the shorter of the two, his voice disgruntled.

`I have instructions for you,' rasped the taller figure, not deigning to reply to the other's question.

`What instructions?' The shorter one's voice now held petulance.

As the taller wizard spoke, the whole body of the listener tensed, then seemed to become diminished, shrinking into itself. The speaker sensed fear emanating from the listener and he made a sound of disgust.

`What's the matter?' he sneered, `are you frightened?'

Dread and horror were clear in the shorter wizard's voice as he asked in a cracked whisper, `Are you sure of my target?'

`Afraid of a girl?' The derision in the speaker's voice forced a reflexive, abrupt, `No!' from the other.

`Then next Friday, at the farewell gathering, you will complete your first assignment and prove yourself worthy.'

`What happens if something goes wrong? What if I can't do it?'

The taller figure laughed; it was an extremely unpleasant sound and chilled the blood of the listener. `The Dark One has suffered failure once already and the Muggle who failed him is now dead. You fail, my friend, and you'll wish you were dead, too.

*

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

In which Dean and Neville sleep in, Dean has an unexpected visitor at lunchtime and Verity surprises Harry and Hermione. Also, Harry and Hermione are disappointed by the contents of a letter from Dean while Dean, on the other hand, is anything but disappointed. Harry and Hermione put aside their disappointment and go out for dinner…which turns out to be anything but disappointing…

Dean slept in Thursday morning as a result of being up so late talking to Neville the previous night. He'd rolled over and peered sleepily at the old alarm clock on his bedside table, his eyes flying open in shock when he saw what time it was. He leapt from bed with a hoarse expletive, threw on his clothes, grabbed his wand and cloak and headed for the door, forced to forego his usual morning shower and breakfast. Luckily, the note Hermione had slipped under his door earlier that morning on her way downstairs was in a bright blue envelope, or Dean would almost certainly have missed it. As it was, the blue of the envelope sitting on the floor just inside his front door caught his eye and he scooped it up on his way out. As he pulled the door shut behind him, Neville's door, opposite, opened and Neville appeared, looking equally dishevelled. Slamming the door behind him, Neville half ran towards the top of the stairs, grinning and waving at Dean.

`You slept in too?' he asked.

Dean groaned and nodded, shoving the blue envelope into his back pocket as he followed Neville.

`Remind me,' said Dean, as they clattered down the stairs, `never to drink either Ogden's or coffee after dinner and stay up so damn late on a week night!'

They both made it to their respective places of work a few minutes short of being late.

Dean forgot about the envelope in his back pocket until lunchtime when he went fishing in his pockets for his wallet. He paid for his lunch and left the sandwich shop, heading for his usual spot on a bench in a small, nearby park. He'd bought four sandwiches, two pieces of fruit and a large slice of chocolate cake and was so hungry after skipping breakfast that he quickly ate two of the sandwiches before opening the note.

Dear Dean,

Harry and I need to talk to you quite urgently about the Book of Records we are using for our research. Would you be able to come and see us tonight, at my place, at around 8 o'clock? If you're unable to make it, please let either Harry or I know.

Thanks,

Hermione

Dean sat with a puzzled frown creasing his forehead as he finished his lunch, wondering why on earth they'd want to speak to him urgently about what he thought sounded like a rather frightening book. A little while later as he brushed the crumbs of his cake from his knees, he decided that since there was no point in speculating, he'd not worry about it until he saw Harry and Hermione that evening. He was walking back to the offices of the Daily Prophet when he heard his name called. Turning to find the source, he was delighted to see Ginny hurrying towards him.

`Ginny, hi! It's good to see you,' he said with a huge grin.

Ginny didn't return the smile, however and Dean's grin vanished as he saw that Ginny had been crying.

`I've just quit my job,' she whispered, then burst out crying again, covering her mouth with one hand as she looked up at Dean, her eyes showing the shock and upset she felt.

People walking past them were looking at them curiously; Dean put his arm around Ginny's shoulders and drew her to him.

`Come with me,' he said, as he resumed walking, Ginny falling into step with him. `I have a small office - and I mean small - but at least it'll give us some privacy. You can tell me all about it then.'

*

That evening, Harry and Hermione made their way home just after five o'clock, both feeling great frustration at the lack of progress they'd made that day.

`We're missing something, but I don't know what!' fumed Hermione, the second Harry stepped out of the fireplace at the Nook seconds after she'd arrived.

`And don't I know it,' murmured Harry, although he was smiling at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed. `Oh, Harry! I'm really sorry! You've been so patient today and I've been so out of sorts over our lack of progress - thank you!'

`Evening Harry, evening Hermione.'

They both turned and looked up at the painting.

`Hi, Emrys,' they replied in unison. `Hi, Verity.'

Verity nodded graciously. `So I take it,' she said, `that your research today hasn't been as enlightening as you'd wish?' She was much more pleasant since Harry and Hermione had spent some time that morning explaining everything to them before Flooing to the Ministry. The grey-haired couple had accepted what they were told quite calmly and had thanked Harry and Hermione for taking the time to talk to them.

Hermione groaned and shook her head. `We just can't seem to find a way to get into some parts of the book, either to read them or view them. It's as though there's a - a -'

`A lock?' offered Verity.

Hermione frowned as she peered at the old lady. `Sort of, although not a lock in the normal sense. More like a barrier.'

`Perhaps you should speak to Dean Thomas,' said Verity calmly. Emrys's eyes widened in shock and he stared at his wife.

Hermione pounced. `Why?' she demanded, aware of Harry saying exactly the same thing at the same time.

`Because, as I don't doubt you both now know, Dean is the rightful owner of that book.'

`How did you come by that book, Verity?' asked Harry quietly.

Verity sniffed; Emrys was still staring at her as though she'd grown an extra nose.

`Alexander Riley asked me to safeguard it, just before he died and he, of course, is Dean's real father.'

Harry and Hermione both nodded. `We know that,' said Hermione, `and we're actually going to be speaking with Dean later tonight. What else do you know about all this, Verity?'

Emrys suddenly began to cough and Verity shot him a scathing glance before replying to Hermione.

`I'm not sure exactly what you mean by “all this”. Are you asking why Alexander left his wife? How and where he died? Or perhaps the truth about the murder of Hugo Wilkes? Then yes, I do know more, about all of those things.'

Hermione and Harry looked at each other in bewilderment.

`So why haven't you said something before now?' demanded Harry.

`It had to be told at the right time, Harry.'

`And is this the right time?' asked Hermione, doing her best not to sound completely exasperated.

`I think that it may be,' said Verity calmly. `After you've spoken with Dean and explained to him about his ownership of the book, perhaps the three of you could come down here and I will answer as many of your questions as I am able.'

*

Half an hour later, after Harry had spent some time in his own flat having a shower and seeing Hedwig off on her nightly hunt, he crossed the hall to Hermione's flat to find her sitting at the table with a tea tray, reading what he presumed to be a letter.

Harry joined Hermione at the table, picking up the teapot as he shot an inquiring glance at Hermione.

`It's from Dean. He can't come tonight.' Hermione's voice was flat with disappointment.

Harry put the teapot down with a dull clunk without having poured any.

`What? Why not?' He sounded as disappointed as Hermione.

Without saying anything, Hermione handed him the letter, then picked up the teapot herself and poured them each a cup. Propping her elbows on the table, Hermione held her tea cup with both hands, sipping cautiously at the hot liquid while she watched Harry read Dean's letter.

Dear Hermione,

I received your note and fully intended to be there tonight. However, while I was at lunch today, I received a surprise visit from Ginny. She was very upset, having just quit her job. She'd literally walked out after a run-in with that foul git, Blakely. I took her back to my office and after I finished work, I took her home. I'm still at the Burrow as Mrs Weasley invited me for dinner. (Harry's eyes paused for a second as he felt a peculiar pang realising that not that long ago, it would've been him that Ginny would've turned to and him that Mrs Weasley would've invited to stay for dinner. And yet, he felt no sense of loss; it was as though he was remembering someone else's life.) I'm really sorry I couldn't let you know earlier that I can't make it, but I didn't know myself until we arrived here. I told Pigwidgeon not to worry about waiting for a reply as I'll be home tomorrow night and I'll be able to come and see you then (same time, eight o'clock). Just put another note under my door if that's not all right for you and I'll see you on Saturday.

Dean

Harry sighed as he put Dean's letter down and picked up the tea Hermione had poured him. `Not much we can do about it, I'm afraid. And while Ginny said she loved her job, d'you know, I don't think she's been happy there for some time now, she just didn't realise it. I reckon her leaving'll probably be the best thing in the long run; that Blakely was always a thorn in her side.'

`Oh and how I know,' replied Hermione, shaking her head at the memory of many nights listening to Ginny complain about Oscar Blakely. `I think you're right about it being best she leaves. Especially this year, she's just about done nothing else but talk about how she's always arguing or being angry with Blakely.' Hermione sighed. `But it's really disappointing and frustrating having to wait to speak to Dean.'

Harry nodded in agreement, then a slow smile spread across his face. `I have an idea,' he said. `Since we have an unexpected free night, why don't we go out for dinner?'

Without thinking, Hermione automatically began to shake her head, then stopped. Returning her cup to its saucer, she sat back and gazed at him for a second.

“Thank you, Harry; I'd love to go out for dinner.'

*

Hermione hustled Harry off to get changed and smilingly suggested he take at least forty minutes to do so. She also asked him to `think of somewhere really nice we can go, please; I feel like getting dressed up'.

Having already showered, it took Harry less than ten minutes to change into his favourite black suit with a deep green silk shirt; he rolled up a tie and pushed it into his jacket pocket before walking back to the kitchen to get a glass of water as his throat felt quite dry. This is our first date! he thought to himself, immediately increasing by tenfold the sense of nervous excitement already pervading his body. His first thought had been to take Hermione to the Dragon's Lair, which Neville had recommended to him and which he knew from experience would meet Hermione's criteria of being “really nice”. He grinned to himself. He was sure it was because it was their first date that Hermione wanted it to be “really nice” - just like he did. His grin faded as he thought about the Dragon's Lair being the last restaurant he'd taken Ginny to, and while it didn't bother him, he wondered whether it would bother Hermione. Staring at Hedwig's still empty perch, he took barely a minute to conclude that he knew Hermione better than that, and that such a thing surely wouldn't worry her.

Finishing his water, Harry glanced at his watch as he put his glass in the sink. There was almost half an hour remaining before Hermione would be ready and in that instant, he made up his mind and headed downstairs.

*

Sitting around the kitchen table at the Burrow, Dean was gently urging Ginny to eat “just a little more” of her dinner.

Putting down her knife and fork, Ginny sat back in her chair and sighed. `I really don't feel terribly hungry,' she said miserably.

`Not surprising,' said her father. `That fool Blakely attacking you out of the blue like that would upset anyone enough to turn them off their food!'

Ginny waved her hands helplessly. `I just don't understand! I know we've never hit it off, but he's never before lost it the way he did today!'

`Are you sure nothing happened this morning Ginny, some little thing perhaps?' queried her mother.

Ginny shook her head. `I've gone over and over it. I was just sitting at my desk, proof-reading an article Ida had written for this week's edition about her retirement - I still don't entirely trust those Spell-Checking Quills - when Blakely marched up and said he wanted to see me in his office. I told him I'd be there in a minute or so, I just wanted to finish my proof-reading and he made it obvious he wasn't happy about that.'

`And so you took even longer to finish reading I'll bet!' put in Dean.

Ginny flashed him a quick smile. `You bet I did!'

They shared a laugh, then Ginny continued, `When I went into his office, the door slammed itself shut behind me and he just started yelling! I don't think I've remembered everything yet, he said so much. Firstly he told me off for making him wait, told me I was rude and arrogant; then he basically told me my work was rubbish and once he was Chief Editor he'd make sure I either “shaped up or shipped out” as he put it.' Ginny sighed and shook her head again. `It doesn't really matter what else he said. There's no way I could work for that man and while he sat there and yelled at me, I knew; I knew it wasn't a matter of whether or not I left, it was when I left. I just looked at him, said, “I quit”, and walked out. He was still yelling.'

`What about Ida?' asked Dean, `Did you go and see her?'

Ginny nodded. `I explained everything to her and she understood. She was sad for me but she can't do anything about it. The only problem is, I won't be able to go to her retirement party on Friday night now that I'm no longer working there. But she did say she'll owl me next week and we'll have lunch or something.'

`Sweetheart, I think you did the right thing,' said Molly firmly, and Arthur nodded. `You'll have no problem getting another job,' he assured her.

`I'm going to check at work tomorrow,' said Dean, `see if there are any positions vacant.'

Ginny looked at Dean. `Thank you,' she said quietly, then she smiled across the table at her parents. `And thank you both, as well. I know I've done the right thing, but it has been a pretty awful day. Both of you - and you, too, of course -' she glanced gratefully at Dean, `have all helped to make me feel much better.'

Dean couldn't prevent a happy, foolish grin spreading across his face as he looked down at Ginny, a look that had Arthur and Molly exchanging a knowing glance.

After dinner, the mood was much lighter as they all helped to clean up and when they'd finished, Dean, eager to be with Ginny, suggested they go for a walk. Ginny agreed. `I think some fresh air is just what the healer ordered,' she told him.

Despite the season, it had become cool outside and both Ginny and Dean put on light jumpers before setting out. They left by the back door, walking through the garden and out the gate, past the sole surviving Flutterby bush from Bill and Fleur's wedding. As they skirted the small lake and headed up the hill, Ginny hooked her arm through Dean's and smiled up at him.

`I know I've already said thank you for helping me today, Dean, but I'd like to say it again, so: thank you.'

Dean, already happy he'd been the one Ginny had turned to that day, felt his heart lighten further.

`If it means getting that smile from you each time, you just go right on thanking me whenever it takes your fancy, Ginny.'

`I'll remember that,' she told him light-heartedly.

They reached the outskirts of the orchard and walked through to the small clearing where Bill and Fleur's wedding had taken place. An old iron and wood bench, originally from the garden behind the house, had been brought up for the wedding and never taken back; it sat, forgotten, the polish it had been given for the wedding having worn off long ago. In silent agreement, Ginny and Dean crossed to the old bench and sat down, admiring the myriad glowing colours thrown across the sky and strewn through the trees by the approaching sunset. A last few fat, fuzzy honey bees flew by lazily, heading for their hive and they could hear birds settling down for the night in the branches of the surrounding trees.

They sat closely, though without touching; Ginny's legs were crossed, her linked hands resting in her lap. Dean sat with his arms loosely folded over his stomach, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Dean watched Ginny's foot swinging idly to and fro; the peace of day's end seemed to permeate the very air they were breathing, lulling them into a quiet, contemplative state.

Ginny broke the serene silence first, her voice revealing a slight note of regret at doing so. `There's something I'd like to talk about. Something I never expected. Something - well, it's just that I need to talk about it I suppose, and I can't think of anyone else besides you that I'd be able to talk it over with.'

Dean felt a warm thrill spread through his whole body at Ginny's words.

`I'm all ears,' he said, keeping his voice calm.

Ginny took a deep breath. `When Harry broke up with me, I naturally wanted to know why. He told me he'd fallen out of love with me…'

Ginny hesitated and Dean could hear the pain in her voice; he fought back the impulse to put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her; he somehow knew that the time wasn't right for such a gesture.

`…and that he'd fallen in love without someone else.'

Dean tensed. Someone else? I'll bet my wand that someone else is Hermione after what I saw the other night! Holy Merlin - Hermione - Ginny's best friend! I can't tell her that!

Ginny's low, sad voice broke into his thoughts.

`It took a little while, but I worked out who it was. What's horribly ironic is that she doesn't know.'

Dean shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat nervously. She knows it's Hermione?

Despite her preoccupation with painful memories, Ginny noticed and looked up at Dean; Dean kept his eyes focused on his own feet.

`What's wrong?' Ginny ventured, frowning.

`When you say you worked out who it was, does Harry know?'

`Oh yes! It was while we were talking - Harry wouldn't tell me, he insisted it didn't matter and that she didn't know. That she didn't love him.' Ginny's voice dropped almost to a whisper, the anguish in her voice pulling at Dean's heart strings, `It's Hermione.'

Dean groaned as he pulled his legs in, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands.

Ginny was torn between being perplexed and being annoyed.

`Dean, would you please tell me what's going on with you?'

Knowing any possible future with Ginny could well be at stake, Dean sat up, his clenched fists resting on his knees as he looked at Ginny.

`Let me just get this straight: You've known since the night you and Harry broke up that he loves Hermione?'

Ginny nodded.

`But according to Harry, Hermione doesn't know?'

`That's right. And I spoke with Hermione a couple of times after that - which wasn't easy, I have to say, although it's not her fault. She has no idea. I know Hermione; she couldn't - wouldn't - put on that sort of front.' The picture of Harry asleep with his head in Hermione's lap flashed into her mind, followed by the memory of how easy and comfortable Hermione had been with her when she'd made an appearance - surely only possible if she was unaware of Harry's feelings for her.

`That may have changed.' Dean spoke softly, as though that would lessen the impact of his words.

Ginny tensed.

`What do you mean?'

Dean turned and looked at her.

`Last night, after the meeting, Neville and I went up to see if Harry and Hermione were still awake and whether they wanted to join us for coffee. I have to admit we had an ulterior motive - finding out more about this whole Dark One thing.' Dean paused, wondering how she would take what he was about to tell her.

`And?'

`We were nearly at the top of the stairs and we heard a sound so we turned and looked and…' Dean paused again, uncertain of what to say.

`And?' repeated Ginny, more forcefully this time.

Holding her gaze, Dean took a deep breath and continued, speaking quickly as though that would make his words less painful. `We saw Harry and Hermione kissing - and I mean really kissing.'

Ginny stared at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her eyes unreadable.

Dean plunged on, illogically hoping that perhaps if he gave her more time to think she'd be less upset. `Neville and I went back to my place and we were talking about it. He says that nothing happened between them until after you and he split up. But he said he had noticed little things before last night. And he said he noticed because -'

`Because he fancies Hermione, too,' broke in Ginny, her voice flat. `I know. Seems Hermione's the flavour of the month, doesn't it?'

`Not with me,' said Dean gently.

Ginny gave him a sad smile. `That's a nice thing to say, thank you. But you know, I'm not really surprised about Harry and Hermione. I was only thinking last night when we were at Hogwarts that it would probably only be a matter of time before something happened between them. After all, Harry is - well, Harry…'

Dean felt a stab of jealousy that he resolutely put aside.

`Are you all right?' he asked tenderly, wanting terribly to take her hand to comfort her, to show his concern.

He saw tears form in her eyes and it was too much. He reached out and took her hand.

`Ginny, he doesn't deserve you. He's not the one for you.' I am! he wanted to cry out, but of course he didn't. `I do have some idea of the heartache you're going through at the moment,' since I went through something similar when you broke up with me and took up with Harry, `and since I know how strong you are, I know that you will be all right. Even so, I want you to know you can rely on me anytime, for anything you need, all right?'

Ginny nodded as two tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.

`Thank you,' she whispered, before leaning forwards and resting her head against his chest; Dean put his other arm around her shoulders and held her while she silently cried. After a few minutes, Ginny sat back, pulling a hankie from her pocket to wipe her eyes.

`I'm sorry,' she told Dean with a watery smile.

`Any thing, any time, remember?' he said lightly.

Ginny chuckled weakly. `I remember. I will remember.'

`Good.'

`It's getting dark,' said Ginny, suddenly noticing the sun was almost gone.

`And colder,' said Dean. `We'd better head back.'

As they walked, Dean felt Ginny's hand slip into his and his heart skipped with delight. He squeezed it very gently and smiled down at her as they continued walking and Ginny smiled back in the dim light.

It was as they made their way back towards the Burrow, that Ginny realised something: while she was upset and hurt by the painful thought of Harry with Hermione, of Harry kissing Hermione as he'd once kissed her, she wasn't completely shattered by it. And she realised, too, that this was no doubt in part thanks to the man whose warm, firm hand currently held hers…

*

At a quarter to seven on the dot, Harry knocked on Hermione's door and waited, deciding this particular evening called for a little more decorum than his usual brief knock, enter and cry of `Hermione!'

He could hear the faint tapping of high heels on the wooden floor as Hermione approached the door. When they stopped, he watched as the door handle turned and suddenly felt as though his heart and stomach were battling over which of them would take up residence in his throat. Did I ever feel like this with Ginny? If I did, I don't remember it… Then Hermione came into view as the door opened. She was smiling at him, a smile she'd never given him before, a smile that held nervousness, confidence, anticipation and wonder, all at the same time. Harry's smile widened as he looked into her eyes, but then he couldn't prevent his gaze travelling from her beautifully - although lightly - made-up face framed by soft, curling tendrils falling from the swirling chignon high on the back of her head, down to her feet and back again. Harry didn't know that what Hermione was wearing would be described as a black, crepe maxi dress with twisted straps and an encircling band of pale gold sequins just under the bust. What he did know was that she looked stunning and that he would need to employ a lot of self discipline to keep his eyes from constantly wandering to the soft swell of her breasts left visible by the deep v-neck.

Despite every desire to be “calm, cool and collected”, all he could manage was a rather hoarse, `Wow.'

Hermione's smiled widened. `Thank you,' she said softly, `and you look pretty “wow”, yourself. Except, hmmm…'

As Hermione's head tilted slightly to one side, a small frown appeared between Harry's eyes.

`Except what?' he asked, perplexed.

Hermione held his gaze, smiling, as she reached out and put her hand in his jacket pocket; when she drew it out, she was holding his tie.

`Still need help putting on your tie, Mr Potter?'

Harry chuckled. `As always, Miss Granger,' he replied.

`My wand's in my purse, on the table,' said Hermione, but before she'd barely turned her head and lifted her arm towards the table where it lay, Harry raised his left hand and Hermione's evening purse, with a pale gold clasp and made of the same material as her dress, flew smoothly from the table to Harry's waiting hand. He handed it to Hermione, who in turn placed his still rolled up tie on his flattened palm, then drew her wand out, twirling it as she murmured, `Adstringo tersus', Harry's tie rose smoothly and slid around his neck to lie straight and perfectly knotted.

As Hermione returned her wand to her purse, Harry closed the door then held out his right arm. `Let's go then, shall we?'

Hermione felt as though her stomach was doing somersaults and the look in Harry's eyes did nothing towards calming her; she put her hand through Harry's arm and as they walked around to head down the stairs, they kept glancing at each other, their smiles not leaving their faces. When they reached the fireplace in the small sitting room, they didn't even notice the knowing look exchanged by Verity and Emrys, nor their smiles that bordered on smirks as they gazed down at the oblivious couple.

After they'd gone, Verity sighed and gave Emrys a smile he hadn't seen in quite a while.

`Young love,' she murmured, `is such a beautiful thing.'

And that young Hermione is a beautiful thing, thought Emrys, looking down at where she and Harry had been standing a second before. He knew better than to state this fact aloud, of course. That Harry is a lucky, lucky wizard. Then his gaze moved up to his wife's face and his eyes softened. `And you, my dear, were a very beautiful thing when I first met you, and d'you know, you still are.'

*

As they stepped out of the fireplace and into the Arrival Room of the Dragon's Lair, Harry and Hermione were met with effusive greetings and low bows from Mr Madomo, the restaurant's maitre d'; Harry had been there earlier, while Hermione was getting ready, to make their booking.

`Welcome back, Mr Potter,' he said with a flourish of his hand, indicating the open double doorway to his left. `I trust you and Miss Granger will have a wonderful evening. If there is anything, anything at all that we can help you with, please do not hesitate to ask. I would be honoured to show you to your table myself, if that is agreeable, unless you would prefer a pre-dinner drink in the Dragon's Nest?'

Harry looked down at Hermione, suddenly aware that her eyes were much closer to being on a level with his now that she was wearing high heels. `What would you like to do?' he asked her.

`Let's just go to our table,' she replied. `We could have a drink there first, couldn't we?'

`But of course, Miss Granger!' exclaimed the maitre d' enthusiastically. `And it would be my pleasure and honour to provide you with complimentary champagne!'

So it was that a short while later Harry and Hermione were sitting at their table, screened from the rest of the night's diners by the “Dragon Wall”, a bronze partition that housed a two-dimensional sculptured rendering of one of each of the ten known species of dragons. Hermione looked along the length of the wall in amazement while Harry's eyes were automatically drawn to the image of the Hungarian Horntail at the very end. Their beautifully set table was round, the damask linen a pristine white, the silver service sparkling in the candlelight, outshone only by the crystal stemware. Everything carried an almost inconspicuous Chinese Fireball Dragon logo, so subtly engraved or stitched as to be missed if not looked for.

Sitting in front of them, before an intricately folded white linen serviette, was a feather light replica of the “Dragon Wall” itself, upon which was engraved the menu in glistening letters. The waiter informed them that if they touched the dragon's egg symbol in the lower right hand corner, the menu would display the next page. To return to a previous page, they simply need to press the dragon's egg symbol in the lower left hand corner. He then pointed out a small figurine of a Chinese Fireball Dragon placed in the centre of the table and told them they simply needed to place a hand over it and he would then know to return to take their order.

After thanking their waiter, whom Mr Madomo had introduced to them and who had already placed a champagne cocktail in front of each of them, Harry and Hermione took appreciative sips of their drinks. A short, expectant silence followed in which Harry was looking at Hermione - and still fighting his natural inclination to drop his gaze to Hermione's enticing cleavage - and she was looking back, wondering how it was that Harry had become such an incredibly sexy man and she - Hermione-notice-everything-Granger - hadn't noticed!

`Harry, this is perfect. Thank you.'

`Thank you, Hermione,' Harry replied. Then he grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows. `I don't know what I would've done if you'd said no.'

Hermione laughed. `I almost did, because I was basically thinking about getting to bed early and getting back to that wretched book tomorrow.'

Harry reached across the table and gently removed Hermione's fingers from the stem of her glass, entwining them with his own. At the first touch of his fingers on Hermione's, Harry had felt something akin to an electrical charge flood his entire body.

`Well, I'm glad you didn't,' he said, his expression serious, his voice low and warm. Hermione's fingers tightened around his. `Me too,' she whispered.

They didn't let go of each other's hand and they all but forgot their drinks as they began talking (which Harry was relieved to find made it much easier to concentrate on Hermione's face and not her beguiling cleavage). After agreeing it was the perfect first date, their conversation continued in a light hearted, warm and amusing vein, interrupted only when their waitress returned, ostensibly to check that their “call” dragon was in working order, because she pointed out very respectfully that they would need to place their order shortly as it was getting late. They both apologised before glancing quickly at the menu and choosing meals they would not remember eating afterwards.

When their waitress had placed two cups of hot, fragrant coffee in front of them an hour later, Hermione sighed.

`We'll have to go, soon,' she said regretfully.

`The sensible thing to do is get to bed at a reasonable hour since we have to get up early.'

Hermione looked at Harry quizzically. `You don't sound as though you particularly want to be sensible,' she remarked with a smile.

The look Harry gave her then made Hermione's breath catch in her throat.

`Of course I don't,' he said, his voice dropping so low it made her shiver.

`But we will be?'

`Let's finish our coffee and find out,' said Harry with an irresistibly mischievous smile.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Hmmm…to be (sensible) or not to be (sensible)? I wonder… *grins cheekily* (I'm spending this weekend putting up our tree and all our Christmas decorations so I MAY be a little late with the next chapter - although naturally I'll be doing my utmost NOT to be!) Happy December everyone - only 26 sleeps till Santa comes! Janie xoxo

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Author's Note

I made it!! *Janie collapses in relief* I really wasn't sure I'd have this chapter ready for posting today! I hope you enjoy the fun and revelations dear readers.

All the usual kudos and gratitude to my dear Kirsti and a special “g'day” to Timbo and Holly! *Janie blows kisses*

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

NINTH INTERLUDE

The newly chosen First-Disciple-To-Be was cowering in his dishevelled bed. The mind-connection with his Master, the Dark One, was one that he'd been proud of and had treasured. It was now a source of humiliation and pain. That brainless, pathetic fool, Blakely, had sought him out and explained that his target would not be available on the night he'd been instructed to deal with her. She'd resigned, he said, left her job. Of course, Blakely had blithely and stupidly assumed that that would be the end of the matter. How little he knew their Master! How little he knew him!

After extensive pleading and begging with the Dark One and suffering the painful consequences of doing so, the First-Disciple-To-Be was finally given permission to deal with the transgressor as he saw fit. And he saw fit to vent all his anger, humiliation, disappointment, rage and frustration on the contemptible idiot who had failed him. It was only when he paused in his torturous ministrations because the transgressor's screaming had ceased, that he realised the useless fool was dead!

He felt a dreadful, cold, resentment seep into what was left of his soul. How dare the vile, worthless moron die? It proved beyond doubt that he'd been a poor choice.

After explaining all this to his Master and awaiting the consequences, the First-Disciple-To-Be wondered whether he would soon desire death for himself…

But the Dark One, for reasons known only to himself, merely lashed him with excruciating pain for the disappointment he'd afforded his Master. He was then allowed to lie, pain-wracked but recuperating, in his bed with his Master's instructions ringing in his ears: The next chosen victim must die, or you will take their place!

Who, Master? Who do you wish to die?

Ronald Weasley.

*

CHAPTER NINETEEN

In which Harry and Hermione finish their coffee, Ron comes home for a visit and surprises Harry and Hermione - and himself. Then after dinner the following night, Hermione finds a disquieting article in the Daily Prophet; shortly afterwards, Dean arrives with more disquieting news…

Harry and Hermione finished their coffee and made their way hand in hand to reception; as they walked, aware only of each other, they were quite oblivious to the stares and whispers from the remaining diners that followed in their wake. While Harry paid, he thanked Mr Madomo for a wonderful evening and asked him to pass on their compliments to their waiter for excellent service. They then made their way to the empty Departure Room.

Harry turned to face Hermione, their hands loosely clasped. `Where to?' he murmured.

Hermione lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. `To be honest, I can't really think right now,' she said softly. And I don't really care, as long as I'm with you.

Harry's answering lopsided grin made her heart turn over even as it released an army of butterflies into her stomach; Harry's left arm lifted and snaked around Hermione's waist, drawing her to him. `I think I know the perfect place,' he whispered into her ear, sending rivulets of heat coursing through her just as he Disapparated them together, the ensuing darkness and feeling of suffocation passing quickly.

Hermione looked around and smiled. `We're in the garden at home!' she exclaimed, sounding delighted. Smiling, Harry took her hand, but Hermione resisted Harry's pull and with a mock sigh of disappointment said, `High heels and grass don't mix, I'm afraid.'

`How's that, now?' asked Harry a second later, and Hermione tightened her grasp on his hand as she felt her shoes change; Harry had Transfigured them and she extended one foot, looking down at a pretty black and gold ballet style shoe.

`Perfect,' she told him with a smile as they walked towards the trellised archway in the hedge which led to the stream, their path lit by pale, silvery moonlight. As they neared the archway, Hermione could see faint, twinkling lights near the stream's edge. What on earth is that? she wondered, trying to peer through the long, drifting fronds of the old willow.

The old wooden bench lay in the shadow of the willow tree and as they reached the curtain of trailing leaves, Hermione was able to see that the gnarled branch stretching above the bench was filled with magical fairy lights. Her gasp of delight brought a smile to Harry's face as he led her around to sit down on the bench, his left arm around her shoulders. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. `Harry, this is just beautiful! When did you do this? What made you think of it?'

`What? You. When? While you were getting ready.'

Hermione frowned inquiringly.

`It only took a few minutes to make the reservation at the restaurant and I'd been thinking about where we could go afterwards, so, when I got back, I came down here and -' he gave an explanatory wave of his arm, taking in the twinkling branch above them.

`What if I'd thought of somewhere else?' Hermione asked.

`We'd've gone there, of course,' said Harry, without hesitation.

Hermione rested her head against Harry's shoulder, her right arm through Harry's left, her left hand resting atop their clasped hands sitting on Harry's leg.

`I'm glad I couldn't think,' said Hermione softly, `because this is just perfect.'

They were both looking at the stream, its night-dark surface shimmering with tiny pieces of the moon's light; they could hear the occasional, placid splash of some unseen, aquatic creature as it went about its business.

They sat in perfectly content silence for some time, and it was as though they were absorbing each other's essence, something precious to be kept and brought out to enjoy at some later time when they found themselves alone.

`Are we being sensible?' asked Hermione quietly some time later.

`So far,' replied Harry, drawing a soft, melodic laugh from her.

Hermione lifted her head in a smooth, fluid movement and turned to look at Harry. With a perfectly straight face she told him, `I think it would be eminently sensible of you to kiss me right now.'

His lips twitching with amusement, Harry's hand momentarily left Hermione's shoulder, reaching up to remove his glasses, letting them drop to the soft ground behind the bench before his hand once more grasped Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione looked at him quizzically.

`Damn things get in the way at times and right now I don't need to see, I just need to feel,' he told her, his voice roughened with desire. Gently removing his fingers from hers, he lifted his hand to cup her face before dropping his head to kiss her. He was astonished anew at the fact that each time he kissed her it felt more profound than the time before. Hermione felt as though her insides were turning into some warm, flowing liquid and with a soft moan, she opened her mouth to him, marvelling at the new sensations wrought by the feel of their eager, exploring tongues. She had a distant thought that one day their bodies would be emulating these movements and felt a surge of fierce hunger she'd never before experienced. When she felt Harry's hand drift purposefully from her face to her shoulder, then down to her breast she knew he was experiencing something similar, for she could feel the urgency in his touch. And yet she knew she wasn't quite ready for this - almost, but not quite - and when she made the tiniest movement of withdrawal, Harry's hand immediately moved back to her face as their lips parted.

`I'm sorry,' he managed between deep, jagged breaths.

Hermione looked into his eyes. `There's nothing to be sorry for, Harry. We just need to slow down a little.'

`Be sensible you mean,' he quipped, keeping his voice light, although he felt as though he'd run some kind of marathon and not reached the finish line.

Hermione nodded, lifting both her hands to cup his face. `For now,' she whispered, wondering if she'd find the strength to be “sensible” next time this happened, to resist Harry's - and her own - potent yearning…

*

Ron stepped out of the fireplace at the Nook, wondering if he was too late to see Harry that night. The light from the small candelabra on the mantelpiece was complemented by the pale beams of moonlight coming through the windows, casting silvery shadows over everything. As he turned to head towards the stairs, he was startled by Frewin emerging from the fireplace and flying to his perch.

`Give a bloke a heart attack why don't you?' said Ron with a chuckle. Frewin gave him an inscrutable look and tucked his head under his wing.

Moving quickly to the stairs then, Ron made his way to the second floor, thinking as he passed Dean's and Neville's doors on the first floor that they'd either gone to bed early for a Saturday night, or else they were both out partying.

He hadn't Flooed ahead, so he was prepared to find Harry out; when he did, he crossed the hall to Hermione's flat to see whether she was home.

He'd just been about to knock when he heard voices rising faintly up the stairwell. Two long strides took him to the railing and he looked down, straining to distinguish the voices; as they drew closer, he grinned - it was Harry and Hermione. Excellent! he thought, the three of us can have a cuppa and a bit of chat - I've actually missed those two!

Leaning on the railing, Ron watched as Harry and Hermione came into view on the last flight of stairs, walking up with their backs to him. He frowned when he saw they had their arms around each other, for while that in itself wasn't unheard of, it was the way they had their arms around each other. He searched for a word to describe it and one immediately came to mind: intimate. An unexpected feeling of trepidation stole over him as he watched them, their pace leisurely. When they reached the top of the stairs, they took the few steps needed to stand in front of the round, stained glass window, its clear centre giving them a view of the moon-drenched nightscape outside. As they stood there, silhouetted against the window, Ron straightened, tense, his fists clenched by his side; he knew they weren't yet aware of his presence. Then as one they turned to face each other, Hermione lifting her arms and wrapping them around Harry's neck, Harry's hands on her waist, pulling her to him and holding her there firmly. Ron stared, utterly bewildered and speechless as he watched the kiss that followed. He had no words for the emotions roiling inside him, but he knew how it felt to desperately want to be somewhere else - anywhere else! - than where he was at that moment.

Feeling as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him, he nevertheless continued to watch, unable to tear his eyes away. They'll see me here, staring at them! he thought wildly when the kiss ended.

Then he heard Harry say to Hermione that he'd walk her to her door, eliciting a light silvery laugh from Hermione. They clasped hands and turning, began to walk towards Hermione's door. Ron helplessly remained as frozen as a statue, still staring at them.

Harry and Hermione's steps faltered the instant they caught sight of him, Hermione's gasp of recognition coming at the same time as Harry's low voiced expletive.

For a second, Hermione almost reflexively admonished Harry, but the sight of Ron's white, wide-eyed countenance, drove all thoughts of reproach from her mind.

`What's going on?' croaked Ron, looking from one to the other.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance then looked back at Ron.

I am not going to say, “it's not what you think”! thought Hermione determinedly.

But Harry did.

`Ron, this isn't what you're probably thinking,' Harry said firmly.

`Oh yeah? I can see that,' said Ron sarcastically, pointing in the direction of the window. `I mean, if you see two people kissing like that,' he waved his pointed hand at the window, `what the hell would anyone think? That you love her like a sister? Talking about sisters…'

`Stop it, please!' cried Hermione, distraught. `Let's go inside and talk, at least.'

For a mere second no one moved, then Harry, still holding Hermione's hand, gave it a slight, reassuring squeeze before walking with her to her door, opening it and waiting for Hermione to enter first. Then he turned, indicating to Ron that he should follow which he did, giving Harry an unreadable look as he passed him.

Without being asked, Harry silently waved his hand to light the candles sitting in numerous wall sconces, filling the room with warm, mellow light; he noticed Crookshanks' basket was empty and thought he was probably curled up on Hermione's bed.

Hermione was already sitting at the table and Ron, quickly followed by Harry, joined her.

`Well?' said Ron, after they'd spent a short silence looking at each other. He felt less agitated now, as though somehow calmed by the familiarity of the three of them being together

Harry had sat closer to Hermione, who was on his left, and he reached for her hand under the table; as her hand slipped into his, she gave him a quick, grateful look. Then Harry looked across at Ron and began to speak.

`You remember the night I flew to Holyhead to see you,' it was a statement, not a question, although Ron still nodded as Harry continued, `that was the actual night I realised I'd fallen out of love with Ginny. And although she hasn't heard this before,' Harry turned and looked at Hermione who felt his hand tighten around hers, `it was also the night I realised I was in love with Hermione.'

This announcement produced identical expressions of stunned astonishment on both Hermione and Ron's faces. Hermione realised she hadn't yet thought past the mutual attraction - the very strong mutual attraction she and Harry were currently experiencing. He loves me? she thought, He's actually in love with me? Although it was a somewhat overwhelming notion and quite startling, Hermione found herself feeling warmed by this knowledge. Ron meanwhile was struggling with the idea of Hermione - who had once been his Hermione - looking as though she was very soon, if not already, going to be Harry's Hermione. Weird, he thought. And yet strangely not really so surprising after all. But weird.

Ron managed to find his voice first. `You didn't tell me that part.'

`Well, at the time, I didn't think there was any hope of Hermione ever seeing me as anything but her best friend.'

Ron's gaze moved to Hermione, who was still staring wide-eyed at Harry. She was trying to delve into the chaos swirling in her head to find the memory of the night Harry was talking about. Then it came to her.

`The night we went to the fair,' she whispered. Harry nodded.

`Fair? What fair?' asked Ron.

`So that's why you were so -' Hermione began; Harry nodded again, a lopsided grin in place.

`I see,' said Hermione, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she remembered more and more of that night; this revelation explained everything.

`See what?' asked Ron.

`My dog!' exclaimed Hermione suddenly.

`You have a dog?' asked Ron.

`I still have it,' Harry told her with a smile. `I'm still going to give it to you.'

`You have her dog? She has a dog?' Ron sounded appalled.

Then Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. `Ginny! The next day, when she found us by the stream - what must she have thought?'

`Ah ha! We finally get around to Ginny!' exclaimed Ron, not in the least fazed at being excluded from Harry and Hermione's half-spoken, half-unspoken conversation; it was something they'd been doing since their early years at school.

Harry felt his insides turn to frozen lead.

Ginny! She knew he loved Hermione - but Hermione didn't know that. Was it his place to tell her? He wasn't sure.

Hermione saw the sudden change in Harry's expression. `What's wrong?'

Harry shook his head, replying miserably, `I'm not sure it's for me to say.'

Hermione looked surprised. `You've always been able to tell me anything before. Why not now?'

`Yeah, why not now?' echoed Ron.

Harry glanced at Ron, then back at Hermione. `I suppose it's all right, since it's you two. Although,' he looked back at Ron, `it does concern your sister.'

Ron shrugged. `This is us, Harry.'

Those few simple words made the three of them aware once again of the bond that had been forged between them over half their lives - the bond that was always there - whether barely perceived as it lay beneath the surface or very evident, uniting them, as it was proving to do at that very moment.

Harry nodded. `It's just that the night I told Ginny I wanted to break up, that I didn't love her, she wanted to know why. She kept asking and she was trying to work it out. She asked me if I'd fallen in love with someone else.'

`Did you tell her?' asked Hermione quietly.

`I didn't have to, in the end. She figured it out herself.'

`Hell's bells!' exclaimed Ron. `Ginny knows you love Hermione?'

Harry sighed and nodded.

`But she thinks I don't see you as anything more than a friend?' asked Hermione, trying to grasp at her own emotions.

`I told her that night that you didn't know, and that I knew you didn't love me except as a friend,' Harry replied.

`No wonder she was so - so strained with me,' said Hermione, aggrieved. Both Harry and Ron could hear the pain in her voice; she was rapidly coming to terms with what this meant to her friendship with Ginny.

