A Strike Upon the Hour by gti88

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Mystery
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 06/08/2007
Last Updated: 04/12/2007
Status: Completed

An affair looms...Hermione cannot stand it any longer...a secret rendez-vous turns into
something more, as passion soars and sparks fly... Disclaimer: Characters - JK, plot - me.




1. Suppressed Frustration
-------------------------



**You liked A Watery Affair? Well…that's yesterday's news…the ride just got better.
;-)**

**A Strike Upon the Hour**

She was lost in thought. Flashes from the last year of the long campaign against Voldemort
engulfed her mind. A dear many people had perished for the Light to triumph in the end. Her, Ron
and Harry had survived. Scarred, but alive.

That was five years ago.

At present, Hermione was frying eggs for breakfast, and awaiting her redheaded husband to come
in the kitchen. Involved in her recollections, only the smell of burnt eggs brought her back to
reality.

She quickly took the pan off the burner. Carefully avoiding the hot metal, she divided the eggs
evenly between two plates, and placed them on the table.

Precisely on cue, Ron's figure appeared in the doorway.

“Morning, Hermy,” he said jovially. She however, despised that abbreviation of her name, and
despite her best efforts, Ron did not stop using it to address her.

“Good morning, love,” she replied, a little sternly.

Once Ron's mind was subjected to the will of his stomach, all else became irrelevant to him,
and Hermione sharp tone did not impress him in the least.

She sat down on the chair opposite, and turned her attention to her own breakfast, occasionally
sparing a disdainful glance towards her husband for his irresolute insensitivity in regard to her
concerns.

Lately, one other person had begun occupying Hermione's mind, and she often caught herself
daydreaming about him, and sometimes, the daydreams pervaded even her sleep.

She flushed a brilliant scarlet each time Ron caught her drifting in her own world, and she
always attributed her reaction to excitement over something she had read. Her believing husband
always smiled knowingly, and remained clueless.

Yet, the urge within Hermione had become more intense with each passing day. She was more
withdrawn in herself, desperately wishing to see Harry and tell him how she felt.

If only the endeavor were as effortless to execute, as was the enthusiasm of the burning desire
welling inside of her. Hermione knew that she could not stand it much longer.

“Hermy?.”

Ron's voice interrupted her consuming thoughts.

“Yes?” she replied blandly.

“Let's take a walk through Diagon Alley today,” he was saying. “Just you and me.”

“A swell idea,” Hermione replied. “When?”

“Right now even,” said Ron. “I don't think there is anything pressing to do today.”

“No, there isn't,” affirmed Hermione, and she left the kitchen to dress in an outfit, more
appropriate for the warm summer day.

**

An hour later, after a needless argument over Crookshanks, Ron and Hermione were walking along
Diagon Alley in a rather awkward silence. Hermione was still miffed at her husband for calling her
favourite kneazle `a useless fleabag', and he was not attempting to apologize, completely
oppositely of what he ought to be doing.

She rather felt it before she saw it a second later. The same green gaze that reduced her clear
and sharp mind to nothing more than an incoherent sum of wild thoughts; it made her tongue freeze,
and her knees turn weak. Automatically, Hermione followed Ron in Harry's direction.

“Hey! Harry!” Ron shouted over the chattering crowd.

The black-haired man turned, as did the woman accompanying him. She had grabbed his arm
possessively, and her challenging gaze met every woman's, whose eyes fell on Harry.

Quite plainly, Harry's companion was his wife, Ginny Weasley. They had committed to
matrimony shortly after the war ended. Still childless, Ginny constantly kept hinting to Harry that
she wanted a larger family, but he was distant and never seemed to acknowledge her requests.

The two couples' paths crossed, and they stopped to exchange the expected pleasantries.

“Hiya, mate,” Harry greeted.

Hermione and Ginny shared a strained `hello'. Harry placed an arm tighter around Ginny.

“So, how are you doing?” he attempted to break the ice.

“Oh, excellent,” Ron replied enthusiastically. “Hermione is great. You know, she cooks the best
breakfast.”

“Really?” Harry's interested gaze turned to her, and Hermione experienced the familiar
swooping sensation when those green eyes met hers; she felt naked, the way he looked at her - so
inquisitively, curiously, passionately even, dare she think it…

“Well, Harry here is amazing,” Ginny's unnaturally loud voice snapped Hermione out of her
reverie. “He is so attentive and thoughtful,” she went on actively.

“Thank you, Gin,” Harry smiled, and kissed his wife.

For a split moment, his eyes flickered towards Hermione, and as sharp as she was, the fact did
not escape her attention.

“Ron is quite the gentleman, too,” she replied with false cheeriness that was hardly detectable;
she kept up a demeanor well. “He compliments me all the time, and I love him for that,” *`as a
friend',* she added in her head.

“Ah, look at the time,” Harry said suddenly, looking at his watch. “Gin and I have to be going -
she wants me to show her a Muggle grocery shop today.”

“Hmm, yes,” Hermione replied. “I'm just dragging Ron away to `Flourish and Blotts'.
There's a new Runes book I wish to purchase”

“Well then, we'll see you two lovebirds later, then,” Ginny said sweetly, and looked
adoringly up at Harry.

“Certainly,” Ron replied brightly. “Have a good day.”

As they passed each other, Hermione's hand brushed Harry's. He didn't notice, but
she inhaled sharply. Already, the mere contact with him sent shivers down her spine…

“Are you feeling alright?” Ron asked in concern.

“Yes, yes I am,” Hermione answered hurriedly. Why couldn't she will her heart to beat
slower?

They went on to visit the bookstore. Ron quickly became bored, and declared rather loudly that
he would wait for her outside. Hermione was glad to agree - she needed some time to herself to
impose at least a remote order to the chaos that were her current thoughts.

She picked up a random book and sat down. Glancing down at the title, *Harry Potter and the
Rise and Fall of You-Know-Who*, Hermione suddenly felt an inexplicable burst of anger. The
source of it was Ginny Weasley.

Hermione threw the book back in its original stack and picked up another one. *The Elder Wand:
Where to Find It and How to Use It*. She laughed derisively. The Elder wand was no more. Harry
had made sure of that. At the front of the store, the clerk gave her a questioning look, as if
internally doubting her client's sanity.

Ginny-bloody-Weasley. She had not contributed to the mission in any way. Hermione did not expect
herself to be mentioned, or even recognized for her efforts in assisting Harry in Voldemort's
defeat. However, flipping near the end of the last book she picked up, the author mentioned that
her dark-haired best friend was the current bearer of the wand, and that he was happily wedded
to…to…she could not force herself to read the hateful name.

Hermione threw the glossy-covered book back on the shelf. She walked around to the next aisle to
find the tome she entered the store for in the first place. *The New and Improved Guide to
Ancient Runes: By Alastor Moody*. The discovery that the late Auror had an advanced
understanding of Hermione's favourite subject was a delightful surprise to her. His notes had
been discovered shortly after the war and published, as specified in his will.

She turned to take the book up to the counter and pay for it. Out of the corner of her eye,
Hermione noticed a slip of parchment falling to the floor. Curious, she bent down to pick it up and
return to the shelf, thinking it might be a price label. She was surprised, however, when she saw
words, written in Harry's hand.

Rising so fast to her feet, that she nearly upset a stack of books beside her, Hermione stared
wide-eyed at the contents of the note. Reading it several times over, the words at last began to
register with her mind.

*Hermione,*

*I need to talk to you about something. Meet me after work tomorrow. It's
important.*

*Love,*

*Harry*

Intrigued, Hermione stifled the note in the pocket of her coat. Her pulse quickened, as she
rushed to pay fifteen galleons for her book, and then bolted out of the front door, right into
Ron.

“Whoa!” he said, straightening up. “What's going on?”

“Life can surprise you,” Hermione replied mysteriously with a wide smile.

Sighing, Ron cast an exasperated look at Hermione.

“Been reading a bit too much, have we?” he said. “Come on,” and he led her away towards the
stone archway at the entrance of Diagon Alley.

Content, Hermione followed her husband. A light feeling had spread all the way to her
fingertips, as the promises of the next day kept her excitement and would most certainly deprive
her of sleep tonight…

**A/N: There is chapter one…the climax shall be reached in the next one, so hold on
tight…;)**

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2. A Strike Upon the Hour
-------------------------



**Alright, the gloves are coming off - this is so explicit, it made me turn red as I was
writing it…hope you do too (but not from embarrassment, hint hint) and enjoy! ;)**

**Disclaimer: JK - HP, plot is mine.**

**Chapter II: A Strike Upon the Hour**

Hermione could not concentrate on her work the following morning. The reports she was assigned
to complete by midday, lay untouched by her coffee cup at the corner of the desk. The note consumed
her mind; it was crumpled in her hand, and she counted the minutes until the end of the day. Alas,
the clock only showed ten in the morning…

She picked up a pen and the first report from the pile.

*The intruder was spotted…*Hermione began to write, but nothing further came to her.

Taking a deep breath, she renewed her effort.

*…was spotted standing…*it was no good.

Hermione dropped the pen and smoothed the crumpled note out on the desk.

*Love,*

*Harry*

Her heart skipped yet another beat as she read those words.

“How's it going, Granger?” came a voice from the doorway, startling her rather badly.

Her boss still addressed her by her maiden name, rather than the acquired familial name of
Weasley.

“Oh, it's going, Mr. Toll, it's going,” she replied mechanically.

“That's what I like to hear,” he replied, and went off down the corridor.

Hermione took one more look at the note, and let off a frustrated breath. She turned her scant
attention to the reports once again, deciding to try another one.

*The arrested was charged with breaking and entering, and will be detained until…*

Where was Harry requesting they meet? The thought suddenly shot through her head. She decided to
try his office after work, and if he was not there…no wait, he had to be there. Harry would never
miss work. He was an Auror, after all.

The author need not mention the foray of doubts racing through Hermione's mind currently. In
another vain effort to calm down, she picked up the third report of the endless stack, and began to
hurriedly copy the words from a memo on the dotted line.

*Presented with a fair trial, and sentenced to twenty years for the sexual assault of a
defenceless witch…*

A large inkblot appeared on the page, as the pen came to a sudden halt and was depressed
unexpectedly strongly against the parchment.

No, this was the last thought Hermione needed at the moment, but she was rendered powerless to
stop it - again. The suggestive six-letter word her hand had scribbled hastily moments before it
inexplicably became the only word that petrified her attention.

All she had imagined about a secret rendez-vous with Harry, leading a hush-hush affair behind
Ron's back, and the possibilities of an encounter with him in a bedroom…

Her breath quickened, and she grasped the armrests of her chair tightly. What was wrong with
her? The typically flawless thought process that was her mind was now nothing more than deadweight
in her head.

Her eyes met the clock. Two-thirty. How did she spend hours in anticipation? Ah, well, time flew
when you were worried sick out of your mind and imagined doing unholy things to your best
friend…behind your other best friend's back, who also happened to be your husband. And Ginny?
How would she take all of this? Hermione did not spend much time giving the redhead an excessive
amount of concern - the matter was not of great importance.

Three o'clock.

The reports were driven entirely out of her head. She was growing more anxious by the
second.

Mr. Toll's voice suddenly echoed through the hall, magically magnified.

“There has been a fire on the fourth floor, and the damage is extensive. Please evacuate the
premises immediately!” he said.

Uncomprehending for a full minute, Hermione finally realized what her boss' words meant.

“Oh! I have to go!”

She picked up her bag and dashed out of the door, towards Harry's office, two floors
above.

Panting, out of breath, and sweating, she skidded to a halt in front of a mahogany door, with
her heart's name engraved on a bronze plaque that sported a lion's head on either end.

The second hand ticked. Her eyes bounced between her wristwatch and the door handle. At last,
she heard shuffling footsteps in the cabinet. They became louder, as the person inside
approached.

The handle turned and her breath hitched. Hermione watched, as the mahogany door swung open and
Harry came out.

“Hermione! Hey,” he greeted her with a sudden smile. “You startled me. Why are you so
disheveled?”

“Oh, hello, Harry,” she stammered a reply. “Me…it doesn't matter. A bunch of tedious reports
got to me. I'm glad to see you though,” she said, looking for signs of recognition in
Harry.

“Well, I'm happy to see you too,” he replied. “Want to go out tonight? I hope you received
my note…”

“Yes!” she practically shouted. “I mean, yes,” Hermione amended herself in a calmer voice. Her
heart was still throbbing though - she was amazed Harry could not see it pulsate.

“Then, let's go,” he said, and touching her lower back, he led her in the direction of the
stairs.

The duo ended up on a muggle street of London, full of quaint cafes, with tables laid out on the
sidewalks and where people were sitting in the cool shade of the umbrellas, talking over a cup of
excellent coffee. In fact, the air did carry a smell of that excellent coffee…

Harry and Hermione sat down at a table, positioned discreetly from the road and the passing
throngs of people, which guaranteed them an adequate sense of privacy.

The waitress eventually came, and they placed their order. She went away to fetch the cups of
cappuccino, and in the meanwhile, the two unhappy friends began talking.

The moment Hermione opened her mouth, she felt as if a great wall was beginning to crumble
within her.