`So what do we do now?' asked Ron. He felt a little guilty as he realised that he was rather glad that he could escape all this and go back to Kenmare - and Luna…

`I don't think we should say anything just yet,' said Hermione firmly. `I think Ginny needs more time to - recover. I think the right time will eventually present itself to talk to her about this. What do you think?' she asked Harry.

`At the risk of sounding relieved, I think that's the best idea,' said Harry with a sardonic grin.

`Right, now that's settled,' said Ron, rubbing his hands together expectantly, `why don't we have a little midnight snack and some coffee while we have a regular visit?' Harry and Hermione both rolled their eyes and laughed, shaking their heads. `What?' cried Ron in mock indignation. `That's what I popped back home for, after all!'

*

Harry and Hermione then spent some hours over quite a few cups of coffee - and some biscuits and cake - filling Ron in on all the finer details of their research. Their explanation of the connection between Dean and the Book of Records drew a long whistle of amazed surprise from him.

When they came to the end, telling him that they were waiting to speak to Dean, then Verity (`I always wondered about those two in that portrait,' Ron commented), Ron asked if he could join them the next night. Harry and Hermione both agreed he'd be more than welcome.

Shortly afterwards, Hermione told Harry that she'd decided she'd be doing her regular work the following day since they weren't able to get any further with the Book of Records for the time being; Harry said he'd also go into his office. `I need to catch up on the week's happenings, as well as warn Kingsley and Robards I may need more time off next week.'

`I'll Floo back to Kenmare in the morning after you've both left for work,' Ron said, yawning. He stood up then, covering another yawn. `And I'm going to bed before I fall asleep right here. I'll see you two for breakfast. Here or there?'

`Our place for a change,' said Harry, `that okay?' he asked Hermione.

`Of course,' she replied with a smile, `it means I don't have to cook.'

`Done, then,' said Ron. `G'night!'

After he left, Harry suggested to Hermione that they sit on the couch as they'd be more comfortable. As she curled up beside him, kicking off her shoes, Hermione yawned delicately. `I'll have to go to bed soon, too,' she commented sleepily.

`And me too,' said Harry, his arm around her shoulders, his cheek resting against the softness of her hair.

Hermione took Harry's free hand in hers, idly tracing the lines on his palm with her forefinger as his hand lay cupped in hers.

`Harry, after tonight, with Ron, I'm beginning to comprehend that you and me - that us becoming a couple - might be a bit awkward, at least at first. Even I'm still getting used to the idea.'

Harry was thoroughly enjoying the sensations created by Hermione's playful ministrations and when he spoke, his voice was low and resonant.

`Only at first. I think everyone's used to us being together because we always have been; now they'll just have to get used to me ogling you and kissing you every chance I get.'

Hermione laughed as she moved her head to look up at him. `Is that what you're planning on doing in public now? Ogling me and kissing me?'

`Every chance I get,' replied Harry mischievously, laughing as well.

As their laughter subsided, Hermione once more laid her head against his shoulder, sighing happily.

`You know, Harry, I am just so surprised at how natural this all seems! I mean, how is it that after all these years we just seem to be falling into this - place, this togetherness - almost without a hitch? How is it possible?'

Harry smiled to himself at hearing Hermione's words. Why did I ever doubt this would happen? he wondered. How could I doubt that something so right wouldn't happen eventually?

Aloud, he said, `My personal theory is that we were simply meant to be together, love. Maybe it was necessary for us to “cut our teeth” so to speak, on other relationships, but in the end it was always going to be you and me. Because I feel the same - that we're falling into this without a hitch - because it's meant to be.'

`Meant to be… that's just how it feels, Harry, that we're meant to be…'

*

The next morning, breakfast was a light-hearted affair; Ron told them as he cooked scrambled eggs that he'd thought long and hard about it the previous night, and if Hermione wasn't going to end up with him, then Harry was a good second choice. This comment brought Ron a playful punch to the arm from Harry and an impressive rolling of the eyes from Hermione.

As they sat companionably and enjoyed their eggs, bacon, grilled tomatoes, chipolatas and toast, they talked about their mutual amazement at, and gratitude for, their closeness and bond.

`We are so lucky,' said Hermione, spreading marmalade on her toast. `How many school friends are still as close as we are after all this time?'

`I think we three were somehow sort of predestined,' said Harry sagely, spearing his last chipolata.

`Predestined?' repeated Ron. `That sounds deep.'

Harry shrugged good-naturedly, chewing on his food.

`Actually,' said Hermione thoughtfully, `we do take our friendship for granted. And when you think about it, it is pretty unique.'

`Like us,' said Ron with a grin.

Hedwig, who had appeared to be sleeping up until then, hooted softly.

`See?' said Ron, pointing over his shoulder, `Even Hedwig agrees with me!'

This remark made them all laugh and as they did, it was as though they had no cares or worries, that their friendship gave them the ability to rise above such things. It was a great start to what would prove to be a rather unsettling day.

At half past eight, Harry and Hermione left for work, leaving Ron to clean up, after which he Flooed to Kenmare, happy and pleased to find Luna waiting for him.

The day passed uneventfully for all of them and it was only that evening, after Harry and Hermione had enjoyed a simple dinner of store-bought lasagne and salad at her place and they were both reading over a cup of tea, that Hermione discovered an article in her Daily Prophet.

Hermione's first reaction was to gasp which made Harry ask her what was wrong.

`Oscar Blakely's been found dead!' she said, her eyes still scanning the article.

`What?!' exclaimed Harry. `Isn't that the bloke Ginny worked with that made her quit? Gave her a hard time?'

Hermione nodded. `The same one. It's so weird, though, Harry - they say here that he was devastated by a colleague's resignation - he apparently said as much to Ginny's boss, Ida - so now they're wondering about the chances of it being a suicide.'

`What? Because Ginny quit? They hated each other! They have ever since Ginny started working there!'

`And Dean said it was a run in with Blakely that made her quit in the first place!' cried Hermione.

`Damn, I'll have to wait till I get to work on Monday now to find out more,' lamented Harry.

`At least we have the meeting with Dean to look forward to, tonight,' Hermione commented, wondering whether she should contact Ginny and make sure she was all right.

`That's true,' Harry replied, `although since he doesn't know anything about his heritage and his connection with the Book of Records yet, he may have to get used to that idea before we go any further.'

`Let's hope we'll at least get to the stage where we'll be able to speak to Verity. I'm really curious as to what she knows. I just hope it'll be a help to us.'

*

They were still sitting at the table not long before Dean was due to arrive; Hermione had voiced her concern about Ginny and whether she should Floo or owl her. Harry told her he thought it was probably better to wait till the next morning.

`I'd say she's probably been interviewed by some Law Enforcement Wizards,' he explained. `They'd want to know exactly what happened between her and Blakely, whether it had any bearing on what happened to him. She'd be pretty wrung out, I imagine.'

`Of course,' murmured Hermione, now even more concerned for her friend. Then she had a thought, and groaned.

`What's wrong?' asked Harry.

`You don't think Dean would cancel our meeting again, do you? So he can be with Ginny?'

`He wouldn't actually be able to be with Ginny while she was being interviewed, but he may have -'

Harry was interrupted by a knock on the door.

`Dean!' they said together, rising in unison to go to the door.

And Dean it was - looking anxious and very strained.

`Come on in, Dean,' said Hermione, her concern evident in both her expression and her voice.

`We've only just found out about Blakely,' said Harry as they all moved to sit at the table. In the centre of the table was a tray Hermione had placed there earlier; it held a jug of cold water and a stay-hot charmed pot of tea which Dean eyed as he sat down. `If it's no trouble, I'd really like a glass of Ogden's, if you've got it,' he said.

`No trouble,' said Harry; he made a simple hand gesture and their bottle of Ogden's, three glasses and a dish of ice cubes appeared on the tray.

`Thanks,' said Dean gratefully, as Harry poured him a glass.

`Would you like one Hermione?' Harry asked her and when she nodded, he poured two more glasses.

`What do you know about what's happened to Blakely?' asked Dean after a taking a good-sized mouthful of his drink.

`Only what's in the Prophet,' said Hermione. `That Blakely apparently told Ginny's boss he was devastated by Ginny's resignation and so they're considering suicide as the cause of death.'

Dean shook his head. `That was very early in the piece,' he said heavily. `You know last night I was at the Burrow, that I'd gone home with Ginny after she'd resigned?' Harry and Hermione both nodded. `Well,' Dean continued, `I ended up staying the night and it was this morning that it all started; I'm really glad I was there. I had to Floo work and explain I couldn't go in today.'

`When did Blakely die?' asked Harry.

`Late last night,' said Dean. `He didn't turn up for work this morning. Apparently he's never missed a day's work and because they hadn't heard from him, Ida was really worried. She had her secretary Floo him. His body was lying in front of his living room fireplace; the poor young witch that did the Flooing was pretty hysterical, apparently. Once Ida reported it, they came to see her, of course. She told them about the argument Blakely and Ginny had had the previous day, that Ginny had resigned straight afterwards. She said that Blakely had come to her just before leaving work yesterday evening, and that he'd been in a real state. He was almost babbling, going on about Ginny's resignation. He told Ida he was relieved - his word - that Ginny had left. Ida said he seemed terribly scared and nervous, but she couldn't get anything out of him.'

`What the hell does all that mean? Do they know yet?' asked Harry.

Dean shook his head. `But the one thing they do know is that he was murdered. No one can use the Killing Curse against themselves. They're almost positive the murderer Flooed to Blakely's home with his body, dumped it on the hearth and left.'

`Is Ginny all right?' asked Hermione.

Dean gave her a strange look before answering. `She's home again now. They've said they're finished talking with her, at least for now. The strange thing is, Ginny told me yesterday - when we were in my office - that it was almost as though Blakely drummed up the argument they had, that he started it deliberately. And now Ida's said that Blakely told her he was relieved Ginny had left, it's as though that was just what he intended. But why?' Dean sounded as though those final two words had been haunting him all day, which in fact they had.

`He didn't just want Ginny out of the way?' asked Hermione.

`Well, Ginny says it was out of character and for what it was worth, they'd agreed to give their working relationship a month's trial. With the way he went about things, he probably would've lost that promotion he was getting and he wouldn't endanger that. She was certain he would've made her working life hell after the promotion, but that he was the type who would've enjoyed doing that.'

`It doesn't make sense,' said Harry, frowning. `Why would he suddenly want Ginny out of the picture so quickly?'

Dean shrugged wearily. `That's what they're still trying to get to the bottom of. The thing is, Blakely didn't really have any friends or family except some bloke that came into work a few times that he had lunch with and talked about seeing occasionally - name of Rafferty.'

`Draco Malfoy!' exclaimed Hermione.

Both Dean and Harry looked at her as though she was nuts.

`That friend of Blakely's - Ginny met him once,' explained Hermione. `She said it was actually Draco Malfoy. I'd forgotten all about it until you just mentioned his name!'

Dean groaned and drained his glass. `Shit! That's something else they're going to want to drag her in for questioning about!'

Harry was staring at Hermione. `Draco Malfoy? Is Ginny certain?'

Hermione nodded. `I think she said he'd dyed his hair, but she'd know him anywhere.'

Dean looked at Harry. `They won't be working on this tomorrow, will they? On a Saturday?'

`There's a good chance they will, actually; they often have to with murder cases,' Harry told him.

Dean groaned again. `I'd better get back there. Ginny will have to tell them what she knows about Rafferty. Or Malfoy.' Dean suddenly straightened in his chair and looked across at Harry. `How the hell can Draco Malfoy be wandering about London and the Department hasn't picked up on it? He's wanted, isn't he?'

`I know he's wanted, but other than that -' Harry shrugged. `Not my department, I'm afraid. I'll be able to find out more at work, though.'

`Dean, before you go, we do need to ask you something - and tell you something.'

Dean looked at Hermione, his exhaustion plain to see.

`I know you're tired, and I'm really sorry, but we desperately need your help with our research into the Dark One,' explained Hermione.

`How on earth can I help?' Dean asked, bewildered.

`Dean, how much do you know about your real father?' asked Harry.

Dean shrugged. `Only the fact that he exists - that he left without a word when I was a baby.'

`You don't know his name?' queried Hermione.

`Mum never told me and I didn't like to ask. I could tell she hated talking about him.'

Harry and Hermione looked at each other before Hermione turned back to Dean. She reached out and put her hand over Dean's as it lay on the table. `The Book of Records we were talking about the other night belonged to a wizard named Alexander Riley. He was an Auror during the first war with Voldemort, and we believe he died during the war. We've read his entries in the book and -'

Hermione hesitated, glancing at Harry who took up the narrative. `From what we've read, Riley was being hunted down by Death Eaters. That's why he left his wife and child. His wife didn't know he was a wizard and he wanted to protect her and his child from the Death Eaters. So he left. And they were - are - safe. There was also an old photograph in the book. I can't remember exactly what was written on the back, but -'

`I do,' interrupted Hermione quietly. `It said “The Riley Family - Alex, Alma and Dean.”

`Alma's my mother,' croaked Dean, looking stricken.

`We know,' said Hermione. `And there was a date, too - the 16^th of August. Your mother was holding a baby in the picture - you. You would've been about six weeks old.'

Dean was staring at them, speechless, shaking his head helplessly.

Hermione squeezed his hand gently. `I know this must be a huge shock, but we thought you had a right to know.'

Dean nodded, looked extremely distracted. `Yes, yes. I think I just need time to take it all in. Can I read the book? See the photo?'

Hermione nodded. `Of course you can. The book and everything in it is yours now.'

Dean stood up, Harry and Hermione following suit.

`I'm sorry,' said Dean, his voice sounding hoarse with exhaustion, `I'll have to go. I need to think - and talk to Ginny.'

They made their way downstairs in silence; Hermione hid her disappointment as she and Harry saw Dean off, asking him to give Ginny their love and their offer of any help she may want or need.

Dean gave her another peculiar look just before stepping into the green flames, his voice heavy with fatigue as he said, `The Burrow.'

Harry and Hermione stood and looked up at Verity and Emrys who had feigned sleep while they saw Dean off; they were now sitting up alertly in their rocking chairs, their eyes fixed on Harry and Hermione.

Hermione sighed. `Verity, is it really necessary for Dean to be with us when you tell us what you know?'

`I wish him to be,' said Verity enigmatically.

Hermione sighed again. `Very well, although we don't know how long it will be before we can be here with him.'

`Never mind, dear,' said Emrys sympathetically. `The time will come, sooner or later.'

`Hopefully sooner, rather than later,' murmured Hermione to Harry as they headed back upstairs.

Harry put his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close to him as they walked up the stairs side by side.

`Let's just try and relax for what's left of the night,' he said gently. `Tomorrow I think I'll go into work and see if I can help. And tell them about Malfoy.'

`Can't wait to track down Malfoy, I take it?' asked Hermione, putting her arm around Harry's waist.

`Exactly. Track him down and throw him in Azkaban where he belongs. I'm sure he must be mixed up in Blakely's death somehow.'

`I'll come with you, if that's all right,' said Hermione and Harry assured her it was, saying, `I think we may need all that information you have tucked away inside your head, Miss Granger.'

`It's at your disposal, Mr Potter,' Hermione replied cheekily.

`What? Just the information in your head?'

Hermione laughed, feeling a wonderful, if tenuous, sense of happiness and lightness amidst the newly-minted grimness of the current situation.

`I dare say more than that, Mr Potter, but as to the full extent of what's available…well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?'

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

As always, looking forward to hearing what you think guys! Janie xoxo

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Author's Note

HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!! And now that Christmas and New Year celebrations and socialising are behind me, it's back to work. Well, back to writing - I don't actually go back to work until the 22^nd of January *Janie does happy dance* This is a longer chapter which I hope makes up a little for the long wait! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER TWENTY

In which Dean tells Ginny what he's learnt about his father, Harry and Hermione have an interesting meeting at the Ministry before Hermione goes home to make lunch; while she's out shopping for a few groceries, she has an unknown visitor, one that Crookshanks does not approve of and whose appearance creates a little havoc at the Ministry as Harry rushes home; slight pandemonium ensues before Harry and Hermione are finally left alone to have lunch…which they don't end up having because, well... you'll see...

When Dean arrived back at the Burrow, it was to find Ginny sitting on the old sofa, waiting for him. She rose swiftly to her feet as he stepped out of the fireplace.

`How was it?' she asked.

`Let's sit down; I have a lot to tell you. Where are your mum and dad?'

`Bill Flooed just after you left and they've gone to see him and Fleur,' Ginny replied as she sat down once more, Dean beside her.

Dean nodded. `I think that's probably a good thing. There are some things I don't want anyone else to know just yet.'

Ginny gave him a puzzled look.

`Firstly, did anyone ask you today about a wizard named Rafferty?'

Ginny frowned thoughtfully as she shook her head. `No, they only wanted to know about the argument with Blakely and about our working relationship.'

As Dean watched, he saw Ginny's eyes widen with realisation. `Rafferty! Malfoy!' she gasped.

Dean nodded. `Hermione told me.'

Ginny was shaking her head in stunned disbelief. `I can't believe I forgot about that! I wonder if he's involved in any way?'

`Chances are pretty good, I'd say,' remarked Dean. `And it's not really surprising you didn't think of him. You only met him once, briefly, didn't you?' Ginny nodded as Dean continued, `And you haven't had a chance to think or talk about anything else today except Blakely and the argument.'

`They'll want to ask me about that, now, I suppose,' Ginny said wearily.

`Yep, and I wouldn't be surprised if they show up tomorrow. I imagine they'll be desperate to get their hands on Malfoy; he's been on the wanted list for a long time now.'

Ginny yawned, her tiredness increasing as she thought of living through another repeat of that day.

`There's something else I found out tonight, too,' said Dean slowly. `But it can wait, if you're too tired.'

Ginny shook her head. `What is it?'

Dean took a deep breath; he felt he was probably in a state of shock at what Harry and Hermione had told him about his father. He hadn't yet had time to react to the news and suspected he hadn't yet truly grasped the magnitude and significance of what they'd told him and said as much to Ginny.

`What on earth did they tell you?' she asked sharply.

So Dean, relieved at Ginny's readiness to listen to him, recounted what he'd been told. As he did so, the enormity of the situation seemed to hit him with great force. He dropped his head into his hands with an anguished groan, and Ginny felt her heart go out to him. She moved closer so that she was able to put her hands on his, pulling gently at them so that he had to look at her.

`Dean, it sounds as though your dad was a brave man. It must've broken his heart to leave you and your mum that way. But it's probably the reason you're alive today.'

Dean nodded mutely in agreement. `But surely there must've been some way he could've let mum know!' he burst out.

As Dean let his hands drop to his lap, his gaze fell with them; Ginny retained her hold on them and he marvelled at the wonderful feel of Ginny's slender white hands.

`I don't think we can quite imagine how bad things were for so long in the first war,' Ginny told him. `Your dad probably wasn't prepared to take even the tiniest risk when it came to you and your mother.'

Dean nodded again. `I'll have to find out more,' he said, looking up at Ginny. `I want to know as much as I can before I talk to mum about it. Harry and Hermione said I could read the book, that it's mine now.'

`How were they?' Ginny asked softly, dropping her gaze to their still clasped hands.

`Strangely enough, they didn't seem any different from usual. I think I expected - well, something, although I'm not sure what.' Dean shrugged. `They just seemed like Harry and Hermione.'

Ginny made a sound that was supposed to be a nonchalant chuckle, but instead sounded like a moan.

`Damn it, Ginny,' said Dean gruffly, as he let go of her hands and put his arms around her, hugging her to him.

`I'm all right, really,' came Ginny's muffled reassurance.

`Hermione sends her love, by the way, and she and Harry said to let them know if there's anything they can do.'

Ginny's sardonic laughter almost turned to tears, but she pulled herself together and took a few deep breaths before sitting back, Dean's arms still loosely around her. Enough! she told herself firmly. It's over.

`That's very thoughtful of them,' she said. She and Dean looked at each other for a second, then they both burst out laughing, the ironic kind of laughter not caused by humour, but by the need to ease accumulated tensions.

`Enough of Harry and Hermione and everything else,' Dean said, his heart lighter. `For the rest of the night, we're just going to worry about us. Hot chocolate?'

Ginny gave him a small, grateful smile. `Hot chocolate sounds perfect.'

*

The next morning, after Flooing the Auror Office and speaking with Gawain Robards to ensure it was all right for them to do so, Harry and Hermione Flooed to the Ministry and quickly made their way to Level Two.

There they found Robards talking with a team of two Aurors and three Law Enforcement officers. As Harry and Hermione approached, Robards waved at them in greeting.

`Morning, Harry, Hermione,' he said. `You know everyone I think, Harry?'

Harry nodded as he and Hermione greeted the Department Head before turning and introducing Hermione to the others; indicating the two Aurors, both of whom were tall and rangy and appeared to be about the same age, Harry firstly introduced the Auror with very dark, long hair, worn back in a ponytail and eyes as dark as his hair. `Hermione Granger, Manny Cleaver,' said Harry, then turning to the other Auror, who had very short, sandy-coloured hair and a beard, `and this is Eric Rundle.' Hermione shook both their hands as they each murmured greetings, then turned to the three Law Enforcement Officers, whose demeanour seemed more relaxed than that of the Aurors.

Harry introduced each of the LEOs, as they were commonly known, and Hermione shook their hands in turn. Fallon Turner was a willowy, thirty-something witch with short, brown hair, Drew Grant, with thick, wavy blonde hair and blue eyes that twinkled in a way that reminded Hermione of Albus Dumbledore, was only slightly taller than she was while Raymond Butler, the eldest of the three, had thinning, grey hair and was about the same height as Harry.

Robards asked them all to move to the room beside his office, which held a large table surrounded by a variety of chairs. As they did so, a young witch appeared in the doorway and said that Auror Rundle was needed on Level Nine.

`Get back if you can,' Robards told Rundle, `but if not, Manny will fill you in later.'

Rundle nodded and left, Robards turning back to the others. `Take a seat,' he told them, moving to the head of the table. Harry and Hermione sat on Robards' left along with the lone Auror, while Fallon, Drew and Raymond sat on his right.

Once Robards had established the extent of Harry and Hermione's knowledge of the current situation, Harry went on to explain that he believed Draco Malfoy had disguised himself and was using the name Malcolm Rafferty. Both he and Hermione were somewhat surprised to find that the Department Head, as well as the Auror and the LEOs, were fully aware of this and to their further astonishment, had been tailing Malfoy for some time, using him as a “guide”; his movements and contacts had provided them with a lot of valuable information and some new sources.

`However, in the last couple of months, things have changed,' said Cleaver.

Hermione gave Harry a questioning glance and he nodded by way of reply, knowing she was wondering whether this was the same Cleaver that had been injured by an old spell a few weeks previously.

`In what way?' asked Harry.

Manny Cleaver answered, his voice deep and low. `About two months ago, Malfoy met with a man who we've been unable to identify or find due to the fact that he was wearing a Cloak of Concealment, an extremely old and rare artefact. After this meeting, we followed Malfoy, who returned to his home and then promptly Disapparated. Because we'd put an Apparition Trace on him -'

`But that's forbidden!' cried Hermione, shocked.

Cleaver's dark eyes bored into Hermione's as he said evenly, `Naturally, we obtained special dispensation in this case. And are you aware, Miss Granger, that an Apparition Trace can only be used once? Each application of one not only requires special permission, it is a very complicated spell and there are only a handful of witches and wizards capable of casting it. All of whom work for the Ministry, I might add.'

Hermione, regretting her impetuous outburst, nodded as she said quietly, `I see; I'm sorry.'

`And I see that I should never underestimate your knowledge, Miss Granger; very few people know that Apparition Traces even exist.' One side of Cleaver's mouth curved upwards in a small smile before he returned to his account.

`The Apparition Trace enabled LEOs Turner and Grant to follow him. They found themselves in a place that I know you have previously been, Harry, and I will now let Fallon and Drew take it from here.'

Fallon Turner began to speak mere seconds after Cleaver finished, her narrative smooth and without hesitation. `We were standing on top of a roughly flattened boulder that rose out of the sea about twenty feet from a high, sheer cliff. We could see Malfoy swimming towards a small crevice in the cliff face. We immediately slid into the water and followed him.'

Harry felt an unpleasant prickling sensation as he listened; he could clearly picture the place Fallon was describing. He fought off the unwanted memories that accompanied that picture, knowing he needed to concentrate on what was being said.

`We swam into a tunnel that had obviously been modified, no doubt by magic. It was only about three feet wide in the cliff face, but just inside the entrance, it widened to about six feet; the walls and the rounded ceiling of this tunnel were perfectly smooth. Malfoy's wand was lit, enabling us to slowly follow him. The tunnel curved to the left and for a few seconds we lost sight of him. As we swam around the curve, we saw him rising from the water, and in the light from his wand, we watched as he walked up about three steps carved into the rock and stopped. He appeared to be standing inches from the cave wall. We moved as close as we dared, only our heads above water. Malfoy spoke, but unfortunately we weren't able to make out what he said. Then a door appeared in the rock face; by the light of Malfoy's wand, we could see it was made of metal. The door was opened by a cloaked and hooded figure; Malfoy entered and the door closed behind him. The instant it was shut, the door vanished once more.'

Fallon stopped talking and looked at Drew Grant sitting beside her; he nodded and took up the narrative.

`We found that the steps actually began in the water as we moved forward. We approached the spot Malfoy had been standing, both our wands lit. We detected the spell of concealment put on the door, however, we didn't remove it for fear of discovery; we didn't wish Malfoy and anyone else behind that door to know that we had followed him.'

Harry frowned. `There was no door, hidden or otherwise, when I went there with Dumbledore,' he said.

Drew nodded. `That's right. The Dark One has had his Disciples make a number of modifications,' he told him.

Hermione had been looking at Harry; however, on hearing Drew's words, her head snapped around and she stared at him.

`So you knew about the Dark One and his Disciples before the meeting at Hogwarts?' she asked, her eyes darting from Drew back to Robards.

Robards replied, his steady gaze resting on Hermione.

`We had a Dark wizard in custody who babbled frequently about someone he was terrified of and who he called “the Dark One”. However, that's all he ever spoke of and so until the meeting at Hogwarts, we didn't connect the Dark One he'd rambled on about with those we now know are his Disciples. Also, until you told us, we didn't know that the lake within that cave is connected to the Dark Realm. As you can imagine, we then saw Malfoy's trip and all the other comings and goings to that cave in a whole new light.' Robards hesitated and Harry took advantage of the momentary pause.

`So you've made more trips to the cave?' he asked.

Robards looked at Harry; Harry could see he was weighing up his answer. Finally, he nodded.

`Once we knew where it was, we naturally didn't need a Trace on Malfoy. Unfortunately, we've not yet been able to penetrate beyond that door.'

`So it wasn't until the meeting at Hogwarts that you became fully aware of the Dark One and his Disciples?' asked Harry tersely. Without even looking at her, he knew Hermione was thinking the same thing he was: Just exactly how much and what had the Ministry known before he'd received that fateful letter.

Robards instantly knew what Harry was getting at. `I know what you're probably thinking Harry, but no, we didn't know the Dark One truly existed before you received that letter - or before the meeting at Hogwarts. We did know that there was some sort of group apparently living in the cave; it was under surveillance within twenty-four hours of Fallon and Drew's return. And by the way, to this day, we have only ever heard the Disciples and their visitors refer to their “master”; we've not once heard any of them refer to the “Dark One”. Since that first time when we followed him, Malfoy has made regular visits and he's not the only one. I'll let Manny continue from here, as he's the head of surveillance in this case.'

Cleaver gave Robards a nod of acknowledgement as he stood up out of habit; at large meetings, it was then easier for everyone to see him.

`In those two months between Fallon and Drew's initial visit to the cave and the meeting at Hogwarts, we basically just tracked all movements to and from the cave. One thing we've learnt is that only the lesser Disciples and visitors are left to swim from the rock to the cave, or from the cave to the rock to Disapparate; there would naturally be Anti-Apparition Spells in place within the tunnel and the cave itself. We were surprised when we first saw one of the Disciples emerge from the cave in a small wooden dinghy. It was obviously propelled by magic and when he reached the rock and stepped out to Disapparate, the boat vanished. Within weeks, Malfoy was also using the dinghy. Apparently, as far as we can ascertain, a special Summoning Charm is used which causes the boat to appear, while a Vanishing Spell is used to banish it.'

`So your surveillance didn't reveal much more than that prior to the meeting at Hogwarts?' asked Harry.

`Unfortunately, no,' replied Cleaver.

Hermione spoke then. `Excuse me, may I just ask something?'

`Certainly, Miss Granger,' replied Cleaver.

`Mr Robards said you had a Dark wizard in custody. Is he still alive?'

Cleaver and Robards both shook their heads. `He died a few days before the meeting; on the Monday before, to be exact,' Cleaver informed her.

`What from?' asked Hermione.

`His heart gave out,' Cleaver replied.

`Was he old, then?' she asked.

`Why are you so interested in this wizard, Miss Granger, if I might ask?'

Hermione bit her lip. She was very curious as to how and why the wizard had died, certain his death was somehow connected with the Dark One, but she didn't want to reveal that Harry had discussed him with her since she was certain it was classified. She didn't think Harry saying “but I tell Hermione everything” would be an acceptable explanation. As she looked back at Cleaver, she was very aware of Harry's gaze resting on her, willing her not to divulge how much she knew about the now-deceased wizard.

Shrugging, Hermione said, `I was just curious as to how he knew of the Dark One and whether that knowledge had anything to do with his death.' She just knew that if she dropped her gaze and looked, she'd see appreciation and admiration in Harry's eyes.

Cleaver had a speculative gleam in his eye, looking from Hermione to Harry and back again before he said, `We believe it did, although there's no way of proving it, I'm afraid.'

`I see,' replied Hermione. `I'm sorry, I've diverted the conversation; you were telling us about the surveillance.'

`There's nothing much else to tell, I'm afraid,' said Cleaver.

Gawain Robards stood up as Cleaver spoke, and before dismissing the three LEO's, ascertained who was on surveillance duty for the next thirty-six hours.

`I'm taking over at midday,' Butler advised him, `then Fallon's on duty from midnight until midday tomorrow and Drew the shift after that.'

`Fine,' said Robards, `and you'll be reporting in on Monday morning?'

Butler nodded and Robards turned to Cleaver, `You don't mind if I sit in?'

`Of course not,' replied Cleaver with a wry grin, `you're the boss. Eight thirty, my office.'

Fallon, Drew and Raymond took their leave and as the door closed behind them, Robards asked Harry if he'd mind seeing Hermione home, then returning for a short meeting with himself and Cleaver.

As they made their way through the Ministry to the Atrium, Harry took Hermione's hand and smiled down at her. `Sorry I doubted you,' he told her. `I should've known you'd realise most of what I tell you is classified without me ever having to say so.'

Hermione gave him a cheeky grin, her eyes dancing. `I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you,' she told him, `especially since you won't have any qualms about telling me everything you hear in that meeting you're having shortly. You know I'm so trustworthy.'

Harry laughed, quashing a sudden urge to kiss Hermione there and then. Instead, he dropped her hand and put his arm around her waist, pulling her to him, a thrill rushing through him because he was able to do so. He leant down and whispered in her ear. `If you keep looking at me like that, be warned you may find yourself getting soundly kissed.'

`Is that a threat or a promise?' Hermione asked, gazing innocently at Harry.

`Definitely a promise,' Harry replied, his voice low and intense, causing Hermione's breath to catch in her throat; a warm tingling sensation spread rapidly throughout her whole body at the sound of Harry's voice and the thought of kissing him.

They stopped in front of one of the Atrium fireplaces, and as a witch stepped out of a green-lit fireplace on the opposite wall behind them, giving them a curious glance, Harry dropped his arm, pushing his hands into his jeans pockets.

`I'll see you at home,' he said, his voice husky with suppressed emotion.

Hermione nodded, automatically reaching up to push at his unruly black locks. As her fingers brushed his forehead, she felt something akin to electricity race through her body and she quickly dropped her hand.

`I'll make some lunch,' she said, her voice a little unsteady.

`I'll see you soon then,' said Harry, giving her a smile that made her heart skip a beat as she turned to Floo home, giving Harry a last wave as she stepped into the fireplace.

*

When Hermione arrived home, she was amused to find Crookshanks looking quite disgruntled due to the presence of Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon. He was perched on the mantel piece above Crookshanks, twittering ecstatically at his favourite feline. With a sympathetic smile for Crookshanks, Hermione crossed the room and removed the note from Pigwidgeon's leg as he hooted happily at her. It was a note from Ron saying he'd received their message last night that the meeting they'd planned with Dean, Verity and Emrys was postponed and they'd be in touch. Ron's postscript had her smiling: “Seamus is driving us all crazy `cause he just doesn't shut up raving about his bloody Kenmare Kestrels! Just wait till we get to Chudley…”

After giving Pigwidgeon some water and food, Hermione saw him off before firstly setting the table, after which she rummaged amongst the contents of the fridge and the pantry, looking for something she could use to make lunch. However, there was no inspiration to be had from the few ingredients available, and so with a sigh, she told Crookshanks she was going to have to walk up to the corner; Crookshanks gave a rather disinterested miaow in reply and Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes affectionately at her pet.

Picking up her purse and wand, Hermione left, humming to herself, buoyed by the thought of having lunch with Harry and spending time alone with him. Crookshanks watched her go, then with a languid purr, tucked his head in and once more went back to sleep. However, five minutes later he was startled awake by the sound of the front door opening. Instinctively, he kept his head down and peered through slitted eyes towards the front door - or the top half of it, which was all he could see above the back of the sofa. He wanted to hiss spectacularly at the cloaked figure that stood in the doorway because he knew, as only a Kneazle - or part-Kneazle - can: that the person who had just entered his mistress's flat was both unsavoury and suspicious and had no right being there! He kept as still as possible and watched as the figure headed along the hallway to Ginny's bedroom. A few minutes later it reappeared, heading in the opposite direction, towards the front of the building - to Hermione's room. Once again it was only minutes before it silently appeared near the front door, then without hesitation, made its way across to the kitchen. Crookshanks, now in sight of the intruder should he or she look up, closed his eyes and kept perfectly still; he could clearly hear the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing and drawers being pulled open and their contents riffled; then, following an exclamation of sour frustration from the interloper, a drawer was slammed shut, making the ginger cat jump.

A foul-sounding stream of unintelligible words assaulted Crookshanks' ears and he risked opening one eye to see the cloaked figure sweep from the flat, leaving the front door open.

*

Harry and Gawain Robards both stood, Harry still mulling over what he'd learnt in the last half hour or so; Cleaver had already left, muttering under his breath about demanding wives and the boredom of shopping.

`I'll see you Monday sometime then, Harry,' Robards told him as they headed for the door.

Harry nodded. `Hermione and I will be working down in her department from about seven-thirty or eight. We'll have Dean with us, so we're hoping to learn more with his help. We'll come up and see you as soon as we're finished.'

As they paused just outside the door of Robards' office, Harry felt his wand vibrate rapidly in the special pocket on the side of his jeans.

Alarmed and puzzled, he pulled it out, Robards staring at both him and his wand. Then a small, green-tinged sphere formed at the tip of his wand, growing to the size of a small cantaloupe; there was something inside, although Robards couldn't make it out.

Harry stared into the sphere, comprehension dawning as he took in what was there. With a single, terse expletive he turned and ran, shoving his wand back into its pocket as he did so.

Robards called after him, but Harry simply yelled, `Later!' and kept running. He stopped in front of the lifts, frantic and agitated to find none waiting. Knowing he'd get an earful later for doing so, Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated, the Atrium clearly pictured in his mind. The second he reappeared, he strode across to one of the fireplaces, the sound of the alarms he'd set off ringing in his ears. However, he took no notice of them as he stepped into the closest fireplace, his voice taut with fear as he said, `Sorcerers' Nook!'

*

As Harry leapt out of the fireplace at the Nook, Frewin screeched in fright, flapping his wings. Harry took no more notice of him than he had of the alarms at the Ministry, but before he could move, the front door opened and Hermione walked in, shopping bags in hand.

Chaos - albeit momentary - ensued.

Hermione stared in utter surprise as Harry virtually yelled out her name and ran across the room towards her. At the same time, Esmerelda came bustling out of her flat, disconcerted and troubled by the noise, giving a cry of fright when Frewin began screeching again, incited by Harry's shouting of Hermione's name.

As Esmerelda made her way towards them, Harry, who had already reached Hermione, grasped her arms, his green eyes rather wild behind his glasses as he asked her repeatedly whether she was all right. Hermione, utterly bewildered, was trying to assure Harry she was fine, at the same time watching Esmerelda approach - who at that moment reminded her strongly of Molly Weasley in a flap - over Harry's right shoulder, whilst over his left shoulder was the unusual sight of Frewin marching up and down his perch, wings flapping madly as he screeched incessantly. Before anyone could say or do anything more, Dean and Neville came flying down the stairs three at a time, their startled expressions giving way to utter amazement as they reached the bottom step and they, too, beheld the scene that had Verity and Emrys covering their ears and cowering in their rocking chairs, their eyes screwed shut, regardless of who might see them.

Dean and Neville moved swiftly. Neville crossed the distance between the stairs and Harry and Hermione, then reached around Harry, took the shopping bags Hermione was carrying and put them aside before turning to reassure Esmerelda; Dean made his way over to Frewin, taking a Doogle's Deluxe Owl Treat from the box on the mantel piece on the way, speaking softly to the distressed owl as he offered him his favourite food. Esmerelda gave Neville a grateful smile, then reached over and pulled at Harry's fingers which were still gripping Hermione's arms, pointing out gently that he was close to cutting off Hermione's blood supply.

Harry stood, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding; Hermione, after rubbing her arms for a few seconds, took his hands, quickly thanking Esmerelda and Neville before asking Harry what in the name of Dumbledore's Beard was going on.

In the intervening moments, things had calmed down considerably. Dean had joined them and the five of them stood together as silence reigned once more; Frewin was now quiet, Dean having left him happily munching on his treat; Harry and Hermione stood, their hands clasped, with Dean, Neville and Esmerelda standing around them. Verity and Emrys had also recovered and were now sitting back in their rocking chairs, appearing as though they were sleeping, as usual, although if anyone had cared to look closely, there were quite a few wrinkles in Verity's usually smooth-as-glass-apron.

`I'm sorry,' said Harry to Hermione quietly, `but the charm I put in place on your flat - that I'd actually forgotten about in the last few weeks - was activated just as I was about to leave Robards and - well, here I am…'

`Charm? Activated?' Hermione shook her head, her brows drawn together in a confused frown.

Harry took a deep breath. `Just after I received that letter I put a Comperio Charm on your flat. Just in case. Because I was worried.'

As he finished, he felt Hermione's hands tighten around his fingers and wondered if he'd done the wrong thing in casting the spell without telling her.

Hermione gazed at him steadily, her eyes unreadable.

Harry felt panic rising within in. `Hermione, I'm so sorry, I know I should've told you, but what with one thing and another, I just -'

The corners of Hermione's mouth lifted slightly. `Harry, it's just so typical of you! I should throttle you, honestly!'

Harry groaned. `Feel free to throttle me as hard as you like! I'm really sorry, Hermione and, uh, well…' Harry glanced nervously, first at Neville, then Dean, before his gaze came to rest on Esmerelda.

`Harry!' exclaimed Hermione, catching on first. `You didn't!'

Harry looked down at her, somewhat shamefaced. `I did,' he said quietly.

Hermione groaned, her eyes closing as she dropped her head back. Then she raised her head, shaking it as she looked around at everyone.

`You know what he's done, don't you?' she asked, sounding amused despite her exasperation.

`What?' asked Dean, perplexed.

`He's put a Comperio Charm on all -?' she made it a question, looking at Harry for confirmation; Harry nodded and Hermione continued, `on all of our flats.'

`What's that?' asked Neville.

Hermione sighed, and apparently not hearing Neville's question, said, `Do you know that for most people, it's a real challenge to carry one Comperio Charm, let alone five!'

`So what's a Comperio Charm?' asked Dean and Esmerelda simultaneously.

Hermione looked at Harry who appeared somewhat abashed. `Shall I?' she asked quietly, and Harry nodded.

`It's a charm of protection, in a way,' said Hermione. `It lets the caster know if someone - or even something - who doesn't belong, enters the place that's been charmed. It's quite a feat to maintain such a charm on one place - but five?!' Hermione gave Harry a look that was part exasperation, part amazement and part admiration.

`So the one on Hermione's flat was activated?' Neville asked Harry.

Harry nodded. `Just as I was taking leave of Robards. Then I, erm…well, I wasn't thinking straight…'

`Not thinking straight? What d'you mean?' asked Dean.

`I, uh, well, I left the Ministry in rather a hurry and erm…'

Hermione let go of Harry's hands, putting her now clenched fists on her hips as she actually stamped her foot. `Harry! Out with it! What did you do?' she demanded.

Harry stiffened and looked at her defensively.

`The charm was activated as I was saying goodbye to Robards, and because there wasn't a lift waiting, I - well, I was in a hurry, and I was really worried about you, so I just Apparated to the Atrium and -'

`You Apparated inside the Ministry?' Hermione, Dean and Neville all spoke at the same time.

Harry had the grace to look a little guilty, shrugging as if to say, what-else-could-I-do?-I-didn't-really-have-a-choice.

Dean and Neville just stared at him, speechless. Hermione, however, was far from speechless…

`Harry Potter! Do you realise that by doing so, you have created chaos and havoc? On a Saturday no less, when there's hardly anyone there? And that the damage to the Ministry's protective spells will take a lot of witches and wizards quite some time to repair? And just out of curiosity, while you were at it, why didn't you just Apparate straight here?'

Harry crossed his arms, frowning. `And what if you'd been in danger, Hermione? What if I was able to save your life because of that charm? What then? Would the Ministry worry about damage to their precious charms then?' Hermione sighed, her hands falling to her sides as Harry continued, `And it was just sort of automatic to think of getting to the Atrium first; from years of working there I guess. It was like a programmed reflex.'