“I can't go on, Harry,” she said. “It's been too long.”

“What can't you go on about, Hermione?”

“Ron - he is making me miserable. He is a good person, don't get me wrong; only, he does not
seem to know me. He isn't sensitive to me as you are - hell, you know me better than he does.
Days go by when he's away at Quidditch games and camps, and every time greater amounts of time
pass between the times I see him,” she ended on a high note, and smacked Harry upside the head when
his lips had formed in a smile on her last words.

She smacked him upside the head. “Why are you laughing!”

“I'm sorry, Hermione,” he said, rubbing the spot where Hermione's hand had made contact.
“I just find it slightly ironic that Ron would place Quidditch above you. He should be more
considerate.”

“Exactly! And why isn't he?” Hermione fumed.

“Sounds to me, he barely spends time with you,” Harry replied thoughtfully, leaning forward and
tracing his chin with his fingers, as most thinkers would do when they were preoccupied by a
particularly challenging thought.

“Exactly!” she said again. “And I want to part ways with him. I've long realized that Ron
and I will be best friends, but now I'm positive that our relationship cannot progress past
that.”

“So? What will you do?” Harry asked.

“I don't know,” Hermione replied dejectedly. “I'll think of something; but one fact is
for certain - I want out.”

“I know,” Harry said.

She did not question him about his last remark. “And what about you?” Hermione said.

“What about me?” he echoed her question.

“Ginny,” she said crossly.

“Ah, her,” Harry said. “Well…” he started, but stopped, and looked at his feet.

“Hm, same story, is it?” Hermione said softly.

“Kind of,” he replied. “She is always away, after she landed a job with Witch Glamour.
Interviews with high-profile people, trips to exotic locations - it's been two weeks since I
saw her last,” he replied with a bitter smile. “I don't think she's happy with me
either.”

For an unfathomable reason, Hermione immediately felt better; Harry's situation was
analogous to her own.

It was a mark of the strength of their friendship that no further words needed to be exchanged.
Neither Harry, nor Hermione, offered advice to each other about modifying their respective
marriages to be more fulfilling. A silent understanding seemed to have been reached, as they slowly
sipped the delicious coffee.

Finally, Harry put his cup down and stretched his back, simultaneously looking around for the
waitress. The evening was beginning to make its presence more prominent, with stars becoming more
visible in the sky, and people already leaving. The sun had nearly set too.

“Hmm, we've been here for hours,” he remarked. “Ready to go?”

“Mm?” Hermione snapped out of her reverie. “Yes, certainly.”

“Well then, m'lady, let us go,” Harry stood up and offered Hermione a hand in a comically
courteous bow.

She took his arm and he left a galleon on the table.

**

They were flying up in the dark sky, and Hermione hung tight to Harry. The Firebolt had
accelerated to its highest possible speed, and fear gripped at her heart, when Harry changed the
height abruptly or performed an unexpected loop in the air. Around them, the stars shone against
the contrasting dark sky and provided a feeble light. The moon, however, was especially bright
tonight.

He had convinced her to fly to a remote beach on a lake, not far away from the outskirts of
London. Hermione was not informed of the particular details around Harry's idea, because he had
insisted on surprising her.

In time, and to Hermione's immense relief, the exhilarating ride concluded, as the broom
landed silently and flawlessly on a sandy beach. It felt very fine and yielding under her feet. She
could hear the waves washing gently ashore; the moon and stars reflected in the near smooth surface
of the lake. A cool breeze was blowing, making Hermione shiver slightly.

Both travelers dismounted. Harry carried the Firebolt away from the water and placed it further
away in the sand, before walking back to Hermione.

Harry embraced her tightly. “I missed you,” he breathed in her ear.

Goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cool breeze traveled over Hermione when she felt his
breath against her neck.

“Believe me, I missed you too,” she whispered back.

He responded with a slight kiss against her lips. Hermione reacted, intensifying the contact
between their lips further. She loved the feeling, and her full being craved for more…

Soon tongues clashed and roamed in a battle for dominance. The passion grew, with each passing
second…

They suddenly parted. For a full moment, Harry looked in Hermione's eyes. He saw a burning
desire - a raw desire even; it was powerful and drew him in effortlessly. Her eyes were
intoxicating…powerless to resist, Harry bent his head back down and his lips, of their own accord,
went to work along Hermione's jaw and neck, dipping lower and lower ever so slowly…

The trails of fire enveloped her completely; time was slowed to an insignificant crawl -
Hermione felt every move, every ministration - she was loose, and could not will even her fingers
to move; like a rag doll, her body and being were entirely Harry's tonight. Little did she
know, that dedication was mutual…

A hand slid under her shirt. The weak impulse of a thought that Ron did not deserve this arose
in the depths of her mind, but was immediately extinguished when the hand in question suddenly
cupped her breast and an enticing, rhythmic, massage began that only caused her to revel in
delicious anticipation. Hermione could feel instinct slowly beginning to dominate her…

Deftly, the shirt was raised above her head, and carelessly thrown aside. All the while
peppering her with kisses, Harry ensured the same fate for her bra. Unclasped and taken off rather
quickly, it joined the shirt seconds later. One could say the situation was becoming more heated by
the minute.

And it was. His left hand was still stroking her breast, and the lips she had dreamt day and
night were currently enticing the erect nipple of her other breast, while another stray hand was
migrating further south…the combined effect was making her involuntarily elicit moans of extreme
satisfaction…

The night was cool, but she was feeling hot - hot enough to melt, that is. Absorbed in the
electrifying sensation coursing through her body, Hermione had no inkling when she had became fully
naked, but was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that Harry's head was now at her center and
doing unspeakable things with his tongue…yes, Hermione felt her whole being was on fire -this
magical night had previously only existed in her dreams…

**

Eloquently put, she was driving him crazy. Crazy to the point of insanity; his head was full of
one word, one person - *Hermione.* The ministrations that were by now exciting her extremely
were not of his conscious; as if his body knew what to do, but it felt right, complete and true -
nothing of the sort had happened with Ginny. She never succeeded in making him feel scared,
intrigued, excited and hesitant all at once, as he was now…*Hermione*, she was…amazing. Even
the word did terrible injustice to the way he was feeling right at the moment.

And then it happened. One smooth thrust, and Hermione was above and beyond; pleasure, comparable
to nothing else. Fulfilled - at last, in the fullest sense. Harry's mind was non-existent, as
instinct was the only guide to him now. Rhythmic repetitions intensified the feeling, as both came
closer and closer, wishing to be one…

A scream tore from her throat as she reached her climax - intense, hot and tingling, her entire
body shaking with the thrills coursing through her, wave after wave…

Harry collapsed against her, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead; Hermione
closed her arms around him, tightly, as if she was afraid he would melt away through her fingers.
Really, she was ensuring this was not a dream, but reality…

**

A cricket chirped from within the trees. Passions had calmed, as Harry and Hermione lay side by
side, watching the stars up in the night sky.

“You can really see them well here,” Harry said.

“It's beautiful,” she replied quietly.

“I know.”

“D'you think we should be going?” Hermione asked.

Harry's gaze fell. “Unfortunately.”

He stood up to retrieve the Firebolt. Hermione, in the meanwhile, continued to sit at the beach,
waiting for him to return. She was growing sadder by the second.

Several minutes later, Harry did return with the Firebolt in hand.

“Let's go,” he said, “or I'll never leave.”

Without further hesitation, Harry mounted the broom, and Hermione climbed behind him. Embracing
him tightly for reasons other than her fear of heights, she felt Harry kick off the ground, and
they shot upwards in the night sky.

Because after tonight, life would drag them back down, and flying away would not be easy.

**A/N Chapter Two, done at last! Hope you liked it, and as always, a review is welcome.**

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3. Fire
-------



**Well, after that sexy encounter, things only get…hotter, shall we say…**

**Chapter III: Fire**

“Ronald!”

The normally serene blonde was breathing heavily and shouting his name in ecstasy over and over.
The redhead in question was quite preoccupied, however, rhythmically taking her to new heights with
each passing minute.

That afternoon, the Cannons had secured an important victory over Puddlemere United, that sent
the team in the runner up position, which gave them a shot at the top spot for the season. To
celebrate, the players were rewarded with a three-day holiday to do as they pleased. As a result,
downing generous amounts of firewhiskey was the chosen activity for tonight.

The rowdy bar, at which the occasion had taken place, was also where Ron Weasley, the player of
the match, crossed paths with Luna Lovegood. What she was doing in a bar full of drunken men was a
detail that had escaped him a long time ago. From word to word, and from toast to toast, they had
mysteriously ended up in one of the rooms the bar offered to travelers, and the particulars around
that event were also quite foggy in Ron's head. Currently, however, everything in the world
felt right - right now, Luna Lovegood was his.

**

Harry woke up, feeling rather more tired than he usually did in the mornings. For a moment, he
stared blankly in a daze at the opposite wall of his bedroom, in an attempt to remember the events
of the previous night.

And recall them, he did.

Hermione.

The mere thought sent shivers down his spine. He had, to put it simply, been unfaithful in his
marriage for the first time in five years. Oddly enough, however, he didn't feel remorse, not
even guilt.

Harry

Someone knocked on the door. Startled, Harry jumped, and rushed to see who the newcomer was. He
nearly tripped over a chair, as he was passing through the kitchen.

Ginny was standing at the front door, appearing to be really tired and agitated. As soon as
Harry opened the entryway to their flat, she walked in haughtily, without even a sideways glance at
him.

“Hey,” Harry attempted a nervous greeting.

“Don't talk to me right now,” his wife snarled in return. “Draco!”

The sleek figure of Harry's arch-nemesis from Hogwarts appeared in the doorway.

“Malfoy!” Harry was outraged, all sleepiness evaporating in a second. “He's not coming in
this flat!”

“Oh, step aside, Harry,” Ginny pushed him against the wall to let the newcomer in.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, confused and angry.

She paused for a second. “You better sit down, Harry.”

“Bad news, I take it,” he replied icily.

“In a way,” Ginny nodded curtly.

“Don't weave useless stories, Ginny. Tell it to me directly, “Harry said.

“Are you sure? I mean, I don't know - “

“Ginny,” Harry's tone of disappointment ceased her ramble immediately.

She took a deep breath. “Draco and I are involved romantically.”

Indifference. Disappointment. These words fully described Harry's feelings about Ginny's
revelation. Her long absences between the rare times he saw her fueled his suspicions, and now they
were confirmed.

A bitter smile appeared on Harry's face, and Ginny looked on apprehensively.

“Quite alright,” he said forcefully. “Then this is where we part ways.”

“You aren't mad?” Ginny asked disbelievingly.

“Of course I am,” he replied. “But for now, take him and go.”

“Hopefully we can still talk…” Ginny ventured, testing Harry's already thin patience
further.

His self-control was waning. “Maybe. Now, please, get out of my sight,” he added in a deadly
quiet.

Wise to avoid the worst of Harry's anger, Draco and Ginny hurriedly made their way out the
front door.

“Oh, and Malfoy,” Harry called after them. The blond enemy turned. “Fuck you,” he said.

“Go to hell, Potter,” came the reply that concluded any further exchanges in the more than
awkward situation.

Harry closed the door behind him, and walked into the kitchen, where the steaming pot of coffee
he made earlier was now waiting for him.

Life was full of surprises. It was not everyday that one's wife walked in, declaring she had
started a successful affair - of course, he was no less innocent. Only, he wouldn't reveal it
to Ginny yet. Certainly, he was eager to begin the divorce proceedings, and hopefully, they would
end successfully.

But Draco Malfoy? Regardless of the fact that he had been on the Light's side during the
war, he was still a cold-blooded bastard. The thought that Ginny would choose him over someone
else, someone better, was truly appalling…but then, Harry reminded himself that he couldn't
really hold an opinion in the matter of Ginny's choice, because he was the one being chucked
out…

Hermione was his other dilemma at the moment. Harry knew Ron was very temperamental, and he
would not take kindly to the knowledge that his best friend had taken his wife out for an
unforgettable night. Frankly, this worry became the more distressing priority with time; Ron would
not be away forever.

**

They were walking around the room; Luna was outraged for the last half hour, and her anger had
reduced Ron to nothing more than a blubbering mess.

“You're what!” Luna was shocked.

“Married,” Ron repeated sheepishly.

“And you didn't tell me!” Luna kept steaming. “You know, you deserve a really sound pounding
right now…”

“Yes, yes I know…” he started to defend himself, but it was too late. A loud slap resounded, as
Luna's palm made contact with Ron's face.

The impact nearly threw him off his feet. Straightening back up, with his cheek throbbing
painfully, Ron looked defiantly at Luna.

“Look, let me explain,” he said. “I'm not sure about my marriage anymore. Hermione, she
is…different.”

“Different?” Luna asked, more calmly, despite her hard gaze and set jaw.

“Yeah…she's been more distant and snappish every time I see her. But then, I see her only
about once every two weeks.”

“Well, there is your reason,” Luna replied harshly. “You aren't exactly a great
husband.”

“No, I'm not,” agreed Ron. “But I don't think that's because of me. Hermione and I
have never exactly seen eye to eye. Because I see her more and more rarely, each time there is a
more violent argument between us; but to be honest, I'm not prepared to give up my Quidditch
career either.”

“So what will you do?” Luna asked again. There was a glimmer of something else in her eyes that
Ron noticed…was it hope?

“I don't know for now,” he replied heavily, “but divorce I'm certainly considering.”

“If you ever want to talk to me,” Luna told him softly, “here.”

She handed him a slip of parchment, onto which her address was written.

“Thanks,” the redhead said. “I may need this sometime in the future…”

“Certainly,” she answered forcefully, “and I have to be going for now. Hopefully I'll see
you soon.”

“Yeah, definitely,” came the reply.

Luna opened the door, and with one last glance at Ron, closed it behind her.

Ron was truly baffled. Yes, he felt ashamed that he had betrayed Hermione's trust. There was
absolutely no doubt that his antics of the previous night would not sit well with her, once she
understood the reality of the situation; and knowing Hermione, her cunning mind would be quick in
providing crystal clarity to the details.

Yet, the nagging feeling that he had made a mistake in marrying Hermione overwhelmed Ron. Guilt
rattled him at the thought, but suppressing it would not be a resolution. He knew Luna would
consume his thoughts every waking hour. In fact, the desire to meet with her again soon, burned
within.

There was, however, still the problem of telling Hermione the events of the previous night.
Perhaps, Ron thought, if he consulted with Harry on the best coarse of action would be a sound
first step. Immediately approving of the idea, Ron planned to pay his best friend a visit the
following day.

**

Harry was busily writing a letter to the head of the Auror department, in an attempt to secure a
few days' break, in order to begin piecing his life back together and deciding how to handle
the precarious and unpredictable prospect of admitting to Ron about his sexual encounter with
Hermione. Hastily scribbling the last few lines of the rather vague and generalized letter, Harry
took the owl from its perch next to his desk, and sent it out the door with his instructions.

Several hours followed, during which Harry found the task of focusing on his work too
challenging to overcome. He decided to seek a conversation with Hermione, who worked a few floors
below.

Standing up, he heavily walked out in the corridor, and in the direction of the lifts. During
the time he waited for the doors, ideas, each more feeble than the last, chased each other around
his mind, in regard to bringing up the topic that intrigued him, but simultaneously, found
undesirable to discuss.

The doors opened again on Herminone's floor. Harry stepped out uncertainly, and deliberately
walked as slowly as possible to her door; his determination to talk to Hermione was not in
agreement with his will, which kept trying to convince him to turn back.

A light knock sounded on her door. Looking up from the deeply boring regulations book that was
currently occupying her time, Hermione called for the person outside to enter.

She was not mildly surprised, when the answer to her fantasies walked in the cabinet. He was
awkwardly standing, looking down at his shoes, evidently nervous about something.

“Harry?” Hermione managed to recover her voice ability first.

“Hey,” he said quickly. “Hermione…”

However, his voice betrayed him again.

“Are you alright, Harry? Has anything happened?” she asked with growing concern.

“Well, of course,” Harry answered. “You and me just slept together a fortnight ago. I don't
think that's a light matter, especially when we're both married…or were…”

“Were?”

“Well, we are still bound legally, but…” Harry paused. “But that's not important right now.
Has there been word from Ron?”

Hermione's eyes suddenly became downcast.

“Yes,” she said solemnly. “I received an owl from him earlier today. He's coming back
tomorrow.”

“Great,” Harry spat under his breath, as the prospects of the inevitable confrontation were
appearing more and more bleak as the hour of the meeting approached.

Keeping the secret would not be an option for long. The knowledge tormented both Harry and
Hermione, and their preoccupation with it would not be unnoticed by their friends. A decisive plan
was needed.

“Who should break the news to him?” Harry asked, but unexpectedly continued. “No, it should be
me…it's my fault after all…”

“No, Harry, it is not your fault,” Hermione corrected him calmly. “I was willing, and so were
you - otherwise I could have stopped you.”

“Without a doubt,” Harry reaffirmed with a slight smile. “But that does not solve the issue at
hand.”

“Then we both do it,” she said with a hint of finality in her voice.

“You do realize this could mean he hates us both for the rest of his life,” Harry replied
warningly. “An event of this magnitude would traumatize him, and any effort at reconciliation would
be in vain.”

Hermione had considered Harry's point previously, and quite well too.

“I know,” she said heavily, “but I cannot continue like this, Harry. My future includes you in
it, and that is what is worth most to me.”

Harry paused to let the words sink in. He fully appreciated Hermione's admission, because
the feeling was mutual between them.

“Fine then. We'll tell him, but not right away…”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, “not right away. But then, how would Ginny take it? Ron is bound to tell
her, and she is more dangerous than he is.”

“That isn't important as of the moment, Hermione,” Harry told her severely.

She did not pursue the subject, sensing the bitterness and anger burning in Harry's eyes
when she looked into them.

He bid her farewell, and walked outside in the corridor, consumed by his own thoughts, not even
pausing to reply to the enthusiastic greeting of an esteemed colleague that had been promoted to a
rookie Auror only the previous day.

For pretending normalcy was not going to be an easy task to accomplish, because the passion that
had been ignited, would not be extinguished as it only became increasingly powerful…

**A/N This is without a doubt the most complicated plot I've ever attempted…'twill be
interesting to see how it plays out, because it's never been so tangled and confused from the
beginning…but believe me, I'm really enjoying writing this story…**

-->



4. Until the Sun Sets
---------------------



**Disclaimer: I don't own HP**.

**And here we are to chapter four…the anticipation keeps building but I foresee an eventual
resolution…and one more thing, a big thank you to all the nice people who reviewed.**

**Chapter IV: Until the Sun Sets**

They walked along in silence. Ginny felt her emotions swell and die in an endless cycle. Was she
right? Did she make a mistake?

“Are you alright?” came his quiet, concerned voice.

“Yes, yes…” she replied distantly.

No.

She had created a complexity that could have a disastrous solution. Telling Harry so abruptly
was not something she had planned; especially in the presence of someone he did not hold in high
regard.

A deep sigh escaped her. If only she could persuade Harry to listen to her explanation. Then she
would tell him the entirety of her story - meeting Draco Malfoy in a coffee shop one day, the
frequent late-night encounters, and her growing desire to be with him instead.

`Twas a feat, not easily reachable; Harry was probably unwilling to ever see, let alone talk to
her again. She, however, always valued his friendship, despite the distance that had always seemed
to separate them and not permit for romance to fully develop - the reason the last five years of
her life she pretended happiness, as she slowly grew to realize that Harry Potter was not the
person she desired to end her days with; it was Draco.

She raised her gaze to meet the setting sun on the horizon…an end, usually, also meant a new
beginning…

A strong arm snaked around her and held her tightly. She sank willingly in the warm embrace,
hoping, for tomorrow would be a new day.

**

Ron walked up the steps, his feet feeling heavier with every step. At length, he arrived at the
front door of the flat that belonged to Harry and Ginny. With a firm fist, he knocked to announce
his presence.

The shuffling of footsteps, a slide of a lock, and the door opened. A grim-looking Harry stood
in front of him, and he noticed his outlook becoming even worse.

“Hiya, mate,” said Ron jovially. “Long time no see…how's life?”

“Aye, don't ask…” replied his best friend. “Come on in.”

Cautiously stepping inside, Ron made his way in the living room to his customary seat.

“So?” he asked.

“What?” came the indifferent reply.

“You, Ginny,” Ron ventured. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, that,” Harry smiled bitterly. “We're through.”

The simplicity of Harry's response left Ron uncomprehending for nearly an entire minute.

“Through?” he repeated faintly.

“Yes, Ron. I'm filing for divorce as of tomorrow.”

“But why!” the redhead jumped up in shock. “You're the perfect couple, from any
perspective!”

“Yeah, well…”

“What happened?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry said simply. “She's been sneaking behind my back with him for a
while…I had my suspicions, but seeing them confirmed…” Harry didn't finish.

“Malfoy! That bloody prat!”

Ron's angry outburst and select choice of vulgarities repeated over and over did not
surprise Harry in the slightest. However, he decided to guide Ron away from that topic, and press
him for the reason of his visit -for he did not come without one, Harry was confident.

When at last Ron calmed, Harry looked at him questioningly.

“What,” asked the puzzled redhead.

“Enough of the drama in my life, Ron,” said Harry rather directly. “What's on your
mind?”

His best friend gulped, and took a deep breath.

“Hermione,” he said slowly, and looked at Harry pointedly.

“What about her?”

“Well, it's a bit difficult to explain, see,” he took another deep breath. “I…well, me and
the team, we won against Puddlemere United, and then we decided to celebrate the victory…”

Ron's voice faltered.

“I think I see where this is going,” said Harry.

“You do!” Ron's panicked reply came. He was nervous, waiting on tenterhooks for Harry's
response.

“What is her name?” he asked casually, as if they were discussing a topic as bland as the
weather.

“It's ah…Luna Lovegood.”

Harry remained thoughtful for a moment. Helping Ron out of his predicament currently, could mean
that he could reveal his secret at a more acceptable time, when the strong feelings, about to
erupt, would settle.

“Then how can we tell Hermione?” asked Harry.

“I don't know, mate,” said Ron desperately. “It's been tormenting me for the past
fortnight. I do not have the courage, or the will, to confront Hemione. I need your help.”

“Alright then, but I can tell you right now, that she will not be happy…let me talk to her alone
first, and then, perhaps, she will be inclined to accept your explanation…”

“Harry, if you do that, I'll be grateful to the grave,” Ron's elated tone sounded.

“No worries, mate - `s what best friends are for.”

“Thanks!”

Taking this moment to be the cue when he should leave, Ron voiced his parting greetings to
Harry, thanked him again, and left the flat, hoping against hope that his best friend would be able
to reconcile him with Hermione when he admitted the awful secret to her.

**

As Hermione was preparing to depart for a bite of lunch, she noticed an owl swoop in her office,
and land heavily on the surface of the desk. In its talons was clutched a folded piece of
parchment.

Hermione walked over to the owl, and quickly recognized Harry's handwriting on the back of
the envelope. She took the letter, and the owl flew away into the corridor. Opening the parchment
hastily, she read the contents twice over rapidly to grasp Harry's meaning.

*Hermione,*

*I have something of great importance to tell you - Ron came to see me yesterday, and he
brought news that are at best, bittersweet. It's too risky to talk about it in a letter, but if
you meet me at the Leaky Cauldron after work, I will relay everything to you.*

*Yours,*

*Harry*

*P.S. I love you.*

Hermione calmed enough to think. She did not know what Ron had told Harry. Earlier that day, Ron
had requested of her to spend the evening and the following day together, as he was required to
depart with his team for a tournament in Scotland the next day.

Deciding to explain her unexpected absence with added pressure from work, Hermione returned to
her lunch commitment, and departed towards the baker's eatery on the opposite side of the
street.

In the meanwhile, one Harry Potter was rather restless as well. After writing the note to
Hermione, he spent hour after hour devising an appropriate means of telling Hermione - he was not
fully aware of how she would take Ron's news.

That, however, was not the sole complication. There was a possibility of using Ron's affair
as a means to support Hermione's case for divorce, which he had no doubt she would desire.

On the other hand, the proceedings between him and Ginny would begin quite easily. He had
received no communication from her ever since the unpleasant encounter between them and her
admission of romance with Draco Malfoy. Yet, he felt the need to talk with her, before attempting
actions that he could quite possibly later regret.

A sudden idea occurred to him. Calling out to the secretary in the next room, Harry requested
for one of the Auror trainees to be summoned to him.

At length, a young fellow, no more than nineteen years old, entered Harry's cabinet.

“You sent for me, sir?” he rapped out, as if by script.

“Yes, Brenton, I did. There is an assignment I think will be beneficial for you to complete as
part of your training,” Harry said quite seriously.

“Ready for service, sir!”

“Well then. There is a woman, by the name of Ginevra Potter, whose last name is a mere
coincidence with mine,” said Harry when the trainee showed signs of wishing to inquire on the
similarity. “You are to locate her whereabouts and track her movement. Do not make your presence
known, and all reports are to be submitted directly to me. Understood?”

“Yessir!”

“Any questions?”

“No sir.”

“Then you're dismissed and ordered to begin immediately.”

The young Auror turned and left the room. Harry sat back in his chair to contemplate what he
would say to Ginny once she was located. He doubted she would contact him, and in that
circumstance, he chose to rely upon his resources to establish the communication.

**

Hermione sat at a table in the Leaky Cauldron. She was restless, checking her watch often and
looking around for Harry's appearance. The bar itself was nearly empty; two ancient warlocks
were sitting in one corner, obscured by the smoke of the pipes they inhaled from, and absorbed in a
quiet conversation. With their exception, and that of Tom, the old barman, the establishment was
empty.

At last, Harry's silhouette became visible in the doorway. In her relief, Hermione released
a breath she had been holding from the anxiety coursing through her mere moments before.

After a short huddle with the barman, Harry came to Hermione, holding two butterbeers.

He took a chair opposite hers, and gave her one glass.

She took a sip, and looked expectantly at her companion.