Hermione had no answer for any of this, but luckily Neville coughed politely and pointed out that since the charm that had been activated was the one cast on Hermione's flat, had anyone actually checked her flat?

This galvanised everyone into action and there was a mass exodus for the stairs, led by Harry. When they reached the second floor, he ran around from the top of the stairs and brought everyone up short when he stopped abruptly, arrested by the sight of Hermione's door standing open.

Crookshanks emerged through the doorway as they stood there, miaowing plaintively, and Hermione rushed forward and picked him up, crooning soothing words to her pet.

Harry drew his wand and moved towards the open door, at the same time informing everyone he would inspect Hermione's flat and they were to stay right where they were. Everyone obediently waited without speaking as Harry went firstly to Hermione's room, then to Ginny's and finally the kitchen, from where he could also see the dining and living areas.

He looked across at them and said, `Nothing,' sounding disappointed. `Although, whoever it was went through all the drawers and cupboards I think; you'll have to check later to see if anything was taken,' he finished, and as he looked at Hermione, he felt a sudden weakness assail him. Thank Merlin you're safe! he thought to himself, completely grateful in that moment that he'd put the charm in place.

`What on earth would they have been looking for?' asked Hermione, as she walked through the front door. Everyone followed, eyes everywhere as though they expected to see some shadow of the intruder.

`I can't even begin to imagine,' said Harry. `And just so you know, if any of you can't put on your own extra protective spells, I'll be more than happy to do it for you.' He gave a crooked smile then before adding, `Or Hermione, from whom I've learnt a lot about protective enchantments.' They shared a glance that was crammed with memories of their time together living in a tent during their search for Voldemort's Horcruxes.

A discussion followed of which spells they should all use, Harry and Hermione both giving advice and agreeing to check the enchantments once in place. Once everyone was satisfied with their choices and decisions, Hermione offered to make some tea for all of them. Harry was privately relieved when everyone thanked her and declined; they had all been in the middle of something when the ruckus downstairs had occurred and were eager to return to their own flats.

As Harry shut the door behind Esmerelda, the last one to leave, Hermione crossed to the fireplace and put Crookshanks back in his basket; she'd not let him go since she'd first picked him up, knowing he would have seen the intruder and that he was very disturbed by the whole situation. Harry turned from the door and walked towards her, pushing his hands through his hair, his expression one of mingled concern and relief. Hermione began to walk towards Harry and they met almost in the middle of the room, beside the table. Harry reached out and pulled her to him with a soft moan, Hermione wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his chest.

`Thank Merlin you're all right,' he whispered hoarsely. `I felt sick when the charm was activated and I saw it was your flat.'

`All's well that ends well,' said Hermione soothingly.

Harry lifted his head and looked down at her, Hermione tilting her head back to meet his gaze.

`It hasn't ended yet, though, has it?' he asked, his voice sounding hollow.

`You think that intruder was connected with the Dark One or his Disciples?' asked Hermione.

Harry gave a small shrug. `I could be jumping to conclusions because we're so focused on him. I don't really know; I just know I don't want this to happen again.' Hermione felt him shudder and in that moment understood completely how Harry felt because she knew how she'd feel if the situation had been reversed. Harry saw the understanding in her eyes, murmuring, `Hermione, only you -' but he didn't get any further because Hermione raised herself on her toes and covered his mouth with hers, cutting off his words. Harry immediately forgot everything, immersing himself once more in the blissful sensations he experienced each time they kissed.

Perhaps it was relief mixed with suppressed need that caused the fiercely intense wave of desire that suddenly swept through Harry; his arms tightened around Hermione, one hand sliding down to sit splayed on her lower back as he pushed himself against her. Regardless, Hermione's desire seemed to match his own and Harry could feel himself reaching a dangerous point - the point of no return - as both Hermione's hands slid down his back to cup - knock, knock! The alien sound hardly made any impression on the passionately involved couple.

Knock, knock!

An unwelcome sound began to penetrate their escalating desire.

Knock, knock! `Hermione! It's just me, Esmerelda! I have your shopping bags - you left them downstairs.'

As the words penetrated their brains, their lips parted reluctantly and they groaned in unison, arms and hands loosening and dropping unwillingly.

`Coming!' managed Hermione. Harry raised one eyebrow, an amused smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. Hermione stared at him, then burst out laughing, Harry quickly joining her.

Knock, knock!

`Oh, for pity's sake!' gasped Hermione as she turned and headed towards the door. Harry quickly pulled out a chair and sat down, grimacing in discomfort; he didn't want to shock dear old Esmerelda.

Hermione had managed to regain a reasonable amount of composure by the time she opened the door, thanking Esmerelda and assuring her she was fine, that she'd just been in the bathroom. Looking pointedly at Harry, sitting at the table, Esmerelda said archly, `Then why couldn't Harry answer the door?' Without waiting for an answer, she surprised Hermione with a knowing look before taking her leave, a small smile of understanding playing around her lips.

Hermione closed the door, one hand remaining on the doorknob, the other holding her shopping bags as she leant forward, dropping her head to rest on the door. She began to laugh again and she could hear Harry doing the same. Turning and putting her back against the door, her laughter subsiding to a wide smile, Hermione looked across at Harry, held up the shopping bags and said, `Hungry?'

Their eyes locked. Hermione's smile slowly faded as she lowered the shopping bags, watching as though hypnotised while Harry stood and walked towards her. Her heart was racing as she waited, still leaning against the door, unable to move. When Harry reached her, he took the bags from her unresisting fingers and put them down as he said, `Hungry? Yes, I am. But lunch can wait just a little longer, I think…'

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

I'm sure you'll be very pleased to hear that the next chapter continues on immediately from this one - and I should be posting it within the week (yay!). Cheers dears! Janie xoxo

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SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

In which Harry and Hermione finally have some lunch, after which Harry reveals they have an unexpected ally in the fight against the Dark One. Dean drops in to Harry's for a visit during which there are some awkward moments and an “official announcement”. Hermione sleeps over and in the morning, she has something to tell Harry which makes his day…

As Harry straightened from putting the shopping bags on the floor, he reached up and took his glasses off, a silent wingardium leviosa seeing them drift over to the table. Hermione was once more hypnotised by the passionate intensity she could see in Harry's eyes as he gazed at her. Then she felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders, and was very grateful she had the door at her back, certain her legs were about to give way. Harry ran his hands down her arms, encircling her fingers with his own. He lifted her hands to his mouth and dropped a warm, tender kiss on the back of each before raising them and placing them around his neck, running his hands back along her arms to her waist. As his grip on her waist tightened, Hermione could feel him close the small space that remained between them. She was intensely aware of how he felt pressed against her - hard and lean in contrast to her own softness. Their eyes had remained locked the whole time, and Hermione found herself immersed in a sense of wonder at how such a simple thing as the expression in Harry's eyes could be so arousing.

Harry surrendered himself to the completely incredible feeling of having all of Hermione pressed hard up against him. He could see the mounting desire in her eyes and knew it was mirrored in his own gaze. Hermione's arms tightened around his neck, drawing his head down, each feeling the warmth of the other's breath.

`Hermione?'

At the sound of Harry's voice, roughened by desire, Hermione felt infused with liquid warmth - or perhaps she was just melting…

`Yes?'

`I need to know - you need to tell me - if you want - I mean, I can't -'

Hermione smiled. She knew exactly what Harry needed to know. What he was asking.

She answered him with a kiss.

The second Hermione's lips touched his, Harry's heart leapt wildly as a triumphant Yes! echoed in his mind.

As the kiss continued and their passion increased, Hermione reflexively moved her hips against Harry, sending a surge of raw lust shooting through Harry and robbing him of breath. He pulled his mouth from Hermione's, a sound that was half moan, half growl, wrenched from him.

`Harry?'

That single, breathless word - his name - filled with longing, served only to increase his already desperate desire and need for her.

As he looked down at her, their eyes spoke for them, his pleading, begging - but needing her consent; hers assuring him her need was as great as his - saying yes…

Turning so that her back was facing down the hallway towards her room, Hermione dropped her arms, her hands finding Harry's; she pulled them from her waist as she began to walk carefully backwards, drawing Harry along by his hands, which she held clasped in hers.

`What about being sensible? I mean, it's not too soon? Too quick?' Harry managed, needing to know for sure, not wanting to jeopardise what they had by rushing things.

Hermione shook her head, smiling at him, a sweetly provocative smile that had his heart turning in his chest.

`Do you know,' she said, her voice slightly husky, `this feels so right, so natural, I'm wondering if my feelings for you weren't always there, lying dormant, just waiting.'

`I know what you mean,' Harry replied automatically; this very seductive, non-sensible Hermione was playing havoc with his thought processes, amongst other things…

They'd reached the end of the hall, Hermione pausing in her bedroom doorway; she looked softly blurred to Harry's unadorned eyes.

`Are you sure?' she asked him, her mouth curving once more in a provocative smile.

Harry, his doubts and uncertainty now banished, felt a sense of his own power and strength return, making him extremely aware of his masculinity. Hermione sensed it too; it was an intoxicating force, highlighting her own femininity, making her tingle all over. She began moving slowly once more, still walking backwards and drawing Harry along, stopping when she came up against her bed.

Gently removing his hands from Hermione's grasp, Harry lifted them to tenderly frame her face, his eyes and his smile full of his love for her. Hermione felt tears well in her eyes as she understood fully, for the first time, the depth of Harry's feelings for her.

`I love you,' he whispered, before once more covering her lips with his.

*

Harry woke first, wondering drowsily at the deliciously languorous lethargy that seemed to have taken over his body. Then he remembered. And it was all he could do not to shout out with joy. He was lying on his back and he turned his head, a huge smile in place, and gazed at Hermione, lying there beside him. She was on her side, facing him, her hands tucked under her cheek, her hair tumbling around her in soft disarray. Harry rolled onto his side and up onto his elbow and just looked at her, the faintest of smiles now hovering around his mouth, his expression one of poignant tenderness; he wasn't sure how long he lay there just watching her, nor did he care.

When Hermione's eyes did finally flutter open, they focused slowly; Harry watched with tender delight as she smiled, the glow in her eyes warming his heart as she looked back at him.

`Hi,' she whispered.

`Hi,' he whispered back.

Hermione rolled onto her back, twisting and turning slightly as she stretched, her arms above her head. There was only a sheet covering them and Hermione's movements caused it to slide down just enough to expose her breasts. Harry realised he was staring at them when they suddenly disappeared from sight, Hermione pulling the sheet up, laughing as she did so.

Harry, with a bashful grin, muttered, `Sorry', only to get a playful push in the chest which was enough to send him onto his back; Hermione now the one up on her elbow as she leaned over Harry. She put her free hand on his chest, and looked down at him with a mock expression of outrage.

`Sorry? Sorry? You dare apologise for being utterly captivated by the sight of my bare breasts?'

Harry laughed and reached out, putting his arms around Hermione as he turned and rolled so that she was now lying beneath him.

`Then I'm sorry for apologising,' he said, chuckling. But his smile quickly vanished as he became excruciatingly aware of Hermione lying completely naked beneath him, those captivating bare breasts pushing enticingly into his chest. `You look so beautiful,' he whispered hoarsely, as he gazed down at her - at her glowing eyes and radiant face, framed by adorably dishevelled brown curls.

Hermione lifted her hands from Harry's shoulders to lovingly frame his face. `Thank you,' she whispered, `I am so completely amazed at how wonderful and natural it feels, being with you, like this; and do you know -' Hermione paused, her eyes sparkling with unexpected tears, `- I think I may love you too…'

Harry closed his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. I think I may love you too. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her once more. Hermione could see in his eyes what he wasn't able to find words for: just how much her words meant to him.

`Oh, Harry…' Hermione felt a surge of exquisite tenderness for Harry in that moment which any woman would understand; it was for many things, but most of all it was for his vulnerability. She exerted just enough pressure with her hands so that he dropped his head and their lips met once more. When their kiss ended, they couldn't help but smile at each other, Harry resting his forehead against Hermione's.

`Harry?'

`Mmm?'

`I'm hungry.'

Harry's smile widened. `Not as hungry as me,' he said.

Hermione laughed, and so did Harry as he rolled over on to his back and sat up. He held out his hand and Hermione took it, the sheet dropping away as she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

`So, lunch?' said Hermione merrily.

`Hmmmm…'

`Harry!'

He was staring at her breasts again.

`Even without my glasses they look perfect,' he murmured.

Hermione rolled her eyes, chuckling. `I'm glad you think so,' she said pertly, `now let's go and eat.' And she threw the sheet off and swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

Harry groaned and collapsed back onto his pillow.

Hermione turned to face him, her hands on her hips, trying to frown at him; the frown, however, lost out to another of her provocative smiles.

Harry groaned again. `You're torturing me!' he complained, his eyes roaming hungrily over her.

`You'll know what torture really is if you have to deal with a starving Hermione!' she replied with a grin.

Harry threw his arm over his eyes and said dramatically, `Then have mercy on me and get dressed!'

Hermione laughed as she bent over, picking up her jeans and top from the floor beside the bed and pulling them on. She took a few steps in the direction of the door, saying, `And I'd like to hear what Robards said to you in that meeting. Oh.'

Harry dropped his arm at that “oh”. Hermione had stopped in front of her built-in wardrobe and was staring at one of the doors, which was slightly ajar. Then she looked over at Harry. `I sort of forgot about that,' she said softly, then shuddered. `It feels a bit creepy knowing someone - some stranger - was in here.'

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, bending down to pick up his jeans and putting his feet in them before standing up and pulling them on. He walked over to Hermione, wrapping his arms around her from behind. `I know,' he said gently as she dropped her head back to rest against his chest, `but I guarantee it won't happen again.'

Hermione nodded, then decided she wasn't going to dwell on unpleasant feelings, not at that moment.

`Thank you, Harry, I know it won't, not now,' she said, then turned in the circle of his arms and smiled up at him. `Lunch,' she said firmly.

`Yes, please,' said Harry fervently, taking a few steps back to the bed and picking his t-shirt up from the floor. He pulled it on as they made their way back to the kitchen, retrieving his glasses from the table with a silent accio. He noticed Crookshanks was sitting up in his basket gazing at him, and Harry's eyebrows shot up at receiving what he was certain was a speculative look from the shrewd cat. Hermione noticed this little exchanged from the kitchen and smiled to herself.

Shortly afterwards, seated at the table and having finished their chicken and noodle salads with fresh bread, Harry recounted what happened with Robards after she'd left.

`There was really only one thing he wanted to tell me, which is that it appears as though an undercover LEO has managed to infiltrate the Disciples. The LEO -'

`What?!' exclaimed Hermione, `Are you serious?'

Harry nodded. `Very. He'd been undercover for some months on another case and often came across Malfoy - or Rafferty, as he calls himself. It was not long after Malfoy's first trip to the cave that he began boasting about his “contacts”. The LEO became curious enough about the “contacts” Malfoy kept mentioning that he began to stay close to Malfoy as often as he could. He ingratiated himself with Malfoy, his experience telling him he was onto something more important than his original case. Last Wednesday, he managed to make a report in person for the first time in over a month. He told Robards that a couple of weeks previously, he'd managed to get Malfoy a little drunk, pretending to drink as much himself. Malfoy was naturally boasting again about his “contacts”, and with some expert goading and encouragement from the LEO, he told him about the Disciples and the cave. Malfoy said both he and the Disciples served a master that was greater than Voldemort and many things were being planned, although he wouldn't give any details. The LEO thinks it's possible that Malfoy didn't know the details, but didn't want that known.'

`Typical,' murmured Hermione.

Harry nodded. `We know only too well how good Malfoy is at boasting and lying. Anyway, the LEO practically begged Malfoy to let him come along the next time Malfoy went to the cave, and the ferret agreed. The LEO -'

`You don't know his name?' asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head. `Robards didn't say, and I didn't ask. So, a few days later, Malfoy took the LEO to the cave. He told Robards about the outer cave - he called it the Ante-Chamber - and that when they arrived, it was filled with kneeling Disciples, chanting. He and Malfoy knelt down in the back row and waited. He said it was a good half hour before the chanting stopped and the Disciples all rose to their feet. They then all left the Ante-Chamber, entering another cave off the Ante-Chamber. I told Robards there was no other cave when I was there with Dumbledore, so they must've created this one for themselves. The LEO said it was quite large and it's where the Disciples live. Malfoy told him he'd have to see someone he called the First-Disciple-To-Be. Turns out he wasn't there that day, but arrangements were made for another day. So, on his second trip to the cave, the LEO was taken before the First-Disciple-To-Be and along with Malfoy's vouching for him, he was convincing enough to be allowed to join as a Novice Disciple.'

`So who is the First-Disciple-To-Be?' asked Hermione breathlessly.

Harry gave her a rueful look. `We don't know. The LEO told Robards he always wears a Cloak of Concealment - at least amongst the Disciples.'

`Does Malfoy know?'

Harry shrugged. `The LEO told Robards he asked Malfoy if he knew, but Malfoy wouldn't answer; all the Disciples are afraid of him.'

`So, Malfoy is a Disciple?'

`Yes - but there are different classes of Disciple, apparently. Malfoy is one of their contacts with the outside world.'

`He runs errands and passes messages.'

Harry laughed. `A messenger boy! That's about Malfoy's level!'

Hermione laughed too, then they both grew serious once more and Hermione asked, `So, this LEO - was he able to give Robards any more information?'

Harry shook his head. `Unfortunately no, but he's under orders to maintain his cover and report whenever he can. Robards can't speak highly enough of him; he's really impressed that the LEO took the initiative to switch cases. Anyway, the LEO's managed to attach himself to Malfoy, who's a full Disciple, so he's usually with him and doesn't have to remain in the cave all the time. He'll report to Robards whenever he gets a chance, although Robards doesn't expect frequent reports - he doesn't want him to risk his cover; he's basically irreplaceable.'

`Well, it's good to know we have someone “on the inside”, so to speak,' said Hermione. `But why did Robards want to see you alone to tell you? I mean, I can understand why he wouldn't tell me, but what about the others there this morning?'

`So far Robards has only told Cleaver and now me about this LEO.' Harry gave her a wry smile. `The less who know, the safer, he believes. He did say that since I'll probably be instrumental in ridding the world of the Dark One, I should know we have an ally in the enemy camp.' Harry gave her a wry smile. `I knew that defeating Voldemort would eventually come back to haunt me.'

Hermione acknowledged his attempt at humour with a gentle smile as she reached across and took Harry's hand in hers. `And you won't be alone in this fight, either,' she assured him.

*

After cleaning up from lunch, Hermione went around the flat and checked all the cupboards and drawers, Harry beside her.

`Nothing's missing that I can tell,' she said, closing the last kitchen drawer they'd looked in. `It's really strange - what on earth could they have been looking for?'

`We may never know,' said Harry.

Hermione sighed and looked over at Crookshanks who was busy grooming himself. `If only he could talk,' she said.

`He probably wouldn't be able to tell us a lot,' said Harry, putting his arm around Hermione's shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. `I'm pretty certain anyone breaking in like that would be wearing a cloak with a hood or at least some kind of mask so that they wouldn't be recognised.'

Hermione sighed again. `You're probably right. I just wish I knew why.'

`Come on, let's cast the protective enchantments and then go for a walk down by the stream.'

*

That evening, Dean came to see them. He'd knocked on Hermione's door first, but when no one answered, he crossed to Harry's flat. After Harry let him in, he saw they'd been watching a movie which Hermione paused with the remote as he entered. Hedwig remembered him and hooted softly in greeting from her perch, Dean smiling as he greeted her quietly.

`Great set-up you've got,' said Dean admiringly after they'd all said hello; it was his first time in Harry and Ron's flat.

`Thanks,' said Harry. `What would you like to drink?'

`Just some water, thanks,' Dean said. `I only came up to fill you in on what happened with Ginny today.'

Dean joined Hermione on the sofa while Harry got his water.

`How is Ginny?' asked Hermione.

`She's better. She did get an owl from Robards this afternoon asking if she'd go in and see him on Monday. At least she didn't have to get cross-examined again today. We were a bit surprised, since we thought they'd be after Malfoy and would want to ask her about him. I mean, not that she really knows anything I guess, but…' Dean shrugged, then thanked Harry as he handed him a glass of cold water before sitting down next to Hermione.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance which Dean couldn't help but notice. `What is it?' he asked.

`I'm afraid I can't say, I'm sorry,' said Harry, `but I wouldn't worry about Malfoy anymore - and tell Ginny not to, either.' Harry wished he was free to explain to Dean that the Department knew all about Malfoy and were “using” him and that was why they weren't “after” him, but he knew he couldn't risk it.

Dean looked a little puzzled, but shrugged philosophically. `I'm going to the Burrow again tomorrow, so I'll let her know. By the way, I'll meet you at the Ministry on Monday morning; I'm going to pick up Ginny and we'll be going in together. Robards wants to see her at nine.'

`We'll probably be there about seven-thirty or eight,' said Hermione. `Why don't you both come in then? I don't think there's any reason why Ginny can't see the book as well. What do you think?' she finished, looking at Harry.

Harry shrugged. `I don't see why not. As long as you don't mind,' he said to Dean.

`Nope, not at all,' Dean replied. `I'll check with Ginny tomorrow. If, erm, she'd rather not, I'll just see her home after she's spoken to Robards and join you then.'

An awkward silence followed. They all knew that the only reason Ginny might not come to Hermione's department was because Harry would be there.

Dean decided on the spur of the moment to say something. He'd sensed something different about Harry and Hermione from the time he'd arrived, although he couldn't put his finger on just what that difference was.

`Look,' he said, taking a deep breath and looking straight at Harry, `I know things are a bit awkward at the moment because - well, because of your break-up with Ginny, but I'm sure that it'll be all right, eventually.'

`Yeah,' said Harry, `and I'm pretty grateful you're looking out for her.'

Dean shrugged, embarrassed. `Well, I guess it's no secret I've always liked her.'

`I think things will turn out for the best in the long run,' said Hermione. She and Harry exchanged another glance, Hermione giving an almost imperceptible nod, after which Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulders as he said to Dean, `I think you should know that -'

`That you two are together?' interrupted Dean, realising as he spoke that the difference he'd noticed was a new closeness and intimacy between them, which was now very apparent.

Harry and Hermione both stared at him, surprised.

`Ginny told me - well, everything, I guess,' he said. `Although she wasn't sure that Hermione - well, she knew about your feelings for Hermione,' he said, looking at Harry, `but…' his voice trailed off and he looked down, embarrassed again, watching the remaining water swirling in the bottom of his glass as he span it around. Unbidden, the image of Harry and Hermione kissing sprang into his mind, making him feel even more uncomfortable; seeing that kiss, however accidental, was something he knew he wouldn't divulge any time soon.

`You're right, Dean,' said Hermione, `things will be all right, eventually. But I suppose it is rather awkward right now. If there's anything we can do to make things easier -'

Dean shook his head. `I think it will just take time,' he said quietly. He'd thought he was prepared for the confirmation that Harry and Hermione were a couple - but the heavy lump that had taken up residence in his stomach seem to belie that. Probably because I'll have to be the one to tell Ginny that it's official, he thought to himself. Harry and Hermione. He knew part of it was that underneath he was pleased - because it meant Ginny was free; but he felt a little guilty for feeling like that when it was something that would upset Ginny.

He swallowed the last of his water and stood up. `I'd better be going,' he told them. Harry and Hermione also stood up and they all walked over to the door.

`I'll, uh, let you know tomorrow about Monday, if that's okay, after I get back from the Burrow.'

Harry and Hermione nodded in unison. `That's fine,' said Harry.

`And give Ginny -' Hermione hesitated.

`Our best,' said Harry, and Hermione nodded, grateful for his intervention.

With a rueful grin, Dean nodded and waved as he headed for the stairs. `See you tomorrow!'

As they returned to the sofa, Hermione picked up the remote and said, `I don't really feel like watching any more,' and Harry agreed. After turning everything off, Hermione looked at Harry. `I felt strange, telling Dean. I mean - actually, I don't know what I mean.'

`I know what you mean,' said Harry with a smile as he put one arm around her shoulders and the other across her waist and pulled her closer.

`Then maybe you could tell me,' said Hermione with a soft laugh, draping her arms around Harry's neck.

Harry punctuated his reply with quick kisses on Hermione's forehead, cheeks, chin and nose.

`What - you mean - is - that - you feel strange - knowing everyone - will soon know - that we're shagging.'

Hermione gasped, shocked, but laughed nonetheless. `Harry!' she exclaimed, pushing him away and trying desperately to glare at him.

Harry grinned audaciously, then kissed her properly, before murmuring, `What?' against her lips.

Hermione sighed happily. `I think you're right. More, please.'

`Of course I'm right,' quipped Harry. `More what?'

`So now you don't know what I mean?'

`I hope you mean more of me.'

`Right again.'

`I'm always right. And since you said “please”, you can have more than “more”, you can have all of me.'

Hermione's retort was smothered by another kiss, and another, until she wasn't thinking of anything at all except Harry and how he was making her feel…

*

Hermione woke the next morning and for the first few seconds she forgot she was in Harry's flat. In Harry's bed. Naked. She was lying on her back and automatically looked left to see out the window, but instead she saw Harry, also lying on his back, still sound asleep, one arm bent with his hand behind his head, the other arm resting on his stomach. Pushing herself up onto her elbow, she gazed down at him, her lips curved in a loving smile as she gently ran her fingers through the untidy black locks scattered over his forehead. Her heart seemed to swell inside her as she watched him sleep, the first soft light of dawn filtering into the room and filling it with a warm glow. She felt suffused by that gentle light and in that sweet, peaceful moment, she knew. She loved him. Then the warm glow began to recede, slowly replaced by a growing desire which in turn became an aching need. With a smile that was almost smug, she leant down and kissed him, her fingers running over his cheek, enjoying the morning roughness. Harry stirred, but before he was fully awake, Hermione pushed herself up, throwing the duvet off as she turned, stretching her leg out and sitting astride him.

Harry's eyes flew open, but the second he saw Hermione he smiled.

`Morning,' said Hermione with a mischievous grin.

`Morning,' replied Harry, his voice still gruff with sleep, thinking he'd be the happiest man alive if he could wake up to the intoxicating sight of a naked Hermione every morning.

`I've got something to tell you,' said Hermione, while trailing her fingers teasingly over Harry's chest and stomach.

`What's that?' asked Harry as he placed his hands on Hermione's waist, his eyes fixed on her breasts, their taut pink tips mesmerising him.

`You have to look at me,' said Hermione, smiling indulgently at him.

Harry raised his eyes to hers, watched as her expression became serious, saw her eyes begin to glow with emotion.

`What is it?' he whispered, his heart beginning to race.

`I love you.'

Harry's eyes slowly widened. `You do?'

Hermione smiled again as she nodded.

`Say it again,' he asked her, his green gaze fixed on her.

Hermione leant down, her hands now on Harry's shoulders; he was intensely aware of the feel of her breasts brushing his chest.

`I love you, Harry,' she said softly before kissing him.

And just as Hermione had known that she loved him, so then Harry knew in that moment that his world was now complete, and always would be as long as Hermione was in it…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Perhaps not quite as “descriptively fluffy” as I've been known to write, for which there is a reason and I promise I'll get there, all in good time!

The next chapter is nearly ready and will be a nice, long, juicy one. I should be able to upload it next week, so look forward to seeing you then! Cheers dears, Janie xoxo

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Author's Note

Sorry for being so late in updating everyone; crazy - but good! - life has kept me maniacally busy the last few weeks! I hope it's some compensation that this is a much longer chapter than usual and also includes the Tenth Interlude.

Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

In which Harry and Hermione enjoy their Sunday; meanwhile, over in Kenmare, Ron and Seamus are a bit put out by some unexpected work while Colin fills in for Ron. Ron and Luna have some time together while Seamus catches up on his sleep. Then everyone's Sunday is ruined by some awful news ahead of Harry and Hermione getting back to the Book of Records on Monday morning, finally joined by Dean…

After enjoying a lovely, lazy Sunday brunch cooked by Harry, Hermione suggested they take a walk up to the village. As they strolled leisurely along in the warm July sunshine, their arms around each other, they talked - as new lovers everywhere always delight in doing - about themselves. Harry was greedy for every little thing Hermione could tell him about how she slowly came to realise her feelings for him, and how she'd become increasingly attracted to him. He particularly enjoyed her recount of the thoughts she'd had the night she was lying in the bath he'd run for her - the night they'd shared their first kiss.

`Later, after dinner, I was actually wondering what it would be like to kiss you, I remember.' Hermione laughed. `And now I know!'

`And?'

Hermione smiled indulgently at Harry, happy to appease his appetite for information. `No one has ever made me feel the way you do just by kissing me,' she told him.

Harry laughed too, relishing every moment and every little memory. Hermione couldn't help but go over and over the night they'd gone to the fair, just as insatiable as Harry for every detail of his thoughts and feelings. The fascinating subject of each other's memories and feelings saw them through the walk to the village, a glass of ice-cold butter beer at the Two Hoots and their walk home. As they passed Grimley's on the corner (closed, since it was Sunday) and turned into Ambling Row, they could see that the young Muggle couple who lived in Mill Cottage, behind the grocer's, were out in their front garden with their sweet little boy, his blonde curls catching the sun as he toddled around trying to catch a passing butterfly. They smiled and waved as they passed, both laughing at the cute sight. When they reached Ambling Rose Cottage, home of their neighbours, the Mallums, they saw that they, too, were in their front garden, tending to the rose beds which gave their home its name.

Mrs Mallum stood up slowly as they drew level with her; she'd been weeding around the rose bushes that ran along the front fence.

`Morning, dears. Lovely day for a romantic stroll, isn't it?' she said with an amused twinkle in her eye.

`It certainly is,' said Harry with a huge smile. Hermione nodded in agreement, then looked up at Harry, her heart in her eyes.

Mrs Mallum chuckled, delighted. She'd had a feeling about these two the last time she'd seen them, although on that occasion - the night of the fair - she'd received a very different reaction to that same question.

Watching them with a satisfied smile, the old lady bid them good day then knelt down and went back to her weeding, humming softly to herself.

Harry and Hermione turned and continued walking along to the Nook. As they passed through the front doors, they heard Verity call out their names and crossed to the portrait above the fireplace; Frewin was absent once more and Hermione wondered momentarily what errand he was on. Then Verity spoke and she forgot all about the absent owl.

`Are you both all right?' asked Verity, peering down at them anxiously; Emrys, too, was looking at them searchingly.

`We're fine,' said Harry and Hermione in unison.

`What on earth was all that about yesterday?' asked Verity, sitting back and smoothing her apron, apparently satisfied by her close inspection of them.

Harry gave them a brief recount of what was behind the previous day's events and as he finished, he realised Hermione was staring fixedly at the old couple.

`Hermione?'

Hermione slipped her hand into Harry's, her gaze still fixed on the portrait as she asked, `Did either of you see anyone come in yesterday? A stranger?'

Verity and Emrys both shook their heads. `No strangers,' said Emrys.

`You both left in the morning,' said Verity, `Mr Longbottom left not long afterwards, I think he was going down to the village; he was back well before you returned, Hermione. Mr Thomas's brother and his girlfriend Flooed in for a short visit. They left just as the young lad from the Grimley's delivered a bag of groceries to Esmerelda. Then you left and came back with your groceries, Hermione. And that's when bedlam broke out.'

Hermione gave Harry an amused glance and murmured under her breath, `She doesn't miss a thing, does she?' Harry gently squeezed her fingers by way of acknowledgement.

`Well, they could've come in by the back door, couldn't they?' offered Emrys. `If they went straight to the stairs we wouldn't have seen them from here. And if they were quiet enough, Esmerelda wouldn't have heard them from either her office or her flat.'

`I thought the back door was kept locked?' said Harry.

`I imagine it usually is. Except that on Saturday mornings, Mr Thomas usually does his laundry; I did hear him talking to Esmerelda down the hall and he commented about the warm weather, that everything would be dry before lunch. Perhaps he inadvertently left the door unlocked.'

`Or perhaps whoever it was used magic to open the door,' said Hermione.

`We may never know,' said Emrys sagely.

`We should check everyone's protective enchantments today,' Harry said to Hermione, before turning back to the portrait. `Dean's coming to the Ministry tomorrow,' he told them. `If all goes as planned, we'll be here with him sometime tomorrow afternoon to talk to you.'

`Very well, we'll see you then,' said Verity primly, settling back into her rocking chair. As Harry and Hermione left, still holding hands, they didn't see the fond look and warm smiles on the old couple's faces as they watched them walk away.

`I'll just quickly look in on Hedwig, then I'll be right over,' said Harry, heading for his flat when they reached their floor.

Hermione smiled in acknowledgement before entering her own flat, letting Crookshanks out for his daily walk in the garden, knowing he'd return when he was ready, Harry having set up a cat-flap that appeared as needed in the front door just for him, much the same as the window that Hedwig used at Harry's place. Hermione then headed into the kitchen to fetch some glasses and a jug of cold water from the fridge, putting them on the bench. Just as she'd poured them each a glass of water, Harry returned and joined her, voicing his gratitude for the cold drink after their walk.

`So, what would you like to do this afternoon?' asked Harry, as he took the empty glass Hermione held out to him and placed it in the sink together with his own empty glass.

Hermione leant back against the bench, her arms loosely crossed.

`I'm not sure, let me think,' she said, looking thoughtfully across at Harry who was leaning against the sink, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans.

Now that is not quite true, Hermione Jane Granger, she thought, smiling to herself, her eyes moving slowly from Harry's face, down to his feet and back again. I know exactly what I'd like to do this afternoon…

`What are you thinking about?' asked Harry, his breathing slightly ragged; the way Hermione was looking at him was causing his heart to thump erratically.

`Oh, just about what I'd like to do this afternoon,' replied Hermione airily.

`And that is?'

Hermione smiled.

`Hermione, that smile…'

`Mmmm?'

`It's…suggestive.'

`Suggestive? Of what?'

Harry straightened and walked across to stand in front of Hermione, lifting his hands to her shoulders. The look in his eyes made her pulse leap.

`I believe you're teasing me, Miss Granger.' The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine.

`Am I?' she asked breathlessly.

`You should be careful; teasing has consequences, you know.'

`Really? What would they be?'

`This is one…'

Harry's hands moved to cup her face as he dropped his head and kissed her, sending Hermione's heart rate through the roof. She felt blindly for the hem of his t-shirt, sliding her hands under it when she found it, up over the smooth, warm expanse of Harry's back, aware of his muscles tensing as her hands roamed over his bare skin. Then Harry's hands slid down over her shoulders and he wrapped his arms around her. As he pulled her tightly against him, Hermione was made immediately and unavoidably aware of Harry's patently obvious desire for her.

`Is that the other?' she asked huskily against his mouth.

She took Harry's low, hoarse growl as a barely recognisable as a “yes” before his lips closed over hers once more.

Hermione dropped her hands then to grasp the hem of Harry's t-shirt, tugging it as she squirmed so that he automatically loosened his hold on her, his lips leaving hers grudgingly. Hermione began pulling his t-shirt up, Harry taking over when Hermione couldn't reach any higher and she then took her own top off, dropping it to join Harry's on the floor beside them. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Harry grasped her firmly around the waist, lifting her to sit on the bench. As Hermione hooked her legs around him, Harry leant back slightly, gazing intently at her; Hermione could feel his fingers on her back, working deftly on the clasp of her bra. Once it was released, Harry pulled her bra off slowly, his eyes dropping to take in the always-alluring sight of her breasts.

Hermione's fingers moved to Harry's glasses, but he pulled back slightly. `Not yet,' he murmured, smiling at her as he lifted his hands to caress her breasts, his thumbs brushing provocatively across their tantalisingly hard tips, `I want to see clearly.' Harry watched her almost greedily, drinking in the effect created by his touch. With a soft moan, Hermione closed her eyes and gave herself over to the flood of exquisite sensations rushing through her, throwing her head back, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. Then she felt Harry's lips graze the side of her neck before moving slowly down; Hermione held her breath in anticipation, moaning softly once more as Harry's tongue replaced his thumb, then gasping as each of her achingly stiff nipples was enveloped in turn by the wet warmth of his mouth and the incredible feel of his tongue.

`Hermione…' Harry's husky whisper managed to penetrate her reeling senses. When she lifted her head and looked at him, the naked yearning in her eyes took his breath away. Then she slid her arms around his neck, tightening her legs which were still wrapped around him, crushing her breasts against his chest as she kissed him. When the kiss finally ended, Hermione smiled against his lips. `I love you,' she whispered, `please take me to bed.'

Harry needed no further encouragement. He kissed her back, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as his hands slid down her bare back and under her backside, lifting her as the kiss continued. Then as their lips parted, Harry, murmured, `glasses,' and Hermione obligingly removed his glasses with one hand, the other still around his neck. She put them on the bench beside her, smiling that smile at him as she said in a low, throaty whisper, `You don't need to see, you just need to feel, right?' Harry's response was to tighten his grip on her behind and carry her down the hall to the bedroom, her legs gripping his hips tightly, their eyes locked on each other's. When they reached the bed, Hermione let her legs slide down to the floor, her hands fumbling with her jeans, her gaze still locked with Harry's. Harry had removed his jeans just as Hermione managed to undo her button and zipper. He sat on the edge of the bed then lay back, his hands behind his head, watching her avidly.

Hermione found the adoring appreciation in Harry's eyes overcame her initial self-consciousness and she proceeded to take what Harry saw as an excruciatingly long time to remove her jeans and knickers.

`At last,' he whispered hoarsely as she joined him on the bed, after which neither of them was capable of speaking for quite some time…

*

While Harry and Hermione were busy not speaking in Harminster Leigh, over at the Lansdowne Arms Hotel in Kenmare, Ireland, three people were sitting around a small table in one of the hotel rooms, two of them poring over sheets of parchment filled with writing, the third going through a box of photos.

`I reckon we've done it,' said Seamus Finnigan as he sat back in his chair and stretched. `That MacGregor is a pushy bugger!'

Ron groaned as he, too, sat back in his chair, rubbing his neck which was stiff from sitting and reading for so long. `We can send that off tomorrow morning and relax, thank Merlin.'

Luna, sitting beside Ron, was humming merrily to herself as she flicked through the photos.

Ron smiled indulgently at her, reaching out to put his arm around her shoulders.

`Luna Lovely, let's go get some well-deserved afternoon tea. You don't mind, d'you Seamus?'

Seamus shook his head, covering a yawn. `I think I'll have me a little kip.'

Luna nodded at him, saying solicitously. `You need it, Seamus. You've been out late drinking every night we've been here in Kenmare.'

Ron laughed at the abashed expression on Seamus's face. `She's right, mate!'

`Of course I'm right,' said Luna evenly. `But it is Seamus's favourite team, isn't it? And they are all Irish.'

`Right again!' laughed Ron.

Seamus groaned. `All right, all right!' Then with a wicked grin, he pointed at Ron. `So, what d'you think you'll be doin' mate when we get to Chudley, eh?'

With perfect aplomb, Luna answered. `He'll be out late every night, drinking too much.'

Both men laughed, Luna looking at them with her customary tranquil expression, her silvery eyes coming to rest on Ron, becoming softer, almost glowing, as they did so.

`I won't mind one little bit,' she told him with a half smile.

`And that's why I love you,' Ron told her, leaning over to plant a kiss on her forehead.

`All right, you two, enough already - go!' cried Seamus. `I'll straighten this lot up and then go and lie down.'

Ron and Luna left and Seamus began gathering up the sheets of parchment.

`Bloody MacGregor,' he muttered. `What d'you reckon, Pig?' he said, looking up at Ron's little owl, sitting quietly for once on a perch supplied by the hotel. `Bringing the deadline for our first article forward by two weeks is a bit rude, don't y'think? Making Ron miss out on lunch with the captain of the Kestrels and me miss out on watching the team practise this morning, just to proof-read the damned article! That Colin'll drive him crazy with his clicking camera!'

The parchment was now in one neat pile, the box of photos sitting on top. Seamus picked up the first photo, coincidentally one of the Kestrel's captain, Sean O'Hare, grandson of the great Darren O'Hare, Kestrels' Keeper and inventor of the Hawkshead Attacking Formation.

`Mate, I'm sorry Ron couldn't make lunch today, but we'll both be seein' you and the rest of the team for dinner!' Little did he know that he wouldn't in fact see him for dinner, for reasons he would never have imagined…

*

Colin Creevey was having the time of his life. Which wasn't anything new, really: he managed to have the time of his life most days - he was that sort of person. Being alive excited him, and everything else was just icing on the cake. He was sitting with the captain of the Kenmare Kestrels, Sean O'Hare, a big, friendly, beefy red-headed man with intelligent blue eyes and a very courteous manner.

They'd finished their lunch at a crowded, popular local pub, each having a bowl of PF McCarthy's famous Seafood Chowder with brown homemade soda bread, followed by homemade beef and Guinness pie with veg and potato, both of which left no room for dessert, even for these two enthusiastic diners of such disparate size. Over lunch, they'd discussed which teams they believed would make it through the play-offs for the upcoming World Cup and why, and they were now enjoying a pint of Guinness each with which they'd toasted Quidditch, the upcoming World Cup and the success of the articles. Unbeknown to Seamus, Colin had left his camera in his hotel room, determined to do Ron proud; Ron had asked him reluctantly if he'd mind filling in for him and having lunch with Sean, although Ron's reluctance was more to do with missing out himself than having Colin fill in. This had all come about because they'd had to polish off their first article on the Wimbourne Wasps. The article was now being printed to coincide with the first edition of Wizarding World to be published after the start of the new Quidditch season, which was beginning on the first of August. Originally, the editor of Wizarding World, Ronan MacGregor, had planned on beginning the articles in the second edition of the season, Wizarding World being a bi-monthly magazine. However, the growing interest in everything Quidditch, magnified by the upcoming World Cup, had made him decide that the sooner the better - and he should take advantage of the increased interest, which he was expecting to translate into increased sales.