“Hermione,” he began tentatively, “I see you received my note.”

“Hmm, I did,” she affirmed.

“In that case, I don't think there is a need to stall,” Harry continued more confidently.
“Look, Hermione, this may come as an unpleasant surprise, but Ron came to me yesterday, before he
went to see you.”

“What did he ask of you?”

“Well, the other night, or the day before he came back, the Cannons beat Puddlemere, and he went
to celebrate, and that night, he also met Luna Lovegood…”

“I see.”

Hermione's voice was cool, but her gaze had also hardened considerably. Harry felt a pang of
fear.

“And I was thinking today…” he went on. “Since we also shagged behind his back, I think it would
be fair we admitted it, and consider divorce in this situation; and you said you have reasons to
divorce Ron, separate from the fact that he was doing bed acrobatics with Luna…”

A thoughtful expression had set itself over Hermione's face.

“I don't know, Harry,” she replied. “I don't believe that admitting about the night we
spent together is a good step at this stage.”

“Then how would you confront Ron with a guilty conscience?”

Hermione's expression only became grimmer at his words.

“I will just say that I forgive him, but I want a divorce still,” she said unconvincingly.

“Yeah, and he'll believe you when you say that,” Harry replied. “Without the affair, he
might as well find your arguments too weak.”

“That is exactly what I'm afraid of, and I want Ron and I to remain friends.”

“Then, as I said previously, we both need to talk to him,” Hermione said rather sternly.

Finding no proper argument for Hermione's statement, Harry took a sip of his butterbeer, and
sank into thought once again. Inexplicably, he knew tomorrow would not be a good day.

**

*Dear Luna,*

*How are you?*

*I'll be telling Hermione tomorrow of our little escapade, and as much as I do not look
forward to doing it, I have to. Harry will be on my side, and hopefully, I will be able to proceed
with a divorce. Hermione deserves a better man, and I am not he.*

*All my love,*

*Ron.*

Luna read the letter again. The small glimmer of hope she felt since their last encounter only
became more powerful. She and Ron had communicated in this manner all of the previous year, and she
had kept the stack secretly. This letter was soon going to join it, but not before she had written
a reply.

Taking a spare piece of parchment and an eagle feather quill, Luna thought for a minute, and
then began to write, in the hope that all would turn out well.

*Dear Ron,*

*I am well, and I hope you are too.*

*You made a mistake, and now it's time to fix it. I wish you the best of luck.*

*Love,*

*Luna*

*Her heart had suddenly begun to pound, as she attached the letter to her owl. Why was she so
nervous? Similarly to her anxious companion, she was anticipating a successful outcome of the
process, and that she and Ron would finally be together, without worries and difficulties impeding
their relationship.*

*Casting the owl through the window, she watched it fly away in the dark sky, carrying her
heart and hope to the one she so desperately loved.*

**A/N Yeah, yeah…cheesy ending I know, but I was out of ideas…stay tuned for chapter five,
because it is coming up…as soon as I figure it out.**

-->



5. In the Heat of the Day
-------------------------



**Disclaimer: I don't own HP**

**Ever done it at the office? Come on now, don't be shy, we know you did ;)**

**In that case, let the sparks fly…favourite couple's going at it again…**

**Chapter Five: In the Heat of the Day**

“Mr. Potter?”

Harry snapped out of the brief trance that had overtaken his senses?

“Yes?” he asked.

“If you could please place your signature on the line here,” directed the clerk behind the
desk.

“Oh, right,” Harry conformed and quickly signed the form at the bottom.

“Excellent,” replied the clerk with a rather fixed smile. “The divorce hearing will take place
exactly one week from today.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiled.

“Quite welcome,” she replied. “Have a good day now.”

“I certainly will,” he said. “And you do too.”

His heart feeling inexplicably lighter, Harry walked out into the corridor, and back towards his
office. Suddenly, the afternoon's work seemed much more pleasant and bearable, compared with
his original opinion of it, when he came in the morning.

Yet, a surprise was awaiting him at the front door of his headquarters. Not expecting to see him
so soon, the rookie Auror Harry had instructed to follow Ginny, was standing, nervous and anxious,
in front of the door.

“Sir!”

“Brenton? What are you doing here?” Harry was puzzled.

“The reports, sir,” explained the Auror.

“Ah, yes. So soon?” he inquired further.

“Well, sir, the job was not terribly difficult.”

“Alright then. Come on in, and let me hear what you have uncovered,” said Harry and opened the
door; the young Auror followed closely behind.

Harry took the chair behind his desk, and motioned to his visitor to start speaking.

“Well, sir,” he began, “Ginevra Potter was spotted entering London yesterday evening. She
remained for one night at a flat, located on Grimmauld Place - number eleven, or thirteen, we could
not determine, and this morning, her route took her to Diagon Alley. As of this minute, she has
entered the Ministry premises.”

Perusing the full account of Ginny's movement, Harry was suddenly alerted to the sound of
the buzzer that sat on his desk.

“Mr. Potter,” sounded the cool, disembodied voice of a female. “There is a visitor here to see
you.”

“Who is it?” Harry asked with a slight edge.

“The person identifies herself as Ginny Potter,” said the voice again.

“Alright, admit her in,” Harry commanded, somewhat angrily. “Brenton, you are dismissed. Thank
you for your help.”

“Yessir!”

The rookie stood up and exited the office.

Harry's temper, however, had flared again. Wondering why he accepted to see Ginny, he
waited, seething, for her appearance.

Not five minutes had elapsed since he approved the visit, and there was a hesitant knock on the
door.

“Enter!” he said authoritatively.

The door opened yet again, and in walked the fiery redhead, who had so unceremoniously dismissed
him, much like a dirty rag.

“Ginny,” Harry observed coldly.

“Hello, Harry,” Ginny replied, trying to sound as careless as possible, but the nervous note in
her voice was noticeable. “How are you?”

“That's not important,” he snapped. “Why are you here?”

“Had to talk to you,” she answered quietly.

“Yeah? Did you now,” he challenged her sharply.

“As a matter of fact, yes!” Ginny's voice grew stronger.

“Don't take that tone with me,” Harry raised his voice an octave in return.

“Who, in the hell, are you, to tell me what to do?” Ginny practically screamed. Her hand slammed
the desk as she said this.

“I'm the guy, who is divorcing you. Next week, honey!” he shouted.

An unexpected silence followed those words. Harry was breathing heavily, and Ginny could only
manage to stare in shock. The clock on the wall could be heard, ticking off the seconds

“Divorcing me?” she repeated faintly.

“That's right,” Harry responded firmly.

“But don't you love me?” Ginny pleaded, or at least, made a weak attempt to do so.

“Don't patronize me, Ginny,” he immediately strangled her answer. “You said you were in love
with that worthless git, Malfoy. What could you possibly need me for?”

“He is most definitely not worthless!” the redhead flared up once again.

“Really? And what exactly does Malfoy offer you,” Harry said, unable to keep the sarcasm from
his voice.

Ginny fixed him with an exceptionally cold stare.

“Everything you didn't,” she told him icily.

Those words immediately wiped the sarcastic smirk from Harry's face.

“I see,” he observed, calmly looking into Ginny's still fervent gaze.

“Well?” she prompted him.

“Well what?” Harry asked.

“Aren't you going to admit it?”

Harry had become, similarly to the reader, utterly confused. “Admit what?!”

“Oh, don't pretend you aren't aware of what I am talking about, Harry,” Ginny continued
on scathingly. “D'you honestly think I'm the only one guilty here? That you're
innocent.”

“Ginny, what are you on about?” Harry inquired nervously.

Inexplicably, he thought he understood to what she was referring; that night…

“The moonlight beach,” she declared loudly. “I saw you Harry, becoming quite intimaete with
Hermione that night…”

An involuntary smile had flitted across Harry's features when his mind recalled the night in
question; yet, the smile was brief, lasting no more than a moment - unfortunately, plenty long for
Ginny to notice.

“How dare you smile!” she chastised him once again; Harry's face had immediately returned to
its stony demeanor.

“I…are you certain it was me?” he tried a lame excuse

“Positively,” Ginny replied. “And why did you do it?”

“Perhaps for the same reasons you shagged Malfoy behind my back,” Harry took on his own
accusatory tone.

“Oh, and what would those reasons exactly be?” Ginny said challengingly.

Harry leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. A sigh escaped him, and he raised himself
from his chair. Walking around to the front, he leaned on the desk, and looked down at Ginny; she
was not sure - was it sorrow, regret, perhaps frustration, he was trying to communicate?

“Ginny,” he said heavily. “I think it is time we have a long overdue talk.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked in confusion.

On the contrary, Ginny was very well informed of what Harry was going to say.

“Us,” her husband continued. “Our relationship.”

“Hmm,” she acknowledged quietly. “What about it?”

“Everything, Ginny,” Harry answered softly. “It's over between us.”

She found herself silently agreeing to his statement. “What happened?”

“Five years of miscommunication,” he said. “You were away for long periods, and I sat, waiting
for you. Well…I suppose I just grew tired of waiting.”

“Our careers,” Ginny put in when Harry had seized talking. “We just grew apart.”

“Aye, that happened too,” Harry nodded. “Our priorities became different - you want a glamorous
life, and I want a quiet one. That, I think, is the main, unbridgeable difference between us.”

“Maybe,” Ginny seemed to agree. “But it's different with Draco - he just tunes in more with
my character than you do, Harry.”

“Completely understandable,” he said. “It's how I feel about Hermione.”

“You do?” Ginny asked, albeit slightly incredulously.

“Yes.”

“Well, in that case…”

“What about it?” he looked at her.

“I am just wondering, Harry, if we aren't making a mistake, going our own ways.”

Harry paused for a minute, thinking.

“Maybe not,” he said at last.

“Are you certain about that?” Ginny asked him quietly.

“Well, face it, Ginny. There is no point on denying it any more - our relationship is spent.
Even if we continued, it would not be long before you find another bloke to shag behind my
back.”

She was slightly taken aback by his honesty and insight, and as a result, offered no
response.

“I know I'm right, Ginny,” he continued. “But I'll appreciate it if we remain friends
after all this is over.”

“I think that would be possible,” she replied with a slight smile. “And you'll have to
accept the fact that Draco Malfoy has my heart now.”

“Not promising anything, but I will try,” Harry said. “However, there is one condition…”

“And what is that?”

“You accept Hermione, because just as Malfoy is yours now, she is mine.”

“Won't Ron be angry about it?” Ginny inquired incredulously, this time really surprised with
Harry's calm tone.

“Oh, I think it can be arranged,” he replied mysteriously. She still looked at him
suspiciously.

“Alright then,” Ginny said. “If there is nothing more, I'll see you in the hearing next
week.”

“That you will, and I'm more impatient than you are for the date to arrive,” Harry
answered.

“I don't have a doubt about that,” Ginny muttered. “Well, goodbye, Harry.”

“See you later,” he said, and watched as Ginny stood, waved at him, and departed through the
door.

“At last,” Harry said to himself, and with renewed vigor, took on to finish his work for the
day.

**

Hermione was not in the slightest concentrated to finish her duties, as had been the tendency
with her recently. Her mind was reeling with impossible and wild ideas about a world, where she was
with Harry, and her relationship with Ron was as friendly as it had been before their marriage.

The reason for her alarm and frustrations at the moment was the horribly awkward last evening
she had spent with Ron. He had pretended normalcy, or as much as he could, bearing in mind the fact
that a guilty conscience was tormenting him, and she had had to appear as if she knew nothing of
the affair.

She was not completely innocent either. She had thought about Harry, a bit too much, admittedly,
and in her carried state, she let the dinner burn. However, the expected complaint from Ron did not
come for some strange reason - clenching his teeth, he ate the charred chicken to the last
bone.

Hermione did not dare bring up the topic of Ron's adventures with Luna. The strained
conversation eventually had frustrated her, and she retired for the night. Ron, feeling useless and
awkward, had turned in shortly after her.

To place a lid on her current dilemmas, those pesky erotic dreams infiltrated her while she
slept - needless to mention who their primary focus was, she woke up drenched in the morning. After
a quick shower, and a hasty morning greeting to Ron, she rushed off to work, even without her
customary cup of coffee - one more reason she felt quite snappish today.

Her spirits sinking even lower, Hermione sipped from the horrible tasting office brew. Gagging,
she put the mug down, and looked at the consecutive report. She poised her quill to write another
line, when a sudden knock distracted her.

“Come in,” she said without looking up.

The door opened, and then was shut quietly behind the newcomer. Immediately, she heard the lock
click.

A horrible thought flitted through her mind.

*Oh no…*

Her eyes looked up. *Oh, yes!*

No words were spoken. She stood up to greet him, but barely managed to rise off her chair. His
arms snaked around her, and the green eyes captured hers.

*Reports? What reports…*

Her wonderment about Harry's visit quickly evaporated. She immediately figured why he was
here.

The intense gaze made her weak. A second seemed as long as a century; she felt her brain
going…the familiar passion arose within her.