Colin had indeed done his friend proud, for Sean had thoroughly enjoyed his company, and when they finished their pints, he was genuinely regretful about having to leave. `Got a team strategy meeting this afternoon,' he said apologetically as he shook Colin's hand, almost lifting Colin's slight frame off the footpath as he did so. `And tell Seamus and Ron I'm looking forward to seeing them tonight,' he added as he left with a wave.

Colin waved back, and headed off in the opposite direction, deciding he'd walk around a bit before returning to the hotel.

When a stranger heading in the opposite direction bumped into him and then apologised profusely, Colin happily assured him he was fine and not to worry.

`Please, let me buy you a beer, at least,' said the stranger, `I nearly knocked you right over!'

Colin studied the stranger, a tall, well-built man with very short, sandy-coloured hair. `Name's Baker,' the stranger said, `Nigel Baker. I'm over from London on holiday. I'm by myself, so I'd really appreciate the company while I have a pint.'

Colin, mellowed by his lunch and beer with O'Hare, nodded amiably and said, `PF's is a good pub, I just had lunch there,' then he and the stranger turned and walked back the way Colin had come.

*

When Ron and Luna returned to the hotel a couple of hours later and went knocking on Seamus's door, they received no answer.

`He's probably still asleep, poor fellow,' said Luna.

`Poor fellow?' snorted Ron. `Don't you worry about Seamus, love.' They then made their way to Ron's room, which was really his and Luna's, but for reasons of discretion they also had a very small, separate room booked in her name; Ron was quite aware that while his normal, everyday life was no longer terribly newsworthy, his love life was another matter. He and Hermione, together with Harry and Ginny, had often been photographed when out and about; they'd also found themselves the subject of articles in various publications speculating about the state of their relationships. So far, they'd managed to avoid anything getting out about their split, or Harry and Ginny's. However, Ron knew that if there were any interesting rumours about his relationship with Luna, things would change. And he was certain that Harry, Hermione and Ginny would all share his feelings of distaste about that happening.

It was getting on for five o'clock and Ron and Luna were cuddled up together on the very comfortable couch in his room, talking and kissing - more often kissing than talking, naturally - when Seamus burst into the room, frantically calling Ron's name.

Ron jumped up, Luna twisting on the couch to face Seamus.

`What the hell's wrong?' asked Ron, horribly aware of a feeling of dread suddenly pervading the room.

`It's Colin,' said Seamus heavily, slumping in the doorway. `Some sort of accident, I think. The police are downstairs.'

`Police?' inquired Luna.

`Muggle Aurors,' said Ron absentmindedly to Luna before turning back to Seamus. `What's happened? What sort of accident? Is Colin all right?' he continued tersely.

Seamus shook his head, his face twisting in misery.

`What d'you mean?' cried Ron as Luna sprang to her feet beside him.

`He's dead,' whispered Seamus. `Colin's dead.'

*

Bad news travels just as fast in the wizarding world as in the Muggle.

Harry and Hermione were lying contentedly in bed, their arms around each other, talking desultorily, when they were interrupted by the sound of frantic hooting coming from the living room.

After staring, puzzled, at each other for a second, Harry turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching down for his jeans and pulling them on while Hermione summoned her pale blue satin dressing gown from the hook on the back of her bedroom door.

As they made their way quickly down the hallway, they could hear Crookshanks hissing and yowling. As they reached the archway, it was to see Pigwidgeon flying in frantic circles above the startled cat.

`Crookshanks!' admonished Hermione as her pet settled sulkily back into his basket, disgruntled at having been rudely awaken by the arrival of Ron's small owl. As she and Harry hurried across the room, Pigwidgeon managed to land on Harry's shoulder, Harry wincing as the tiny owl's claws bit into his bare skin.

Hermione reached up and removed the rolled parchment tied to Pigwidgeon's leg.

`He's exhausted,' said Hermione, handing Harry the parchment. `Come on, Pigwidgeon,' she cooed softly, walking into the kitchen to fetch an owl treat and a container of water for him; the small perch Ginny had always kept him was still in the cupboard and Hermione placed it on the kitchen bench along with the food and water. Giving her a grateful look, the little owl left Harry's shoulder and settled on the perch, taking only one bite of the treat and a small sip of water before tucking his head under his wing and going to sleep.

`Oh no…my God…'

Hermione's eyes snapped to Harry. `What's wrong?' she asked, alarmed, as she walked hurriedly back to where Harry stood in front of the fireplace.

`Colin…' Harry's eyes lifted slowly from the parchment to Hermione's face.

`Colin? Creevey?'

`He's been killed.'

Hermione tried to gasp, but her throat felt suddenly too tight; tears filled her eyes as she stared at Harry in uncomprehending horror.

`What? How?' she managed to choke out.

Harry wordlessly held out the parchment to her, Hermione's fingers trembling with shock as she took it. She held Harry's gaze for a few seconds longer before she could bring herself to look down at the parchment. When she did, the words were blurred by the tears in her eyes; after quickly wiping them away with her free hand, she recognised Ron's handwriting covering the paper.

Harry, Hermione - bad news. Colin's been killed. We're still in Kenmare. We were told by the Muggle police. A couple of kids found his body in a skip bin out the back of the pub where he had lunch with Sean O'Hare. There wasn't a mark on him. Had to have been the Killing Curse. His family are here - we organised for them to Floo over - much quicker. They're taking him home as soon as his body's released. Luna, Seamus and I will stay here with them - they're Muggles and they need our help. Once they're able to take him home, we'll come home too, until after the funeral. I had Pig take a letter to Mum and Dad first so I hope he makes it to your place before you hear the news from somewhere else. I'll come and see you as soon as I get there, whenever that might be.

Ron

Hermione's hand fell to her side, still clutching the letter, as she looked up at Harry, tears now streaming down her face. Harry put his arms around her and they stood, hugging each other, until a series of brisk knocks on the door roused them.

`Probably Dean,' said Harry. He paused before crossing to open the door, his hands cupping Hermione's face, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. `You all right?' he asked softly and Hermione nodded, giving him a small smile.

It was Dean, and when Harry opened the door, Dean knew immediately something was wrong. He was as shocked as Harry and Hermione when they told him the news of Colin's death and almost forgot that he'd come to tell them the arrangements for the next morning. Neither Harry nor Hermione was surprised when he told them that he would meet them in Hermione's department after seeing Ginny home.

After Dean had left, Harry and Hermione sat on the couch, their arms around each other as they talked about Colin, even managing to laugh at some of the memories of his first year at Hogwarts. It was Harry who said in the end what had been on both their minds.

`It had to have been one of the Dark One's henchmen, perhaps even one of his roving Disciples, who did this.'

`But why Colin?' asked Hermione. `It doesn't make sense. I mean you know him, you're friendly with him, but I wouldn't've thought he'd be on the Dark One's hit list.'

Harry shrugged and shook his head. `Who can say? I've been more worried knowing you were on that list, and I'm certain that Ron and Ginny would be as well.'

They retired with heavy hearts later that night, falling asleep with their arms around each other, although they thankfully managed an unbroken sleep.

*

Harry stirred first the next morning, his arms around Hermione who was lying curled against him, her back to him.

At first his thoughts were only for Hermione and he smiled drowsily, pushing her hair out of the way and nuzzling her neck. This elicited the desired response as Hermione began to squirm, making soft noises of appreciation. Harry's hand had just cupped one of Hermione's warm, firm breasts when she stiffened.

`Colin,' she whispered, turning onto her back and looking at him.

Harry closed his eyes, only just managing to stop himself from groaning out loud. He somehow found the will-power to withdraw his hand from Hermione's delectable breast and nodded, not trusting his voice to sound normal if he spoke.

`What time is it?' asked Hermione, although it was a rhetorical question as she simply turned her head and looked at her bedside clock; it showed six forty-five a.m.

`We'd better get moving,' she said, pulling back the covers. `I have that meeting with Maxine this morning, too.'

`You shower first,' said Harry, hoping his disappointment wasn't apparent in his voice; it was, but Hermione was too preoccupied to notice it.

He watched with longing and regret as Hermione walked across the room to her ensuite bathroom. Damn it! he thought, I wish she'd waited longer before remembering! Then he felt remorse for having such thoughts, although it didn't entirely eliminate his disappointment.

By seven-thirty they were both dressed, had eaten a little breakfast and were ready to leave. While drinking her tea, Hermione penned a quick note to Ron to let him know his letter had arrived and that they'd both be at the Ministry for the day, but that he should let them know the minute he was back from Ireland. Pigwidgeon was fully recovered and hooted happily as Hermione tied the note to his leg, Crookshanks watching with satisfaction as the little owl flew up the chimney. Before leaving, Harry checked the protective enchantments again, making a mental note to do the same with everyone else's before the day was through.

Once downstairs, ready to Floo, they automatically glanced up at the portrait over the fireplace. They both gasped quietly as they saw Verity's bowed head in her hands, her shoulders shaking; Emrys was kneeling beside her chair, his arms around her.

`Verity? Emrys? What's wrong?' asked Hermione, taken aback at the strange sight.

Verity lifted her head at the sound of her name, Emrys too, turning to look at them. Neither Harry nor Hermione could suppress their gasps of surprise: Verity was crying.

`We've just had some distressing news,' Emrys told them, his voice hollow.

Harry and Hermione were bewildered. `What news?' asked Harry, he and Hermione sharing a baffled look; was Emrys talking about Colin's death?

Verity's head dropped to her hands once more as she began crying again. Emrys shook his head sadly at them. `I'm sorry, we can't talk now.'

`It's not about Colin, is it?' asked Hermione.

Emrys stared back at her. `Who's Colin?'

Hermione shook her head. `A friend of ours we've just had some awful news about. Is there anything we can do to help?' she finished.

`Thank you, but no, there's nothing anyone can do now,' Emrys told them. `And I'm sorry to hear you've had bad news as well.' He turned his head away and went back to murmuring to his wife, his voice soft and soothing.

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of utter mystification, but since they could neither learn any more, nor do anything to help, they left.

They were thankful they arrived before the majority of Ministry workers, as even those few that were present couldn't help but stare at them. They were also grateful they had the lift to themselves as it ascended without stopping to Level Two where Harry left Hermione with a quick “see-you-soon” kiss before heading for Robards' office. He knew, without needing to be told, that the department head would be in his office early, as always, and would expect to see him as soon as he arrived. Harry had actually counted himself very lucky not to have received an owl on Saturday summoning him back to the Ministry to answer for his actions.

While he knew that he'd be censored for what he'd done to the Ministry's protective enchantments, Harry hoped that his reason for doing so would be an adequate excuse. Robards listened patiently while Harry explained about the activation of the Comperio Charm he'd put on Hermione's flat. He was as puzzled as Harry over what the intruder may have been looking for, and pointed out that since they didn't appear to have found it, they may well be back, causing Harry to feel momentarily alarmed until he remembered the strengthened spells of protection now in place. Harry told Robards this, and also admitted to putting Comperio Charms on all the flats, causing the head Auror's eyebrows to rise to previously unknown heights.

`How many flats are there?' he asked.

`Five all up,' replied Harry.

`Five? I see,' said Robards, staring at him thoughtfully. `I imagine the protection spells along with the Comperio Charms would keep out any future unwelcome visitors. Five Comperio Charms?'

Harry nodded, then to draw his boss's thoughts away from Comperio Charms, he offered to help in repairing the damage he'd caused.

Suppressing a smile, Robards told him it wouldn't be necessary, that four of the Ministry's Defence Guards had been called in after Harry had left the previous Saturday and had worked the rest of that day and half of Sunday to repair the damage. What he didn't tell him was that their annoyance at being called into work on a weekend had been short-lived when they were told what had happened and who had caused it. They had been astounded that anyone could have broken through the wards and manifestly impressed by Harry's ability to do so. They had even attempted to do the same themselves, but despite knowing the structure of the spells and charms, they had failed, which only served to increase their respect for Harry's power.

Hermione meanwhile was in a meeting with her boss, Maxine Longley, a meeting that had been arranged after the meeting at Hogwarts the previous week. Mrs Longley was mainly concerned with the Book of Records and Hermione's work with it. Explaining how she'd come by the book and its history as she knew it, Hermione finished with the fact that Dean was coming in later that morning to see the book and that Harry would also be there. Satisfied with Hermione's precautions and pleased that Harry would also be present, Mrs Longley asked Hermione to keep her up-to-date then smilingly dismissed her.

When Hermione emerged from her boss's office, it was to find quite a few of the department's workers were now at their desks, most of them greeting her as she made her way back towards the entrance where she noticed Lucy, the receptionist, wasn't yet at her desk. She paused with her hand on the door knob and gave an uneasy glance over her shoulder at the empty seat where the now-deceased Muggle, Arnold Fuller, had sat and waited to kill her. Dear Merlin! Was it really only a week ago? So much had happened in the time since… With a slight shudder, she opened the door, closing it behind her before walking along to the green library door. As she stepped inside after giving the passwords and with the door's “Good morning, Hermione!” still ringing in her ears, she was surprised to see her two assistants, Riley and Cady, at their desks; Monday was the one day they usually never arrived early. She had the distinct feeling they'd been waiting for her and as she approached them, smiling and saying, `Good morning, you two early-birds,' the way they were looking at her made her certain of it.

She stopped between their desks, looking from one to the other. `What's wrong?' she asked them.

After exchanging glances, Cady spoke first. `Is it true?' she asked, the awe in her blue eyes echoed in her voice.

`Is what true?'

`Harry-Potter-broke-every-protective-charm-and-spell-the-Ministry-has-in-place,' said Riley, the words coming out in such a rush that they all ran into each other.

Hermione stared at them for a second, then she burst out laughing. Cady and Riley both looked rather embarrassed, although Riley ploughed on, pushing nervous fingers through his short, sandy hair, his manner a little defensive.

`Well, I heard about it on Saturday night - my sister's boyfriend's father is friends with a neighbour of one of the Defence Guards who had to come in and fix things.'

Hermione smiled at them, shaking her head in amazement at how things got around. `Not quite all the charms and spells,' she told them.

`So he did do it?' breathed Cady, her eyes glowing with admiration.

Before Hermione could answer, they were all startled by a sharp knock on the door. Feeling certain it was Harry, Hermione hurried back to let him in.

`Cady and Riley are here,' she told Harry quietly as she closed the door behind him a few seconds later. As they headed across the room towards the Armarium, Harry was uncomfortably aware that both Hermione's young assistants were openly staring at him. With a mischievous smile, Hermione whispered, `I think Cady's now your number one fan, by the way.'

Harry gave her a quizzical look, but since they were now within earshot of the young witch and wizard, Hermione simply arched one eyebrow and smiled at him.

`Good morning, Mr Potter,' breathed Cady, her face flushed as she nervously twisted a lock of her shoulder length black hair around her finger.

`Erm, morning, Cady,' said Harry, feeling a little uncomfortable in the face of Cady's obvious admiration.

`Pretty amazing feat!' exclaimed Riley, wanting desperately to be brave enough to call Harry “Harry”, but not quite making it.

Harry gave Hermione a puzzled look as if to say, “what the hell is going on?”

`Apparently, news of the, erm, incident, in which you were involved on Saturday, has spread. Quickly. To many.'

Harry groaned. `Are you serious?' he asked. `It was hardly newsworthy for goodness' sake!'

It was as though Harry's confirmation of the “incident” somehow removed their barely-held-in-check restraint, for both Cady and Riley started speaking at once, highly excited at “getting it from the source”; Harry stared at them, speechless, then turned to look at Hermione for help.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, although she did feel sorry for Harry. `Enough, you two!' she cried, holding her hand up, palm towards them. `Stop!'

Cady and Riley both subsided into silence, although they still couldn't take their eyes off Harry.

`We are actually here to continue researching something that's rather important,' Hermione told them, keeping her expression serious. `We're expecting a friend of ours to arrive sometime from nine o'clock onwards. His name is Dean Thomas, and when he does arrive, would you please bring him straight to the reading room?'

Cady and Riley exchanged glances, recognising Dean's name, then they both nodded, their eyes once again fixed on Harry. Cady was already composing sensational owls to her friends in her head while Riley was thinking about how many rounds he'd get out of this at his local pub.

As they made their way towards the Armarium, Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and sighed loudly. `I really don't see what the fascination is, you know?'

As she wrapped her arm around his waist, Hermione gave him one of those smiles. `I do,' she said cheekily.

Harry rolled his eyes. `I don't mean that sort of fascination, as you very well know.'

`I know, I'm sorry; I couldn't resist teasing a little.' Hermione tried hard to sound contrite.

`Don't forget the consequences of teasing, Miss Granger,' he told her, giving her a look that threatened to liquefy her very bones.

They'd reached the midnight blue doors of the Armarium and Hermione turned and looked up at him, her eyes darkening with the force of her feelings as she asked, `Would that be the same consequences as last time I teased you?'

Harry retained the presence of mind to glance over his shoulder in the direction of Cady and Riley, which was just as well since they were both still staring avidly in Harry and Hermione's direction.

`Hermione, they're still watching -'

`I know,' Hermione interrupted him, her voice revealing her regret. They looked at each other for a long moment, resisting the urge to kiss, knowing they were being watched. `Would you like to come in with me this time? I asked Maxine this morning and she said it was all right.'

Harry nodded. `I would like to see the inside,' he assured her.

Hermione drew out her wand, tapping on the door three times, the deep resonant voice that sounded like Kingsley Shacklebolt speaking immediately.

`Please state your full name.'

`Hermione Jane Granger and Harry James Potter.'

`Please state the three passwords in the correct order.'

`Revolvo. Libellus. Incedo.'

`Which object do you wish to view?'

`Object number seven-one-three.'

As the door swung open with a distant rumbling, revealing a room that appeared to be full of bright light, he felt Hermione's hand take hold of his as she stepped forward, drawing him with her. They passed into the light - then they passed through it and Harry looked over his shoulder at the doorway; he couldn't see out - it was as though the light was a screen.

`This way,' said Hermione, still holding his hand. Harry followed automatically, looking around with interest. Harry thought that this may well be what Aladdin's cave would look like if it was tidy and ordered. The Armarium was an immense cave that had been carved out of solid rock, the perfect insulation against magic - either entering or leaving. Thousands of niches of varying sizes had been cut into the walls, some empty, but most held black boxes, also of varying sizes. Above each niche he could just make out a number carved into the rock, but his eyes were drawn to a flashing, bright blue light further down the cave. As they drew closer, he could see that it was the number “713” above a waist-high niche; when they reached it, Hermione removed the black box and the light stopped flashing.

As they made their way back to the door, Harry took the box proffered by Hermione. `Would you mind carrying it? It's rather heavy,' she explained.

They passed through the screen of light, Harry behind Hermione, the door closing immediately after he stepped out.

Cady and Riley were watching as they emerged and Hermione spoke to them, raising her voice slightly to ensure she was heard.

`As well as Dean Thomas, our friend Ron Weasley may also come to see us; please bring him to us immediately if he does.'

Cady and Riley both nodded then turned and stared at each other.

`Did she say Ron Weasley?' whispered Cady.

Riley nodded, stunned. `The Trio, all three of them, here! Cliodna's Cape!'

Once in the reading room, a small alcove with a single, square wooden table surrounded by eight chairs, Harry put the black box on the table while Hermione took out her wand and tapped two of the small blue tiles set into the wall beside the alcove opening, activating a silencing charm. He and Hermione then sat down next to each other with the door to their left, both looking down at the unopened box.

`We'll wait until Dean comes to open it - what do you think?' asked Hermione.

`I agree,' replied Harry. `I think Dean's the only one now that could get any more from it.'

For just over an hour, they talked, discussing the strange incident with the Leighs that morning, wondering what news an old couple in a portrait could possibly receive and from whom they'd received it. Once the few possibilities they could think of had been exhausted, they moved on to talking about what may happen when Dean opened his family's book. They were in the middle of trying to resolve what avenues were open to them in the fight against the Dark One when Cady appeared in the alcove entrance, Dean behind her. Hermione jumped up and deactivated the silencing charm with two taps of her wand.

`Dean, hello,' Hermione greeted him with a brief hug, `please, come and sit down.' Harry had risen to his feet and he and Dean shook hands as they greeted each other.

Hermione turned to Cady, who was still standing in the entrance. `Thanks, Cady,' she told the wide-eyed young witch, `I'll be sealing the room now, but if Ron turns up, you know what to do.'

Cady nodded before turning away, Hermione tapping all six of the small blue tiles which caused a blue, handle-less door to fill the opening with a sharp, smacking sound, making Dean jump.

`Sorry,' Hermione apologised, `I should've warned you.'

She and Harry resumed their seats, Dean sitting to Hermione's left, his back to the door.

`How's Ginny? How did it go with Robards?' asked Hermione.

Dean shrugged. `Bit of a non-event really. Robards told us basically the same thing you did yesterday: don't worry about Malfoy. He said they've known about him for some time and he's under surveillance. He asked us not to say anything to anyone about him, of course. Ginny was relieved.' Dean shifted in his seat, his eyes moving to the box on the table between Harry and Hermione. `Is that it?' he asked, sounding a little nervous.

Hermione nodded as she removed the lid of the box, Harry reaching over to lift out the book. As he did so, Hermione replaced the lid and pushed the box out of the way so that Harry could lay the book in front of her; she then turned the book over and opened the back cover, removing the small photograph and handing it wordlessly to Dean. He took it, his fingers trembling as he turned it over and gazed down at his father for the first time.

Harry, one arm resting on the table, reached out his other hand and covered Hermione's clenched fist with it; her left hand was sitting splayed on the open book.

`It's not a wizard photo,' said Dean quietly, disappointment clear in his voice. `But I don't suppose it could be since Mum's a Muggle and she didn't know about Dad then…'

Harry and Hermione sat quietly, waiting for Dean's cue; Hermione's fingers relaxed and uncurled beneath the reassuring warmth of Harry's hand and she gave him a quick look of gratitude as she laced her fingers with his.

`I look like him,' he said finally, looking up and giving them a sad smile. `May I keep this?' he asked, holding up the photo.

`Of course you can,' Hermione told him. Then, gently pulling her fingers from Harry's so that she could turn the book and push it across to Dean, Hermione told him, `We don't know what, if anything, will happen when you touch or open the book, but first you'll probably want to read those entries written by your dad that we mentioned.'

Dean nodded, his expression sombre as he looked down at the book.

`It doesn't look very old, does it?' he said quietly, studying the tooled leather volume. `A charm, I suppose,' he murmured, then he read the words etched into the cover, `“Book of Records”', his voice barely audible.

As he lifted his left hand and reached across for the bottom corner of the cover, Harry and Hermione found themselves holding their breath in anticipation of they knew not what.

As Dean lifted the cover and set it down on the table, his eyes went straight to the inscription, reading it out loud, although quietly, `This Book of Records was first begun by Oswyn Riley. It shall remain in the possession of the Riley Family by Magical Decree.'

A soft yellow light suddenly surrounded the book and all three of them jerked back in their chairs, looking at each other in surprise. Nothing else happened though, and after a few seconds the glow subsided.

`There's more writing now,' said Dean, and read out, `You who are a true descendant of Oswyn Riley, place your left hand on the page opposite and state your full name. Thus will you be bound to this Book of Records from this day hence to the day of your death.'

Dean lifted his left hand and turned it over, looking at it as though it was a strange thing before lifting his gaze to Harry and Hermione.

Hermione nodded, and Harry said, `Go ahead, you are the rightful owner.'

Slowly and carefully, Dean put his hand, palm down, on the inside cover of the book. And then as he was about to say, “Dean Thomas”, he checked himself and because it seemed the right thing to do, he said instead, his voice firm, `Dean Riley Thomas.'

A blue-white light emanated from beneath his hand, appearing to drain the colour from his face as he stared down at it. This light too, subsided after a few seconds and Dean lifted his hand up, turning it once more and studying it as though making sure it was unchanged. Then his eye was caught by words written in a beautiful flowing script where his hand had just been: `Each time you wish to read the Book of Records, Dean Riley Thomas, place your left hand on this page in order that the Book recognises your intention. Should you wish to make an entry in the Book, you will need to place your right hand on the inside of the back cover.' As he read them a second time, Dean realised the words were fading and he watched until they were gone; the page was now as blank as it had been when he'd first opened the book.

Excitement began to fill Hermione as she read the words, despite them being almost upside down to her. `Dean, this must be how the locked parts of the book are opened - when the rightful owner is recognised - now we can -'

But Harry broke in gently at that point. `Hermione, don't forget about the entries Dean's dad made. Don't you think we should leave Dean alone to read them?'

Even Dean couldn't prevent himself from smiling at the crestfallen look on Hermione's face.

`I'm sorry, Dean, honestly,' she apologised contritely. `Of course you should read what your dad wrote. It's under the last entry on the last contents page. Harry and I will leave you to it; when you've finished, just tap the first blue tile there, beside the door, and we'll come back in, all right?'

Dean nodded as Hermione and Harry rose and walked to the doorway where Hermione tapped the blue tiles in a complicated pattern. The blue “door” appeared to shiver before becoming as transparent and clear as glass. Hermione stepped through, taking Harry's hand and pulling him with her. Once they were out of the alcove, the “door” returned to its former opaque blue with a strange, almost sibilant noise which made Cady and Riley both look up from their work.

`We'll be in my office,' Hermione told them. `When the door to the alcove turns yellow, would you let me know immediately, please?' Both her young assistants nodded and went back to their work, leaving Harry and Hermione to make their way to her office, closing the yellow door behind them.

`Tea?' asked Hermione and Harry nodded enthusiastically. `I'd love some, thanks.'

While Harry transfigured the two chairs in front of Hermione's desk into a cosy couch for two, Hermione crossed to the small side table that held a tray with a jug of water, a teapot, mugs, sugar, milk and spoons. After boiling the water using a heating charm, Hermione poured it into the teapot and levitated the tray to her desk. They sat and talked while they drank their tea, speculating on Dean's reactions to what his father had written.

It was almost half an hour later before there was a knock on the door; Riley had come to tell them that the “door” was yellow. Harry and Hermione quickly made their way back to the reading alcove, Hermione using her wand this time to turn the “door” clear once more; as they stepped inside with Dean, she tapped the blue tiles to once again seal the room.

Dean was pacing in the small strip of floor on the other side of the table from Harry and Hermione, who had resumed their same seats.

`I can't believe it,' Dean told them, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck and twisting his head slowly to release the muscle tension. `What am I saying? Of course I believe it, but it's just such a shock, finding all this out now! I'm going to have to tell Mum - she'd want to know.'

`Of course she will,' agreed Hermione.

`You'll have to bring her here, though,' Harry advised him. `The book needs to be kept here for the time being.'

Dean frowned. `Are you sure? I can't take it home tonight and bring it back tomorrow?'

Hermione shook her head, her gaze sympathetic. `I'm really sorry, Dean, I know it's your book, but it's of vital importance to us in the fight against the Dark One so please, I hope you understand that we can't afford to take even the slightest risk with it.'

`But it said the book is charmed to appear each Monday, no matter where I am. Won't that happen now?'

Hermione shook her head. `Not while the Tutis Charm it carries is intact and it's kept in the Armarium. It's not a problem, you bringing your Mum here, you know that, don't you?'

Dean nodded. `She does get a little nervous around magic, though, y'know? But I do understand about keeping it here - I don't want anything to happen to this book either. Or me, since I'm not sure about what it can do or how to use it properly.' Dean sighed and dropped back into his seat. `You didn't find anything else in here about my dad?' he asked them.

`Not so far,' said Harry, `although that doesn't mean there's not something else in there. It just means that it's not accessible to anyone except the rightful owner. You.' He could sense Hermione suppressing a growing impatience which he knew stemmed from her desire to find out as much as possible before the next meeting at Hogwarts, scheduled for the following Thursday.

Dean propped his elbows on the table, pushing the book back from the edge of the desk as he did so, dropping his head and cradling it in his hands.

`I just can't seem to think straight at the moment,' he said, sounding tired and fretful all at once, `and I need time to think all this over.'

Harry now sensed anxiety emanating from Hermione; he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug. `We understand that, believe me,' he said. `It's just that Professor McGonagall has this Thursday coming set aside for the next meeting at Hogwarts. If you can manage it somehow, we'd like to have at least Wednesday and Thursday with you here, going through the book. D'you think that'll be all right?'

Dean lifted his head and looked at them, his brown eyes troubled. `I suppose so, I just don't know to be honest. I need to talk to Mum. If she wants to see the book, how soon can we arrange it?'

`Immediately. Any time,' said Hermione firmly.

Dean nodded, rising slowly to his feet. `Thanks, both of you. I'll go see Mum now. I've got the whole day off, anyway. I'm not sure what my boss really thinks about my absences, although so far he's been pretty understanding.'

`Don't worry about that,' said Harry, `the Ministry will make sure your boss understands how important your presence here is. You let us know if your Mum wants to see the book and when.'

They walked a slightly bewildered and despondent Dean to the lift, the sunshine streaming in the magical window at the end of the room seeming somehow incongruous in the circumstances.

Not long afterwards, they'd just re-emerged from the Armarium after returning the Book of Records to its niche when a gentle, three-note chime rang through the air.

Cady and Riley, who had been Harry-and-Hermione-watching, both jumped as they turned to look at the green entry door, which had just turned the palest green.

`Don't worry,' Hermione told them, `we'll see who it is.' She and Harry hurried over to the door, Harry wondering aloud if it could be Ron.

It was. A very drained and exhausted looking Ron. He was quickly ushered in by his two friends, all of them oblivious to Hermione's two assistants, who were unashamedly craning their necks to see who it was. The Trio stood just inside the now-closed door, talking in voices too low to be heard by Cady and Riley - to their bitter disappointment.

`Ron, you look awful!' said Hermione. `Have you slept at all?'

Ron shook his head. `Not really,' he replied, his voice sounding as though it was passing over sandpaper.

`Where's Luna?' asked Hermione.

`Back at her dad's; I'm gonna Floo her tomorrow.'

`Listen, we've just finished here,' said Harry, `do you want to go home? You can get some rest before we talk if you like. That's okay, isn't it? To leave now?' he asked Hermione.

Hermione nodded. `Of course it is. I'll just tell Cady and Riley and we can leave.' She turned and looked at Cady, waving her hand to indicate she should come over. Riley, despite not being hailed, followed Cady; there was no way he was going to miss out on the chance to be this close to the Trio, however grim the circumstances.

Cady, who was desperately trying to look at Ron and Harry at the same time as she was looking at Hermione and going almost cross-eyed in the process, could only nod as Hermione explained she was leaving for the day and should be in the next morning, that Cady should let Mrs Longley know all this immediately; she then instructed Cady to owl her with anything important, at any time that afternoon.

Ron, standing between Harry and Hermione, smiled wearily at the young witch and wizard, completely ignorant of the powerful impact his presence, together with that of Harry and Hermione, had on Cady and Riley.

Needless to say, after the Trio had departed, Cady and Riley barely got any work done, being far too excited about their day's experiences to concentrate…

*

When they arrived back at the Nook, Harry and Hermione immediately looked up at the Leighs' portrait, somewhat relieved to see them once more in their rocking chairs, apparently asleep.

By unspoken agreement, they made their way to Hermione's flat, where Ron flaked out on Ginny's bed while Harry and Hermione made some sandwiches, putting some aside for Ron when he woke.

Ron wandered out a couple of hours later to find Harry and Hermione sitting on the couch, Hermione at one end reading aloud from a book, Harry lying with his head in her lap with his eyes closed; Ron wasn't sure whether his friend was asleep or listening.

As Ron walked into the room, Hermione looked up and smiled. `There's a plate of sandwiches in the fridge for you,' she told him. Then she closed her book and ruffled Harry's hair. `Come on, sleepy head, time to get up.'

Harry groaned in protest and reluctantly sat up. Then he leant forward and kissed Hermione lightly on the lips. `Definitely my second favourite place to sleep,' he said softly.

`And your favourite?' asked Hermione, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

`Tell you later,' said Harry with a mischievous smile.

`Either of you two want something cold to drink?' called Ron, his voice muffled due to the fact his head was in the fridge.

`I'll have a butterbeer,' replied Harry, looking quizzically at Hermione who shook her head. `Nothing for Hermione,' he finished.

They all sat up at the table while Ron ate and when he'd finished he sat back and sighed deeply.

`Closest to normal I've felt since - since it happened.'

`Have you found out just what it was that happened?' asked Hermione, her voice revealing her tension.

Ron nodded. `Pretty much,' he said, looking from her to Harry, his face grim. `Colin was murdered on the Dark One's orders. The Disciple that did it broke Colin's wand and rolled it up in a piece of parchment.' Ron hesitated, looking down at the table.

`What's up?' asked Harry, frowning.

Ron looked up at Harry, his eyes desolate. `It was supposed to be me. I was going to have lunch with Sean that day. Colin went instead. The note said he'd make sure next time it was me and not my stand-in.'

Hermione's gasp drew both men's eyes to her. She was sitting, slowly shaking her head in disbelief. `Are you sure?' she whispered, horrified.

`Oh yeah,' said Ron, `I'm sure all right. I saw the note.'

They sat in silence for a minute as the reality of the situation sank in.

`I knew something like was highly likely, but…' began Hermione, her voice trailing off as she shivered with apprehension.

`So how did you find all this out?' asked Harry.

`We had to notify the Ministry, of course, and they sent some Aurors and others over - you know, to modify the Muggles' memories and such. They took charge of Colin's body and had some of those specialist Healers check it over. It was definitely the Killing Curse, but we knew that. And they found his wand with the note around it inside his jacket.'

`What about his family? How are they?' asked Hermione.

There was an awful sadness in Ron's face and his voice as he answered, `They're devastated. I feel -' Ron stopped, pain filling his eyes as he looked at them.

`It's not your fault,' said Hermione firmly, knowing what Ron was thinking.

Ron nodded wearily. `I know, but for some reason I still feel guilty because it was supposed to be me, not Colin.'

`Anyone would,' said Harry, `but keep reminding yourself you're not responsible. So, when's the funeral?'

`This Wednesday. They're having it at their local church - a Muggle burial.'

`What time?' asked Hermione.

`Ten in the morning. The Creevey's fireplace is gonna be connected to the Floo Network for that day for any of us to go.'

Hermione nodded, already mentally scheduling their attendance at the funeral before working on the Book of Records with Dean.

`What's going to happen with your tour, now?' asked Harry.

`Not too sure, mate. Seamus and I have talked about it and we think we should keep going. We reckon Colin would've wanted us to go on.'

`He would've, for sure,' said Harry as Hermione nodded in agreement, then Harry pointed out, `You'll just have to find another photographer.'

Ron gave them a crooked smile. `Already had two offers, actually. Seamus and I just have to decide which of them will be the easiest to live with.'

Harry and Hermione both looked at him with questioning gazes, waiting.

Ron took a deep breath before continuing.

`Well, either Dennis Creevey or Ginny.'

*

TENTH INTERLUDE

Ronald Weasley lived.

The First-Disciple-To-Be sank to his knees in despair, horror and hopelessness warring for supremacy in the twisted remains of his soul.

Ronald Weasley lived.

He was in one of the caverns set aside for living quarters within the Cave complex - his cavern larger than the others by virtue of the fact that it was for the use of the First-Disciple-To-Be. He felt a leaden certainty he would not hold that position or title for much longer.

Because Ronald Weasley lived.

He found himself torn between overwhelming fury and an utterly debilitating terror at the cruel twist of fate that had seen his latest endeavour fail. A twist that he'd failed to take into account. A twist for which he knew he'd be held responsible, regardless of how irrational that may be.

And then he felt a stab of pain so sudden and so agonising it threw him to the ground, clutching his head; it drowned out even the sound of his own screams as he writhed helplessly on the hard, cavern floor.

He lives!

Those two words tore through the excruciating pain and seemed to pierce his brain like two, vicious rapiers.

Master! Please! I beg you! No one could have foreseen - it's not possible to know such things - I beg you, please!

A feeling of raw, furious disgust washed through him which he knew came from his Master. Then the pain receded just enough for the First-Disciple-To-Be to cease writhing; he lay weak and panting on the cold floor.

It is possible to know such things! It is your place to know such things!

The Dark One was torn between an almost unendurable need to destroy the useless wretch, yet his lust to kill was stayed by the knowledge that there was, for the moment, no other suitable contender for the position of First-Disciple-To-Be. But he was always searching…

As his Master wrenched his thoughts from his pain-wracked mind, the First-Disciple-To-Be shrieked, the piteous sound reverberating around the cavern.

As the last echoes of his anguished cry faded away, he lay helpless, his feeble and fruitless attempt to get up leaving his body twitching convulsively.

Then the agony returned ten-fold and his body arched off the floor with the force of it, his mouth stretched in an endless, silent scream. His Master's voice, almost incoherent with an unimaginable rage, lacerated his tortured mind, leaving it raw and burning with anguish: If you fail again it matters not that I have no replacement for you! You will die and die and die! She must die! The filthy blood traitor that he loves must die! Do not fail! I will devour you if you fail! I will rip at your flesh with a thousand teeth! I will keep your soul in my hand and I will claw at it every second it manages to survive!

Mercifully, his tortured body fell into unconsciousness. When consciousness inevitably began to return, seeping through his tormented brain like some horrible, yet inexorable force, he began to tremble uncontrollably, aware only of his pain-wracked body. Then unavoidably, the memory of his Master's rage-fuelled tirade returned, bringing with it a terror greater than he'd ever known, a terror so vicious and brutal it made him violently ill where he lay. And so he remained, lying in his own vomit with the stench of his own fear permeating the air, for the many hours it took him to regain enough strength to crawl across the floor to his bed. He was still too weak to attempt even a simple cleaning spell on himself and so he clawed his way onto his bed and fell into exhausted unconsciousness.

*

The Dark One ripped his thoughts from the unconscious body of his First-Disciple-To-Be, withdrawing to the Inner Place, to the black lake, his anger causing the glass-like surface to churn. He became aware then of the large host of Disciples gathering in the Ante-Chamber, already beginning to murmur one of the chants he'd given them; it was the Chant of Veneration. Yet while it was the chant he favoured above all others, the pleasure he normally derived from it was absent.

Because that accursed fool failed me! A poor choice for my First Disciple! He lacks the magical strength, the depth of Darkness needed. But as yet, there is no other. However, I feel there is one unfound - one undiscovered. And when he is found, I will delight in the slow destruction of that ludicrous excuse for a wizard who thinks himself worthy to be my First Disciple!

Eventually, the chant soothed the worst of his anger and he was struck with a strange, almost human-like melancholy brought about by an old memory, a memory of another, one who had been equal to the task of being his First Disciple. One who had been destroyed. By Harry Potter. Then as the thought of Harry Potter spread into his mind like some malicious poison, the black water began to churn violently once more, disturbing the hideous occupants of the lake. With great effort, the Dark One redirected his thoughts, resolving to put in place a plan of contingency. He no longer had any confidence in the ability of his First-Disciple-To-Be to carry out the task he'd been entrusted with.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Looking forward very much to your thoughts and reactions, dear readers. Janie xoxo

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Author's Note

Hi everyone! *Janie waves gaily* I've had the BEST time EVER the last two weekends but I won't bore you with the details because I'm sure you'd rather be reading this next chapter of Sorcerers' Nook! *grins* By the way, when you reach the end of this chapter, remember that I love you all (or at least like you a lot, depending on how long I've known you *grins*…). And finally - my heartfelt thanks to my very dear friend, Kirsti, along with lots of hugs and love. Janie xoxoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

In which Colin is farewelled, Ginny, Harry and Hermione meet in public for the first time since Harry and Hermione became a couple; we find out who Ron and Seamus choose to take Colin's place and we see how the parents of the chosen deal with Ron and Seamus's choice in their own distinctive ways. Harry and Hermione finally, at last, bring Dean to talk with Verity and Emrys…and like Dean, Harry and Hermione, you won't believe what comes out of that meeting…

As they stood beside Colin's grave, bathed in the dappled sunlight streaming through the leaves of the huge spreading oak tree which dominated the hillside graveyard, Hermione found herself feeling horribly self-conscious about the simple act of holding Harry's hand. She kept her gaze fixed on the reverend as he read passages aloud from the Bible to the gathered crowd. Unexpectedly, Colin's parents lived in a lovely old village east of Oxford called Cuddesdon, whose ancient parish church seemed to exude a soothing peace from its majestic position above them, on top of the hill.

There must be over fifty people here, she thought to herself, determined to take her mind off the fact that Ginny - Dean standing almost possessively beside her - was on the opposite side of the grave with her parents and her twin brothers. Even so, she couldn't help a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she looked around at the various witches and wizards in attendance who, in deference to Colin's parents, had all put on Muggle clothing, although some choices were more convincing than others; it amused Hermione to see the Muggles' expressions of either mystification or horror whenever they glanced at one of the peculiarly attired strangers.

Inevitably, however, Hermione's eyes were drawn back to Ginny. Although they hadn't had an opportunity to speak of it, Hermione knew that both she and Harry had been very aware this would be the first time they'd see Ginny as a couple - and that she would see them as a couple.

She keeps stealing glances at us, while we do the same. What's she thinking? What's she feeling? Hermione sighed. I suppose she's asking herself the same questions about us.

The quiet, heart-rending sobs of Colin's parents and his brother intruded on her thoughts then, and she felt her throat constrict. Poor wonderful, clever, sweet, dear Colin! We will all miss him so much - but his family more so. Hermione felt tears of sadness spill over and run down her cheeks. Lifting her gaze from the cheerless sight of Colin's freshly covered, flower encrusted grave, she felt shock ripple through her as she found herself looking directly into Ginny's bright brown eyes. They held each other's gaze and a strange sort of understanding passed between them. Hermione knew they wouldn't speak to each other that day, but that somehow that was all right. She also instinctively knew that Ginny wasn't yet ready to confront the reality of she and Harry being together in public and her compassion for her friend was evident in her gaze. When Ginny nodded almost imperceptibly, Hermione knew that she too, understood. We both know we'll be able to talk about this some day, Hermione thought, but not today. This is a day dedicated to Colin and his family…

Harry had noticed Hermione and Ginny's silent exchange; he'd been on tenterhooks the whole morning, ready to defend and protect Hermione if need be. He realised he needn't have worried. No one present, least of all Hermione or Ginny, would violate the sanctity of the occasion. He looked down at Hermione as he gently squeezed her hand, and as Hermione looked up at him, he saw the tears on her face. Without thinking, he lifted his free hand and tenderly wiped away her tears with the back of his fingers before dropping a quick, soft kiss on her forehead.

Ginny watched them with a feeling of intense sadness and loss invading her heart. Yet she realised as she looked at them that in the intervening time since Harry had told her he no longer loved her and this poignantly revealing moment, she'd slowly come to terms with the fact that it was truly over. She knew her own strength and that it would carry her through. It had carried her through - to this particular moment when she felt the irrevocable breaking of her heart's bond with Harry; it was at this sad occasion that she was able to finally let go, completely and utterly. Buoyed by the strange lightness that overtook her heart and spirit, she looked up at Dean, beside her, and found he was watching her. Her eyes softened as she gazed at him and a wonderful warmth infused her when she felt his hand enfold hers.

Harry and Hermione both watched this exchange and it was Hermione's turn to feel her heart lighten as she gazed at them before turning and smiling lovingly up at Harry.

The spell was broken then as the reverend's clearly heard “amen” was obediently echoed by everyone present.

`Let's go home,' said Harry softly, and Hermione nodded, wanting nothing more than to be alone with Harry and talk about the day. However, she was resigned to the fact that that wasn't to be as Ron and Luna were staying in Harry and Ron's flat, while Seamus was staying in Dean's; together with Esmerelda, they were all headed for the Nook. After checking with Hermione that she was happy to do so, Harry suggested they all have some morning tea together. With the exception of Esmerelda, this suggestion was met with enthusiastic approval; everyone felt the need to talk about Colin and share their memories of him. Shortly afterwards, Frewin looked up sleepily as familiar green light filled the sitting room at Sorcerers' Nook. He caught a glimpse of Esmerelda spinning in the coloured flames before she stepped out, followed in quick succession by Hermione, Luna, Harry, Ron and Seamus.

Hermione and Harry both looked up at the portrait above the fireplace, but once again the old couple appeared to be asleep. Harry and Hermione exchanged concerned glances; Verity and Emrys had been asleep - or feigning sleep, they were certain - every time either Harry or Hermione had tried to speak to them since the previous Monday morning when Verity had been upset after receiving some bad news.

Esmerelda took her leave and headed for her office and Harry led the way to his and Ron's flat; as everyone made themselves comfortable on the large, black leather modular lounge, Harry put the kettle on to make tea and coffee. While the kettle was boiling, he found a packet of biscuits in the pantry cupboard which he set out on a plate, and once the tea and coffee were ready and everyone had a cup of their choice, the conversation moved from amusement at some witches' and wizards' idea of Muggle clothing to Colin, and they spent some time recounting many small moments and memories of their schoolmate, friend and work colleague.

`I can't believe he's gone,' said Seamus finally, looking around at everyone in turn, each of them nodding in agreement.

`Me either, mate,' said Ron, his voice heavy. He gave Luna, beside him, a grateful look as she tenderly stroked his face, her soft words of consolation for his ears only.

Hermione found her lips curving in a smile at the heart-warming sight of Ron and Luna. It truly makes me glad, she thought, to see him happy. Ron glanced up and caught her eye at that moment and her expression drew a small lopsided grin from him as he winked at her. Hermione sighed. I hope I can see Ginny happy again, soon; Dean certainly seems determined to stick around till she notices him.

Harry's voice broke into her thoughts. `Have either of you decided who's going with you in Colin's place?' he asked Ron and Seamus.

Ron groaned and Seamus shook his head.

`We're in a bit of a pickle,' said Ron, rolling his eyes. `Ginny's nagging me to death because she wants to come to, erm' - he hesitated for a second, throwing Harry and Hermione a quick uncomfortable glance, `- well, she says she wants to get away. Mum's threatening me with all sorts of horrible things if I dare take her because she's worried something will happen to her after this business with Colin.'

`And Dennis is bein' ferocious about steppin' up to take his brother's place, says it's his right,' put in Seamus, `and his parents are nearly hysterical about losin' him since he's now their only son.' Seamus heaved a great sigh. `Dunno what we're gonna do,' he finished.

`They should both go,' said Luna, sounding almost matter-of-fact.

Ron and Seamus both stared at her as they said simultaneously, `What?'

`Are you mad?' cried Seamus.

Luna smiled and shrugged. `Perhaps.'

`Why would you say that?' Ron asked, staring at Luna.

`Well, I've heard that if you are mad, you're usually unaware of -'

`No, not that,' said Ron impatiently, although he couldn't stop himself from smiling, `I mean about taking both of them - Ginny and Dennis.'

`Oh, well, that's because between them they may do half as good a job as Colin did. Colin was very talented, wasn't he? And there's nothing like a little healthy competition to speed up improvement, is there?'

Ron gaped at her.

`I think you've got something there, Luna,' said Hermione approvingly. `Ginny's always had a good eye - I know they respected her highly at work, although I don't know that she's done a lot of actual photography. And Dennis was telling me this morning that he's been learning from Colin for years now, and of course he's inherited all Colin's cameras, so -' she finished with an expressive shrug.

Seamus nodded, although at the same time he looked quite astonished by Luna's suggestion.

`It's true,' he said, nodding. `Ginny has been showing us a lot of the stuff she's designed for Witch Weekly - and all her stuff looks great, I have to say - and Dennis has worn out every owl at the post office sending us samples of his work. Luna, you're amazing at times.' Seamus grinned at her. `And you're not mad.'

`I wouldn't know for sure,' said Luna with a soft smile.

`Well I know for sure,' said Ron, putting his arm around her and pulling her closer to him, `and I reckon you're a genius. What d'you reckon, mate?' he asked as he looked across at Seamus. `We take `em both?'

`Sure, I think it's a great idea. But I want to know who's going to be the one to tell your mum?'

`Hedwig,' said Ron immediately, drawing amused chuckles from everyone, `if that's all right with you Harry? I'd better write to Ginny and Dennis straight away, before I lose my nerve.'

Harry grinned. `That's fine by me,' he told Ron, `but you're still going to have to face your mum sooner or later.'

`Preferably later,' muttered Ron as he excused himself, heading for the kitchen where the spare parchment and quills were kept. He wrote two quick notes at the kitchen bench, assuring Hedwig as he fixed them to her leg that he'd buy her a box of the best owl treats known to Wizardkind.

*

After a very enjoyable lunch of chicken and ham pie and baked vegetables, Dean left the Burrow, heading for the Ministry and his meeting with Harry and Hermione. Before he stepped into the fireplace, he assured Ginny he'd be back to tell her what happened.

As the green flare died down, Hedwig landed on the kitchen windowsill, hooting softly.

Ginny felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of her, wondering why she was there.

`Goodness me!' exclaimed Molly as she bustled over. `I wonder what this is about?'

`I just hope it's good news,' commented Arthur over the top of his Daily Prophet, exchanging a worried glance with his daughter.

`It's for you, Ginny, dear,' said Molly as she held out the small roll of parchment. `Just a minute, Hedwig, I'll get you some water and -' but before she could say anymore, Hedwig gave a quick hoot and with an affectionate peck to Molly's hand, flew off.

`In a bit of a hurry, I see,' said Molly as she turned back to see Ginny reading her letter, a huge smile on her face.

`What is it dear?' she asked.

Ginny held the parchment out to her mother, saying, `It's from Ron.'

Ginny's smile faded and she sighed as she watched her mother's eyes move backwards and forwards across the parchment; she knew what was coming.

`Ginny Weasley! You are not going anywhere! I won't stand for it! It's too dangerous and I won't -'

`Mum! Stop!' cried Ginny, her exasperation with her mother mixed with frustration at being mollycoddled, all adding up to severe irritation.

`What are you talking about?' asked Arthur as he stood up, dropping his paper on the old armchair before crossing the room to join them.

Molly held out the parchment to her husband, her eyes flashing as she told him furiously, `Ron has asked Ginny to join their tour!'

As his eyes skimmed the parchment then lifted slowly to gaze at his daughter, Molly could see by his expression that she was alone in her opposition to Ginny going.

`Arthur! You can't possibly agree -'

`I'm afraid I can, dear,' he said gently as he rolled the parchment up and handed it back to Ginny, who gave him a grateful smile. `We've taught our children never to allow fear to dominate or control their lives, so I think Ginny should go.'

Molly's face fell and tears formed in her eyes; she knew she'd lost. `It's just that after Fred almost died in the war, I can hardly bear to think about losing any of them…'

`Neither can I, dear,' said Arthur, as he put one arm around his wife's shoulders, the other around his daughter's, and pulled them both to him. `But we can't let that turn us into something akin to gaolers.'

Molly nodded sadly as she whispered, `I know you're right.' As she looked at her daughter, she managed a smile, and lifting her arm, she hugged her tightly. `But if you don't owl or Floo me every day, I'll be on your doorstep so fast your head will spin!'

*

Harry and Hermione had a quick lunch before leaving Ron, Luna and Seamus playing a game of snap with a deck of Muggle cards given to Seamus by his dad. As they left, they could hear Ron complaining about the lack of excitement when none of the cards could explode.

When they reached the fireplace, they automatically glanced up at the Leighs' portrait, their eyes widening in surprise as they saw both Verity and Emrys looking down at them.

`Are you all right?' asked Hermione.

Verity nodded as Emrys said, `Yes, thank you,' in a quiet voice.

`What was the bad news you received?' asked Harry.

`Harry!' hissed Hermione, shocked at his bluntness.

`What?' he asked, bewildered.

Emrys chuckled. `It's all right, Hermione. The bad news we received was the death of a very old and dear friend.'

It was Hermione's turn to be bewildered. `Friend? But how could you - I mean…' Hermione's voice trailed off, unable to put her confused thoughts into words.

`It's all right, I understand your confusion,' Emrys said. `Perhaps it would make more sense if I told you that this isn't our only portrait.'

`Oh!' exclaimed Harry and Hermione together, staring up at the elderly couple.

Verity smoothed her apron as she nodded at them. `We've never told anyone that before, but now that - well, now that our friend has gone, I think it's safe to talk about it.'

`Would you mind if I asked who your friend was?' queried Hermione.

Emrys and Verity exchanged glances, before Verity answered. `We don't mind at all, dear, but I think it's best if we answer that another time. Now, how are things coming along with Dean?'

Quelling her curiosity, Hermione said, `We're just on our way to meet him now. We actually had a meeting with him last Monday and showed him the book.'

Verity and Emrys both leant forward in their chairs.

`What happened?' asked Emrys.

`The book recognised him,' explained Harry, `and it sort of connected with him.'

`Good,' said Verity. `Will you be able to be here with him this evening?'

`Try and stop me,' said Hermione under her breath, while Harry assured them they would be.

*

On the first occasion that Dean had “activated” the Book of Records, Harry and Hermione had left him alone to read his father's entries. This time, however, they stayed, watching as Dean once again placed his left hand on the inside cover, causing the blue-white light to shine briefly. As he turned the page, Dean smiled and Hermione and Harry looked on in surprise as the full page portrait of Oswyn Riley smiled back.

`He basically just glared at us,' said Harry indignantly.

`Probably because he knew we weren't Rileys,' commented Hermione, excited already at this evidence of things being different now that Dean was reading the book.

Dean flashed a grin at them before turning the page. Hermione gasped. `Look!'

`What is it?' asked Harry, unable to see anything different on the first contents page.

`There are extra entries!' she exclaimed, pointing; Harry noticed then that amongst the list written in black were a few titles written in dark green ink.

`Would you read out the coloured titles for us, please Dean?' asked Hermione.

`Sure,' said Dean, running his finger down the list, reading out various titles mainly concerned with old battles and ancient, mostly forgotten events. It was on the third page that Dean came across a short title that immediately caught Hermione's attention.

`Riley's, erm, Pensieve,' said Dean, hesitating at the unfamiliar word; very few wizards came into contact with Pensieves and most hadn't heard of the rare, magical device.

`Pensieve?' broke in Hermione, wide eyed.

Dean looked up at her, assuming she was as puzzled as he was. `I think that's what it says - maybe I've pronounced it wrong. What on earth is a Pensieve?'

Hermione shook her head, `No, you've said it correctly - it's just that I didn't think Pensieves were around that long ago…'

Dean stared at her. `You know what a Pensieve is?' Then he rolled his eyes and shook his head, adding under his breath, `I'm saying this to Hermione Granger? Huh!'

Only hearing the question Dean directed at her, Hermione nodded earnestly. `Professor Dumbledore had one at Hogwarts. Harry told me all about it.'

`So what is it?' asked Dean.

Hermione gave him a brief description, at which Dean whistled, impressed.

`Sounds like a nifty thing to have,' he commented.

`If there is a Pensieve that belongs to your family, Dean,' said Harry thoughtfully, `it could hold all sorts of memories.'

`Why would they make an entry about a Pensieve?' asked Hermione.

`Let's find out,' said Dean, grinning, taking out his wand and repeating the spell given to find that entry.

When he'd finished reading the two pages of small, neat writing that had appeared, Dean sat back in his chair, staring across at Harry and Hermione.

Hermione's head was filling rapidly with a host of new possibilities. `A family Pensieve?' she whispered. Then she frowned and made a sound of utter frustration. `But where is it? Dean - would you go back to the contents pages and see if there are any more entries that refer to the Pensieve?'

Harry and Hermione listened intently as Dean read the titles written in green on page after page, hesitating only when he came to an entry on the last page. Hermione leant forward and tilted her head, enabling her to see that the entry immediately above was in black ink; it was titled “My Family”, the first thing that she and Harry, as well as Dean, had read in the Book of Records.

Dean cleared his throat and continued. `The Return of, erm…'

Hermione dropped her eyes to the title written above Dean's stationary index finger.

`Voldemort,' said Hermione firmly, then she look quizzically at Dean. `You don't still have trouble saying his name, do you?'

Dean shook his head, his brown eyes sad as he looked up at Hermione. `It just caught me off-guard for a second,' he explained, `because that's my father's handwriting and I can't help but think about my father - that he died because of Voldemort.'

Hermione and Harry both nodded sympathetically. `Any more entries?' asked Harry.

Dean slid his finger down, revealing another green title, “Riley Family Artefacts”.

`Does that have a viewing spell or only a reading spell?' asked Hermione breathlessly.

`Just a reading spell,' said Dean, picking up his wand once more and repeating the spell.

The book glowed with the now familiar misty light, trembling as the pages turned quickly, stopping near the end of the book.

`Riley Family Artefacts,' read Dean. He glanced nervously over at Harry and Hermione before taking a deep breath and dropping his eyes to the book. He began to read…

*

Harry and Hermione were sitting in two of the five armchairs clustered around the fire place, now and then glancing impatiently at the flames dancing in the grate.

`He's late,' said Hermione, drumming her fingers silently on the stuffed arm of her seat.

`Patience, dear,' said Verity, gazing down at them from her portrait, her expression almost sad.

`It's only a minute or two after eight,' Harry said soothingly. `He'll probably be here any tick of the - '

He stopped abruptly as the flames suddenly turned green, Hermione springing to her feet seconds before Harry did as they watched Dean step out of the fireplace.

Dean straightened, looking solemnly from Harry to Hermione before turning and gazing up at the portrait. Emrys and Verity both sat up in their rocking chairs, meeting his gaze squarely.

`So,' said Dean, `I believe you know the whereabouts of my father?'

Verity and Emrys exchanged a slow, careful glance before Verity looked back down at Dean, her face suddenly twisting into a mask of sorrow.

`I'm so sorry my dear,' she said, her voice full of anguish, `he died sometime during the night last Sunday.' She began to cry and Emrys reached over to take her hand.

Dean staggered backwards a few steps, Harry automatically reaching out to steady him. Hermione was gaping, open-mouthed, at the old couple.

`What did you say?' she whispered.

Verity however, was crying too hard to speak, so it was Emrys who answered, looking directly at Dean as he spoke.

`Your father passed away last Sunday. I'm so sorry, my boy, so sorry.'

`My father was alive?' Dean asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

`Didn't you know that? From reading the book?' asked Emrys, perplexed, once again kneeling beside his wife's rocking chair, his arm around her as she continued to cry quietly.

Dean shook his head, incredulous. `I had no idea, I just thought you would know where he was buried,' he whispered. `But he was alive? My God!'

Emrys stared at him, equally dumbfounded. `But he said it was all there - he'd put it all in there, he said so…'

`Put all what in where? In the book?' asked Hermione, baffled.

Emrys nodded. `Where else?' he asked.

Hermione looked at Harry, realisation hitting them simultaneously; it was Dean, however, who said it aloud.

`In the Pensieve.'

The three friends looked back up at Emrys. `Where did Mr Riley put his family belongings?' asked Hermione, suddenly sounding sure of herself.

`I can't tell you, I'm afraid, because -' began Emrys, but he was interrupted by his wife.

`I can,' said Verity, raising her tear-stained face to look at them, `because I'm the Secret Keeper.'

`The what?' asked Dean, feeling as though his head was filled with maniacally spinning tops.

`Secret Keeper?' repeated Harry in astonishment, `A Fidelius Charm?'

Verity nodded, looking much more composed now.

`How is that possible?' asked Hermione. `You're not actually alive!' Hermione frowned, feeling perturbed; she was certain there was some important piece of information she should remember.

`One only needs a living soul in which to place the Secret,' she explained, `and my soul remains here. My body is not living, but my soul, as all souls, remain alive. It's just that most souls do not remain earthbound and are therefore inaccessible.'

Hermione was desperate to understand as well as frustrated at still not being able to recall what she was sure was a vital piece of information. So intent was she on her own thoughts and frustration, she raised her voice slightly to speak over Dean, who was equally frustrated and desperate for more information about his father.

`But that means you can't die - that the Charm will never be broken!' she cried.

`My soul - no soul - can die, Hermione. But most souls move on when the body dies. Only those souls who choose to, remain behind. But I can, in effect, die; if all my portraits are destroyed, my soul will no longer be able to remain here - my soul will then have to move on. If that happens, the Charm will be broken.'

`I want to know where my father is!' burst out Dean. `Now!' He'd had enough of a discussion that was making no sense and which he wasn't able to focus on enough at that moment to properly understand.

`You have every right to know, my dear, and I will tell you. After I tell you a story, if that's all right.'

`Is that really necessary?' cried Dean, frustrated.

Verity nodded again. `Very necessary, it will explain many things to you, as well as to Harry and Hermione. Especially in light of the fact that we obviously misunderstood your father and what he meant by saying he'd put everything in there. We naturally assumed he meant the Book of Records, but it appears we were wrong.'

`Please, sit down,' said Emrys, as he himself sat back in his rocking chair, although his hand remained gently folded over his wife's.

Harry, Hermione and Dean sat down, pulling their three armchairs forwards a little as well as closer to each other; Hermione was seated between the two men and she and Harry also held hands as they sat and waited.

Verity gave her husband a grateful smile, squeezing his hand gently before straightening in her chair as she looked down at the three expectant faces.

`It all began -' said Verity, but she was interrupted by Hermione who suddenly launched herself out of her chair, standing and looking intently at the old woman as she cried, `Wait!'

`What is it dear?' asked Verity.

`I remember! You told us last week - Harry and I - when we asked you how you'd come by the Book of Records, you said Dean's father had asked you to look after it, before he died!'

`Is that true?' asked Dean, looking from Hermione to Verity.

`Yes, it's true, I did say that,' Verity replied. Before she could say anymore, Dean spoke again, the tone of his voice accusatory.

`So you lied? To Harry and Hermione? Or to me? Just when did he die?'

Verity looked deeply pained by Dean's words, but when she replied, her voice was steady and calm.

`You will know when you hear the story, I promise. May I begin?'

Dean sat back in his chair, his loud sigh heavy with frustration and resignation; he waved his hand at Verity in an offhand “go ahead” manner.

Harry was about to reproach him for being rude, but bit back the words, knowing it was out of character for Dean and was no doubt due only to the stress he was under.

Hermione sat down once more, saying quietly, `Go ahead, please.'

`Thank you,' said Verity, thankful for her husband's silent support as he gently, momentarily, tightened his grip on her hand. `So, it all began during the war, the first war…'

As Verity spoke, her eloquent and articulate recount made all three listeners feel as though they were present during the events she was so effortlessly describing…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

I'd just like to share with you this humorous comment from my dear friend Kirsti (I hope you don't mind dear!) because I'm hoping that you will all echo her sentiments… Janie xoxo (plus the fact that it made me laugh, something the wonderful and brilliant Kirsti has the ability to make me do easily and often! Hugs dear!! xoxo)

Kirsti's suggestion for the Introduction for this chapter:

“Chapter 23 - In which Kirsti and all of Janie's readers are driven made with frustration at the cliffie which ends Chapter 23 and have to remind themselves that they should be happy to have another bit of Nook to enjoy and that strangling said author would, in this case, be counter-productive!! LOL!!”

So, please no strangling dear readers - I am working madly and feverishly on Chapter 24, I promise!!

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Author's Note

Yes, it's actually - finally! - the next chapter of “Sorcerers' Nook”! I won't bore you with the many - MANY - reasons why it's taken me so long to complete this but I promise - Acts of God aside - that I won't take that long again with any future chapters. I did consider writing a synopsis of sorts, but decided the time taken to do that would be better spent on the story! As always, my undying gratitude to Kirsti and a special hello to Tim, Holly and Chuck (who may well be the only three people to read this after all this time...) Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

In which Verity tells her story…

`So, it all began during the war, the first war…'

As Verity spoke, her eloquent and articulate recount made all three avid listeners feel as though they were present during the events she was so effortlessly describing…

Verity's Story

It didn't take long for the effects of the war to reach us here, in our quiet little corner of the world. Of course, much of what I am going to tell you is now history, but please bear with me.

Voldemort was gathering more and more followers and was well on his way to creating his reign of terror when your father was in his first year at Hogwarts, Harry. Things rapidly declined within both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds from that point on as Voldemort and his Death Eaters began to take control, although then, as in your early years, Hogwarts was the safest place to be. The unexplained disappearances and sudden deaths, the terror and distrust that Voldemort fostered amongst wizarding kind - it all reached us here via the wireless and newspapers. We also had some firsthand accounts from visitors, although not many. Nevertheless, it was enough to fill the hearts and minds of us all with fear: they were dark times, indeed.

Esmerelda's father, Hugo Wilkes, was landlord of the Nook at the time. Perhaps I should explain that Emrys and I, as the builders and owners of Sorcerers' Nook, have had a long and satisfying relationship with the Wilkes family. Esmerelda's grandfather, Herbert Wilkes, was one of the first tenants here at the Nook. He was a young boy at the time he moved here with his mother after his father died, and he grew up here. He later married Esmerelda's grandmother, Tilda, here in Harminster Leigh, and they lived their whole lives here. When Emrys and I decided we should travel while we could, our natural successor was, without a doubt, Herbert. He was more than happy to be caretaker landlord in our absence and this enabled Emrys and I to spend many extremely enjoyable and rewarding years travelling the world. When we returned home, it was to find that Herbert and Tilda had done an exemplary job of looking after the Nook and had also produced a baby boy - Esmerelda's father, Hugo. It was shortly afterwards that we asked Herbert if he would honour us by taking part in a Pactum Cura Obtineo; this meant that on our death, ownership of the Nook would pass automatically to Herbert and then to his descendants. We were very pleased when he agreed. Then, since Herbert and Tilda were doing such a wonderful job, we continued our travels knowing all would be well here at home.

It was about ten years later that Emrys and I began to weary of travelling; we were getting on in years and so we came home to the Nook to stay. We were dismayed to find Herbert and Tilda quite heartbroken on our return. Their beloved son, Hugo, had fallen in love with a beautiful Scottish witch during her stay at the Nook; she was travelling around Britain with her parents. Wynda, like Hugo, was an only child, and her parents doted on her. Despite returning Hugo's feelings, she wouldn't leave her home in Scotland. For many of the years of our absence, Hugo's parents tried desperately to find a girl who would win Hugo's heart away from Wynda. It wasn't to be, and eventually, Hugo told them he was marrying Wynda and would be going to live with her in Scotland. This all happened just as the Muggles' First World War was ending. It was in those years that we had this portrait painted, for we both knew we could never leave our beloved home. Herbert and Tilda were also very gracious about our decision and we were humbled by their expressions of joy and delight when we told them we wished to remain at the Nook in this manner.

It was two years later that Herbert and Tilda received some joyous news: they were grandparents. Hugo and Wynda brought baby Esmerelda to the Nook to meet her grandparents. We could see on his face that Hugo was shocked at how much older Emrys and I looked. Tilda told me months later that she and Herbert had spoken to Hugo, reminding him of the Pactum Cura Obtineo. She didn't say so, but I know she would've begged Hugo to move back to the Nook. Wynda, however, was so dedicated to her parents she would not spend so much as a second considering a move away from Scotland. What really made the whole situation even more difficult is that Wynda had never passed her Apparition test. You see, sadly, she is one of the few members of the wizarding world who are unable to Apparate, while Flooing causes her to suffer a condition called “Floo Flinch”, not unlike sea sickness in a Muggle. I think that for Hugo, his parents' sad, gentle disappointment was harder to bear than their anger would have been.

Esmerelda was five years old when Emrys and I died; Hugo returned alone to attend our funeral. He stayed for almost a month, helping his parents, whom he could see were beginning to struggle with looking after the Nook. He told us later of how torn he was at that time, and when his beloved mother, and our adored friend Tilda, died in her sleep on his last night at the Nook, his mind was made up.

Wynda and little Esmerelda came to the Nook for Tilda's funeral. During the night after the funeral, our treasured friend Herbert joined his beloved wife, unwilling to live without her. Hugo was heartbroken and sick with grief. He begged Wynda to stay and she agreed to do so for a “wee bit”, as she put it.

Esmerelda was an enchanting child and she loved the gentle softness of the Kent countryside - as she does to this day. She fell in love with the Nook and would spend hours playing down by the stream. She would come and tell us of her adventures, perched on an old footstool that used to sit in front of the fireplace here. She also liked to play in Hewett's Field, at the end of the street - or what's left of it. As is the case for all the land around here, it was once part of an old farming estate, many centuries ago. Little did we know how important Hewett's Field would become to us in later years.

We had many conversations with Hugo during this time, predominantly concerning him staying on at the Nook. He had come to realise that he didn't want to return to Scotland, and he spent hours in fruitless conversations with Wynda trying to convince her to stay with him. Sadly, he didn't prevail; Wynda's parents were both still alive and she wouldn't, as she put it, “abandon” them. Wynda was heartbroken when Hugo said that he chose to stay, and would have done so even without the existence of the Pactum. I'll never forget the day Wynda and little Esmerelda left. All three of them were crying - perhaps Esmerelda the hardest; the poor little pet didn't understand at all and she was calling out for her Daddy, even as her mother pulled her into the fireplace, braving a bout of Floo Flinch in her haste to return home.

They kept in regular contact by owl and Esmerelda regularly Flooed her father, too - although Wynda never again set foot inside the Nook, and in her mother's lifetime, neither did Esmerelda. Wynda died just before the first war with Voldemort and Esmerelda came to live with her father here at the Nook, much to his delight. She was wonderful company for her father and also a great help to him in running the Nook.

In the early years of his separation from his wife, Hugo discovered that Wynda had used a slight Memory Charm on Esmerelda. She'd done so, he assumed, to alleviate her distress at being taken away from her father as well as the Nook, both of which she loved very much. The Charm hadn't removed the memory of her father, or her love for him, but she remembered nothing of her time here as a child, nor did she remember us. It was heartbreaking, but when Esmerelda came to live here, we respected Hugo's wishes that we leave her in peace. I think he was afraid that if we attempted to bring back some of her memories, it might damage her mind.

And so it was that when the first war with Voldemort began, Hugo Wilkes was here at the Nook with his beloved daughter, Esmerelda, who to this day uses her mother's maiden name in her memory.

May I just say that I appreciate your patience when I'm sure all of this may seem somewhat irrelevant. However, I believe it will give you a better understanding of my story as a whole.

As I said, Hugo was the landlord at the time of the war, when the cold wind of reality began to blow into our lives, bringing Alexander Riley to the Nook and the cruel tendrils of war, inexorably weaving them into our lives.

It was a week before Christmas when Alexander arrived - the first Christmas in a long time that would be celebrated openly and with true joy, all because of a little boy named Harry Potter. Alexander's plight tugged at my heartstrings; he was a solemn and serious man and you could see in his eyes that he'd survived many horrors - not the least of them being the enforced separation from his family. He would come and sit here, where you are now, and read the paper before the fire. Besides Hugo, he was the first person we'd spoken to here at the Nook since Herbert and Tilda. I think initially I gave him the wrong impression because I was so concerned about him and, well, I'm sure you would understand Hermione - he was an extremely handsome man and I took quite a liking to him. Oh, not just because he was good-looking, but his innate sadness made me want to mother him. And may I say, Dean, that you have inherited your father's good looks? You may remember the day you arrived here at the Nook; you reminded me so much of your father, although at the time I didn't know who you were.

Now, I believe your father found solace in our company as well as security; it was safe for him to talk to us and he hadn't felt safe in any way for a long time. After the first day that we spoke to him, he returned late the next night. Hugo had gone to bed and Alexander sat and talked to us for some hours. He told us that both his parents had been murdered by Death Eaters. He told us of his journey after leaving his home, and why he'd left his home - and his wife and baby son. He cried when he'd finished and it broke my heart. All he wanted to do was to go home to them; they were his world and all he had left.

Whilst the war officially ended when Voldemort vanished, that didn't stop the remainder of his followers continuing to kill as many as they could and destroy as much as possible, all in Voldemort's name and in the name of revenge. But until the last Death Eater was in Azkaban, Alexander refused to return to his family.

It was just a few days after Christmas when everything began to go dreadfully wrong. Perhaps you have noticed the two small cameos carved above the front door of the Nook? That was Emrys's rather clever idea: it meant we could see anyone before they entered. Dean, you may recall the first time you came to the Nook, I commented to Emrys that you reminded me of someone and we opened the door for you? Well, this particular day your father had Flooed to his old home - he was keeping it for you, Dean - to visit their house elf, Toby, and make sure all was well.

Less than an hour after Alexander had left, we saw two strangers walk out of Hewett's Field. We watched as they approached the Nook and when they reached the gate, we could see that they wore masks under their hoods. They were Death Eaters - I could sense it, although they were employing Occlumency and I could sense nothing else of their thoughts. We had no doubts that they'd come to kill Alexander; we still don't know to this day how they found him. We immediately returned to our portrait and called out for Hugo, but he was working in the office with the door shut. We had to watch helplessly as they entered and rang the bell on the front desk - which also rings in the office - and Hugo came out, smiling, ready to help...

Verity closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before continuing.

One of the Death Eaters already had his wand in his hand and without even acknowledging Hugo's greeting, he placed him under the Imperius Curse.

Emrys reached over and took his wife's hand in his as she hesitated once more. Giving him a grateful look, she began to speak again.

They asked Hugo if any of the flats were empty; he told them that the tenant of Flat 2, Mrs Phipps, was in London for the day. They then told Hugo to say nothing to anyone about them and to continue on with his business as usual. It was so horrible to watch and to be so helpless! I was grateful at that moment that they hadn't hurt Hugo, though.

A few hours later, Alexander returned. He came immediately to our portrait, saying he needed us to do something for him; he was carrying what looked like a box, wrapped in thick, dark cloth. We couldn't wait to hear what he wanted to tell us - we told him what had happened earlier and that Hugo was now under the Imperius Curse. He looked almost defeated when we finished, but then he took a deep breath and, holding up the wrapped object he was carrying, he told us it was his family's Book of Records and that it was imperative it be kept somewhere safe, especially so now that the Death Eaters had found him. We told him of the small, secret cupboard in Hugo's office and how to open it. Since Hugo had finished in his office and was now in his own flat, Alexander was able to hide the book. Afterwards, he came and told us that it was done and that he'd also put the small portrait of me in with the book, a portrait owned by Hugo's parents and which had been sitting on one of the book shelves in the office. Alexander then cast the Fidelius charm, making me secret-keeper. Because of the portrait, I would be able to check that the book was safe if necessary.

Alexander then explained to us that he was going to tell Hugo he was going for a walk down by the stream, certain Hugo would pass this on to the Death Eaters. I begged Alexander to contact the Ministry, to have more Aurors come to help him, but he was determined to end it there and then. He'd had enough and he wasn't going to run anymore. That was the last time we saw him truly alive.

We don't know precisely what happened, but less than half an hour after he'd left, the two Death Eaters came down to see Hugo, who told them, of course, where Alexander had gone. They ordered Hugo to go with them. You can't imagine how distraught and heartbroken we felt as we watched them leave, wondering whether Alexander and Hugo would survive. We kept watch from our cameos above the front door, but we could see nothing.

The hours seemed to pass so slowly and it was dark. Mrs Phipps, who lived in Flat No 2, returned from London, puzzled that none of the candles had been lit and that Hugo wasn't to be found. We realised then that we hadn't seen any of the other tenants all afternoon and assumed that they too had been put under some sort of spell or curse. It was shortly after Mrs Phipps had gone upstairs that a house elf Apparated into the sitting room. He introduced himself, but we already knew he was Toby, the Riley family house elf - Alexander had told us about him. He was almost incoherent with grief, but we finally managed to piece together his story. Alexander had been trapped by the Death Eaters in a small, old, deserted cottage in the middle of Hewett's Field; of Hugo, Toby knew nothing, and we feared he'd been injured or killed. Alexander had ordered Toby to go back to the house and return with the family chest, which he did. On his return, Alexander gave him instructions, one of which he was now carrying out by telling us what had happened.

Verity paused again, her eyes closed and her hands clutching at her apron. Emrys looked distressed for his wife, but she took a deep breath and spoke once more.

A Dementor had joined the Death Eaters. They must have summoned it, and waited for it, while they were in Mrs Phipps' flat. Toby was too distressed to give us a clear picture of exactly what happened, but apparently one of the Death Eaters stormed the cottage and engaged Alexander in a duel in the front room. Alexander called out to Toby and ordered him to keep himself safe. The second Death Eater blasted his way in through the back door, and between the two of them, the Death Eaters managed to disarm Alexander and tie him up, although not without suffering injuries themselves. Poor Toby could hardly speak at this point. He had no choice but to follow his master's orders and keep himself safe; Death Eaters have never paid much attention to such as house elves and they didn't bother with him. The Dementor entered the room and -

A strangled sob was all that was heard as Verity dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders heaving. Emrys put his arms around her. Harry, Hermione and Dean sat horrified, spellbound, waiting...

It was quite some time before Verity stopped crying, using her now rumpled apron to dry her tears. Holding her husband's hand tightly, she continued in a quiet, tense voice.

That poor little elf had to watch while that Dementor administered the Kiss to his beloved master, to our dear, brave friend. They laughed when it was over and they congratulated each other as they simply left, leaving Alexander lying there. Once they were gone, Toby moved him to the one bedroom in the cottage which held a dilapidated old bed. He returned to the house, bringing back fresh bedding, and remade his master's bed. Once he knew he was comfortable, he set about sealing the cottage before coming to see us.

Since that day, all those years ago, Toby has cared for Alexander - or rather, for Alexander's body. That's why I said to you, Hermione, that he asked me to care for the Book of Records before he died, because in truth, he did die that day. The Dementor's Kiss, as you may know, steals the living soul from its earthly body. But neither we, nor Toby, could abandon the body that was left. Toby cared for the body of his beloved master until the day it, too, died, only three days ago.

As for our beloved friend, Hugo, his body was found down by the stream. One of the Death Eaters had used the killing curse on him and I've always believed that prior to killing him, they would've allowed the Dementor to perform its sickening Kiss; no one checked for that, because no one knew that a Dementor had been present that day.

Toby magically concealed the cottage to ensure Alexander's body was never found; it was presumed that he had somehow been involved in Hugo's murder and run away. No one else knew of the Death Eaters, you see, and we chose to keep silent. We were so heartsick at the time and there seemed no point - nothing would bring back either Alexander or Hugo. Poor Esmerelda was beside herself, but also determined to carry on her father's work - and of course, the Nook now belonged to her.

Dear, loyal Toby painted a small portrait of us - he's quite artistically gifted, actually - and hung it in the living room at the cottage so that we could visit him and Alexander. The family chest is also in the living room, Dean: the chest that holds the Riley family artefacts. You have inherited everything that belonged to your father - including Toby.

As for the whereabouts of your father now - Toby took your father's body back to Riley Manor and buried him in the family graveyard, beside the manor's chapel.

And so, all you need to do now, Dean, when you're ready, is go the cottage in Hewett's Field and call for Toby. He can help you with everything you might wish to know.

Verity smiled weakly as she attempted in vain to return her damp, rumpled apron to its usual smooth, pristine state.

And so this is where my story comes to an end. If any of you wish to ask me something, I will answer you to the best of my ability. So, do any of you have any questions for me?

*

Hermione glanced across the hallway at her small mantel clock as she and Harry entered her flat. Half past eleven.

`Look at the time,' she said tiredly, `and not only do we have work tomorrow, the next meeting at Hogwarts is supposed to be tomorrow night!'

Harry, right behind her, reached out and took her arm, gently turning her to face him before wrapping his arms around her. Hermione sighed gratefully as she leant against him, her arms automatically reaching around his waist.

`I think,' Harry said firmly, `that we should both take some time out to digest everything we've learnt tonight. And I think we should accept Dean's invitation to go to the cottage with him tomorrow. And I also think we need to postpone the next meeting, although not for too long, and - '

Harry felt Hermione shake gently as she chuckled. `And I think that's enough thinking for one night!'

Harry gave a low laugh as he told her, `And I think you're quite right!'

Hermione stifled a yawn against Harry's chest.

`Bed time,' he said, dropping a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Hermione looked up and gave him a tired smile. `Good idea. You'll stay? Please?'

Harry lifted his hand and tenderly cupped her face. `Of course I will,' he told her softly, `now let's go to bed before we both fall asleep on our feet right here.'

*

In the flat below, Dean sat hunched over in one of his slightly battered looking armchairs, staring into the empty fireplace; his elbows rested on his knees, a half-drunk mug of sweet, black coffee cradled in his hands.

His head felt as though it was about to burst from the swirling maelstrom of confusion and thoughts it contained. He, Harry and Hermione had sat, stunned and speechless for an endless minute after Verity had finished speaking. None of them had been able to form a coherent thought immediately, but once they could, a veritable torrent of questions poured from them, Verity calmly answering each one as quickly as she could.

And now, for some reason he couldn't fathom, one thought detached itself from the swirling mass in his head and he found himself thinking about a question Verity had asked him. She'd wanted to know when he'd found out that Cary Thomas wasn't his father.

Dean had frowned in puzzlement, but explained that his Mum had told him in his fifth year at school.

`Why did you want to know that?' he'd asked her.

Looking a little disgruntled, Verity had said that it was the first time she'd made a mistake; Emrys had looked a little shocked on hearing this.

In a rather acerbic tone, Verity had reminded her husband of the time, only recently, she'd smugly assured him that Dean had no idea about who his real father was, that he thought his stepfather was his father. Yet this night, she had seen that he had actually known Cary Thomas was his stepfather; it puzzled her and worried her, too, as she thought perhaps her ability may be fading.

Dean had shrugged. `Well, I've always thought of my dad as my dad, even after Mum told me he wasn't. And I never knew my real dad's name until that night when Harry and Hermione told me -'

Verity had interrupted, a thoughtful frown creasing her forehead. `It was just after you'd moved in here Dean and I, well, I can sense people's thoughts sometimes,' she shot her husband a glance designed to silence him; she didn't think a slight twist on the truth of her ability was a bad thing, `and that's just what I did sense - that you believed Mr Thomas was your father and you knew nothing of your real father.' Verity looked at Dean musingly. `I suppose that thought about Mr Thomas being your father was the most prominent in your mind simply because you have always felt he was your father. And you didn't know either Alexander's name or what he looked like, so you could hardly think about him much, really.'

Dean had shrugged again, not concerned with Verity's need to reassure herself about her abilities. He wanted to know so many other things and it had been somewhat frustrating waiting for Harry's and Hermione's questions to be answered along with his own. He sighed and took a gulp of his coffee, sitting back, his shoulders feeling stiff with tiredness.

At least some things were clear: Tomorrow morning he'd be going to the cottage with Harry and Hermione - no doubt Verity and Emrys would also be there via their portrait - and he'd be meeting Toby and opening his father's chest. And he'd also decided that tomorrow evening he'd be going to see Ginny, to tell her what had happened. He felt a deep and desperate need to talk to her. As to what might take place between those two things, he wasn't sure of at all. He would just have to wait and see.

He drank the last of his coffee, putting the empty mug on the old trunk that was his makeshift coffee table before standing up and stretching in an attempt to drive the tired tension from his body. He wasn't sure whether he'd be able to sleep, but he knew he had to go to bed. A few minutes later, as he slid into bed and pulled the covers up, he found it was thoughts of Ginny and an image of her smiling face that rid his mind of all other distractions and he was able to slip into an exhausted sleep far sooner than he'd expected...

TO BE CONTINUED...

*Janie runs off to get back to work on Chapter 25*

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Author's Note

G'day again everyone! Here's a nice, long chapter to curl up with - enjoy! - and I'll be back as soon as I can with the next one. Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

In which an impromptu meeting is held at the Nook and Harry, Hermione and Dean visit the cottage in Hewett's Field where, amongst other things, a rather interesting dinner is arranged for that evening…

The next day, warm yellow shafts of morning sun found their way through the gently wavering leaves of the old willow tree and into the room where Harry and Hermione lay sleeping. The same sunbeams filtered through the same willow into the flat directly below, only here they found Dean already awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, stretching, while across the hall, Neville still lay asleep, oblivious to the dawning light, his cat, Trevor, curled up beside him. Since it was at the back of the building, Ron's room received only a hint of the morning light and he and Luna slept on peacefully.