*Dreams? No, this is real…*

Hermione's eyes closed. The mere contact between their lips sent shivers through both; the
kiss was *electrifying*…hands began to roam, up and down, to her legs, back, stomach; she
wasn't inert either - responding to every touch, every kiss, with ministrations of her own…

Time flew by, and neither remembered what had happened, until…

…She was stuck up against the wall, her head bent backwards, and as if by themselves, her vocal
chords were producing moans of pleasure, as Harry's rhythmic thrusts provided wave after wave,
after wave, of increasing pleasure, and a desire for more, that made her feel primitive, wild,
*free…*

“Harry…the desk…” Hermione managed to breathe between gasps.

Absorbed in what he was doing, Harry barely managed to understand her. Primal desire had swelled
in him too - each stroke caused a firework display in his mind; he thought of nothing else. It was
wild, passionate, *raw…*

He whirled her around, and they slid across the desk, almost collapsing in the process. Quills,
papers, folders, everything crashed to the floor spectacularly; they however, did not have a care
in the world.

The anticipation built, sweat poured from both, breathing became more labored; harder and harder
it became to resist; Hermione was coming closer and closer to another unforgettable climax…as was
Harry, coincidently.

The steps of someone echoed outside in the hall. Yet, they were deaf to the outside world…it was
only *their* world that was held significant; absorbed in it, Harry and Hermione were at
peace, harmony…*perfection.*

A silent knock sounded. Hermione arched her back, whimpering more and more intensely…Harry's
eyes were closed, a dreamy expression having overtaken his features. She was absorbed, unaware,
consumed by his presence…

The visitor insisted he not be ignored. Yet, he was…

“Harry!”

Hot, sticky and warm…Hermione opened her eyes, and smiled, the tension leaving her muscles. He
collapsed against her.

“Amazing,” Harry whispered in her ear. She could not agree more.

The tranquility, however, was not meant to last. The person outside was attempting to twist the
doorknob to open the door, but with no avail. Hermione was slowly becoming aware of her
surroundings.

“D'you hear something?” she asked Harry.

“No,” he murmured, while making a hot trail of kisses around her collarbone. “I used a silencing
charm.”

She relaxed for a second, but only for a second.

“Alohomora!” came a loud voice from the other side of the door.

To her horror, Hermione saw the door opening, and the prominent red hair of Ron Weasley became
visible.

“Bloody hell, why would you…”

Ron's voice died instantaneously, as he froze in his tracks.

“Oh…”

“Ron!” Hermione shouted.

Harry's head snapped up, and his eyes met Ron's - they were marked by betrayal and
confusion.

**A/N Chapter five…an exciting conclusion is coming up as the story begins to wind down, and in
the meanwhile, reviews are more than appreciated! :D**

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6. A Confrontational Healing
----------------------------



**First off, a gracious thank you to everyone who reviewed the story so far :D**

**And now, the aftermath…keep your hats on, as Ron lets hell loose…**

**Chapter VI: A Confrontational Healing**

Harry had hastily managed to throw his clothes back onto himself - in an effort to appear at
least half-decent.

“Ron,” he said. “This…this isn't what it appears to be…”

“Save it, Harry,” came his icy reply.

“Look, I'm not the only one in this room who is not innocent,” Harry replied
accordingly.

“That isn't relevant right now, Harry,” said Ron sharply. “Why in the hell are you shagging
my wife?”

It was evident to Harry that Ron could barely contain his anger. In asking his last question, he
had also taken a step closer.

“The same reason you fucked Luna,” Harry told him quietly. “Admit it, Ron, there's no
point…”

Ron, however, did not permit his best mate finish. Harry felt a fist connect with his jaw, and
he was sent flying back into the desk. There was a resounding crash, and Harry's head began to
throb painfully when it made contact with the wood.

“Ron!” Hermione shrieked from the corner where she had found temporary refuge.

“Don't start with me!!” Ron shouted in return. “It's already bad enough!”

Still carried astride by his unleashed anger, Ron's foot kicked Harry in the stomach, while
he was still down on the floor. The latter's face distorted in pain, but his eyes looked up
defiantly.

As if he was a wild rhinoceros, Ron stood, staring at Harry in hate.

Harry wheezed and coughed up blood, as he staggered to his feet.

“You…you bloody prick,” he gasped, still grimacing from the pain in his stomach. “She
knows.”

Ron's eyes flashed dangerously again. “What does she know?”

“That you shagged Luna, dimwit,” Harry told him, and a chuckle escaped him; immediately after,
he coughed again.

Ron was uncomprehending for a second, but then his gaze settled on Hermione, who was trembling
in fear.

“Is that true?” he asked her.

Deciding, in her panicked mind, that honesty was currently the best coarse of action, Hermione
nodded affirmatively.

“And you didn't tell me!” Ron shouted again and started towards her, but a strong arm
stopped him.

“Touch her, and I will kill you,” Harry said dangerously low. “Go on, try it.”

The first flickers of hesitation entered Ron's eyes; Harry meant every word that escaped
him. He angrily wrenched his arm from Harry's grasp, but his feet remained rooted.

“Alright now?” Harry asked him in a rising tone. “You're just as guilty, Ron. Don't take
it out on me or Hermione.”

The anger and resolve in Ron suddenly died. Reason seemed to be at last, returning.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” his shoulders collapsed and he looked at the floor.

Hermione, her eyes still fearful, took a few tentative steps forward.

“Are we calm enough now?” she asked the room at large.

“I think so…” Harry answered her.

“Good then.”

An uncomfortable silence followed those words, and at last, Hermione decided to attempt breaking
the ice.

“Ron?”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“Look…I knew you slept with Luna. Harry told me, and that's why I was acting weird the other
night…I was hoping you would tell me,” Hermione explained.

“Well, at least you knew,” Ron said bitterly. “And I didn't have the slightest idea you were
shagging Harry behind my back.”

“That was not very correct of me, either,” Hermione lowered her head. “I'm sorry too.”

“Aren't you going to say anything, Harry?” Ron prompted him.

Harry, however, was at a loss. In a way, he was the middleman of the whole scheme. Ron and
Hermione had both confided in him, expecting confidentiality on his part - which was foolish,
because these matters of personal nature would eventually surface.

For he felt guilty and uncomfortable, because of the fact that he kept information, which had
caused turmoil for both of his best friends, one of which had quickly become much more to him…

“Look, Ron, I am sorry too…this whole affair is…crazy!” frustration finally took hold of
him.

“Crazy, right…” Ron agreed, and another bitter smile came onto his features. “I just did not
expend to find you and Hermione this way.”

“Believe me, we weren't expecting you either,” Harry said.

“Where does that place us, Harry? I mean, our lives are already chaotic enough - where do we go
from here?”

“Not backward, in any case,” he said. “Hermione?”

“I'm really sorry, Ron,” she repeated her apologies again. “But I cannot hold it any longer.
Five years was too long, and I have an inkling that neither of us was really happy with the
marriage.”

The redhead observed her for a minute, thinking.

“Hermione, believe me, I know. I've been talking to Luna for a year before you learned about
me and her…well…”

He did not finish and averted his eyes from Hermione. “How long did you and Harry hide?”

The frankness of the question made both his companions rather uncomfortable.

“Not long…” Harry started, and paused. “A few months, maybe…”

“A few months?” Ron asked. Why did he have to be so inquisitive, Hermione fumed inside.

“Yes, a few months,” Harry replied with a tone of finality.

His best friend was slightly taken aback.

“Alright, no need to be angry again,” Ron said complacently.

“Bit rich, coming from you,” Harry jabbed him with an ironic smile. His head was still
throbbing.

Overall, the situation seemed to have calmed down enough. The awkwardness and enmity were still
present, but would eventually be overcome.

“Ron, I have a proposition,” Hermione said confidently. “To resolve this once and for all.”

“I'm listening,” he replied.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Divorce,” she said.

“Well, I could have figured that out.”

“I'm sure you could have Ron, but there is no time for more petty arguments,” Hermione told
him rather sternly.

“Alright then. When d'you want to be divorced from me?” he asked her.

Harry's love thought for a minute. “When I know that you're happy. Let me see you with
Luna, just to know that this decision won't torment me for the rest of my days.”

“Will do,” Ron affirmed. “I'll go owl her right now even, to invite her tonight for
dinner.”

“Sounds splendid,” Hermione agreed, and watched Ron, as he turned and left in the direction of
the Ministry's mailing department.

Harry released a breath he didn't realize that he had been holding. Frankly, he could not
believe the exchange that had occurred between them over the past hour.

He had defeated Voldemort, was now the head of the Auror department, but still managed to be
ashamedly beaten up by his best friend. Yet, Harry felt he deserved it - he had not been honest and
fair, and did regret it. However, on the other hand, the end justified the means; his friendship
with Ron may be strained for a while, but it did endure one of its most frightening tests of
loyalty and understanding.

For now, he would focus on his relationship with Hermione - he knew she was satisfied with it,
and he intended to keep her happiness. As for her post-marriage relationship with Ron, he could not
honestly say what would happen; perhaps they would resume the friendship they had from their
Hogwarts days. On the other hand, the consequences, good or bad, of their unsuccessful marriage
could not be ignored.

Their relationship could retain its friendliness, although it would be slightly more distant and
formal - time was needed to adjust to the new circumstances.

**

Ginny looked out the window from her flat. She could hear Draco's steady breathing on the
couch as he slept on.

The reason of her disquiet was not associated with Harry - but rather, with her family. She had
retained her relationship with Draco a secret from the rest of the Weasleys. By now, however, she
was certain Ron was aware - Harry would have told him.

The two people who were the main alarm of her concern were Molly and Arthur - her parents. Her
father had a long history of enmity with the Malfoy family, and her mother would definitely not
approve; for reasons Ginny could not fathom, other than the shared hate, but she was bound to
reject the relationship.

And how would Draco cope with the entirety of the pressure thrust upon him? His father was dead,
and Narcissa Malfoy had disappeared without a trace shortly after the war ended. He was left to
fend for himself in this world, and she was determined to stay by his side, as was he to support
her in every way he could.

Another sigh escaped her. Her beloved rolled over on the couch, and mumbled something in his
sleep, before quieting again.

Ginny's thoughts returned to thinking of ways to tell her parents. She knew she had delayed
the confrontation on purpose, and the façade of her soon to be terminated marriage with Harry would
not hold for much longer.

She had mentioned the issue to Draco on several previous occasions, but he had not been
successful in coming up with a solution. His observation that he would be prejudiced based on his
heritage, was currently, infallibly correct. Nothing he could attempt by himself, even with
Ginny's support, would appease Arthur and Molly.

Despite the recent tribulations her relationship with Harry had proceeded, she decided on asking
them both for their assistance - well, mainly Harry, and ask him to persuade, if he could, Ron to
join her effort.

Taking a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, Ginny moved Draco's legs further into the
couch, and sat down. Thinking, and simultaneously worried, she began to write.

**

Ron had already dressed in his best set of robes. He paced around the kitchen, nervous,
expecting his invited guests to arrive soon. The table had been lavishly decorated and prepared to
serve the guests - the testament of Ron's cooking abilities stood at the center of the table.
Surprising even himself, Ron could not help but think the turkey looked rather tasteful.

Earlier, he had sent a note to Luna, inviting her to dinner, and she had graciously agreed to
come, as indicated in the letter she returned to him a mere hour later.

The other two people that were showing up were Harry and Hermione. Ron was more nervous about
how Harry would receive him, having in mind the brawl between them, which happened the very same
day. Hermione was a completely different dilemma; having snapped in her company, and hurt Harry in
the process, would most certainly damage their relations.

Yet, they had both also consented to be present tonight, and Ron's nerves were already
thinly stretched, as the clock slowly crept to the accepted hour.

And then it struck; one, two…eight times altogether.

Nearly immediately after, the doorbell rang. Ron fixed his attention away from the clock, and
proceeded to open the door.

The sight in front of him depleted the air from his lungs, and his mouth fell slightly open.
Luna stood there, in an elegant dress, a bit revealing, but accentuating her figure rather nicely,
Ron thought. The soft red dress she was wearing reflected a little of the light from the kitchen,
and produced a very pleasing to the eye glowing effect.

“Ronald?”

Luna's voice quickly sobered Ron from his musings about her dress.

“Oh, do come in,” he said quickly, and a small tinge appeared at his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Luna said serenely, and seemed to float inside the flat as she was walking in.

She directed her steps towards the kitchen, and once she arrived there, looked at Ron
expectantly.

“Err,” he flustered, “did you find the flat alright?”

“I did, yes,” she replied dreamily. “It is a very nice flat.”

“Well, thanks,” Ron cracked a nervous smile. Where was his confidence? His usual conversations
with Luna were much more comfortable, even when she sounded completely carried away. What was wrong
with him?

She, however, only continued to smile at him, unperturbed by the awkwardness Ron seemed to be
feeling.

The second ring of the bell deprived him of any chances to ponder the questions that had risen
in his mind. Excusing himself, he went off to admit Harry and Hermione.

Once the party had assembled around the table, the night started to become to an extent, more
relaxed. The small talk carried them for a while, but the more pressing matters were looming
closer, as neutral topics of conversation started to diminish.