Esmerelda was the only occupant of the Nook already up and about, making a pot of tea and cooking herself some breakfast. As she watched the wooden spoon she'd set to stirring her scrambled eggs, she couldn't decide which she was anticipating more: the second meeting to be held at Hogwarts that evening or finding out what Verity and Emrys had told Harry, Hermione and Dean at their meeting. The previous day, the old couple had told her of the pending private meeting and she'd known not to make an appearance, receiving Verity's assurances at the same time that she would be informed as to what came out of the meeting.

As he quickly showered before breakfast, Dean's head was a battle ground. So many thoughts were vying for prominence that he found it quite difficult to subdue them. However, by the time he was boiling the kettle for his morning tea, he'd managed to focus on what he'd be doing that morning: going to the cottage, opening his father's chest, meeting Toby, the house elf, and perhaps - if there was time - visiting his father's family home - and his father's grave...

Neville woke to the feel of his cat pawing at his face and miaowing, which was Trevor's way of demanding breakfast. As he scratched his much-loved pet under the chin to give himself time to wake up properly, Neville's thoughts turned to the meeting at Hogwarts that night and he wondered what new information would be revealed.

Now waking, Hermione slowly opened her eyes, as she had done so many times before, to see the dappled morning sunlight streaming through her window. She smiled as she moved slightly, causing Harry's arm, which was curled possessively around her waist, to tighten unconsciously as though to keep her close to him. As she turned in the circle of his arm to face him, her movement woke him and he smiled at her sleepily as she settled on her side to face him, lifting her hand to rest on his face while her thumb gently moved back and forth, enjoying the feel of the morning stubble on his cheek.

`Feeling better?' he murmured.

`Much,' Hermione replied, `and hungry.'

Harry chuckled. `Me too. So whose turn to make breakfast?'

`Yours,' said Hermione with a cheeky grin. `I'm going to have a nice, long shower.'

Harry looked at her mock-sternly. `And why can't I have a nice long shower with you?'

Hermione pursed her lips, appearing to give his question serious thought. Sighing as though resigned to the fact, she said, unable to hide the sparkle of mischief in her eyes, `Well, I can't really think of a good reason why not, so I suppose I can't stop you, if you really must.' Harry responded to this announcement by tickling her. Crookshanks was halfway across the living room, heading for the front door, when Hermione's peals of laughter drifted along the hallway; with a look that was the catly version of eye rolling, he put his tail in the air and stepped through his magical cat-flap.

Ron and Luna were the last to wake that morning.

`Morning, beautiful,' Ron murmured into Luna's soft, blonde locks as she lay snuggled with her back against him.

`Morning, handsome,' she murmured back, stretching languidly.

`Mmmm, you feel delicious,' Ron told her, running his hands down her naked body; he'd been delighted by the discovery that she always slept naked, and remembered with a quiet chuckle when she'd told him it was “safer” to do so because that way, sneaky little twifflers couldn't nest in your pyjamas, keeping you awake with their incessant tickling.

Luna turned and faced him, her bare breasts brushing his arm and chest, filling him with an intoxicating anticipation. She fixed him with a silvery stare, oblivious to the havoc she was creating in a certain part of Ron's anatomy.

`A person can't feel delicious, Ronald, they have to taste delicious.'

`You do,' he said gruffly, smoothing her hair away from her face. `You feel delicious, you taste delicious, you look delicious and you smell delicious. And don't argue.'

A small, delighted laugh escaped her and she beamed at him. `I love your logic, Ronald,' she told him.

`Logic's got nothing to do with it,' said Ron with a wicked grin. Then he kissed her.

*

Dean emerged from his flat and turned to walk downstairs, glancing only fleetingly at the shimmering rainbow that was cast over the floor ahead of him, courtesy of the morning sun streaming through the round, stained glass window. Then, almost as though it had been planned, as Dean took the first stair, intending to head down to Hermione's flat, Neville's door opened. Dean automatically stopped and turned.

`Morning, Dean,' said Neville with a smile as he closed the door behind him. `Off to work already?'

Dean shook his head. `Not today. I, erm, have to deal with - y'know, research, I mean - my family history.' In the light of day, the events of the previous evening seemed a little surreal.

Neville crossed to stand on the landing above him, frowning in confusion. `What d'you mean?' he asked.

Dean smiled ruefully. `Long story,' he told Neville, shrugging to indicate he wouldn't know where to start.

As Dean turned and started downstairs again, Neville followed. `So where do you have to go to do this research?' he asked.

Because the clattering of their feet on the stairs masked the sound of the door to Hermione's flat opening, it was only as Dean and Neville reached the ground floor and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, talking quietly, that they heard Harry and Hermione's voices and footsteps drifting down the stairwell. They both fell quiet and waited, looking up the stairs until Harry and Hermione came into sight.

`Morning,' everyone chorused together as they all caught sight of each other.

Esmerelda had heard Dean and Neville and was walking briskly down the hallway from her own flat to join them.

`Good morning, everyone,' she said brightly as she reached them, although her expression was solemn.

`Morning, Esmerelda,' came the response.

`Verity told me about the meeting last night and she did say I would find out what it was about. I am rather curious and wonder if you'd be able to give me an idea?' asked their landlady, looking first at Dean, then Hermione, and finally, Harry, to whom the question appeared to be directed.

Harry looked across at Dean. `It's up to you, mate,' he told him. `We can go now, and explain to everyone later, or -'

Dean interrupted Harry with a shake of his head. `I'm happy to talk to everyone now, while we're all here.' And he meant it; he felt as though the more people that knew, the more support he would have. Hermione gave him an understanding smile, which he acknowledged with a grateful nod.

`Right, then,' said Harry, looking around, `I'm not sure where -'

`Right here,' said Esmerelda, drawing her wand - and with a practised twirl, the five armchairs that normally graced the fireplace became five chairs set at a round table, complete with a tea tray in the centre.

`Well done, Esmerelda,' came Verity's voice as they all moved towards the table, looking up at the portrait over the fireplace.

`Good morning, everyone,' said Verity and Emrys together, drawing a jumble of “good mornings” from everyone as they took their chairs.

As Esmerelda reached for the teapot with one hand, a cup and saucer in the other, ready to pour, they heard the distant bang of a door, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Everyone sat back, turning to look towards the stairs while Esmerelda continued to pour cups of tea for them all.

Ron appeared as Frewin, the house owl, flew out of the chimney and settled on his perch, rustling his feathers, his eyes even larger than normal as he stared at the unusual gathering.

`Oi! What about us?' cried Ron as he spotted them, Luna appearing behind him.

Esmerelda drew her wand once more and, with an efficient flick, caused two more chairs to appear at the table, and two more cups and saucers to land in front of her with a gentle rattle.

`So what's going on?' asked Ron. He pulled out a chair for Luna who was smiling at everyone, murmuring, `Good morning!', as she sat down.

As Ron took the chair next to her, Harry explained, `We all just happened to arrive downstairs together and Dean thought it'd be a good time to fill everyone in, so here we are.'

`Cool, so we didn't miss anything?' asked Ron.

Harry shook his head, `Nope, not a thing, mate. We wouldn't've woken you just for this; we would've told you later.'

Frowning, Harry looked around the table. `Where's Seamus?' he asked Dean, in whose flat Seamus had been staying.

Dean and Ron spoke simultaneously, Dean saying, `He left yesterday afternoon,' as Ron said, `He's gone on to Ballycastle.' Dean nodded at Ron, who continued, `We're falling behind schedule, what with everything that's happened, and we have to leave Ballycastle next Sunday for Portree as per our original schedule, so Seamus has gone to get everything he can on the Bats. I'm Flooing to Ballycastle after the meeting tonight, and so are Ginny and Dennis, so we can get to work tomorrow.' He felt a sinking sadness as he thought of Colin. `I'm really going to miss Colin,' he added quietly, not realising he'd spoken aloud. Luna gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze and everyone around the table nodded in understanding.

`So where do we start?' asked Dean, feeling equal parts of tension and anticipation; sitting here, with everyone waiting on him, he now felt conversely as though his life was about to be exposed, a life he wasn't yet completely familiar with himself, and finding out that Ginny was leaving tomorrow didn't help.

`Actually, we'd better start by letting you know that we need to postpone tonight's meeting,' put in Harry.

`Until when?' asked Ron, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

Harry turned and looked at Hermione. `What d'you think?' he asked, `Tomorrow night?'

Hermione nodded. `I think so. It's really only so that we can be with Dean today and we'd like some time to put together what we'll be talking about at the meeting, so we can do that tomorrow, during the day.'

Ron looked thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms up to clasp his hands behind his neck.

`In that case, we might Floo to the Burrow first and let Mum, Dad and Ginny know about the change for the time of the meeting. Ginny can Floo with us to Dennis's to pick him up - I know he's been packed, ready to go, since we owled him that he had the job. By the way everyone, the Creevey's house is now permanently connected to the Network so Dennis can get home quickly and Floo his mum to keep her reassured.'

`Would you ask your mum to let the rest of the family know about the meeting change while you're there?' Hermione asked Ron, who nodded as Hermione continued, `We'll send Hedwig to Professor McGonagall and also ask her to set a time - probably the same as last time - and let everyone know.'

`So Ginny will be going to Ballycastle with you today?' Dean asked Ron, his concern evident in his voice.

Ron shrugged. `That was the plan. Anything wrong?'

`No, not wrong, just that I was planning on visiting her later. To fill her in, y'know, on everything that's happened.'

`That's all right,' Ron told him, `I'll just let Ginny know you're coming to see her and she can Floo to Ballycastle afterwards, or even tomorrow morning.'

Dean looked very relieved as he thanked Ron.

`So, back to Dean's story then?' chimed in Neville, his elbow on the table and his chin resting in his hand.

`'Course,' said Ron, slightly abashed, `sorry to hold it up.'

`Don't worry,' Hermione assured him, `it's good we got the meeting thing sorted out.'

`Can I just ask,' chimed in Ron, indicating the space between Luna and Esmerelda, `why we're sitting like this?' Esmerelda had placed the chairs so that no one would have their back to Verity and Emrys, leaving the side of the table facing the fireplace empty; it was this that had prompted Ron's question.

Esmerelda sat nearest to the fireplace, which was to her left, with her back to the reception area; Harry was seated to her right, then Hermione, Dean, Neville, Ron and lastly Luna on the other side, opposite Esmerelda, who lifted her hand and pointed at the portrait. Before Esmerelda could speak, Verity said, `Good morning, Ronald, Luna. It's nice to speak with you at last. I'm Verity Leigh and this is my husband, Emrys.' Emrys smiled and nodded at them in acknowledgement. Ron and Luna both looked up at the portrait in amazement.

Luna recovered first, clapping her hands and laughing in delight. `And it's very nice to be speaking with you, too!'

`I shouldn't be surprised,' Ron said, shaking his head ruefully, `since Harry and Hermione have told me they've been talking with you...' Ron shrugged expressively as his voice trailed off.

`So,' said Harry, looking up at Verity, `who's going to do the talking?' Harry thought that Verity might want to take up the narrative again, but a small shake of the head made it clear that she had no such desire. Everyone then automatically turned and looked at Harry, Hermione with a small, knowing smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Harry's surprise at the realisation that it was expected he would do the talking lasted only a second, and with a smile for Hermione, he sat back and gave a reasonably comprehensive summary of Verity's story, leaving out any references to the Memory Charm used on Esmerelda as a child and the more personal details of her parents' relationship. He was concerned about Dean when he reached the battle in the cottage and what had followed; however, when he looked past Hermione to Dean, he received a small, solemn nod of encouragement.

When he finished, almost twenty minutes later, Esmerelda's rather strangled gasp pierced the silence that ensued. She stared, wide eyed and unblinking at Harry, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. Then her gaze moved to Dean and she said in a low voice, slightly hoarse with emotion, `I'm so sorry Dean - all these years I've believed your father - although I didn't know he was your father - murdered my father, and all the time he was -' She broke off, shivering involuntarily, her face reflecting the horror she felt at the fate of both their fathers, as well as the realisation that her father had probably been the better off of the two.

A perplexed frown creased Dean's forehead as Esmerelda fell silent, until Harry quietly reminded him that Esmerelda was Hugo Wilkes's daughter. Dean shook his head as though to clear it, then nodded. `I'm sorry - I guess what happened in the cottage just put everything else out of my mind.' No one at the table looked surprised.

`So you're going to the cottage now, I take it?' Neville asked Dean, who was sitting next to him; Dean nodded in reply as Ron dropped his hands to the edge of the table and pushed his chair back, standing up. Luna joined him.

`You'll want to get going then,' Ron said to Dean, `so we'll be off; we'll just go grab our things first and we'll see you all tomorrow night at Hogwarts, all right?'

The sound of everyone murmuring their goodbyes masked Verity's vexed sniff; she was still miffed that she and Emrys had to wait until Harry and Hermione had time to tell them what transpired at these meetings. Hermione, however, caught sight of Verity's irritated expression and once Ron and Luna had headed off to the stairs, she addressed Verity and suggested their portrait from the cottage could be taken to Hogwarts the following evening.

`What a clever witch you are, Hermione, as well as beautiful!' exclaimed Emrys admiringly, causing Harry's eyebrows to shoot up. `Don't you think so, dear?' he finished, beaming at Verity.

Verity gave him an inscrutable look and as his smile vanished, Emrys made a silent note not to compliment Hermione too much in future. Verity, however, nodded with polite agreement as she turned to look down at Hermione. Harry's lips twitched as he refrained from smiling; he had watched the silent exchange between Emrys and Verity with amusement.

`I think that's an excellent idea, Hermione,' Verity told her. `We would appreciate that greatly. Your Professor McGonagall won't object?'

`I shouldn't think so,' Hermione assured her. Verity nodded and then settled back in her rocking chair, automatically smoothing her apron; Emrys thanked Hermione, keeping his expression neutral before he, too, leant back in his rocking chair and closed his eyes.

`More tea, anyone?' asked Esmerelda.

With polite, “no thank you's”, everyone stood as Ron and Luna reappeared, carrying their bags.

`Well, I'm off to work,' said Neville. He walked around the table to stand in front of the fireplace, Ron and Luna crossing to stand beside him.

`Oh, thanks, I'm late already,' Neville said to Ron, who indicated with a wave of his hand that Neville should Floo first.

As soon as Neville had left, Luna cast a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace, waving as she stepped into the green flames, Ron on her heels.

`Right, well, on with the day,' said Esmerelda with a brave smile; her usually bright eyes, however, were full of the distress she was still feeling. Straightening her shoulders, she pulled out her wand, and with a brisk wave, the five armchairs were once more sitting before the fire place; then tucking her wand into her robes, Esmerelda headed off along the hallway. Harry, Hermione and Dean had moved to stand on the deep green hallway runner and watched as Esmerelda made her way into her flat.

`Do you think she'll be all right?' asked Harry, lifting his arm to put it across Hermione's shoulders.

Hermione nodded. `She just needs time to take it all in.'

`I know how she feels,' said Dean with a wry grin.

Harry looked at Dean, his green eyes solemn. `Ready?'

Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

`Let's go then,' said Harry, dropping his arm to take Hermione's hand as they headed for the front door, Dean right behind them.

*

When Dean stepped out of the fireplace and into the Burrow later that day, his concern over Toby and the Pensieve, among other things, evaporated instantly at the sight of Ginny sitting on the sofa, her jean-encased legs stretched along it and crossed at the ankles; she was reading a magazine. As soon as Dean stepped out onto the rug, she dropped the magazine and leapt to her feet.

`How are you?' she asked, crossing to help him brush soot off his shoulders.

`Fine, now,' he said, grinning down at her.

Ginny felt warmth steal across her cheeks and she busied herself brushing some non-existent soot off the front of Dean's striped shirt.

`Tea?' she asked, running the fingers of both hands nervously through her long locks; for some strange reason she felt at a loss as to what to do with them.

`Actually, a butterbeer would be nice, if you have one.'

`I'll look - you sit down,' she said, indicating the sofa she'd just vacated.

Even as he moved to the couch and sat down, Dean's appreciative gaze didn't leave Ginny's slender form as she walked across to the small kitchen. She returned almost immediately, carrying two opened bottles of butterbeer. She handed him one, then bent down to push aside the magazine she'd been reading, before taking a seat.

`Cheers,' said Dean, holding up his bottle.

`Cheers,' Ginny repeated with a smile, touching her bottle to his with a soft “chink”.

`Where're your mum and dad?' asked Dean.

`Dad's at work and Mum's doing some shopping in Diagon Alley,' she replied, before taking a sip and continuing, `Ron and Luna filled us in this morning on what Verity said,' Ginny shook her head in amazement as she continued, `which is just the most incredible story!'

`And that's only the beginning,' Dean told her with a sigh.

`Tell me,' Ginny said quietly, and so he did, casting his mind back to that morning...

*

No one said a word as they walked out the front door, down the steps, through the gate and across the street, the morning sun on their faces; when they reached the almost overgrown stile that marked the edge of Hewett's Field, Hermione clambered over first, followed by Dean and then Harry. As they made their way through long, rustling grass and between thick clumps of shrubs, Dean broke the silence by wondering aloud who owned Hewett's Field and why it had been so neglected, although he didn't really expect an answer. An arm of the woods that grew alongside Ambling Stream extended deep into the field ahead of them and as they neared it, a large cloud obscured the sun. They found themselves shivering, although it wasn't really cold.

They reached the first of the trees and all three of them instinctively grew closer together as they entered the cool dimness provided by the old hornbeam trees. Harry pointed to a few scattered rows of lichen covered rocks as large as his fists that he'd spotted lying on the ground either side of them as they walked.

`Looks as though they marked the edge of a path once,' he commented.

Hermione reached out for Harry's hand as they saw a few rays of sunlight ahead. Within a minute, they'd reached a small clearing in the woods and Hermione felt a sense of déjà vu as she, Harry and Dean saw the modest stone cottage set in the centre of the clearing. She felt as though she knew this cottage from Verity's story, and despite the sun having coming out once more, she shivered again, remembering what had happened here.

They stopped about ten paces from the cottage; it was dwarfed by an old, greying willow to the right, closest to the stream, which seemed to sag with the weight of its years. Hermione thought the cottage almost looked like a child's drawing with its stone chimneys and casement windows each side of a wooden door, which was studded with a rusty iron knocker, a large flat slab of stone serving for a doorstep.

The three of them stood side-by-side, Hermione in the middle, each of them taking in the scene before them, each of them remembering what they'd been told about this place.

`So this is it,' said Dean quietly.

`And since there's a good chance it's yours, Dean,' Hermione said quietly, `you should go first.'

Dean nodded and walked forward, lifting his hand to the rusted latch, wondering if it would open. It did, and he pushed the door open slowly, marvelling that it made no sound. He stood in the doorway, looking into what was obviously the sitting room, with a fireplace on the wall to his right, and two doors - one directly ahead and one in the wall beside him, on his left. The stone walls and plaster ceiling, supported by dark, heavy beams, had been painted a deep, mellow cream. No doubt by the intrepid Toby, he thought, as first Hermione, then Harry, moved into the room. Dean responded to their crowding at his back by stepping inside.

This is the room my father fought and died in, he thought, yet it somehow seemed unreal.

The room was cosy, although only sparsely furnished with two chairs, one a small wooden chair, the other a comfortable looking armchair, each side of a low occasional table, sitting in front of the fireplace on a slightly faded grey and blue rug. There were two things in particular, however, that caught their eye: the rather battered looking trunk sitting against the far wall and the portrait - an almost exact copy of the one at the Nook - hanging above the fireplace.

`Through that door to your left,' said Verity from the small portrait, `is the kitchen, and straight ahead is the bedroom.'

Dean's head snapped around to stare at what he now knew to be the bedroom door, where his father had lain all these long years. Not dead. Not alive.

Harry and Hermione watched as Dean walked slowly towards the bedroom; he stopped in the doorway, much as he'd done at the front door, and stood staring into the room.

As he looked around the softly lit room, Dean felt tears stinging his eyes. The single bed, with its luxurious maroon cover, stood under the window on the back wall. An antique bedside table held a fresh candle in a pewter holder along with a flask of water, a glass upturned on top of it. In front of the fireplace, to Dean's right, stood an identical setting to that in the living room, although there was no rug; the bedroom floor was covered with a carpet in soft greys and misty greens. There was an ornate, polished walnut wardrobe on the wall to Dean's left and the walls were hung with various paintings and -

Dean felt as though his heart stopped as his eyes came to rest on a large, framed photograph above the fireplace. It was of himself and his mother, taken in Diagon Alley outside Ollivander's, and he knew immediately when it was taken: the year he'd received his letter from Hogwarts, on the day his mother had taken him to Diagon Alley for the first time. His mother, looking slightly bewildered by her surroundings, was nevertheless smiling down at him as he held his wand out, admiring it. Mahogany, thirteen and a quarter inches, he thought as he stared at his eleven year old self, turning his wand this and way and that, then turning to smile up at his mother. He felt his throat constrict, knowing that his father would never have seen this picture; no doubt the devoted Toby had somehow taken it and hung it here.

Quickly dashing his hand across his eyes, Dean turned back to Harry and Hermione.

`Sorry,' he muttered.

`You've nothing to be sorry for,' Hermione said gently, `and we don't have to do anything today, you know that, don't you? If you don't feel ready -'

Dean gave her a lopsided grin. `I'll be fine, honestly; it's just a little overwhelming this first time, and it's all still so new. I think I'm still trying to take it all in, to be honest.'

`Not surprising,' said Harry. `So, what next?'

`If I may, I would suggest you call Toby,' said Verity, `as he can probably answer a lot of your questions.'

Dean nodded in agreement. `Do I just say his name?' he asked uncertainly.

Verity nodded and Dean cleared his throat, feeling a trifle foolish as he spoke the house-elf's name.

A familiar crack heralded the arrival of Toby, whose large eyes fell almost immediately on Dean.

`Greetings, Master Dean. I am your house-elf, Toby,' he said, his voice high-pitched, but soft. He bowed, the end of his long, pointed nose almost touching the ground; he wore a clean, white, toga-like garment, with an intricate “R” embroidered on the breast.

`Oh, erm, hello there Toby. Nice to meet you - thank you for coming,' replied Dean, feeling awkward, faced with the fact of owning the creature before him.

Toby straightened and Dean could see the sadness in the elf's eyes.

`Thank you,' said Dean huskily, `for looking after my father so well all these years since...' His voice trailed off, unable to continue.

`Please, sir, I am proud to have been able to care for Master Alex,' Toby replied humbly, bowing once more, his eyes moving to Harry and Hermione as he lifted his head.

`Oh, sorry,' said Dean contritely, `these are my friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.'

Harry and Hermione smiled at Toby as they said hello, Toby's eyes widening at the sight of Harry's scar.

`Miss Granger,' he said formally, a small hesitation in his voice as he greeted Harry, `Mr - Potter.'

`Oh, please, you must call me Hermione, just Hermione, and this is Harry.'

Toby's large eyes became even larger. `As you wish, Miss Hermione, Mr Harry,' he said tentatively, somewhat overawed at being told to call the Harry Potter just “Harry”.

Harry grinned at Hermione, who sighed resignedly; it was almost impossible to make house-elves understand about equality.

`Good morning, Toby,' said Emrys and Verity, and the house-elf spun deftly on the spot, giving the old couple in the portrait a respectful nod.

`Good morning Miss Verity, Mr Emrys. You have brought Master Dean as you said you would.'

`So what now?' asked Dean, looking up at Verity and Emrys. `What should we do first?'

Harry could almost feel Hermione's longing coming off her in waves; he knew she desperately wanted to find the Riley family Pensieve and see what it contained.

`Would Master Dean like to visit Riley Manor, and see his father's grave?' asked Toby, his voice holding equal amounts of hope and diffidence.

Dean stared thoughtfully down at the floor for a couple of seconds, then looked across at Toby. `I will do that, Toby, but not today, soon though. I would like to hear all about my father and his - my - family, too, when we get a chance, if you don't mind telling me.'

Toby momentarily went up on his toes, his mouth opening, eager to start talking right that instant. He caught himself in time, however, and nodded as he replied, `Toby would be most happy and willing to tell you everything, Master Dean, whenever you wish.'

`Toby, would you be able to just call me “Dean”?' asked Dean, uncomfortable with being addressed as “Master”.

Toby looked stricken and Dean thought for a moment that the little house-elf was about to collapse.

`Only if you want to, of course,' Dean added hurriedly.

`Thank you, Master Dean,' said a pale-faced Toby, `but Toby is much happier to call you Master Dean; it is only right, after all.'

Hermione sighed again from behind him and Harry could picture in precise detail the expression of exasperation on her face at hearing the house-elf's words.

Dean looked over at the chest. `That was my dad's, wasn't it?' he asked.

Toby crossed quickly to the chest, nodding eagerly as he reached it, lifting one small hand to rest lovingly on its battered and dented surface.

`It is yours now, Master Dean. Do you wish to be inspecting the contents?'

`Yes, please,' said Dean. Hermione reached the chest almost at the same time as Dean, Harry smiling to himself as he watched her struggle to curb her impatience.

Toby bent down and carefully turned the large, ornate key in the lock of the chest; he then straightened as the lid slowly raised itself, coming to rest on the wall behind it with a soft, metallic thunk.

`Toby has maintained the spell that keeps everything intact,' Toby announced proudly just as Hermione's sharp gasp at the sight of the silver stitched, dark red cloak folded neatly on top of the contents of the chest drew all eyes to turn to her.

`Sorry,' she murmured, still staring into the chest, `it's just that it looks like a cloak we saw - remember Harry?' she asked, turning to look up at him.

Harry frowned, trying to recall where he'd seen a dark red cloak with silver stitching. `I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't remember -'

`In the book, Dean's book!' Hermione broke in urgently, `That memory we viewed, with Cynric - and,' she shuddered slightly at the memory, `Edmar, when he murdered Cynric... Remember, Harry? I said I'd seen that insignia before,' she pointed to the cloak in the chest, `and I'm certain that's what that silver stitching is; I said I'd seen the same thing on Dean's chest in his living room, remember?'

Harry nodded; he remembered. He and Hermione stared at each other, oblivious to the identical expressions of bewilderment on the faces around them.

`That must mean -' began Harry, and Hermione nodded. They both turned and looked at Dean, their eyes wide with astonishment.

`What?' asked Dean helplessly.

Hermione became flustered. `Of course it was obvious, I mean we did know, since it was your family's book - but somehow it didn't seem real until now.'

`What?' asked Dean again, exasperation creeping into his voice.

Hermione grew calm as she explained to Dean what she and Harry had seen when they viewed a memory in the Book of Records for the first time, and that Dean must certainly be descended from Cynric, of Riley Hall, murdered by Sivis Edmar, Duke of Dorset, Overlord of the Realm of Evil...

Dean let out a long, low whistle as she finished, his eyes falling to the red cloak. `This could be the cloak he wore that night,' he whispered.

`There is much more, Master Dean,' said Toby eagerly, lifting the red cloak and placing it reverently on the floor beside the chest; beneath it lay a myriad of objects, all wrapped in various types and colours of cloth.

`Do you know what a Pensieve is Toby?' asked Hermione.

Toby nodded and with a glance at Dean for permission, moved a few of the objects carefully out of the way, then with some effort, lifted out an item wrapped in dull grey cloth. Walking between Dean and Harry, he crossed to the low occasional table and placed the object on it before gently unwrapping it.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as a large, shallow stone basin was revealed, the same odd runes and symbols carved around its rim that adorned Dumbledore's Pensieve.

Hermione's face crumpled with disappointment as she realised the basin was empty. `There aren't any memories in there,' she cried, distraught; she remembered Harry's description of the peculiar silver substance that held thoughts and memories.

`But there are memories, Miss Hermione,' said Toby, returning to the trunk and almost diving into it, disappearing up to his armpits in the contents. After a few muffled grunts and exclamations, he emerged holding what appeared to be a long box, wrapped in the same dull grey cloth as the Pensieve. He brought it back to the low table and placed it beside the Pensieve before removing the wrapping. It was a long, rectangular box, covered in worn black velvet with a tarnished silver clasp.

Dean, Harry and Hermione stood behind the little elf, bending at the waist so that they could see over him to the Pensieve and box. The elf released the clasp and lifted the lid; Harry, Hermione and Dean straightened in surprise at the sight of row upon row of small, crystal bottles that appeared to catch every scrap of light in the room and send it back, shimmering brightly.

`What are they?' cried Hermione, her hand clutching Harry's arm. `Look!' She pointed with a trembling figure. `There are labels - on each bottle - what are they?' she repeated.

Harry was sure he knew what they were; these bottles were almost identical to the ones he'd seen in Dumbledore's office in his sixth year, when the professor had shown him the memories of others in his quest to give Harry as much knowledge of Voldemort as he could.

`They're memories,' said Harry, his eyes wandering over the contents of the box, wondering how many there were all together.

Hermione looked at the small bottles as though they were a priceless treasure, her grip on Harry's arm becoming painfully tight in her excitement.

`Hermione -' said Harry gently, turning his arm a little, `would you mind?'

`I'm sorry!' said Hermione, releasing Harry's arm. She was beaming. `It's just so amazing and exciting and wonderful and -'

Harry chuckled. `I know. But we have to think of Dean first.'

Hermione was immediately contrite. `I'm so sorry, Dean, I just got carried away for a second.'

`Quite all right, Hermione,' Dean told her with a smile. `You make me feel like I'm back at school; you were always curious and eager.'

`So how does this Pensieve work?' asked Verity, she and Emrys peering curiously down at the Pensieve and the box.

`Toby knows!' squeaked the little house-elf. `Master Alex explained it to Toby so he could pass it on to Master Dean.'

`I think we need a list,' said Dean. `Toby, is there a list of these bottles - memories?'

Toby shook his head regretfully, his large, bat-like ears quivering with the movement.

`Would you mind doing one for us? I'm sorry to bother you -'

`Tis no bother, Master Dean!' exclaimed the house-elf happily. `Toby is so very, very pleased to be able to help! Toby would be most gratified if you come back this evening so Toby can cook dinner for you and Miss Hermione and Mr Harry and present you with the list.'

Dean looked somewhat bemused at this offer and looked to Harry and Hermione for help while Toby re-wrapped the Pensieve, after which, with the exception of the box of memories, he proceeded to repack everything back in the chest.

Harry shrugged. `Sounds fine to me,' he said. `What do you think Hermione?'

`I guess so, as long as you really don't mind cooking dinner for us all, Toby,' she said.

`Toby loves to cook, Miss Hermione, it will be a pleasure!' replied the little elf, busy re-wrapping the black velvet box in its grey cloth.

`I guess that's it, then,' she said, looking from Dean to Harry.

`Say about six o'clock, is that all right?' Dean asked Toby, who nodded his head vigorously in reply, his ears flapping madly as he did so; he now had the wrapped box tucked securely under his arm.

`Do you mind if we're here, also, Dean?' asked Verity.

Dean shook his head. `Nope. I would feel happier if you were here, Verity.'

Emrys smiled indulgently while his wife fussed unnecessarily over her pristine apron. `Why, thank you Dean, that's a very sweet thing to say.'

With a mischievous grin, Dean waggled his eyebrows at Harry and Hermione while Verity was busy inspecting her apron for creases; Harry chuckled and Hermione shook her head, although she was smiling.

Dean's expression became serious as he said, a little diffidently, `What d'you think - should I ask Ginny if she wants to come tonight, too?' Harry and Hermione turned to look at each other; Hermione could see concern and trepidation in Harry's eyes and he could see anxiety and apprehension in hers. Watching them, Dean added hurriedly, `Of course, it's probably not really a good idea, don't worry...' Dean's voice dwindled into silence as Harry and Hermione both turned to look at him.

`What if,' said Hermione, `we asked Neville and Esmerelda as well?'

Dean's eyes brightened and he nodded happily. `Great idea, Hermione!' He turned to look at Toby. `Erm, Toby?' he asked, somewhat hesitantly, the elf's ears pricking up expectantly as Dean continued, `Would you mind I if we brought some others over for dinner, too?' Toby's ears waggled enthusiastically around his head as he shook it, his voice excited as he replied, `Not at all, Master Dean!'

Dean took a second to think, then said, `The most there'll be, will be six, is that all right?'

`But of course, Master Dean, six for dinner at six o'clock!' Toby's eyes seemed to grow larger in his face. `Oh my, I must be going Master Dean, Toby has much to do and doesn't wish to be late, at all!' With a hurried bow, the little elf disappeared with a crack.

Dean shook his head. `I don't know that I'll be able to get used to having a house-elf.'

`You could give him clothes, free him,' suggested Hermione.

Verity gasped. `Hermione! You couldn't offer a worse insult to such a loyal, hard working elf!'

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes, while Harry couldn't help but chuckle and Dean looked uncomfortable.

`Hermione,' said Harry calmly, `I don't think you have to worry about Toby's welfare in Dean's hands.'

Hermione gave Dean an apologetic look. `I didn't mean to suggest that you wouldn't look after him -'

Dean waved his hands dismissively as he interrupted Hermione, saying quickly, `I'd never think you'd think that, Hermione. I just don't know what to do with him - I mean, should I be living at this Riley Manor?' Dean's expression made it clear he wasn't terribly comfortable with that idea. `Can I just leave Toby there, or should he come and live with me at the Nook?'

Hermione touched his arm sympathetically. `Don't worry about all that now; you've got plenty of time to sort all that out. Why don't you go and see Ginny? Harry and I have plenty to do today, and we can all just meet up here this evening.'

`Actually, you'll have to meet at the Nook,' put in Verity. `Esmerelda, Neville and Ginevra will need me to tell them about the cottage.'

`Of course, you're Secret Keeper - I forgot!' Hermione chided herself. `So Dean can ask Ginny about tonight. We'll leave a note for Neville, and perhaps, Verity, you could ask Esmerelda when you see her during the day?'

Verity nodded and Harry said, `That's settled then, let's go!' as he turned and headed for the door, Hermione and Dean following.

As they retraced their steps back to the Nook, Hermione was almost babbling in her excitement over the box of memories and what they might contain; the more excited she became, the more outrageous her speculation, causing Harry and Dean to roll their eyes at each other over her head as she walked between them. Once they'd reached the overgrown stile and clambered over it once more, Harry turned to Hermione and held his hand up, saying gently, `Hermione, why don't we just wait and see? Toby will give us the list tonight and then we - or rather, Dean - can decide what we do next. You're going to drive yourself crazy trying to come up with every possibility!'

Hermione smiled ruefully at him. `And drive you crazy, too,' she said knowingly.

`Maybe just a little,' said Harry with a grin, Dean chuckling as well.

`By the way Dean,' said Hermione, `I've been meaning to ask you: what did your mum say when you told her about the book, about your dad?'

Dean's face became serious. `She was pretty shocked. I showed her the photo, too, and she cried. She didn't want to read the book, or anything, at least not now. I think she just needs time to take it all in. I sure know how that feels.'

`At least she knows now,' said Hermione sympathetically.

Dean nodded as he replied, his voice tinged with sadness, `Yeah, I told her what Dad wrote in the book. ' Then, taking a deep breath, he gave Harry and Hermione a lopsided grin as he added, `At least I can talk to Ginny about everything.'

Harry and Hermione shared a quick, knowing look and a smile. `That really is great,' Harry told him as he turned to begin walking once more.

The three friends made their way across the road and back to the Nook. They found Verity and Emrys already back in their rocking chairs, both dozing, Frewin regarding them with one sleepy eye before tucking his head further under his wing.

`So,' said Dean, as they crossed to the fireplace, taking a pinch of Floo Powder from the container on the mantel, `Ginny and I will see you back here at six.'

Harry and Hermione nodded as Dean gave them a wave and stepped into the green flames; they turned to face each other.

`Do you think Ginny will come?' Hermione asked quietly.

Harry shrugged. `I'm not sure, but I think so.'

`I hope she does. It should be all right with the others there.'

`There was always going to be a first time,' Harry told her. `Let's go leave that note for Neville.'

As Harry and Hermione made their way upstairs, Verity and Emrys opened their eyes and looked at each other.

`Well, dear, it seems you'd best dust off your diplomatic skills for this evening,' Emrys said with a small smile.

Verity gave him a sharp glance. `Dust? Dust wouldn't dare settle near me. You're just teasing.'

Emrys chuckled and his wife smiled fondly at him before they both closed their eyes once more.

*

Their empty butterbeer bottles sat on the floor beside the sofa, forgotten as Dean had recounted the events of that morning. Ginny's eyes were slightly wild looking as she gazed at him.

`Dinner? With Harry and Hermione?'

`Ginny, it'll be fine! I'll be right there with you, I won't leave you, and with everyone there - and Verity and Emrys - and you'll meet Toby - and...' Dean had spoken in a rush, but as Ginny continued to stare at him, his voice faded away, leaving silence.

Ginny gave her head a rueful shake and with a small smile, said to Dean, `You're probably right. I'm sorry - maybe I was over-reacting.'

It was Dean's turn to shake his head as he reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. `Not over-reacting, at all. I should've asked you first before arranging it all. I'm the one who should be apologising.'

Ginny laughed as she leant forwards and grasped Dean's other hand. `Enough apologising! You are right, it will be fine - and I'm really looking forward to seeing the cottage, meeting Toby and -' Ginny's eyes took on a decidedly wicked twinkle, `- it's not every day you get to have dinner with your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend, who is also your best friend, a portrait, and -'

`And,' Dean interrupted her, the twinkle in his eye matching hers, `your other ex-boyfriend, looking to one day become your new, and last, boyfriend!'

They both laughed then, and with her heart a lot lighter, Ginny knew that somehow it would be all right...

TO BE CONTINUED...

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Author's Note

Merry Christmas everyone! It's Christmas Eve here, Down Under, as I write this and I thought it would be nice to post the next Interlude and Chapter and hopefully spread a little Christmas cheer amongst my loyal readers! I'm afraid I did take longer to post this than I planned, but as I'm sure you all know from first hand experience, the whole Christmas madness and rush thing leaves no spare time, not even for my beloved “Nook” - and I don't really have time now, either, but I'm doing it anyway! *grins*

A very special Merry Christmas to Kirsti-The-Comma-Queen *huge hugs dear!*, to my very dear friends Timbo and Holly and a special Christmas hello to the Ever-Patient-Never-Nagging-Chuck (lol!) - cheers!

I wish you all peace and happiness this Christmas. Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

ELEVENTH INTERLUDE

The Disciple stood on the shore of the black lake, sick with fear at being in this place of his Master, yet also elated; after all, he had been the one to find her. Of course, the first time he'd met her, he hadn't realised her potential, but when he'd found out more about her, he knew he must tell his Master. He continued to stand there silently - unmoving, waiting - staring at the darkly glistening water, revolted by what he knew lay beneath its secretive surface, yet unable to tear his gaze away.

The Dark One tasted triumph. He was certain the perfect candidate for his First Disciple had been found, at last! And now - now he could dispose of that pathetic wretch who actually thought himself worthy of being his First Disciple...

You!

The Disciple's knees crumpled beneath him, the excruciating pain as they met rough rock unnoticed, cloaked by his terror; elation fled as though it had never been.

Yes, Master?

The disgusting fool who imagines himself worthy of being my First Disciple - I no longer have any use for him. Kill him. Now.

Yes, Master.

*

As he stumbled back into the Ante-Chamber, the Disciple struggled with an almost overwhelming nausea. The First-Disciple-To-Be stood watching him; he, too, had been waiting.

Come with me, the First-Disciple-To-Be ordered harshly, turning and walking quickly across what he believed to be an empty Ante-Chamber towards his cavern, his Cloak of Concealment brushing the roughly hewn floor. As he walked, an unseen pair of eyes followed his progress from the back of the Ante-Chamber, their now forgotten owner concealed by a Disillusionment Charm.

Once inside, the First-Disciple-To-Be removed his hood, waiting imperiously as the Disciple also pushed back his hood.

Tell me, ordered Lucius Malfoy.

Draco kept his eyes lowered. From the moment his Master had ordered him to kill his father he'd been in total shock. He didn't think he was capable of carrying out his Master's order, and yet if he failed...

He was pleased, croaked Draco.

Perhaps he could delay the moment when he had to do it. Could he do it? Dare he do it? Dare he not? Death would be preferable to the fate that awaited any Disciple who didn't carry out specific orders. But kill his own father? He had to do it! He groaned, clutching his head: He felt as though he was hovering on the brink of an abyss.

Good, said Lucius, ignoring his son's obvious distress. Did he say to what use he intended to put her?

Draco, unable to speak, shook his head. The abyss was so inviting - soft, endlessly black, where there was no need to think, or listen, or hear, or do...

Did he ask to see me?

Draco shook his head again. He was sure he was going to be sick any moment. His mind was slowly freezing into immobility, coherent thought shutting down. He remembered that he was supposed to somehow find the strength to kill the man in front of him. His father. He fell to his knees, a strangled cry escaping him. He put his head down on the floor and threw his arms over his head. What if he just fell into the abyss?

What's wrong with you? demanded Lucius. Get up!

Draco moaned. He wished he was anywhere but here. He wished he was dead. He wished someone would kill his father for him. He wished -

The abyss was patient, simply waiting for him to decide...

Draco felt his father grab his shoulders, his fingers digging in as he pushed him backwards so hard that Draco landed on his elbows; his face contorted with horror and fear, he lay staring up at his father. The abyss beckoned...

What did he say? Lucius's voice was low and menacing - yet it held a touch of fear, too.

Draco shook his head, unaware that tears were streaming down his face.