“Mate, look,” said Ron, “I know you love Hermione, and that she loves you back.” He took another
swig of the wineglass he was holding. “And I don't hold it against you, seriously!” he
continued, “but I have to know…”

“Yeah, Ron?” Harry prompted him; his best friend was still somewhat nervous.

“That you will take care of her,” finished Ron.

“You know that I will,” Harry told him, quite seriously too.

“And, you know, about the fight - I'm sorry, again,” Ron forwarded his apologies once again.
His eyes flickered to the bruise on Harry's jaw.

“Think I deserved it, though,” Harry replied solemnly. “After the way I've been acting…”

“No, no, Harry, it's all my fault…I should've told Hermione.”

“Maybe I should have admitted that I was with Harry as soon as I could, Ron,” Hermione put
in.

“It sounds as if you all share the guilt,” Luna offered to the conversation.

Her simple statement stunned the other three in a temporary silence.

“We do, don't we,” Ron said hesitantly.

“Aye, it makes sense…” Harry affirmed.

Hermione only nodded. She had managed to reach that conclusion some time ago, and it had caused
her to feel horrible. Yet her relationship with Harry had been worth the pain and sorrow,
nevertheless. At last, she would attain happiness.

“Harry?” she said.

“Hermione?”

“Are you divorcing Ginny soon?”

“Yes, next week. Why d'you ask?” Harry asked in puzzlement.

“I was wondering if it would be possible for me and Ron to divorce at the same hearing. We are
still only formally bound, and I think it would be wise to end that as soon as possible,” she
explained patiently.

“Ron?” Luna asked him. “Do you want to do this?”

“In fact, I think it's a swell idea,” Ron said enthusiastically. Maybe slightly too much so
- Hermione did not appear to be in a very celebratory mood.

“Alright then, so it will be next week we formally end our marriages,” Harry confirmed at
large.

“Cheers, mate, for a better tomorrow,” Ron said, and his toast was echoed all around.

“I love you, Ronald,” Luna told her adoring half.

“Love you too, Luna,” he replied, albeit uncomfortably - it was an odd feeling, saying those
words in front of Hermione.

But Hermione's heart was devoid of jealousy and contempt; instead, it was filled with
happiness for Ron and Luna. She would still not quite see eye to eye with her soon to be former
husband, but time would eventually heal all wounds caused between them. The genuine smile that lit
up her face could not be more real, and she saw Ron visibly relax when he saw her approval.

The rest of the night passed in relative peace - for the seeds of a better future had been
planted.

**A/N Chapter Six…Ron got a little wild, but all's well that ends well…we got one or two
more chapters to finish the story off nicely, and it will be followed by a short
epilogue**…**reviews are welcome, as always**

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7. Furious Encounters
---------------------



**A/N Thanks to everyone who reviewed :D**

**So here's chapter seven…you thought Ron was mad? Well, he's got nothing…wait till the
heavy artillery thunders out…here's a hint: it's plump and has red hair.**

**Chapter VII: Furious Encounters**

Mrs. Weasley was humming happily under her breath, as she perused various items on her shopping
trip to Diagon Alley. The sun-filled Saturday promised her a calm day of attending to the rather
lengthy list of items she had prepared the very same morning.

The matriarch's steps led her to her first destination - Madam Malkin's, to purchase a
new set of daily robes for herself and Arthur. Once inside, she began inspecting the generous
selection of apparel, but failed to notice madam Malkin herself, because she was sitting in a
chair, hidden behind a copy of the Wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet.

Mrs. Weasley, slightly put off by the shop owner's ignorance, coughed purposefully to
attract her attention.

Her gesture worked; Madam Malkin, seeming irritated at the interruption, put the paper down
slightly haughtily.

“Oh, Molly!” her annoyed demeanor evaporated immediately upon the sight of her client, and was
promptly replaced by a mechanical smile.

Mrs. Weasley eyed her host suspiciously. “Is everything alright?” she asked slowly.

Madam Malkin's smile faltered under Mrs. Weasley's scrutinizing gaze.

“Molly, look,” she said quietly, “as your friend, foremost, I should tell you…”

“Yes?”

“You…you do appear to be in excellent spirits today!” Madam Malkin said in a falsely cheery
voice; Mrs. Weasley induced that she was protecting some secret.

“Well, yes,” she replied slowly. “Shouldn't I be?”

“No, not at all,” her adversary replied quickly. “Would you prefer me to help you choose your
robes today?” she hastily changed the subject.

Deciding to leave the matter at rest for current, Molly Weasley assented to the change of
topic.

An hour had passed, and content with her choices, Mrs. Weasley stepped out of the robe shop, and
made her way to Flourish and Blotts, anxious to purchase a newly released cookbook that she had had
anticipated for quite some time.

Eventually, she weaved her way through the crowded Diagon Alley, and managed to enter the
bookstore. Full of a chattering crowd, Mrs. Weasley huffed in annoyance as she attempted to squeeze
her way through the rather packed situation.

The buzz of heated conversation between people did not entice her much, but her disregard of the
surroundings was short-lived. As soon as she had picked up the book she was in pursuit of, Mrs.
Weasley heard the name of one of her sons being mentioned.

“It isn't believable,” a stout woman was saying to her companion of identical physical
stature, “but Ron Weasley is supposedly divorcing. You know, without him, the Chudley Cannons do
not stand a chance this season…”

“Hmm, I think it's true, though,” the other woman replied. “Rumor has it, the informant was
straight from the Ministry.”

Her curiosity peaked; Mrs. Weasley paid for the book, and departed once more to investigate the
reasons behind the rumor the entirety of Flourish and Blotts was so preoccupied with discussing
under their breaths…

**

Just as she was beginning to cut up the potatoes for tonight's dinner, an unexpected knock
came on the window. She flipped open the latch, and a tawny owl flew haphazardly inside. It carried
a small envelope, inscribed with the crest of the Ministry of Magic.

Mrs. Weasley placed the knife near the sink, and took the envelope from the owl, and opened it.
A short note fell from it.

*Dear Mr. And Mrs. Weasley,*

*You have been chosen to participate as witnesses to the divorce proceedings of your son,
Ronald Bilius Weasley, and your daughter, Ginvevra Molly Potter. The hearing will commence at
precisely eleven o'clock, on Wednesday of next week. Your presence is necessary and
encouraged.*

*Best,*

*Motley Peshkir*

*Department of Legal Matter, Ministry of Magic*

Confusion and bewilderment; she had never received any notice of Ron and Ginny divorcing. As far
as she was concerned, they were happily married to Hermione and Harry respectively; at all the
family events they had showed, both marriages seemed fine to her, and they ought to be!

This matter must have been a prank of some sort; it was all too sudden, too unexpected. She
needed to talk to at least one of her children. Coincidentally, Mrs. Weasley remembered, Ginny was
supposed to be coming for a visit today - she had been meaning to talk to her daughter about
married life anyways, and see if she could persuade her to divulge details of her arrangement with
Harry.

Because, more than anything else, Mrs. Weasley wished to become a grandmother, and five years
had already passed. However, with the brand new development of divorce at hand, she considered that
putting another pause on that wish might be the wisest choice at the moment.

**

Several hours later, the front door creaked open, and three voices could be heard talking
merrily - those of Arthur Weasley, Ron and Ginny.

“Hey, mom!” Ginny greeted enthusiastically when the party had entered the kitchen.

Alas, their recipient was in a far from a celebratory mood.

“Hello, Ginny,” her mother replied very sternly, and the wide smile on Ginny's face
faltered; then, it disappeared completely. Ron and Mr. Weasley stood aside, watching the exchange
with interest, and not uttering a word. Quite clearly, the tidal wave of anger that was Molly
Weasley would soon break loose…

“I received a curious letter today, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley proceeded speaking, her voice still
strained; she flicked an accusatory glance in Ron's direction too, as she said this.

“Oh, ah…really?” Ginny replied slowly. “What did it say?”

“Ginevra,” the use of her full first name never boded good, “I think we both know the answer to
that question.”

Ginny, however, was still at sea.

“What answer?” she exclaimed in impatient frustration.

That response was the last undoing of Molly's restraint.

“*Your divorce!”* she said loudly. “*How do you expect me to be calm when you never told
me you had planned on divorcing Harry! It's despicable, an outrage! And to think, I am your
mother…”*

Ginny was simply terrified of Mrs. Weasley's reaction. She had indeed planned on telling her
parents eventually, shortly before the hearing commenced, but certainly not in this fashion…

Mr. Weasley's expression, however, was unreadable. His eyes were full of disappointment,
shock and if it was possible, disgust.

“Why didn't you tell us?” he asked his children both quietly. “It would have been correct to
let us know, not keep us in the dark. What have we done to deserve such treatment?”

Red with shame, Ron and Ginny had bowed their heads, unable to formulate a respectful response;
not that they could have - the situation demanded of them to endure their parents' fury with
silence.

“*And you!”* Mrs. Weasley rounded on her son. “*How could you put Hermione through this!
She has done nothing for you, but cared! I would have never thought it of you, demanding to divorce
her! Have you no courage, decency? And you call yourself a man! Shameful!”*

The tirade continued, and Ron's vain attempt to correct his mother that Hermione had
actually demanded of him to end the marriage, was only met with increased anger from her.

“Mom!” Ginny said loudly to capture Mrs. Weasley's attention; it worked - the latter's
fierce gaze immediately locked on Ginny, and her jaw was set, ready to spread another round of
fiery words…

“Listen,” Ginny attempted to reason shakily. “I know you're angry about the whole
affair…”

“Affair!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. “You mean to tell me, you're both divorcing because you
each had a secret lover!”

Ginny knew that in her anger, her mother had interpreted her wrongly, but unfortunately, that
wrong interpretation was also correct about the actual matters of the situation.

Her subdued gaze was the only affirmation Mrs. Weasley was looking for.

“Despicable!” she whispered under her breath. “I would have never expected it, let alone of my
own two children!” her tone rose to a dangerous pitch once more.

She turned her eyes to Ron again. “And who is it you shagged behind Hermione's back?” her
voice shot at him.

“Mom, it was Ginny who admitted…” Ron started, but immediately fell silent; two pairs of furious
eyes were directed at him, and if looks could kill, by now he would be a dead man.

“Luna Lovegood,” he murmured to the wall under his breath.

“I didn't hear you well enough!” Mrs. Weasley told him.

“Luna Lovegood, alright!” Ron shouted in return.

She was slightly startled by Ron's outburst, but Mrs. Weasley knew how to retain her
dominant position.

*“And for what possible reason, could you choose Luna Lovegood over Hermione! Ridiculous! Have
you lost your ever-loving mind! ?”*

The thunderous ranting of the Weasley matriarch rendered Ron incapable of producing an answer -
he could only stand in silent anger, listening to his mother verbally berate his relationship with
Luna. Unconsciously, his hands had curled into fists over the coarse of Molly's tirade.

Then she rounded on Ginny once more. Somehow, Ron knew what would come next, as two fatal words
were uttered from Ginny's mouth - *Draco Malfoy*.

The sharp sound of a slap across the face echoed in the kitchen. Ginny lost her balance, and
nearly fell, but managed to catch herself in time and regain her stability. Livid, Mrs. Weasley was
inches from her, shouting profanities and curses that Ron thought he would never hear his mother
ever say.

Mr. Weasley, still sitting at the table, was observing the whole scene with passiveness, and
still looking quite hurt by the concealed knowledge. He made no effort to restrain his wife,
because he quite agreed Ron and Ginny deserved the verbal lashing they were currently being
subjected to.

Ginny, however, could not bear her mother's assault any longer. Her head swam with all the
horrible insults that her angered mother had directed at her, purposefully or not, and her will
broke at last. A tear slid down her cheek, and she averted her eyes from Mrs. Weasley's face.
Soon, the stream of tears was intensified, and Ginny moved to sit on a chair, still facing away
from Mrs. Weasley. She placed her palms over her face, in an effort to hide her emotion, and let
the sadness that her welled within her take hold…

Motherly instincts were not suppressed entirely in Mrs. Weasley; upon seeing her daughter
crying, her shouting ceased immediately. The other two people in the room looked up in surprise,
taken aback by the turn of events.

“Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley asked quietly, albeit hoarsely.

“Don't look at me,” Ginny sobbed into her hands.

Mrs. Weasley placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder, but she moved away. Tear-strained eyes
looked up.

“Why won't you permit me to live my life the way I want to? Why do I always have to meet
your expectation?” Ginny asked her mother quietly.

Silently, Ron only agreed with his younger sister.

“I only want the best for you, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “As any mother would for her
children. My expectation of you is to fulfill your life however you want, but if you are making a
bad choice, I feel the need to step in.”

“Well, don't!” Ginny exclaimed; she was still crying. “I love Draco Malfoy, no matter what
you have to say about it, and I am going to marry him!”

“Ginny! Control yourself,” Mrs. Weasley snapped in return. “He is a Malfoy - shady,
unpredictable and dangerous. Besides, you already have a good life with Harry.”

“Not anymore,” her daughter said quietly more still.

“What?”

“Mom, it's been too long…Harry and I put off what was inevitable. Our marriage is not what I
dreamed it to be once upon a time, and the reality is different…from your expectations too.”

“How is it possible?” Mrs. Weasley mouthed in, unsurprisingly, amazement.

“We grew apart, Mom, and he too initiated an affair; with Hermione.”

Agape at the explanation, Mrs. Weasley swiveled her head in Ron's direction, asking him
silently. He nodded in agreement with Ginny's statement.

“And I am to believe,” she began incredulously, “that you two are completely settled and
accepting of the circumstances, and you are willingly entering into new relationships?”

“Yeah, that would about summarize it nicely,” said Ron.

“And you!” Mrs. Weasley rounded on her son again. “What have you to say for yourself? Is
Hermione even agreed to this?”

“Oh, yes, mom, she has,” Ron affirmed, and flinched slightly as Mrs. Weasley's eyes flashed
dangerously again.

“It isn't complicated,” he hurried to explain. “After I was aware that she and Harry had a
relationship, I was mad, indeed, possibly worse than you are now,” yet, he was aware of the
futility of that last part, “and I did fight with Harry over it…actually, I did catch them both in
the middle of, ah…well, the point is, it has been settled, and the divorces will happen.”

“What about Harry then?” asked Mrs. Weasley. “How does he feel about it?”

“Well, me and him don't quite see eye to eye yet,” answered Ron. “But that will change for
the better with time…I hope you can accept it eventually as well…”

“And Luna! Why her, out of many, much more eligible women?”

“Mom,” Ron smiled, “love is strange…it can surprise and amaze you, as well as smack you into the
ground. Luna told me what I needed to realize for a long time - I was a bad husband to Hermione,
and simply, she deserves someone better than myself. As it happens, that person is Harry.”

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again - instead, her next question was
for Ginny. Mustering all the remaining anger she had simmering within her, Mrs. Weasley turned to
her daughter.

“And why a Malfoy? What is it about him you love so much?” she could not keep a small amount of
disgust out of her voice as she said this.

“Why? Because he is everything to me that Harry isn't - attentive and understanding. He
cares for me, mom, much more than Harry did…he isn't his father, and even if you have cause for
a personal vendetta towards the Malfoys, or dad, for that matter, forget it!”

“Ginny, I do not have cause for revenge against the Malfoy family, nor does your father,” Mrs.
Weasley explained patiently. “The only concern is that, given the history, he may be swayed in the
Dark Arts and suspicious dealings; our interest is to protect you.”

“I know that, mom,” said Ginny impatiently, “but I know he loves me! And why did you have to
insult him, and me, so badly earlier?”

For the first time, Mrs. Weasley looked slightly uncomfortable. This time, however, Mr. Weasley
reminded the other occupants of his presence.

“Because, Ginny,” he said, and his daughter turned to him, “you are at fault for the most
important aspect of the whole matter - you did not tell us in time. Place yourself in your
mother's position; what would you have done, if, quite suddenly, you were informed by your
children that they were divorcing for the sake of secret lovers?”

Ginny, and Ron, had to admit that their father was quite right.

“Well, for whatever it may be worth,” Ginny said, “I apologize.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ron said immediately after. “I'm sorry.”

Their parents remained silent for a few minutes. The tension was evident, as Ron and Ginny
waited for a reaction.

“No matter what,” Mrs. Weasley said, “your father and I will always support you - even if your
decisions may not always be for the best.”

“On the contrary, mom, this time they are,” Ginny said confidently; she was not crying any more,
but her eyes were still red from the tears they had shed earlier.

“So what of this hearing then?” asked Mr. Weasley. “Are we supposed to be the witnesses,
dear?”

“Yes, Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley replied thoughtfully. “The hearing will be next Wednesday.”

“Hmm, I see,” her husband replied just as thoughtfully. “What time?”

“Eleven.”

“Alright, then I think we should be there.”

“Mom, Dad,” Ron said, “are you completely sure that you're all right with…you know…”

“Right now, Ron, no, we are not,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “But in time, I hope, that we will be -
there will certainly be many new changes to consider and become used to.”

“I agree with your mother, Ron,” Mr. Weasley said too.

Taking this to be a final cue of their conversation, Ron and Ginny expressed their apologies
once again and bid their parents goodbye.

The sunset was beautiful as the siblings left the house to ponder their future…were they taking
a right step in their lives?

**A/N Chapter seven…we just saw a Weasley showdown, and a shaky reconciliation…will it hold at
the hearing? Stay tuned to find out; as chapter 8 will hold the answer…in the meanwhile, reviews
are more than welcome.**

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8. A Lasting Truth
------------------



**A/N Here we are…the culmination of the story, and our heart to heart chapter, where we
finally set the record straight…enjoy. :D**

**Chapter VII: A Lasting Truth**

The morning greeted the sleeping occupants in Harry's bed - himself and Hermione. The
previous night had been one of tranquil peace, which had not been recently attainable.

Another reason, for which Harry and Hermione awoke merrier than usual, was that today would be
the official culmination of their thoughts, constant doubtful worries and hopes for the last five
years - the divorce hearing at the Ministry. For the last few days, not much of a communication
occurred between them and the Weasleys. Luna had visited them once, but she had come alone.
Regardless, her light-heartedness did not seem to be affected by the severity and seriousness of
the interesting situation that had occupied their lives recently.

Hermione was in the bathroom, attending to her morning requirements, while Harry was busy
dressing himself in an elaborate set of dress robes; another inconvenient requirement by the
Ministry was that the participants in the trial were forced to show up in their best appearance -
otherwise Harry would have been quite happy to show in his pajamas even.

Yet, the more he thought about today's court hearing, the less enthused he became.

At last, Hermione came out. She had also changed herself in a professional appearance, and after
she gave herself a last sweep of her wardrobe, her gaze shot at Harry.

“You are still not ready?” she snapped rather harshly.

“It's this tie…” Harry replied, while trying to adjust said tie in a knot.

“Oh, Harry, you are hopeless,” Hermione chided him, as she walked over to where he was standing
in front of the mirror. “Let me…”

She deftly managed to arrange the tie acceptably, and then stopped to admire her handiwork.

“Excellent,” she declared, “now we have to depart, or else, we'll be late.”

“Hermione, it is only half past nine,” Harry said exasperatedly. “If we leave an hour later, we
can still arrive in good time.”

“Harry, we are required to be there a half hour earlier,” she told him sternly. “Come on.”

Grumbling under his breath, Harry followed her towards the kitchen. A hastily consumed breakfast
with a spot of welcomed hot coffee followed, and they quickly prepared to leave. The relation
between them was becoming increasingly strained as the morning passed.

Harry and Hermione walked out of the flat, and down the flight of steps onto the street below.
On the other side, several blocks down the road, was the dim outline of the doorframe that led
inside the Leaky Cauldron. An arrangement had been made with the Weasley family that they would
meet them outside the Leaky Cauldron, on the entrance of Diagon Alley.

As the front door of the run-down bar loomed closer, the seriousness, which surrounded
today's hearing, caused Hermione to think increasingly more about the affair. The brief
cheeriness of the morning had completely deserted her, only to be replaced by numerous conflicting
emotions.

The ancient floorboards creaked, as their steps echoed in the large, and nearly empty room. Two
wizards were huddled in one corner, playing a game of cards and sipping firewhiskey, while Tom was
situated behind the bar, wiping the counter top with a rag.

“Harry Potter,” he called as his quarry and Hermione approached. “What can I do you and your
lovely lady friend for today?”

“Have any way to sooth jittery nerves?” Harry smiled nervously at the kind old man.

“Ye, certainly do,” the barman murmured, and turned around to face the cabinet, full of clean
and dusty bottles.

He took two glasses down and placed them on the bar. Waving his wand caused a bottle to fly into
his hand - its label was indistinguishable beneath the layer of grime formed over it, but Tom did
not seem to be terribly concerned; his crooked fingers gripped the bottle, and he poured a golden
liquid into each glass.

“There ye are, laddies,” he said, smiling a toothless smile, “that will be two Sickles.”

Harry handed him the coin. “Thanks, Tom.”

Muttering under his breath, the old barman nodded kindly, and Harry and Hermione sat at a table
nearby.

“Is this what we want, Harry?” Hermione asked him anxiously, boring into his eyes.

Harry took a few minutes to answer. He took a sip of the strange alcoholic beverage, and
immediately felt more relaxed - it had a slight butterbeer taste, and something else added to it,
but he did not know what it was; yet it was also pleasing in taste.

“I am confident we are, Hermione,” he replied assuredly. “After five years, I have realized that
I can pretend no longer. I was under the impression that you had come to the same conclusion.”

“I don't have second thoughts about the divorce, Harry. I do want to spend my life with you
- I suppose I am only nervous about it…after all, we are doing this for the better,” Hermione
replied, before taking a sip of the contents in her glass as well.

Harry could not completely understand Hermione - she was confident and insecure simultaneously.
He thought it would be in his, and her, interest, if he tried to improve her spirits.

“Hermione,” Harry began, “look at me.”

She raised her eyes to meet his, and he took her hands in his.

“I don't pretend that this hearing will not be unnerving, or that it will cause rifts
between us and the Weasleys. In fact, even your parents may be disappointed, because you told them
they were also required to be there,” he said.

“Thank you for the kind words, Harry,” Hermione gave him a weak, sarcastic smile.

“I'm not finished,” he continued. “When we went to Ron and Luna- we had a decent time with
them. Yes, it was slightly awkward, but that does not mean we'll stop being friends. Time will
pass before we speak normally again, and I'm sure some will be angry, others disappointed, but
after all, we've all been denying the truth for a long time.”

Harry ceased speaking and looked closely at Hermione. “We'll be fine,” he said, giving a
reassuring squeeze to her hands.

Feeling marginally better, Hermione slipped her hands away from Harry's took a braver sip
from her drink - a small dose of optimism had crept into her after his monologue.

They finished their drinks in relative silence, letting the calming effect the mildly alcoholic
beverage produced, envelope them entirely. About a half hour later, Harry and Hermione at last rose
from their chairs.

“Ready?” he asked her.

Hermione seemed dazed for a few seconds, but she quickly regained her senses. “Yes.”

Tom waved them on their way out, and they bid him goodbye as well - the two old wizards in the
corner, however, had no paid them any heed, as they were still absorbed in their card game.

Harry tapped the bricks on the grimy wall in the appropriate order, and then watched, as they
rearranged themselves into the archway he had long grown used to seeing.

He walked through it, closely followed by Hermione.

As had been arranged, the Weasleys were indeed waiting for Harry and Hermione: Arthur, Molly,
Ron and Ginny had arrived, waiting patiently; at the periphery of their company, Draco Malfoy stood
awkwardly, looking around uneasily.

Harry and Hermione approached them, and Mr. Weasley was the first to spot them.

“There they are!” he said loudly, and the rest of the party turned in the direction of the
oncoming visitors.

“Hello, Mr and Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said somewhat coolly, but still politely, and Hermione
mimicked his action slightly strenuously too.

“Err…shall we be going?” Ron offered to the tense silence that followed the initial
greeting.

“Yes…let's,” Mrs. Weasley replied thoughtfully - she was giving scrutinizing looks to Harry
and Hermione.

She was still suppressing anger, Harry fathomed from the snappish behaviour of the Weasley
matriarch. He caught Ron's eye, and asked him silently; ashen-faced, Ron merely shrugged, and
nodded gravely - he had received a sound verbal treatment for his…escapades with Luna. A fear rose
within Harry that he could easily expect the same…

Hermione was also walking tersely along, sticking close to Harry, and throwing anxious glances
at Mrs. Weasley form the corner of her eye. She noticed Ginny was also walking a little aside from
her mother, and beside Draco - only the young Malfoy was haughty and rather careless about the
whole situation; it seemed, his accompaniment had not been voluntary.

Only Mr. Weasley was brave enough to walk on par with his wife, but fore mostly out of duty for
being her husband than anything else.

Eventually, they reached the Ministry building, and took turns to clamber down with the
inconveniently restricted red phone booth. Once inside, they were directed to the offices of the
Wizengamot, several floors below.

The chill of the lower floors permeated Harry, as he walked along towards the heavy oaken doors
at the end of the hallway. Behind him, the rest followed with deliberately slow, shuffling
footsteps. There was a building tension in the air, as they walked through the doors, which opened
creakily of their own accord…

The large hall, however, was quite devoid of life. Dark and cold, it seemed nobody had entered
it for quite a lengthy period of time. Still, as they had been instructed to wait, everyone sat
along one of the benches near the front of the room.

Perhaps by sheer misfortune, or maybe precisely calculated, Harry did not know, as he found
himself sitting right beside Mrs. Weasley. She was certainly not disposed in his favour, as icy
looks from her kept coming in his direction.

“Harry,” she whispered rather harshly at last; the grandeur and eeriness of the hall seemed to
unsettle her a bit.

“What?” he asked uncertainly.

“Think about this!” came her reply. “Do you have any common sense left over?”

“What are you on about, Mrs. Weasley?”

Harry needn't have asked - he knew the question was rhetorical at best.

“Do you know what you're doing to Ginny, or to Hermione - or to *yourself*?*”* she
emphasized.

“Yes, I do,” answered Harry with conviction.

“I believe you are making a mistake, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley positively glowered at him as she
spoke those words in a forced calm.