Lucius dropped to one knee beside his son, his grey eyes now almost pleading as he said once more, his voice low, Tell me, son, what did he say?

I can't kill my father! I can't disobey my Master! These were the last thoughts he ever had. The last words he ever spoke.

The abyss claimed him.

*

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

In which we learn the fate of the First-Disciple-To-Be and Draco, Dean and Ginny draw imperceptibly closer, Toby delivers dinner and the list, Neville reveals something he shouldn't and Verity mourns the loss of earthly pleasures…

Gawain Robards sat at his desk, unconsciously running his fingers through his light brown hair at regular intervals. He gazed grimly across at the dark-haired man sitting opposite him.

`Are you absolutely certain no one knows you came here? That no one followed you? That there's not a Trace on you?' His voice was as hard as his expression.

It was only because the dark-haired man's eyes narrowed slightly that Robards knew he'd offended him.

`I am absolutely certain, boss.'

Robards nodded and some of the tension left his face. `I had to ask.'

David Hasluck nodded in acceptance of what was the equivalent of an apology.

`So,' said Robards, picking up a quill and pulling a sheet of blank parchment from one of his desk drawers, `tell me what's happened.'

Ticking them off on his fingers, Hasluck said, `The main points are: one, Lucius Malfoy was the First-Disciple-To-Be; two, both he and his son, Draco, are dead, murdered by the Dark One, and three, a witch named Annice Nott is now the First Disciple.'

Robards wrote quickly, ignoring his own astonishment and curiosity. He took notes as Hasluck continued.

`About a week ago, Malfoy told me he'd met a witch he was certain the Dark One would be interested in. He didn't go into details about why he believed this, but he did tell me her name: Annice Nott. He was actually excited about this witch and wanted full credit for “discovering” her, as he put it. We went to the Cavern very early this morning as he was eager to tell his Master about her and didn't want any interference. Things were quiet when we arrived; the Cavern was empty - all the Disciples were still asleep - as Malfoy had hoped. I went to wait at the back of the Ante-Chamber while Malfoy went to the rock wall, about to begin the ritual to open the arch, when the First-Disciple-To-Be came out of his cave - room - and demanded to know what Malfoy thought he was doing. At this point, I used a Disillusionment Charm to hide myself. Malfoy was pretty pissed off that he'd been seen and told the First-Disciple-To-Be that it was none of his bloody business. He got short shrift however; the First Disciple gave him a short dose of the Cruciatus Curse quick smart, afterwards telling him he would've been killed trying to open the arch without his permission.'

Hasluck broke off long enough to drink from the glass of cold pumpkin juice Robards had poured when he'd arrived; then he continued...

`That's when Malfoy called the First-Disciple-To-Be, “father”, which surprised me, but didn't, if you know what I mean. Lucius Malfoy hadn't seen me and I think Draco had forgotten I was even there. He told his father, very grudgingly, about Annice Nott. It was then I found out she was the daughter of a Death Eater, one who had been a member of Voldemort's Inner Circle. Apparently, she models herself on Voldemort and has spent her whole life studying the Dark Arts. Malfoy made the comment that Annice Nott made his Aunt Bellatrix look like Snow White.'

`We've actually got a file on her,' said Robards tersely, `I'll have to pull it out. Go on, Hasluck.'

`I believe that Lucius Malfoy was actually afraid to face his Master and that's why he assisted Draco in opening the archway; he didn't seem remotely interested in being the one to deliver this news. When Draco came out about ten minutes later, he looked sick. Lucius immediately marched across the Ante-Chamber towards his room and I followed, moving inside after him, just before Draco entered. That's when I realised there was something seriously wrong with Draco. He managed to tell his father that the Dark One had been pleased with what he'd told him and then he didn't speak again until just before he went insane. His last words were, “I can't kill my father, I can't disobey my Master”. I thought Lucius was going to go insane as well. Draco was like the living dead; his father begged him to speak, then screamed at him, hit him, pleaded with him, even used the Cruciatus Curse again - but there wasn't an ounce of reaction from Draco. Then ...'

For the first time, Hasluck's voice faltered. Robards remained silent, waiting. Hasluck took a deep breath before continuing, his voice bleak.

`Then Lucius levitated his son's body back out into the Ante-Chamber, putting it down in front of the wall where the archway appears; I watched through the door of Lucius's room. Lucius conjured the archway and when it appeared, he began screaming at his Master. It was mostly unintelligible, but the gist of it was that he accused the Dark One of taking his son, his only child, from him. He fell to his knees beside Draco, who was still simply lying there, staring at the ceiling; he pulled Draco into his arms and began to cry. Then two Inferi came out from the blackness and dragged them both away. Lucius didn't even resist. I heard him scream, once, before the archway closed.'

`And then you left?' asked Robards quietly, chilled by the Auror's recount.

Hasluck nodded. `The other Disciples began to emerge then; they would've heard Lucius screaming, but they waited until the archway was sealed.'

`Will you be able to maintain your position now that Malfoy's dead?'

`For the time being. There's a good chance that someone will put me in the firing line, to save themselves; there's a lot of that most of the time, but more so now. You know, someone will point out that I was affiliated with Malfoy, that I came in with him and that maybe I should be gotten rid of too.'

`Do you need anything before you go back?'

Hasluck gave Robards a sardonic grin. `Just a lotta luck, boss.'

Robards sat in silence, thinking, for some time after Hasluck left; he felt grateful for Hasluck's rare gift which was not common knowledge, even within the Department. Then he took a fresh piece of parchment from the drawer and began to write, sealing it after he'd finished and sending it off with an office owl which he instructed “to find, and deliver this to, Harry Potter”.

*

It was late afternoon, the air was cooler and there seemed to be a quiet lull in the day. Dean sat in the middle armchair of the Nook's sitting room, his gaze alternating between the empty portrait above the fireplace and the fireplace itself; he was waiting for Ginny to arrive.

He'd had a light lunch with Ginny earlier that afternoon at the Burrow before Flooing to work. While his boss was a little disgruntled at the amount of time his new employee was taking off, he was nevertheless mollified by the owls he'd received from the Heads of the Departments of Magical Law Enforcement and Magical Research, politely requesting Dean's presence (at times to be advised by Dean himself) with respect to a highly confidential matter. Curiously, the fact that Harry Potter was involved with the said “highly confidential matter” wasn't itself a confidential matter...

Dean had left work on the dot of five, hurrying home to shower and change and be ready by five-thirty, when he'd arranged to meet with Ginny. He thought perhaps she might feel a little more comfortable if she was already there, with him, when the others arrived; the fact that he'd have her to himself for a short while was an added bonus.

Then, despite the fact that he was waiting for it, Dean still jumped when green flames flared in the fireplace and Ginny stepped out. He sprang to his feet, smiling.

`Hi!' His warm, brown gaze swept over her, quickly taking in her black jeans, pale green, fitted blouse and her shining hair, held back from her face with a black velvet Alice band. `You look great!'

Ginny smiled up at him. `Thanks, Dean.' She looked around. `Where is everyone?'

`They'll be here around six,' he told her.

Ginny gave him a speculative look, arching a questioning eyebrow.

Dean shrugged, looking abashed. `Thought you might like a drink, or something, before everyone else gets here.'

Ginny gave a soft chuckle and Dean said diffidently, `I hope you don't mind.'

Shaking her head, Ginny asked, `Of course not. Now, where do we get this drink?'

`Follow me!' said Dean, holding out his arm.

Ginny tucked her arm through his and he led her outside, across the garden and through the leafy archway in the hedge. As they settled on the old wooden bench overlooking the stream, Dean retrieved the basket he'd put beneath it a short while before, then using his wand, he soon had the bottle and glasses floating before them, the bottle tipping to fill the glasses.

`It's so beautiful here,' sighed Ginny as she reached out to delicately grasp her now full glass. The sunlight was streaming through the gently waving fronds of the old willow, making the clear water of the stream sparkle as they sat in companionable silence, watching fallen leaves drifting lazily past.

Not as beautiful as you, thought Dean to himself. `It sure is,' he agreed out loud. `Here's to summer, and beauty.'

They touched their glasses then drank.

`Elderflower champagne? Mmm, that's really nice,' Ginny commented. `We've only ever had the wine at home.'

`Ginny, I hope I didn't sort of push you into this dinner tonight?' Dean's intonation turned his comment into a question.

`Dean, please don't worry - believe me, if I really didn't want to go, I'd say so.' She paused before adding, unknowingly echoing Harry's sentiment, `There has to be a first time.'

Dean nodded, staring down into his glass thoughtfully.

`What about you?' asked Ginny, `Have you had a chance to think about what you want to do? About your family home, and Toby?'

Dean shook his head. `Not really, I was so busy at work. I think for the moment I'll just concentrate on helping Harry and Hermione.'

Ginny sighed. I am getting used to it. To “Harry and Hermione”, she thought to herself. Glancing up, she found Dean's gaze on her, his eyes filled with concern, and she smiled at him as she reached out and took his hand.

`Don't worry, please, I'm really fine - and I'm really glad you're going to be there.'

`Me too,' said Dean with a wink, making Ginny laugh.

*

Esmerelda sat in her cosy living room; she'd watched through her window with an indulgent smile as Dean and Ginny had walked across the lawn and passed through the hedge earlier. She'd remained by the window, looking out over the summer-kissed garden, thinking on all that happened in the last two days. A light tap on her door caused her to give a small cry of surprise before hurrying across the room. When she opened the door, it was to find Neville standing there.

`Evening Esmerelda,' he greeted her with a smile. `Are you ready? Harry, Hermione and I are - we're just waiting for you, Dean and Ginny.'

`I'm ready, dear boy. I'll just get my cloak and I'll be right out.'

Neville nodded and left to rejoin Harry and Hermione in the sitting room; Verity was alone in the portrait, Emrys having remained in the cottage portrait where'd they both been most of the afternoon, helping Toby.

Harry and Hermione looked up expectantly at Neville as he rejoined them and sat down; he was about to tell them that Esmerelda would be right out when an owl swooped out of the chimney unexpectedly, startling them. It landed on the arm of Harry's seat and held out its leg to him.

Harry automatically removed the roll of parchment, a puzzled frown creasing his brow, Hermione and Neville looking on curiously. The owl left as soon as Harry held the parchment, which meant that an immediate reply wasn't expected.

`Oh,' said Harry, as he turned the rolled parchment around and spotted the seal holding it closed, `it's from Robards, at the Ministry.'

Just then, Esmerelda appeared and with a murmured, `I'll read it later,' Harry leant forward and pushed the parchment into the back pocket of his jeans. Neville appeared quite unconcerned, although Hermione threw him a questioning look which he answered with a small shake of his head and a soft, `Later.'

Esmerelda sat down in the chair next to Hermione as she greeted everyone, and when Dean and Ginny returned ten minutes later, it was to find them all sitting and chatting amicably with Verity, who broke off what she was saying when Ginny and Dean walked in through the front door.

`Good evening Dean, Ginevra - all here at last,' she said in a satisfied tone.

Everyone automatically rose to their feet when Verity greeted Ginny and Dean, and as Hermione's fingers found Harry's hand, he squeezed gently in acknowledgement. Surprising herself, Ginny reached out and took Dean's hand, warmed by the gentle pressure of his fingers; Dean's heart skipped a beat at Ginny's touch and he couldn't stop the happy grin that spread across his face.

Once they were all standing before the fireplace, looking up at the painting, Verity habitually smoothed her apron as she said quietly, `Alexander Riley may be found in the cottage in Hewett's Field, Ambling Row, Harminster Leigh.'

*

`Why is it we don't just Apparate to the cottage?' asked Neville as they traipsed, single-file, through the long grass of Hewett's Field.

`Anti-Apparition Spell,' said Hermione behind him. `Toby put a lot of protection around the cottage after Dean's dad...' Hermione's voice trailed off; she couldn't think of how best to describe Alex Riley's condition.

Ginny turned, leaning a little to look around Neville at Hermione as she asked, `And how come Verity said “Alexander Riley may be found” - I mean, he can't, not now.'

`I think the wording of the secret is specific and set at the time the charm is cast, whatever happens afterwards,' Hermione told her. `Remember Professor Dumbledore always said or wrote the exact same thing? “The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at 12 Grimmauld Place, London”?'

`That makes sense,' said Dean, who'd been somewhat unnerved by Verity's pronouncement. He was leading them, and as they approached the cottage, they could see the front door was pulled open, Toby standing on the doorstep, waiting to greet them.

`Good evening, Master Dean,' he said, with a sweeping bow that saw his nose miss touching the doorstep by a whisker. Straightening, Toby continued, `Welcome, everyone - please, come in,' accompanying his words with a sweep of his arm, inviting them to enter.

Dean led the way, his eyes widening in surprise at the transformation of the sitting room. The furniture that had been there that morning was gone, as well as the grey and blue rug; the only things still in place were his father's trunk, sitting against the far wall, and the painting above the fireplace. The room now held a long dining table draped in a pristine white linen tablecloth, set for six with silver flatware and sparkling crystal goblets.

As he approached the table, Dean noticed there were place cards, set in silver holders; the one with his name in flowing script was at the head of the table, facing the fireplace.

`You've gone to a lot of trouble, Toby,' he told the house elf who had moved to pull out Ginny's chair for her; she was seated to Dean's left. Harry, on the other side of the table, was holding out Esmerelda's chair for her, to Dean's right; he then did the same for Hermione before taking his own seat between the two women. Everyone sat, wordlessly admiring the beautifully appointed table, the centrepiece - a bowl of soft pink summer roses - adding a delightful perfume to the air.

`It's quite beautiful,' remarked Esmerelda, breaking the short silence, everyone murmuring their agreement.

Toby, looking quite pleased with himself, bowed his head in acknowledgement. Then, with a wave of his small hand, two crystal ice buckets appeared, one at each end of the table, the bottles they held already opened. A second wave of Toby's hand saw the bottles lift in unison and their goblets filled with a pale sparkling liquid before he excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen.

Raising his glass, Dean grinned and said, `Cheers, everyone!'

After echoing his toast, they all sipped from their glasses, exclaiming at the taste.

`What is that?' asked Hermione.

`Elderflower champagne,' replied Ginny, sharing a smile with Dean.

A wistful sigh from above the fireplace drew all their eyes.

`There are some things I miss dreadfully at times,' said Verity, looking at them enviously. Emrys patted his wife's hand, giving her a sympathetic look.

Despite there being an underlying current of slightly awkward awareness between Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Dean, it was as though they'd made an unspoken agreement to keep it to themselves and so, with everyone determined to enjoy themselves, conversation flowed easily around the table, barely missing a beat as Toby served smoked salmon with a deliciously dressed salad for their entree followed by superbly roasted beef and fresh vegetables. It was only after they'd finished their dessert - a silky panna cotta - that Hermione quietly reminded Harry about the letter from Robards at the same time as Toby appeared at Dean's elbow and presented him with an unsealed roll of parchment.

`This is the list you asked for, Master Dean,' said Toby with a bow of his head as he held out the scroll. At Toby's words, Verity and Emrys, who had sat back and closed their eyes while everyone ate, now straightened and looked attentively down at the table.

`Thank you, Toby, and also for dinner - it was totally delicious.' Everyone echoed Dean's sentiments, causing Toby to actually blush as he pulled at his ear in embarrassment.

`Toby is very happy you are pleased, Master Dean, and your friends, too. Toby will be in the kitchen if you need anything,' finished the little elf, still tugging self-consciously at one ear.

As Toby headed for the kitchen, Harry retrieved the letter from his pocket and holding it in his lap, broke the seal, unrolling it and quickly reading it. He lifted his eyes to meet Hermione's steady brown gaze, barely hearing as Neville and Esmerelda asked Dean what the list was that Toby had given him.

Seeing the stark uneasiness in Harry's eyes, Hermione reached over and grasped Harry's wrist so that he turned the letter towards her; she knew that if she touched it, it would disintegrate as letters with that particular seal always carried a spell to do so if anyone other than the addressee touched it. As she read, she bit her lip to stop herself from exclaiming out loud.

`What's the matter, Hermione?'

Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of Neville's voice; he was almost directly opposite her and as their eyes met, Hermione felt a jolt of astonishment. Neville's grey-green gaze held warm, tender, loving concern - for her! Far more warm and tender than mere friendship warranted...

Harry rolled the scroll up, very aware that Hermione was perturbed and rather agitated. `Just some rather unsettling news from work,' he said sharply; he, too, had seen the look in Neville's eyes.

Esmerelda and Ginny, seated each side of Dean, had missed the exchange to this point, being too intent on the scroll Dean had laid on the table and charmed flat. At the sound of Harry's voice however, all three looked up, Verity and Emrys also switching their attention from Dean and his scroll to Harry.

`News? What news?' they all asked simultaneously, bringing quick amused smiles from everyone.

Harry's smile went almost immediately though as he said, `If you don't mind, I need to talk to Hermione alone for a few minutes.'

Hermione felt a rush of gratitude towards Harry as they both stood and Harry continued, `We won't be long.'

As Harry pulled the front door closed behind them a few seconds later, Hermione let out a huge sigh of relief and fell against Harry, who immediately wrapped his arms around her. They stood like that for a good minute before Harry leant back and smiled at her.

`You okay?' he asked softly.

Hermione nodded as she said quietly, `You were right - about Neville, I mean. It's extremely - I don't know, disconcerting, I suppose, to know that ...' her voice trailed off.

Harry grinned sardonically. `Sort of takes the edge off the thing with you and me, and Ginny and Dean, for the moment, doesn't it?'

Hermione nodded in agreement, then sighed as she said, `But not from that letter, unfortunately.'

`But not from that,' agreed Harry solemnly. Then he reached for Hermione's hand and said, `Come on, let's go for a walk.'

*

`What d'you reckon that's all about?' asked Dean, tipping his head in the direction of the front door as it closed behind Harry and Hermione.

`Can't be good,' said Esmerelda, concern creasing her face.

`What do you think it could be?' wondered Ginny.

`I hope they'll tell us when they return,' said Verity, looking worried.

While everyone speculated on what the “unsettling news” could be, Neville sat twirling the stem of his glass, staring at the pale golden liquid it held.

What an idiot! he told himself angrily. He knew his heart had been in his eyes as he'd looked at her. His own feelings had caught him by surprise, he'd been so certain he'd gotten them under control, even had himself believing he no longer felt so strongly about her. He shook his head in self-disgust. Obviously got that wrong, didn't I? he thought. It was just that she was right there, in front of me - looking so beautiful - and talking to me, and smiling at me - and then she looked almost frightened, just for a second, and all I wanted to do was protect her - hold her, shield her...

`What do you think Neville?' asked Ginny, beside him, breaking off his train of thought.

`Think?'

`About this unsettling news,' said Dean.

`All I know is that when we were waiting for you three, back at the Nook, an owl delivered that letter to Harry and he said it was from the Ministry, from Robards. He didn't read it then, though, he just put it in his pocket.'

`Robards?' queried Esmerelda. `Isn't he the head Auror?'

Dean, Ginny and Neville all nodded, their speculation picking up again with renewed vigour after this revelation.

`I guess we'll just have to wait until they come back,' Esmerelda said with a resigned sigh.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Note

Have a Happy New Year everyone - I'll “see” you all in 2009!

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Author's Note

This year has seen me experience a bit of a health glitch (and yes that is a bit of an understatement *grins*) which has taken most of my time until recently. However - I'm seriously happy to be back at my keyboard at last. As always, extra-special thanks & love to Kirsti, and an extra-special “g'day” to Timbo, Holly and Chuck - heaps of hugs to all of you, you guys are the best. Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

TWELFTH INTERLUDE

Exultation thrummed through her veins so fiercely she thought it might tear her apart. She was standing on a narrow strip of clearing that ran alongside a river, a river like no other she'd ever seen. It was darkly beautiful, and she could sense a vast, restrained power in its depths as it surged slowly past her.

Master! I have found you! The words reverberated triumphantly in her mind.

And I, you, Beloved Daughter.

The woman sank to the ground, overcome by the exquisite ecstasy that filled her at hearing those words.

I beg you Master, please tell me how you were able to return -

Daughter, you need not beg for the knowledge that is rightfully yours. You know, of course, of the destruction of my last chosen one, he whom you knew as Lord Voldemort. The bond between us was, without exception, stronger than I had known with any previous chosen one; he became an integral part of me and though it grieves me to acknowledge it, great as he was, yet still he was beset with arrogant pride and despite all he had, with greed; it was these flaws, these weaknesses, that eventually brought about his downfall.

Bonded as we were, his defeat almost annihilated me. A diminished remnant was all that remained of each of us, relegated to a rudimentary existence here, within the Dark Realm, and here we remained, nourished by the River of Shadows until we became strong enough to merge, though that merging altered us in ways that even I do not yet fully understand. Even now, I must return often to the River of Shadows in order to maintain myself and to ensure that my strength continues to increase. With your help, Daughter, the day that I will be able to walk this earth with my own feet will come sooner than I had hoped.

Ask what you will, Master, and I will gladly do it.

The woman felt another wave of ecstasy wash through her as the Dark One's voice again rang in her head.

You are my Beloved Daughter, the Chosen Once, my First Disciple. Do you pledge, without reserve, your life, and those of your minions, first and last, to my eternal service?

I do!

And so you shall sit in the place of honour, and you shall be seated on a throne as befits your station. If you speak, it shall be as though I have spoken, and none shall gainsay you.

With tears streaming down her face and suffused with rapture so potent it was almost agony to bear, Annice Nott drew herself to her feet, her arms extended in front of her, palms up, in supplication.

Thank you, Master! My life is yours to command.

Come, Daughter, we return to the Cave of the Lake.

Annice felt herself falling into darkness, yet she was not afraid; it was the same sensation she'd experienced when the Dark One had brought her to stand by the River of Shadows. Mere seconds passed, or so it seemed, then she felt herself rising from the lake, although no water touched her. She floated for a moment before her feet came to rest on the small island of smooth rock that sat in the centre of the lake. As her feet touched the flat, dark stone, she gasped, her gaze following seven shallow steps carved into the rock; they lead to a large square black stone dais, atop which sat an elaborately carved, ivory-coloured throne-like chair; whatever substance the chair was carved from emanated a ghostly glow, casting strange, unmoving shadows around the vast cavern.

Master? Her voice was a tremulous question.

For you, my Daughter. Be seated, and we shall talk some more.

Grasping the front of her robes with one hand, Annice lifted them clear of her feet as she walked up the stairs, her heart in her mouth. She turned when she reached the chair, but did not sit.

You honour me beyond anything I deserve, Master, she said humbly, her head bowed.

I do honour you, Daughter, but no less than you deserve, and you will continue to earn such honour through doing my bidding.

Annice sat then, her fingers tracing the strange carvings in the arms of the chair.

Tell me your bidding, Master, so that I can do it.

She felt a trickle of fear as the black waters of the lake suddenly roiled violently.

REVENGE!

That one word rang with such rage and frustration, such a depth of hatred and fury, she was afraid it would freeze her very bones. She sat silently, waiting.

The black waters settled once more into their unnatural stillness.

Revenge, my Daughter, for the defeat and near destruction of myself and my Chosen One!

And then she understood.

You seek revenge against Harry Potter, Master.

Yes, Daughter, came the pleased reply.

Annice smiled.

I was happy and proud to dedicate my life to the Dark Lord when I was a child. Then I chose to dedicate my life to learning all I could of the Dark Lord himself and doing whatever was necessary to achieve revenge for his destruction. Now I dedicate all the rest of my days to you, Master. Tell me what it is you wish me to do, and it will be done.

She closed her eyes, the smile still on her lips, and began to listen...

*

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

In which Hermione delivers an informative summary…

`Come on, let's go for a walk,' said Harry, clasping Hermione's hand in his. In silent accord, they turned away from the cottage, leaving the barely-there path trodden through the grass earlier, and made their way towards the stream. Beneath the old greying willow, its vast, spreading canopy creating a cool, dim leafy haven by the banks of the stream, and with his arm around Hermione's shoulders, Harry drew out his wand and conjured a cushioned bench for them to sit on. Once seated, his arm still around Hermione, Harry took her free hand in his and asked gently, `You're sure you're all right?'

Hermione smiled up at him reassuringly as she replied. `I was shocked by what was in that letter - and then looking up and seeing the expression on Neville's face caught me off-guard - but I'm fine now.'

Harry grinned, `So which was more disturbing - the letter or Neville's expression?'

Hermione returned the grin, recognising Harry's attempt at momentary lightness; then her expression became solemn as she answered, `The letter.'

Harry sighed and nodded, his expression mirroring Hermione's. `I think Robards is right, I think we should do what he says.'

`I do too, and I have an idea,' Hermione said, and told him her thoughts.

`Excellent idea, as always Miss Granger,' Harry told her when she'd finished. `So that's one thing settled; what about Neville?'

Hermione sighed. `I'm sure Neville would be mortified if I tried to talk to him about it - and I don't really want to do that, anyway; I truly believe it was an unintentional slip on his part. I think the best thing to do is to just pretend I didn't notice anything. What do you think?'

`Yeah, I think you're right - but he'd better make sure he doesn't make a habit of looking at you like that.'

Harry's tone of voice, while not severely harsh, was firmly uncompromising, and Hermione felt his grip on both her shoulder and her hand momentarily tighten as he gazed down at her.

Meeting his gaze, Hermione said softly, `If he could see the look on your face right now, I'm positive he'd never look at me like that again, accidentally or otherwise.'

`Good,' said Harry, his voice roughened by a swift, unexpected rush of desire. With a shaky sigh, Hermione released Harry's hand and lifted her fingers, brushing them across his lips, her eyes holding an unmistakeable invitation. Rendered speechless by a sudden surge of longing, Harry was only able to drop his head and cover Hermione's mouth with his, all other thoughts becoming inconsequential and melting away in the heat of their kiss...

*

When Harry and Hermione returned to the cottage about twenty minutes later, it was to find Toby had been at work once more: the dining table was gone and everyone was now seated in a comfortable array of armchairs set in a rough semi circle around the fireplace. All eyes had been focused on Dean as Harry and Hermione walked in, Dean's voice commanding everyone's attention as he read through the list drawn up by Toby. Hermione felt a momentary flicker of concern that perhaps they may have missed something, but at the sound of Harry closing the door, everyone realised they'd returned and Dean stopped speaking as all eyes turned to them.

`Oh good, you're back,' said Dean. `I only just started -' he gave the list a quick, indicative wave, `- and to be honest, Hermione, I think we're going to need your historical knowledge to make sense of this. Come and sit down,' he finished, indicating the two vacant armchairs to his left.

Hermione smiled and nodded at Dean as Verity's concerned voice came from above the fireplace, `Is everything all right?' She rather thought Hermione and Harry both looked a little flushed.

As he and Hermione took their seats - neither failing to notice that Neville had taken a seat on the other side of the group - Harry smiled as he nodded to Verity and Emrys, pulled his chair closer to Hermione's and said, `Fine, thanks. So, let's get back to Dean's list.'

`Let's hope there's something in here that will help,' said Dean. `I was just reading the list as Toby's written it; he literally copied what was written on each of those little bottles - luckily they're all numbered, which we assume means they're in chronological order. Some of the labels have dates, but most don't, just names.'

`How many are there?' asked Hermione.

Ginny, seated on Dean's other side, leant forward and said, `Seventy six - can you believe it? How on earth are we going to know which ones should be looked at?'

`And is it possible for all of us to look at them at the same time?' asked Esmerelda, sitting between Ginny and Neville.

`Harry? Do you know?' asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. `I'm not sure,' he said, `but since Dumbledore and I were both able to look at Slughorn's memory, I guess it's possible for more than one person at a time to view them. I don't know if there's any limit - we'll just have to try it.'

`Does everyone want to look? Do we all need to look?' asked Esmerelda, sounding almost as though she was thinking aloud.

`Dean?' asked Ginny, `What do you think?'

Dean shrugged. `It doesn't worry me if everyone here wants to look. I mean,' he turned to look at Harry, `you don't get hurt or anything, do you?'

Harry shook his head. `No, it seems to you as though you're there, but you're not - you're just watching. You're not part of it; you don't affect it in any way. And the memory is exactly the same every time you look at it: it never changes. It's as though you're completely invisible.'

`Perhaps,' suggested Emrys, `you should decide which of those titles sounds more likely to give us information we need - sort of a shortlist if you will - and then just look at those.'

`Actually,' came Neville's diffident voice, `wouldn't it be best if just Harry, Hermione and Dean dealt with this? And perhaps it'd be even better if tonight they just decided which memories may be relevant - that shortlist - and then view them tomorrow morning after a good night's sleep?'

There was a thoughtful silence as everyone considered Neville's suggestion.

Emrys broke the silence, Verity nodding as Emrys murmured, `Waiting until tomorrow after a good night's sleep is a very sensible suggestion, Neville.'

Verity added, `Surely no harm would be done if you and Ginny wanted to look at the memories as well, Neville. I know I certainly would, if I could,' she finished longingly.

Dean looked at Ginny inquiringly. `Would you like to see, too?' he asked her quietly.

`I would, actually, if that's all right,' she replied.

Dean smiled at her then to Harry and Hermione. `So, the four of us, you agree?'

Harry and Hermione both agreed, then Harry leant forward and directed his question to Esmerelda and Neville. `Do either of you want to view them too? I mean there's really no reason why you shouldn't be included, too, if it's possible.'

Esmerelda smiled and shrugged. `Well, I don't really mind not joining in; I am curious, but then I'm happy to leave this - exploring - to you young ones and hear about it all later at Hogwarts.'

As Esmerelda spoke, Neville was trying desperately to decide whether he should include himself or not. He did want to view the memories with the others, although he couldn't help but feel a little awkward; despite the fact that Hermione appeared not to have noticed anything earlier, he wasn't very confident that she'd missed his expression - he actually thought it was almost impossible for her to have done so. He was also pretty certain he'd been the subject of some discussion during Harry and Hermione's walk. Still, he thought, if she did catch me out, at least she's being decent enough to spare me a lot of embarrassment by ignoring it. Perhaps I should...

`Neville?' Harry's voice broke into his thoughts and Neville shook his head as though to clear it.

`Well, I really would like to be included, if it's no trouble.'

Neville was sure he saw a momentary flash of something he couldn't put a name to in Harry's eyes, but then Harry's lopsided grin was in place and he was saying, `No trouble at all. So, the five of us, tomorrow morning, my flat, if that's okay?'

`What time?' asked Dean.

`Eight o'clock, if that's all right with everyone?' replied Harry.

After everyone assured him that the time was fine, Harry looked at Hermione as he continued, `Now that that's settled, you should know that we'll need to talk to you all about more than the memories and viewing them in the morning. Hermione and I discussed this during our walk -'

`Talk to us about what?' interrupted Dean with an inquisitive frown.

`Well,' said Hermione, `you know about the letter Harry received from the Head Auror, Gawain Robards; it contained some -'

`Unsettling news,' put in Verity.

Hermione nodded, `Yes, very unsettling news. That's what we need to talk to you about - that, and a few other things, too. And we need to put them all in some order so we can explain it at the meeting tomorrow night as well. So if we could get through this list as quickly as possible, Harry and I need to get home and start on the, erm...'

`Summary?' Harry supplied.

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded.

`Summary, it is,' she agreed.

Ginny groaned. `I hate waiting to find out stuff!' she complained.

`I know exactly how you feel, Ginevra,' sniffed Verity.

`Then how about we distract ourselves with the shortlist of the memories?' said Dean, smiling at Ginny who rolled her eyes and returned his smile.

`Excellent suggestion, Dean,' said Verity briskly as she straightened in her chair and looked down at everyone with a reproving frown, although there was an amused twinkle in her eye, `so come on you lot, let's get on with it - we haven't got all night!'

Emrys rolled his eyes then, making everyone laugh before they settled down to their task.

*

Harry came fully awake with a reluctant groan the next morning; he'd first stirred to the feel of Hermione snuggled up to his back, soft and warm and inviting, but as she lifted her head to peer at the clock, what she saw had her exclaim loudly before leaping out of bed, pulling the duvet off him as she did so.

`Hermione! What's the hurry?' he complained, trying to drag the duvet back over himself.

`Harry! It's half past seven! Get up! Now! We've slept in!' The last few words came from the ensuite bathroom, followed by the sound of the shower being turned on.

Crookshanks wandered in as Harry, throwing back the retrieved duvet, got to his feet, stretching and yawning. Looking at Harry, he miaowed in what sounded like a greeting and a query about breakfast rolled into one.

Harry picked his glasses up from the bedside table and put them on, giving Crookshanks a disgruntled look. `We'll be lucky to be fed, you know,' he grumbled, `we're late, and you know what -' he jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom, `- she's like when she's late.'

Giving him a flat look that Harry was certain meant the ginger cat held him personally responsible for this untenable situation, Crookshanks turned and, with an annoyed flick of his tail, walked out of the room.

`I know just how you feel,' he murmured under his breath as he turned and waved his hand to set the pillows to plumping themselves and the duvet to shake itself out.

`Harry? You up?' The sound of Hermione's voice was accompanied by the click of the shower recess door opening and a cloud of steam billowing from the bathroom.

Harry grinned as, with a few large strides, he moved across the room and walked into the steamy ensuite. Hermione squealed as his hands found her and he pulled her to him.

`Harry!' she protested, struggling to keep the towel she'd wrapped around herself in place. `We're late!'

Bending to nuzzle the warm, moist skin of her neck, his hands finding her bare shoulders, Harry murmured, `I'm just saying good morning.'

Hermione moaned softly as she protested, `Harry, please - we can't -'

`“Please?” “We can't?”' His hands slid down her back, taking her towel with them before wrapping his arms around her. `Bit contradictory - sounds to me as if you can't make up your mind.'

Hermione squirmed, reaching up to grasp Harry's shoulders, pushing in an attempt to escape his embrace. She was no match for Harry's strength, however, and found herself pressed against him, very aware of the hardness of his bare chest, the feel of his arms around her and the heat of his lips as they continued their assault on the sensitive skin of her neck.

`Harry, please stop,' gasped Hermione, not sounding at all as though she meant it, her hands now holding tightly onto Harry's shoulder, her head falling back. Then suddenly the exquisite feel of Harry's lips on her skin was gone and he was grinning down at her, his green eyes aglow with equal amounts of desire and amusement.

`Right away, since you said “please”...' he told her.

Hermione was only able to glare at him for a moment before laughing.

`You rat!' she exclaimed, giving him a playful slap on the arm.

Harry kissed her then, long and hard, leaving her breathless. When he lifted his head and looked down at her, he said softly, `Whatever else happens, what do you think about you and I making tomorrow night a night for us? To do whatever we want?'

`Promise?' whispered Hermione.

`Promise,' replied Harry.

Reaching up, Hermione gave him a soft, lingering kiss. `It's a date then. Now, we'd better get moving!'

`And you'd better put something on quick-smart, or I won't be responsible for my actions,' Harry told her with a wicked grin, his eyes roaming hungrily over her.

`You just get in the shower quick-smart and I'll make something for breakfast,' Hermione told him with a grin, quickly picking up her towel and wrapping it around her. She paused in the doorway and smiled at him over her shoulder as her gaze swept him from top to bottom and back again. `And looks as though you'd better make that a cold shower,' she said with a mischievous grin, before darting away from Harry's playful grab for her.

Hermione dressed quickly, then made her way to the kitchen, smiling to herself as she set about making some tea and toast. Once the kettle was set to boil and the toast was cooking, she put some dry food and milk - which she warmed with her wand - in Crookshanks' bowls, giving him a quick pat as she said apologetically, `Sorry Crookshanks, but we're running late this morning.' Giving Hermione a patient, long suffering look, Crookshanks rose from his basket and stretched languorously before moving to eat his breakfast.

The kettle called out, `Boiling hot!' as Harry emerged from the hallway and Hermione dashed back to the kitchen.

`At least I was wrong about breakfast,' Harry told Crookshanks as he bent down to give him a good morning scratch behind the ears.

`What are you talking about?' asked a puzzled Hermione as she quickly buttered some toast.

`Oh, nothing,' said Harry as he joined her and began spreading some jam on the buttered toast.

They hadn't quite finished eating when the faint sound of footsteps and voices and reached them.

Harry waved his hand and the front door swung open, just as Dean appeared in the hallway outside, Ginny right behind him.

`Come in!' called Harry. `We're just finishing breakfast.'

As Dean and Ginny walked in, Neville came into view and followed them, everyone wishing each other good morning, Hermione asking if anyone wanted a cup of tea or toast.

`Thanks Hermione, but I had breakfast at the Burrow,' said Dean, rubbing his stomach with a smug grin.

`He's as bad as Ron,' laughed Ginny, `he ate enough for three! Mum loved it!'

`I'm right too, thanks, and I've already had a couple of cups of tea,' said Neville, laughing at the mock look of deep insult Dean was giving Ginny.

`I wouldn't mind some coffee, though,' said Dean.

`Actually, we'd better get started,' said Hermione, waving her wand to set the kitchen to tidying itself up and picking up a sheaf of parchment sheets from the bench, `so why don't we take our tea with us and make coffee at Harry's?'

They crossed the hall to Harry's flat, Ginny going to the kitchen to make coffee for herself and Dean. Harry took a moment to talk softly with Hedwig, back from her night's hunting, before she tucked her head under her wing to sleep. Hermione, Dean and Neville made themselves comfortable on the u-shaped lounge, Hermione in the middle, Neville on the left arm of the u, Dean on the right.

Once Harry was sitting with Hermione, and Ginny and Dean had their coffee, Dean called for Toby as arranged the previous evening, and the elf appeared with a prompt crack, carrying the box of crystal vials with the Pensieve sitting on top, both wrapped in the same dull, grey cloth. Dean jumped up quickly to help as he noticed the house-elf staggering under the weight of his burden.

`Thanks, Toby,' said Dean, lifting the Pensieve, `we'll put them on the coffee table.'

With a wide smile, Toby said, `Good morning, Master Dean! Toby is very happy to see you again.'

Dean grinned at the cheerful house-elf. `Thank you, Toby, I'm very happy to see you, too.'

Toby carefully unwrapped firstly the Pensieve and then the velvet box, releasing the tarnished silver clasp and opening the lid. The crystal vials within shimmered with the same bright light as they'd done previously.

`Well, that's all we need. Thanks, Toby,' said Dean, pulling a parchment from his pocket. `I'll call you again when we've finished so we can put these back.'

Toby said farewell to everyone before Disapparating, leaving Dean to resume his place beside Ginny, the shortlist of memories they'd worked on the previous night in his hand. Turning to Hermione, Dean said, `Now, Hermione, that summary of yours you told us about last night: you're ready to go?'

Harry smiled to himself at Dean's words; he and Hermione had stayed up for hours after arriving home the previous night - the reason why they'd slept in - making notes for just this moment.

`Before we start,' said Hermione, `we'll need you to sign a special security document which Gawain Robards included with his letter. The Minister has said that everyone who's attending the meeting at Hogwarts tonight is to sign this as a security measure; by doing so, we will all be magically prevented from revealing anything we talk about here this morning or at the meeting tonight, except to others who have signed the same document. Harry and I have already signed it and the Minister has requested we return it to him as soon as possible, so please read it, then sign it -' with a wave of her hand, Hermione indicated the quills and ink she'd earlier placed on the coffee table, `and then pass it back to me.'

Hermione passed the document to Neville, agreeing when he suggested he read it out to save time; he emitted a low whistle when he'd finished reading. `It seems to me that this is more about keeping the information safe, than anything else.'

`Spot on,' Dean agreed, then turned to look at Harry and Hermione who nodded in unison.

`It is,' said Harry, `but it's very necessary at the moment. There are things Hermione is going to tell you that are classified at the highest level by the Ministry, things that could prove dangerous to know. Unless we know that knowledge is secure, we can't afford to pass it on to you.'

Neville, Ginny and Dean all exchanged rather shocked glances.

`Dangerous to know? Seriously?' queried Ginny.

`Only if you fall into unscrupulous hands and they try to pry it out of you,' said Harry with a lopsided grin, endeavouring to lighten the moment.

`Oh,' said Ginny quietly. `But then if they can't get it out of us, what will happen?'

`We don't plan on ever finding that out,' said Hermione quietly, but firmly.

A solemn silence fell as Neville, Dean and Ginny signed the document in turn before it was handed back to Hermione, who smiled at them reassuringly as she sat up straight, reminding Harry of an eager young Hermione at Hogwarts, sitting at her desk.

`Now, so much has happened over the last few weeks and with nearly everyone finding out about all that's been happening from various sources and at different times, it would help to summarise the relevant events before we explore these memories. This really is a rehearsal for the meeting tonight at Hogwarts, and later I'll be adding a rundown on what we find in the memories today. Just for you three, I've made a copy of a letter I thought it best you read for yourselves, if you'd pass these along,' said Hermione, as she handed two rolled sheets of parchment to Harry (who kept one and passed the other to Neville) and then stretched across to hand two to Dean, for himself and Ginny. `Best not to read it just yet, I'll let you know when you should - it'll make more sense if you read it in context,' finished Hermione as she took some folded parchment from her pocket.

When Hermione fell silent, everyone wriggled about in their seats a little to make themselves as comfortable as possible, Ginny lifting her legs and curling them beneath her, Dean stretching his long legs out in front of him, as did Harry and Neville; Hermione unfolded her notes and began to speak once more.

Hermione's Summary

Even though we didn't learn of many of the events I'll be recounting in the order they actually happened, I've done my best to put them in chronological order, which I hope will make it easier to follow. And while some things may not seem relevant at first, everything I'll be telling you has a part, even if only a small one, in the overall story.

So, about three weeks ago now, Harry told me about an Auror named Cleaver who had been injured by a very old curse. The wizard who had cursed Cleaver was known to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had been wanted since before Voldemort's return, but he'd always been too quick and clever to be caught. To the department's surprise, however, they captured him shortly after his attack on Cleaver, finding him drunk and disorientated. After asking me a week later if I'd heard of “the Dark One”, Harry told me that during routine interrogation, this wizard told them the Dark One was “inside his head”, making him do things against his will and had begged to be Obliviated; he also begged to be given enough whisky at night to make him drunk enough so he wouldn't suffer the nightmares he believed were a product of his contact with the Dark One's mind. I did have a vague memory of having seen or heard the name, “the Dark One”, at some point since I'd been working for the department, and after hearing this, I decided to research the Dark One in earnest.

The same night Harry was telling me about this, Ginny was having a meeting over drinks with a work colleague of hers, Oscar Blakely - yes, the murdered wizard - and during this meeting, a friend of Blakely's spotted them and sat with them for a short while. Blakely introduced him as Malcolm Rafferty, although Ginny recognised him straight away; he was, in fact, Draco Malfoy, a wanted Death Eater. Before he left, Malfoy made a comment to the effect that disciples of the Dark One didn't associate with blood traitors - meaning Ginny, of course; here was yet another mention of the Dark One.

The next day, Harry showed me a letter that had been slipped in with a bundle of others he'd received from well-wishers. A copy of that letter is what I've given you, and although you all heard it read out at Hogwarts, I thought it would help if you could read it for yourselves now.

The Disciples of the Dark One are rejoicing for they have at last found the Enemy.

You, Harry Potter, are the Enemy.

You committed an unforgivable act: You vanquished the First Disciple of the Dark One, and in doing so, condemned the Dark One to the Abyss.

Through the devotion of his Disciples, the Dark One has been resurrected, and now retribution can be exacted from you.

We, the Disciples of the Dark One, inform you thus so that when firstly, those close to you die and at the last, you die, you will know at whose hand and why.

Retribution begins.

The rustle of parchment was only the only sound for a minute or two as everyone read the letter, murmuring to themselves quietly as they did so. This letter, as you know, continued Hermione, was the reason you all received that warning from us that you were in danger; it was also the reason for that first meeting at Hogwarts. As Neville, Dean and Ginny finished reading, they looked up at Hermione, their expressions grim, all three speaking at once; Hermione held up her hand to silence them. I know you'd like to talk about it now, but please let me finish, then we can discuss everything; there's a lot to get through. With resigned nods, they all sat back to continue listening.

The next morning, Harry and I came downstairs to Floo to the Ministry, I left first, and afterwards, Verity and Emrys spoke to Harry for the first time, asking him for his help in retrieving a book. We came to know in the course of the next few weeks that this book was in fact the Riley family's Book of Records, entrusted to Verity and Emrys's care by Dean's father, Alexander Riley, during the first war with Voldemort. Esmerelda had found the book hidden in her office and gave it to me; I took it to work and placed it in the department's Armarium for safekeeping. For those of you who don't know, an Armarium is a wizard safe in which you can securely store magical items.

Harry and I spent that day in the library searching for any references to the Dark One and his Disciples, but found very little aside from a mention of a Book of Records, believed to be in the possession of the Riley family, that apparently held first hand accounts of many Dark battles as well as significant information about the Dark One. It was also during that day you all received your letters of warning and an invitation to the meeting at Hogwarts, and I sent a memo to Magical Law Enforcement asking for information on Malfoy, his alter ego, Rafferty, and Oscar Blakely.

That afternoon, Harry left before me, as I wanted to stay and catch up on some of my work I'd neglected to do because of this research. When Harry arrived home, Esmerelda was waiting for him; she seemed rather upset and told Harry she needed to speak to him, asking him to come to her office. She left and it was then that the Leighs - Verity and Emrys - told him they'd spoken to Esmerelda and so they knew that she'd given the book to me. Before following Esmerelda to her office, Harry briefly explained to them that the book was being held in the Armarium and was quite safe. When he joined Esmerelda in her office, she told him the Leighs had earlier spoken to her for the first time; what had really distressed her though, was that they'd told her the book had originally been given to them by a wizard named Alexander Riley. It was then she told Harry that Alexander Riley had murdered her father and had disappeared afterwards, escaping conviction for his crime.

When I arrived home that evening, Emrys and Verity also spoke to me for the first time, telling me they wished the book to be returned to them, as it was their responsibility and had been taken without their permission; they also explained that the Dark Magic Esmerelda had sensed came from the records contained in the book, and that Dark Magic hadn't been used in its' creation.

The next day, Harry and I continued looking for books and parchments that contained references to the Dark One, but after finding yet another mention of Dean's book, we decided to remove it from the Armarium and take a look at it. However, before we could do so, I received an urgent memo saying that Neville was at the Ministry and needed to see me. On the way to Magical Research, Harry and I met up with Professor McGonagall and the Minister who, since they'd come to see us, joined us to go and see Neville. When we arrived at Magical Research, it was to find that someone was impersonating Neville - an unfortunate Muggle named Arthur Fuller, who collapsed and died shortly afterwards. We have no doubts that he was another victim of the Dark One, murdered because he'd failed to kill me.

The sound of quick, indrawn breaths punctuated Hermione's words and she glanced up momentarily in acknowledgement.

It was after this incident that Professor McGonagall strongly suggested we bring the meeting at Hogwarts forward a few days. Harry and I naturally agreed and we then went back to the library, both feeling that it was more important than ever that we find information on the Dark One. After I quickly retrieved the Book of Records from the Armarium, we read a chapter in it titled, “My Family”, written by Alexander Riley, Dean's dad. It was an account of the last few months of his life as an Auror on the run from Voldemort and his Death Eaters; he'd left his family for the sole purpose of keeping them safe, certain the Death Eaters would come after him and leave them alone.

Alexander's last entry was made after Harry had defeated Voldemort, during that time before all the remaining Death Eaters were rounded up, while they were still killing and torturing innocent witches and wizards - and even Muggles - in revenge for Voldemort's destruction. Some Death Eaters had tracked Alexander down here at the Nook, and because he was tired of running and hiding, he decided to fight them. He fought valiantly, but he was outnumbered and as we all know, the Death Eaters allowed a Dementor who had accompanied them to perform the Kiss on him. The Death Eaters left Alexander for dead, not giving a thought to his house-elf, Toby, who took it upon himself to care for his beloved master, keeping him hidden in the cottage in Hewett's Field, here in Ambling Row. And as we now know, Verity and Emrys - Hermione smiled up at the elderly couple, noticing Verity surreptitiously wipe a tear from her cheek - who had befriended Alexander, helped Toby as much as they could in the years since, until Alexander's final death last week. Esmerelda now knows that Alexander was innocent and that her father, Hugo, was murdered by those same Death Eaters that killed Alexander.

That day I also received a reply to my memo from Magical Law Enforcement; it said that Draco Malfoy was still on the wanted wizards list, although his whereabouts were unknown and they knew nothing about a Malcolm Rafferty, nor did they have records for an Oscar Blakely, all of which we both thought was out of character for a department that is normally very thorough. As it turned out, they did know about Malfoy as Rafferty and about Blakely's acquaintance with him. It was just after the meeting at Hogwarts that Blakely was found dead. The department has pieced together what they think may possibly have happened, based on interviews with the people involved, although we'll probably never know for certain. Blakely worked with Ginny at Witch Weekly, and from the beginning, they never really got along. Hermione couldn't help but smile at the sound of Ginny's muted “hmmph!”. They had, however, made a truce, if a rather shaky one; so it appears as though Blakely's final fight with Ginny was actually orchestrated by him, with the specific intention of getting her to quit her job. Now we can only speculate: since Blakely was involved with Malfoy, who we know to be one of the Dark One's Disciples, we believe it's safe to assume that Blakely had been ordered to either kill or kidnap Ginny as part of the Dark One's retribution against Harry. However, we believe he had second thoughts about committing murder, and that's why he engineered that fight; of course, what he didn't realise is that someone like the Dark One wouldn't accept as an excuse the mere fact that the intended victim had quit her job and wasn't as easily accessible. So Blakely was murdered, although we're still not sure by whom.

Of course, the other murder we know of is Colin's. Hermione hesitated; she still felt an awful bleak sadness when she thought of Colin and had no doubt it was the same for everyone else. It was supposed to be Ron that went to lunch that day - Ron that was supposed to die. But as fate would have it, Ron couldn't go and so Colin stood in for him. The Disciple that killed Colin had been ordered to kill Ron. We know this because that Disciple broke Colin's wand and wrapped it in a note, a note that stated plainly Ron had been the intended victim and that next time he would be.

As she paused once more, Hermione felt Harry's hand settle gently for a moment on her shoulder in silent understanding, and after giving him a grateful smile, she continued.

During our second look at the Book of Records the next day, Harry and I actually viewed two of the chapters, a rather intriguing method which Harry tells me is almost identical to viewing a memory in a Pensieve. From these viewings we learnt a number of things, namely that the Duke of Dorset, Edmar, was the first Chosen One in a long, continuing line that ended, if only temporarily, with Voldemort's downfall. What I can now also tell you is that Cynric, the wizard we saw murdered by Edmar, is the earliest known descendant of the Riley family - of Dean's family, and it was his memory we viewed. It was Cynric's brother, Oswyn, who created the Book of Records after his brother's death, with the help of Cynric's widow, Edlyn; a book that has revealed itself to be an invaluable historical source on many levels. But the only history we're interested in right now is that of the Dark One. Oswyn Riley made it his life's work to collect and record as much information as possible on Edmar and his master, the Dark One. Through the Book of Records, he charged his descendants with the responsibility of doing the same in respect to the Dark One and his Chosen Ones.

During one of these viewings, we also learnt of the Dark Realm, through which runs the Dead River, or the River of Shadows as it's also known. This river is connected to the lake within the cave, the cave to which Professor Dumbledore took Harry, believing one of Voldemort's Horcruxes was hidden there. This cave is where, today, the Dark One's disciples reside, where they commune, for the want of a better word, with their master. We have learnt more of what goes on inside that cave, what the Dark One's disciples do, through an exceptionally clever and outstandingly brave Auror who is actually working under cover as a disciple.

Hermione looked up, seeing, as she'd expected, three identical expressions of mingled surprise and intense interest.

What I'm about to tell you next is the main reason for the department requiring us all to sign that security document. It is imperative that this Auror's position and the information he passes on remains completely confidential; his life depends on it and so may ours.

During a meeting with Gawain Robards, an Auror, and two LEOs - Law Enforcement Officers - Harry and I were told about the Department using Malfoy as “guide”, that his movements and contacts provided them with valuable information and even new sources. This was why he was still at large, despite the Department knowing of his whereabouts as well as his pseudonym. However, things changed the night the two LEOs followed Malfoy when he Disapparated to the cave entrance. Hermione looked up and smiled grimly at their sceptical expressions. I know, it's impossible to follow someone when they Disapparate, but the Department does have a way to do so - it's a closely guarded secret. They were only able to follow Malfoy to a certain point though, and weren't able to gain access to the actual cave itself. Nevertheless, his every movement to and from the cave was followed from that time onwards.

It was during this time that Auror D was working undercover on a case and often came across Malfoy. Malfoy made certain boastful claims which Auror D believed warranted further investigation and so he ingratiated himself with Malfoy. He found out about the cave and the disciples - of whom Malfoy was one - disciples who served a master greater than Voldemort, according to Malfoy. The Auror then managed to convince Malfoy to take him to the cave, Malfoy believing Auror D wanted to join the disciples. On his second trip to the cave with Malfoy, Auror D was taken before the First-Disciple-To-Be and was accepted as a Novice Disciple; unfortunately, he wasn't able to identify the First-Disciple-To-Be as he always wore a Cloak of Concealment.

A week after his acceptance as a Novice Disciple, Auror D managed to make a report in person to his Department Head and this is why Gawain Robards wrote to Harry yesterday. The main things Auror D told Robards were that Lucius Malfoy was the First-Disciple-To-Be, that both he and his son, Draco, had been murdered by the Dark One and that a witch named Annice Nott was now the First Disciple. We have no more details at this point, although we feel it's safe to assume that Annice Nott is related to the Death Eater who was present in the graveyard when Voldemort regained his body - in our fourth year at Hogwarts.

Hermione took a deep breath and smiled around at everyone.

That brings us up to date everyone. Her gaze moved to the Pensieve waiting on the coffee table. And now we can only hope that viewing these memories will give us enough information to destroy the Dark One...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Note

Good news - the Thirteenth Interlude and Chapter Twenty Eight are almost “done and dusted” and will be up soon!

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Author's Note

Nothing much of note comes to mind right now dear readers aside from the fact that I'm working diligently on the next chapters Till then! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

THIRTEENTH INTERLUDE

Looking down at the smooth, glass-like surface of the Inferi-infested black water as she floated across it towards the Wall of the Arch, Annice fancied that one of the dead lying just inches beneath the surface looked familiar, its fine-boned, pointed face bringing to mind that wretchedly insignificant Disciple, Draco Malfoy. Whether he'd known it or not, he had led her to her destiny and for that, she could almost feel a little pity for the manner of his death. However, as the shore drew closer, any lingering shred of pity she may have felt vanished along with the staring, misty-eyed visage of Draco Malfoy.

Once through the Arch, she made her way to the Head Disciple's cavern, and entered without knocking on the smoothly sanded wooden door.

At the sight of her, the Head Disciple, a tall, thin middle-aged wizard with sparse, grey hair, immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head.

Annice's full lips curved slightly in gratified satisfaction; her Master had already announced her ascendancy to the Disciples.

Glancing around, she saw what she needed and crossed to a small table from which she picked up an intricately carved silver bowl. The Head Disciple watched as she drew her wand and pointed with it at the bowl, causing it to momentarily glow blue.

I want, she told him, thirteen of the finest duellers and fighters amongst the Disciples to meet me this evening at six. They are to use this Portkey - she held up the bowl - and I will meet them there.

Replacing the bowl, she left the kneeling Disciple and strode purposefully across the Ante-Chamber towards the door, which opened as she approached. The few Disciples she passed were kneeling in supplication facing the Wall of the Arch and did not raise their heads. As she reached the top of the stone steps that lead into the grey, heaving water, a small black boat rose from the depths; she stepped down into the completely dry vessel and sat down. No water entered it from the erratically crashing waves through which it sliced without rocking, quickly reaching the rock from which Annice was able to Disapparate.

As she arrived on the doorstep of her home - an ancient, well-kept manor house not unlike that belonging to her neighbours, the Malfoys - the realisation of what had happened, how much had changed since she'd left only the day before, seemed to explode within her, flooding her with intense joy.

The door opened and she walked in, sparing not even a glance for her house-elf who closed the door behind her. Without turning her head as she walked up the stairs, she simply said, Dinner in the small sitting room in half an hour.

Reaching her bedroom, she crossed and entered the adjoining bathroom, using her wand to fill the bath before disrobing and sinking gratefully into the steaming, fragrant water.

Tonight, she thought, I will prove myself to my beloved Master. Tonight I will give him what he most craves and needs - the death of Harry Potter and his friends. And in full justice, Harry Potter will die in the same place he defied my Master and his Chosen One: Hogwarts.

*

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

In which everyone at the meeting at Hogwarts has to fight for their lives and Harry reveals something he learnt from Voldemort that he never intended for anyone to know about...

Hermione stepped out of the green flames onto the hearthrug in Professor McGonagall's office, Harry following her a few seconds later. The Headmistress of Hogwarts was waiting for them, seated at her desk.

`Please, sit down,' she invited, indicating with a wave of her arm the two armchairs in front of her desk.

`How are you, Professor?' asked Harry and Hermione in unison as they took their seats.

`Immensely curious,' came the smiling reply. `And fortunately, we have a good half an hour before anyone else is due to arrive, so there's time for you to satisfy my curiosity.'

Hermione moved forward to sit on the edge of her seat as she spoke. `Professor, we've learnt so much today, I hardly know where to start!'

`Are we able to tell you?' queried Harry. `The Minister -'

`The Minister has been kind enough to keep me well-informed and he visited me earlier this afternoon so that I could sign the Document of Secrecy. You may both speak freely, Harry.'

Between them, they recounted everything they'd learnt since they'd last spoken to the Professor, including the story of the Riley family Pensieve and of the memories that had been guarded avidly by the house-elf, Toby, finishing with what they had learnt from viewing certain of those memories earlier that day.

`A number of Dean's descendants lost their lives in gathering the information in some of those memories,' Hermione told her, `and we've discovered how it was that Cynric's memory was preserved and included in the Book, despite his murder by Edmar, which normally would have prevented him from being able to save his own memory of that evening: Cynric invented a spell that enabled his wife to share his memory for a set period of time, and it was she who saved the memory which was later put in the Book by her brother-in-law, Oswyn.'

`Oh, my,' commented the Headmistress, sounding somewhat horrified, `that would mean his poor wife shared his last moments - would have felt his death...'

Harry and Hermione nodded solemnly.

`How ghastly for her,' said the Professor faintly.

`But brave,' said Hermione. `It was also from memories preserved by Cynric's wife, the Lady Edlyn, that we learnt of the Curse Tablet. Cynric placed it in the hall of Edmar's home the night he was murdered.'

`Curse Tablet?' queried the Headmistress. `I thought they were relatively useless Muggle contraptions from those times.'

`I think in the main they were,' said Hermione, `but Cynric created a true Curse Tablet using true magic, and from his family's research over many, many generations, we believe that that Curse Tablet has been instrumental in the downfall of each and every Chosen One.'

The elderly Headmistress stared at them across her desk. `Are you saying that this Curse Tablet still exists - that its curse still wields the power to bring about the downfall of this Dark One's new Chosen One, this Annice Nott?'

Harry nodded. `We're certain of it. We're also certain that the Dark One knows nothing of the Curse Tablet, for if he did, he'd have stopped at nothing to find it, after which he would have destroyed it immediately.'

`I don't suppose you happen to know where it is, do you?' asked Professor McGonagall drily.

`Unfortunately, no,' said Hermione with a sigh. `It must have been retrieved after Cynric's death, probably by his brother, and put somewhere for safekeeping. We think that any mention of it, aside from the fact that it exists and was put into force, has been deliberately avoided to keep it safe from discovery.'

`Well, let's hope that its resting place remains unknown,' replied the Professor with feeling. `Does anyone else know of this?'

`Well, aside from Neville, Dean and Ginny who were with us, we had a meeting with the Leighs downstairs at the Nook this afternoon and told them everything, but I put secrecy and impermeable silence wards in place first,' Hermione assured her. `It's just that originally, we'd promised the Leighs to bring their portrait here for this evening's meeting, but since they now know everything we'll be recounting tonight, that's no longer necessary.'

`I see. However, I don't think it's necessary, or wise, to mention the Curse Tablet at the meeting later.'

`We didn't plan to,' said Harry. `The fact that the Tablet's existence is unknown to the Dark One is the best safeguard we have, and the fewer people who know of it, the better.'

`And what about gaining access to this Dark Realm?' asked the Professor.

`As we believed from our earliest readings of the Book,', said Harry grimly, `the lake in the cave used by the Dark One's Disciples is connected to the Dead River which runs through the Dark Realm. We learnt a lot more today from the memories we viewed; it will be necessary for us to enter the cave and pass through the Arch to the lake. We will then have to cross the lake to the island in the middle and from there we will be able to travel to the Dark Realm. Once we are standing on the shores of the River of Shadows in the Dark Realm, we will be able to use the spells set out in the Book to destroy the source of the Dark One.'

A bleak silence settled over them momentarily as Harry finished speaking; it was broken by the soft voice of the occupant of the painting on the wall behind Professor McGonagall.

`And so, Harry, once more your life will be instrumental in saving many others, and yours also, Miss Granger.'

A far more ominous silence followed these words as Professor McGonagall's gaze travelled between Harry and Hermione, back and forth, as she struggled to come to terms with their meaning.

`What does Albus mean?' she asked, not quite managing to keep a tremor from her voice. She continued on without waiting for a reply, her voice dropping to a low whisper, `You don't expect to return, do you?'

Harry and Hermione exchanged a meaningful glance before Harry replied, `We have to face the fact that there is the danger of us being injured, perhaps killed, when we destroy the Dark One.'

` “Us”? Who's going? And “killed”? Surely that's not inevitable!' exclaimed the Headmistress.

`You don't think I'd let him go alone, do you?' asked Hermione with a sceptical half-smile. `And no, being killed is not inevitable -' she said, determination in both her voice and her eyes as she gave Harry a quick glance, `- I intend to do quite a bit of research before we all -'

` “All”? Exactly who is “all”?' demanded the Professor, interrupting. `Miss Weasley, Mr Longbottom and Mr Thomas as well as yourselves, I presume? And how on earth do you all intend to enter this cave without detection, which I'm sure would be necessary in order for you to succeed in not being killed!'

`We will be liaising with the undercover Auror, and with his knowledge and help, we're confident we'll be able to get into the cave, to the lake, and once there -'

Interrupting once more, Professor McGonagall rose to her feet, her voice calm and strong as she spoke. `I believe you should allow the Department's Aurors to take care of this, Harry; they are experts and have been trained for just this sort of thing, over and above your own experience and ability. I see no point in either of you - or anyone else! - risking their lives unnecessarily!'

Harry's reply held a simple, implacable resolve. `We won't be risking our lives unnecessarily, Professor.'

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a long moment before sinking back into her seat with a resigned sigh. `Why am I wasting my breath?' she asked of no one in particular. Then she looked at Harry with a crooked grin. `From past experience, I don't doubt it's quite useless for me to insist you don't go, but won't you at least take some Aurors with you?'

`There will be a contingent of back up Aurors,' Hermione told her. `Once we're through to the Dark Realm, the Dark One will be engaged by us there and the Aurors will then only have to deal with the Disciples. They should have no problems getting past them; some will stay and guard the cave, others will join us in the Dark Realm.'

`At least, that's the plan,' came the amused observation from Dumbledore's portrait.

Harry and Hermione couldn't help but smile up at him as Harry said, `Yes sir, that's the plan.'

With his blue eyes twinkling, Dumbledore replied, `Then let us hope, Harry, that all goes according to plan.'

*

Just after seven thirty, Professor McGonagall led the way down to the Great Hall in grave silence; before leaving her office, she had persisted with her endeavours to have Harry and Hermione change their minds about going into the cave themselves, even whilst she knew it would be to no avail.

The same arrangements were in place for this meeting as had been for the first, and they arrived in the Great Hall a few minutes later to find everyone already seated around the High Table, their myriad conversations creating a quiet murmur that gradually ceased as their presence became known.

As they walked, Harry glanced up at the ceiling, Hermione doing the same when she saw his head tilt back. A deepening blue canopy was permeated with streaks of multicoloured clouds, strewn across the hazy summer sky like a profusion of beautiful silken scarves.

`It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts, A History,' murmured Hermione with a mischievous smile, drawing a burst of laughter from Harry.

As they approached the dais, Harry noticed and pointed out to Hermione the two Aurors and three LEOs they'd last seen at the Ministry the previous week.

`Aside from those Aurors and LEOs, everyone else here tonight was here for the first meeting, except for Colin,' said Hermione quietly as they moved to their left, walking around the table to their seats; the Professor had gone in the opposite direction, stopping briefly to exchange a few words with some of those already seated.

As they sat, Hermione on his right, Harry turned to his left and glanced at the end of the table where Colin had sat last time with Seamus and Neville. `It's a wonder Dennis didn't come tonight, in his place,' murmured Harry.

`Probably because his mum and dad just get too worried, I imagine; especially since he's now travelling 'round for Wizarding World.'

Hermione turned to acknowledge the Minister for Magic, Alcott Brayden, seated on her right, as well as Gawain Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt seated beyond him. Harry smiled as he waved to Hagrid at the end of the table.

Professor McGonagall reached her seat, but remained standing, her resounding, `Good evening, everyone,' quickly bringing an attentive silence. `We have much to get through this evening, so the sooner we start, the better. Miss Granger will address you first with a summary of events which will bring everyone up-to-date with past events and the current situation. Afterwards, we will hear from Mr Potter and Mr Robards with respect to what they have in mind to deal with this situation. Following that, you may ask questions. Let us proceed. Miss Granger?'

Professor McGonagall seated herself as Hermione rose to her feet and after a short greeting, began to read out her summary, only slightly modified from the version she'd recounted earlier that day. Once she'd finished, she announced that Harry would explain what they'd learnt during their viewing of some of the memories that morning.

Harry stood as Hermione took her seat once more, reaching for the glass of cold Gillywater set at her place and draining it gratefully as Harry spoke.

`What we learnt this morning will be invaluable in aiding us to destroy the Dark One. We now have detailed information about the Dark One's cave, the lake it contains and its connection with the River of Shadows and the Dark Realm. A party of us will be entering the cave, then from the island in the middle of the lake, we will travel to the Dark Realm. Some of the memories we viewed also contained a number of spells and incantations necessary for the destruction of the Dark One. We will be studying these further in the next week to ensure we are using them correctly. Now,' he took a deep breath and glanced around the table at the many familiar faces, `I know that many of you will want to be part of this -'

`You're not going anywhere without us, Harry!' cried Fred Weasley, a few seats to Harry's left, leading a surge of similar remarks from all around the table.

Harry's solemn face as he held up both his hands for silence quickly quietened everyone.

`There will be a meeting at the Ministry next week for those of you who wish to help; details will be owled to you all. It is not help we will be short of, we know - and we thank you. The Department's Head Auror, Gawain Robards, will now speak to you about -'

Before Harry could finish, a pearly white transparent wolf bounded into the Great Hall, running straight towards the High Table, its tongue lolling. Before it reached the dais steps, it turned suddenly and leapt onto the Ravenclaw house table. Then it spoke with a voice known to only a few in the room.

`Annice Nott is on her way to Hogwarts with a party of Disciples to kill you all.'

The Patronus then vanished, leaving utter silence in its wake for a few moments before pandemonium broke loose as everyone jumped to their feet, wands out, all calling out at once.

`SILENCE!' roared Kingsley Shacklebolt's magically magnified voice and in the silence that immediately followed, he said to the man beside him, `Gawain, you take it from here. I'll take Cleaver and Rundle and keep watch outside for their approach; we'll notify you by Patronus the instant we see them.'

Robards nodded and immediately spoke out.

`I can vouch for that Patronus - it belongs to the Auror who is working undercover as a Disciple. Therefore, I have no doubt that this is a genuine message. I would prefer that most of you Floo home now as it will be easier for us to fight if we don't have to worry about defending those of you who are untrained. Miss Cloud and Miss Solly,' he pointed to the two witches in question, `you especially should leave as I don't believe you've had any experience in fighting. And Minister, if you would be so kind as to escort Mrs Morley home, before making your own way home.'

The Minister looked as though he was about to protest strongly at this request, until reminded gently by his Head Auror that in accordance with Ministry policy, the Minister for Magic was prohibited from endangering himself in such a manner whilst in office. Nodding his acquiescence with barely concealed indignation, the Minister squared his shoulders and with a tight smile, moved around the table to escort the Head of Magical Research, Hermione's boss, to the ante-chamber, followed by a nervous Lucy and Esmerelda.

Charlie, standing next to his parents, began to suggest that Molly should also Floo home but was quickly silenced by his mother's fierce look; even her husband had refrained from making the same suggestion, knowing it would bring her wrath down on him.

Harry and Hermione, after the initial shock brought on by the Patronus's message, both had the same thought, spoken first by Harry, `How do they know where we are? Who told them?'

Hermione shook her head helplessly, anguish in her voice as she said, `I mustn't have cast strong enough wards this morning, someone overheard -'

`Impossible!' interrupted Harry, then dropped his voice as he said, `It must be someone we know, someone who knows...'

`But Harry - the Document of Secrecy - everyone signed it, no one could have said anything -'

`Unless they didn't sign it.'

Hermione was almost wringing her hands in agitation. `But everyone did - I'm sure that Kingsley and Gawain would have checked - '

`Come on,' said Harry as he took her hand, giving it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze, `we can't worry about it now, we have to get ready to fight.'

They walked together around the table towards where the Head Auror and the three LEOs were standing at the top of the steps; Robards was giving directions and instructions to those now crowded around the bottom step.

`The house tables must go,' said Robards, looking at Professor McGonagall, `if you wouldn't mind attending to that please, Minerva. Then I need you all to split into two teams, one on each side of the room. Annice Nott and the Disciples will have to fly in either through the main entrance and then the doors here, or through the window - or they may split and come from both directions. I want the half of each group closest to the doors to be ready for whoever comes through there, and the other half to watch the windows.'

Harry and Hermione automatically moved to their left, towards where the Gryffindor table had been seconds ago; Professor McGonagall had moved swiftly to Vanish the tables.

Because he had a feeling that this witch, Annice Nott, would prefer making a grand entrance by bursting through the windows, expecting to surprise and frighten everyone seated at the High Table, Harry stayed at the front of the hall; Hermione was beside him, Ron next to her and then the rest of the original Dumbledore's Army members, together with Molly and Arthur and the three LEO's, completed their team. Standing with his wand ready, Harry looked across the empty hall as the other team finished moving into place; Mad-Eye Moody was directly opposite him, a grinning Hagrid beside him, then Robards and the Headmistress, the rest of the Weasleys and Remus and Tonks closest to the doors.

As he was grinning back at Hagrid, a second Patronus in the form of a lynx came bounding in. Harry knew immediately who it belonged to, even before Kingsley's voice echoed through the Great Hall, `There are fourteen of them and they are here.'

*

The Patronus was barely gone when the sound of the great oaken entrance doors slamming open and crashing back against the stone walls reached them; at almost the same instant, the incredible sound of the glass windows imploding into the room reached Harry's ears, followed immediately by numerous shouts of Protego! as everyone sought to prevent the shimmering rain of glass shards from causing harm.

As the shower of glass dropped harmlessly to the floor with a long, drawn out tinkling sound, Harry looked up to see two groups on brooms flying into the Great Hall - one made up of seven black-robed figures who flew through the entrance doors, the other led by a witch in dark, blood-red robes who swooped over the High Table, followed by half a dozen black-robed figures; the instant they realised the element of surprise was not theirs, they flew sharply upwards through the sea of floating candles into the heights of the vaulted ceiling. There, they flew about in sharp, random patterns to avoid the spells and hexes aimed at them from the teams below.

Harry felt a moment's smugness; it was very obvious that Annice Nott had expected to find them utterly unprepared for this attack, although his smugness was short-lived as the red-robed witch quickly rallied all the Disciples; she'd obviously had the foresight to consider this scenario even while she didn't expect it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Kingsley run through the entrance doors with Rundle and Cleaver on his heels, the three wizards moving quickly to their left to swell the ranks of the other team, all the while eyeing the flying figures above them as they took up position next to Remus and Tonks.

`Give yourselves up now!' roared Kingsley, his voice once again magically magnified. Annice Nott's cold, malicious laughter in answer to this demand reminded Harry of Voldemort.

With blinding speed, the Disciples suddenly all flew downwards in thirteen different directions, their curses flying everywhere - crashing into the walls and floor - the counter-curses from those on the ground flying high into the air, some colliding with the great ceiling beams and others appearing to soar into the now almost dark sky.

Harry saw Hagrid's pink umbrella issuing random blitzes around the room, Gawain Robards beside him looking momentarily aghast before he turned back to fighting.

Harry was desperately wishing Annice Nott would fly lower, but she remained above the Disciples who were still circling the hall at great speed, throwing numerous spells in every direction.

Ron, on the other side of Hermione, was yelling at the closest Disciple, encouraging him to get off his broom and fight like a real wizard. His answer was a well aimed Avada Kedavra that had him grabbing Luna and diving to his left to avoid it, almost knocking Neville to the ground.

Harry yelled in triumph as his well-aimed Confringo curse sent one of the Disciples spinning across the other side of the hall into the wall between Bill and Penelope, Percy catching his wife as she stumbled out of the way. Bill leant down and pulled the broom from beneath the unconscious Disciple, leaping on to it and immediately flying at the closest Disciple, knocking him almost off balance and preventing him from sending a killing curse at Charlie and Cordelia who had just thrown a hex at him.

The pace of fighting was so frenetic, Harry couldn't tell whether it had been ten minutes or twenty since the Disciples had first flown into the room. Despite their advantage in being on brooms, inroads were being made into the ranks of the Disciples by virtue of the two team's superior numbers. Harry kept glancing up at Annice Nott, desperately wishing she would join fly lower so that he'd have a chance to take her down, but she remained above the protective layer of Disciples, sending spells and curses down at those below with barely any regard for the safety of the Disciples.

Fred and George were almost halfway along the wall on Harry's side of the hall, and as he moved to one side to avoid a jet of orange light, Harry saw them fighting over the broom of the Disciple they'd just blasted off it. Fred managed to get his leg over first and took off, leaving George swearing mightily at his twin. Harry's gaze followed Fred as he flew across the room in hot pursuit of another Disciple who swept around to his right; the hooded Disciple was so intent on keeping his distance from Fred, he didn't notice he'd flown lower until the tail of his broom was grabbed by a hand the size of a dust-bin lid, which then shook the broom until the Disciple slid off, left hanging onto his broom by one hand. With a triumphant yell, Fred threw a curse at him and with an infuriated yell, the Disciple fell to the ground at Hagrid's feet.

Harry called out to Hagrid to get his attention, then cried Accio broom! The broom slipped from Hagrid's grasp and flew across the room to him. Hermione turned to Harry as he took hold of the broom, and despite the fear in her eyes, she gave him a brave smile and told him to be careful.

`Don't worry,' he told her quickly, his eyes bright as he gazed down at her, `I have everything to live for.'

Harry made straight for the vaulted ceiling where Annice was still circling, sending down curses; she had her back to him but as he rose higher and flew towards her, one of the Disciples yelled and pointed at him and she turned, immediately sending a jet of green light speeding towards him. Harry dodged it easily, but as they continued to throw spells and curses at each other, Harry realised he had his work cut out for him in defeating this witch; he had seen highly experienced Death Eaters and Aurors fight - but Annice was so coldly methodical, so powerful and so fast, that he found himself pushed to the limit of his considerable flying and magical abilities. He dared not even take a second to glance down and make sure that Hermione was still all right.

As they continued to circle around each other, hurling spells and curses as well as dodging the ones from below, Harry kept his eyes on Annice's face - it showed nothing but implacable concentration. As they continued fighting, he felt his fury grow at this woman and her minions who were endangering the lives of everyone dear to him. Impossible as it seemed, the pace of their fighting increased and their eyes locked as they flew towards each other, wands held ready. A slow, cruel smile spread across Annice's face and Harry glared at her, knowing his anger and hatred for her and what she stood for were shining from his eyes.

As they drew closer, he heard her low, sibilant voice, `Harry Potter - at last my Master will be avenged!'

Harry instinctively rolled to his left at the same time as the flash of green light sliced the air where he'd just been. Harry managed a grin when he glimpsed the shocked surprise on her face as he turned sharply and righted himself, flinging his arm around and throwing a curse at her just as she was beginning her turn to face him once more. She was too fast though, and he heard her cry, `Protego!' so that his spell bounced harmlessly off her shield.

As Annice flew towards him once more, her wand raised above her head, her teeth bared, Harry heard Hagrid's agonised yell from below him, drawing his eyes irresistibly down to see his large friend hit one of the Disciples with a deep blue jinx. He could see Professor McGonagall lying at Hagrid's feet - but he could tell whether she was just unconscious or - he couldn't tell, and he didn't have time to dwell on it as horribly familiar green light sped towards him from the wand of the Chosen One; once again his exceptional flying skills combined with his Quidditch-honed reflexes saved his life as he rolled and rose so fast Annice lost him for a second; reflexively she looked down, expecting him to have dropped - and it was only when a hex hit her broom from above, almost throwing her off so that she spun around, barely managing to stay on as she did so, that she looked up - straight at the tip of Harry's wand. The word of the spell was in Harry's mind but before it could take effect something hard and fast collided with him, knocking the breath out of him as it knocked him off his broom.

He heard the horrible sound of Annice's laughter as he fell - then above all the other noise, he heard Hermione's voice cry out the hover charm to break his fall, and in the next breath he was landing unsteadily on his feet, stumbling to catch his balance. There was no time for a thank you or even a glance of gratitude as the Disciple who had deliberately crashed into him sped down towards him, his wand pointing at Harry's heart. In the heartbeat it took for the Disciple to scream, `Avada Kedavra!', Harry saw another flash of green light across the room and Bill leaping in front of Fleur; without another thought, Harry turned on the spot and reappeared beside the Disciple whose broom lay in splinters on the floor, knocking his wand arm upwards and sending the killing curse he'd just thrown at Fleur to crash harmlessly into the wall.

`Thanks, Harry!' cried Bill, `But how the bloody hell did you do that in here?'

Harry grinned and shook his head, although Bill couldn't be sure whether he was indicating he didn't know or that he couldn't take the time to tell him. Harry took a second to look around the Great Hall - there seemed to be as many of their side on brooms now as there were Disciples, Annice still circling high above them all, concentrating her curses on those flying against the Disciples, whilst those below were trying their best to unseat the remaining Disciples without harming their own colleagues.

Harry was still watching Annice as yet another Disciple fell to the floor, courtesy of the Auror, Manny Cleaver. Harry noticed her pause for a second and take in the scene below her. It was obvious she was now fighting a losing battle against superior numbers and as Harry watched, she slashed her wand at George - now in possession of a broom - as he tried to hex her, turning to fly down past him, heading for the broken windows, calling to the Disciples to follow her.

`NO!' roared Harry in frustration, and only because he wanted more than anything to stop this witch, stop her from returning to her Master, stop her from escaping, just stop her - he did something he'd sworn to himself he'd never do: he rose unaided into the air and flew swiftly after the escaping witch.

He heard Hermione's desperately shocked scream of `Harry!' amongst many others as he flew towards Annice - she had almost reached the gaping windows - but Harry was controlled by his determination to stop her, and as she made it to the breach in the windows and flew through, he followed her, Hermione's voice still echoing in his ears...

*

A speechless Hermione stood and stared at the large gap in the window which Harry had just flown through. With no broom! She continued to watch as the six remaining Disciples still on brooms followed him out into the night.

`Oi, Hermione, give us a hand would you?' Ron's voice brought her out of her reverie and she turned, moving immediately to help him with Luna who had a large gash in her arm that he was trying to bandage with a piece of his own shirt he'd ripped off. She was glad of the activity to keep her mind off the ball of fear that seemed to have lodged in her chest and was growing with every second. Fear for Harry.

Luna sank slowly to the floor, assisted by Ron and Hermione, who crouched down on either side of her, still trying to stem the flow of blood and bandage the cut. As their eyes met over Luna's head, Ron waggled his eyebrows and said with a sardonic grin, `Trust Harry to have something like that up his sleeve.'

Hermione's voice was anguished as she replied, `But Ron, how?'

Ron shrugged as they wound the long piece of his shirt around Luna's arm. `Well, Voldemort could do it, couldn't he? Probably a hangover from then.'

Hermione shook her head, frowning. `But that connection with Voldemort - it was destroyed when the Horcrux in Harry was destroyed!'

Ron shrugged again as he tied off the bandage. `Who knows, Hermione? We'll just have to wait and see when we can ask Harry.'

Ron began talking soothingly to Luna and, satisfied that her friend was fine, Hermione stood up and looked around the Great Hall, the ball of fear threatening to engulf her.

There were seven Disciples in the middle of the room, guarded by the two Aurors and three LEOs who were conversing amongst themselves as they watched their prisoners. All the Weasleys were gathered together, Dean with his arm around Ginny, Molly on her other side with Arthur's arm around her shoulders. Most of them had cuts and gashes of various sizes but seemed unharmed otherwise. Kingsley, Robards and Mad-Eye - with a notably unsteady Headmistress holding his arm to remain upright - were standing near the dais with Remus and Tonks, all of them looking around as they spoke. Hagrid, Neville and Seamus were moving around the room, repairing cracks and tidying up the shattered glass.

Hermione, her eyes drawn once more to the window where she's last seen Harry, began to walk towards it, stopping as she approached the group standing near the dais and Kingsley spoke to her.

`Ah, Hermione! Did you know of this ability of Harry's?' he asked.

Hermione shook her head, desperately fighting the tears that had suddenly appeared.

`No? I wonder...'

`Miss Granger,' said Professor McGonagall gently, although her voice held repressed pain, `perhaps you could help move everyone to the ante-chamber so that they can begin Flooing home?'

Hermione nodded and automatically moved away to begin her task, now feeling quite numb. She kept glancing at the high windows, already repaired, her thoughts with Harry. She hoped he'd return soon because she didn't know how long she could keep going without knowing he was all right, knowing that he was safe...

*

As Harry flew after the red-robed witch, he heard her scream her defiance at him as she raced for the Hogwarts boundary and freedom. He kept throwing spells and jinxes at her - but she was flying in a blindingly fast, haphazard pattern, making it impossible to aim accurately. He was managing to close in on her - he saw her white face as she chanced a look back at him and knew she was afraid. Then he was within six feet of her - and she was within six feet of the fence - and even as he flung a last silent curse at her, she passed the boundary and vanished, the echo of her triumphant laughter all that remained.

Harry felt fury explode inside his head at his failure to stop her and roared his frustration to the empty sky. He dropped to the ground just inside the fence and stood, his head hanging in sudden exhaustion, his shoulders drooping with disappointment. He barely noticed the remaining Disciples flying overhead and Disapparating the instant they were outside the Hogwarts boundary.

Worried now for those he'd left behind, he turned and looked back at the castle, but from this distance nothing could be seen. He knew it could be dangerous to Apparate into the Hall - he didn't know whether fighting had ceased or not - as he could land in the middle of a killing curse, so he once again took to the air, resigned to the fact that he would now have to face interrogation from many quarters about his ability to fly, Hermione's not being the least of them. But that would come later. As he neared the Hall, he readied himself to fight once more, but then he saw that the windows were now repaired and felt his heart lighten; they must've have captured the remaining Disciples and were cleaning up! Eager to see everyone again and make sure they were all right, he flew to the great oaken front doors, landing at the bottom of the steps. He was hopeful he'd be a little less noticeable if he simply walked back into the hall...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Note

See you next chapter dear readers!

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