“Look,” Harry's patience had began to wear thin, “I've thought about this Mrs. Weasley,
and my decision is final - no amount of coercion will force me to reconsider that decision.
Hermione is the one girl for me, not Ginny; she and I have both agreed on that.”

Not expecting such a snappish response, Mrs. Weasley was taken aback. She spared a quick glance
at Hermione - she was involved in a silent conversation with Arthur, and next to him, Ginny was
talking to Draco, while a devilish smile played on his lips. At the end of the bench, Ron sat,
looking nervous and rather awkward - he was checking his watch quite frequently.

Suddenly the torches that lined the walls came to life. Immediately after, a loud bang echoed,
as the doors were thrown open - the draft made the flames flicker wildly.

An imposing wizard walked down the central alley of the hall, and ascended on the high chair
that stood facing the rows of benches. Behind him, more official-looking Ministry employees filed,
and took their seats around the high chair. After them, a congregation of wizards, who looked to be
merely citizens, came in.

High-strung about the whole affair, Harry watched in anticipation, surprised by the austere
efficiency with which the court had assembled.

“Good day,” called the wizard, sitting in the high chair, “my name is Darius Padfoot, and I will
be presiding over the case of this trial.”

There was a pregnant pause, before he started speaking again.

“This is the case of the divorces of Harry Potter and Ginny Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione
Weasley…is that correct?”

He had turned his gaze upon Harry.

“Yes,” Harry said loudly.

The important wizard was about to speak again, but a sudden interruption prevented him. The
doors swung open once again, and heads turned to observe a man and a woman coming in slowly,
bewildered expressions covering their faces. Behind them, a beautiful woman with strikingly blond
hair walked in, perfectly mindless of the events going on around her.

“Ah, Mr and Mrs. Granger, and Ms. Lovegood” the wizard addressed them, “yes, if you could just
take a seat, right there.”

He pointed them towards the bench onto which Harry, Hermione, Draco and the Weasleys were
squashed together. With some effort, and willful compression on the part of the others, the
Grangers sat down on either side of their daughter, and Luna squeezed in next to Ron.

“Now, let's continue with the business at hand,” the head went on. “As this trial has
captured wide attention, I have invited members of the Daily Prophet to observe the
proceedings.”

Harry groaned inwardly. From the corner of his eye, he caught the flamboyant decorations of a
self-writing quill - his spirits sinking even lower could only be because Rita Skeeter was present
too, eager to write her next travesty of an article…

“I summon Harry Potter to the stand.”

With difficulty, Harry extradited himself from his seat, and moved forward towards the podium.
Motioned to sit down on the rather grimy, chain bound chair, he obliged.

A mousy clerk hurried up to him, carrying what looked like to be a replica of a sword.

“Do you swear, by Merlin, to tell the truth, and nothing, but the truth?” he recited
quickly.

“I…do,” Harry replied slowly, and touched the sword that was held out.

“Mr. Potter, what are your reasons for requesting a divorce from Mrs. Ginny Potter?”

Harry had anticipated the question, and immediately launched into his response.

“On the grounds that we have differences that are too great,” he said. “We have both secretly
looked for personal fulfillment to other people, and with feelings, stronger to those people, the
relations between us have diminished greatly, and cannot be salvaged.”

“Mrs. Potter, would you like to add?” said the wizard in the high chair.

“Yes,” Ginny replied, “yes I do. “I met Draco Malfoy months ago, and since then, I've been
happier with him than I ever was with Harry. The fact that I travel much of the time, means that we
cannot spend time with one another, and our marriage has just dissolved by itself - without love,
it isn't sustainable. Oh, and before I finish, I need request that my name be reverted back to
Weasley.”

“Point taken, Mrs. Potter, and it shall be done,” affirmed the wizard. “Anyone hold any
objections to this divorce?”

Expectantly, Mrs. Weasley did bother to voice herself - she stood right up, moving her hand away
from Mr. Weasley's grasp, as he tried to restrain her from rising.

“I have an objection,” she said huffily, “my daughter has been raised to be a respectable woman,
and I will not allow her honour to be blemished by such a shameful method! Harry has been as good
as a son to me, and I will not permit him to suffer through this! They are both committing a
grievous mistake in separating, and I will simply not allow it!”

“Dear - “ Mr. Weasley tried to reason with his wife, but failed.

“Call this off at once! We can work to repair their relationship, and set it on the right path!”
she continued to rant.

“Mrs. Weasley, your jurisdiction over the marriage of your daughter and her husband is limited,
and not enough to affect their desired outcome,” the judge declared. “I pronounce you divorced, and
there will be some paperwork to complete once the hearing is over.”

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed loudly, but he did not meet her outraged gaze; denial was the
first stage of healing.

He rose off the chair, and squeezing his way back into the bench, sat down in his old spot. Next
to him, Mrs. Weasley was staring straight ahead, refusing to turn her head towards him. Only
Hermione met his eyes and gave him a warm smile - to his right, Mr. Weasley put his hand on his
shoulder, and said quietly,

“I hope you know what you're doing, Harry.”

“I do,” Harry muttered back.

“On to the next order of business then!” the judge shouted to regain the attention of the
assembly. The sound of scratching quills permeated the air in the few seconds' silence that
followed, as scribes and reporters were busily recording every word of the affair.

“The case of the divorce of Ron Weasley and Hermione Weasley,” he continued. “Do I stand
correct?”

Both Ron and Hermione affirmed his position. They looked at each other, with genuine relief
evident on their faces.

“Ron Weasley, please take the stand.”

Ron repeated the same procedure as Harry - he made his way to the podium, but easier, since he
was closer to the main aisle, and sat down in the same chair.

“Mr.Weasley, your reasons for requesting divorce?” the judge asked him once again.

Slightly nervous, Ron scoured the row, full of familiar faces, before he started speaking.

“My argument is simple,” he said. “I…I love another woman.”

“Care to elaborate?” the judge asked him when Ron had not divulged anything for a few
seconds.

Ron looked in Hermione's direction for help. Ever so slightly, she rolled her eyes, and
stood up.

“If I may,” she called to attract the judge's attention, and he nodded her to resume.
“Ronald and I - we also have our differences. There used to be a connection between us, but it has
withered and died a long time ago. The reason is similar to Harry's - in fact, he and I talked
about it some time ago; he was saying that he had not seen Ginny for lengthy periods of time, and I
am afraid, this is the case with me…in resemblance to Ginny, Ron comes back to visit me once every
two or three weeks - it's only natural, as he is quite involved in Quidditch.”

Ron had suddenly found courage to offer his own opinion of the matter.

“She is right,” he conceded, “I am not a good husband to Hermione, because my feelings for her
are not as strong as they were once, and I have found someone, who is more compatible with me, and
also understands me better.”

Ron's eyes flickered towards Luna - she only smiled at him. He, however, did not bother to
explain how Luna knew him better than Hermione; after all, the latter had known him for many more
years, and also been through a marriage with him. Hermione did not invest more thought into it,
because now she had a new future to focus towards…

“Your arguments are fair,” the judge agreed, “but is there no hope for reconciliation between
you?”

“No, certainly not,” Ron answered with finality.

“Anyone objected to the parting of Ron Weasley and Hermione Weasley?

This time, Mrs. Weasley remained seated, but another female rose; she had the same brown curly
hair as Hermione, and the identical penetrating gaze Harry so often admired in his beloved.

“You, sir,” she said vehemently, “the least you could do is offer an apology to our daughter…she
has wasted five years of her life, and I knew myself that it would not be long, before she wished
to see your rear end out of her life!”

Ron recoiled at the angry outburst from Mrs. Granger, but Mr. Granger managed to calm her enough
to persuade her to sit down - that, however, did not stop her from sending hateful glares in
Ron's direction.

“I pronounce the divorce official!” the judge declared, and the sound of the hammer hitting the
desk confirmed that finality.

A buzz of conversation broke out, and people started to rise and leave in companies of two and
three. The Weasleys segregated themselves from the others, and made for the door first. On the way,
while being swept by his mother, Ron sent an apologetic glance at Harry, but that was all there was
time for - only Draco remained with Ginny, and he departed with the redheaded family.

Harry merely stared at their retreating backs, and sighed deeply - it would be a long time
before relations could be normal again; until then, enmity, awkwardness and avoidance was the
policy of Mrs. Weasley, as much as Harry did not wish it to be so.

Hermione and him also slowly walked out closely trailed by Luna and Hermione's parents.

Once in the main lobby, they proceeded to fill out the paperwork required, and Harry saw his
best friend and his family doing the same at the opposite end of the hall

Another sigh escaped him, and he saw Hermione discussing something with her parents. Feeling it
would be rude to interrupt their privacy, and stood aside to let them finish. On the other side of
the desk, the clerk was filing their completed papers in a cabinet.

“Ready?” Hermione asked him.

“Yeah, I am…let's go.” Harry replied.

At last, they walked out in the bright daylight, and Hermione's parents took one way, and
she and Harry the other - for their new life was at last awaiting to begin.

**A/N Wow, most difficult chapter of this fic is done…what follows is the characters
understanding one another, and re-gaining friendships…hope you like this one, and reviews are
always welcome. :D**

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9. Broken Bonds
---------------



**A/N Sorry, it's been a while since I updated…exams were in the way, but chapter 9 is
finally here…enjoy. :D**

**Chapter IX: Bonds Broken**

Ron paced back and forth around the kitchen in his flat, his head bent down to read a letter -
its contents seemed to be absorbing his attention greatly.

The sound of footsteps indicated a second presence coming into he kitchen. A pair of arms
encircled him from behind, and slightly startled, Ron's head snapped up.

“Oh, morning, Luna,” he said, breathing out in relief. ”You startled me.”

“Good morning, Ronald,” Luna whispered in return. “Sleep well?” she smiled.

“Mm,” Ron replied distantly; he had returned to perusing the letter in his hand.

“Who is it from?” Luna asked him more seriously, after disengaging herself from Ron, and
proceeding in the direction of the stove to prepare a batch of coffee.

“The Ministry,” Ron replied with a scowl, as he dropped the letter on the table. “It's about
magical bonds.”

“Yes, you and Hermione are still bound by one,” Luna observed calmly.

“We need to finish this business once and for all,” Ron answered stiffly, with a slight note of
annoyance to his voice.


Luna merely looked at Ron, shook her head, and made no reply, as she poured coffee in two cups and
offered one to Ron; he took his, and drank it down in two gulps. Cursing about how warm it was, he
headed back to the bedroom to dress for today's affair.

**

Ron Weasley, however, was not the only one being summoned to dissolve the magical bonds a
marriage created between a wizard and a witch.

Harry and Hermione had each received a letter containing the same information, as Ron's, and
the day they were being required to show up, happened to be today.

This was cause for them to pace around Harry's flat in relative agitation, talking about the
nature of a magical bond. As usual, Hermione's vast array of knowledge was already addressing
the question.

“A magical bond, Harry,” she was saying patiently, “is a way to ensure that a marriage keeps the
wizard and witch feel connected. It is simply a magically induced amplification of the good
feelings between the partners, and it is meant to retain the marriage and help with the settlement
of conflict.”

“That's all very well-intentioned, Hermione,” Harry countered impatiently, “but what about
when even that fails to prevent a separation?”

“That is the dangerous part, Harry,” Hermione answered solemnly. “With time, you remember the
reasons you ended the relationship, and if the bond remains, you are also constantly reminded of
that person's attractive qualities. You start to confuse and question yourself, slowly
beginning to obsess, and it has the power to make you lose your mind,” she finished, somewhat
shakily.

“Is that so…” was all he could say in response.

Not at all looking forward to such a prospect, Harry declared in a convicting voice that they
were to depart as soon as possible. Hermione agreed wholeheartedly, as she was at risk as much as
Harry, and did not wish to leave the matter unattended.

**

At precisely the hour outlined in the letters, sent to each participant in the affair of our
story, a quarter, formed of Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny had assembled in the Ministry atrium
once again, waiting on tenterhooks after telling their purpose for today's visit to a clerk
behind one of the desks. Luna and Draco had accompanied Ron and Ginny respectively, but they had
been persuaded to wait closer to the atrium exit, since they were not considered of particular
significance to the proceedings the others were subjected to.

A rather large and rounded man waddled in their direction several minutes later. Loose gray
robes made him look bigger than he actually was; bushy eyebrows obscured his bespectacled eyes, as
his square-shaped head was inclined towards a parchment in his hand.

At last, he reached the four nervous subjects of his appointment. For a split second, his eyes
traveled disapprovingly over the bunch. Right after, he regained his friendly composure.

“Good day,” the official announced in a deep, professional voice, “my name is Alphard Belcher,
and I will be performing the severing of the bonds that still bind you. If you'll follow
me.”

The parchment scrunched in one hand, the person known as Alphard Belcher departed towards one of
the hallways that led out of the atrium and into the interior of the Minsitry. Harry and Hermione
followed, closely tailed by Ron and Ginny.

The torches barely lit the damp hallway, and after several tense minutes, during which nobody
uttered a word, they arrived at a heavy wooden door. Belcher stopped in front of it, and took out a
chain of large keys from a pocket in his robes. He found the right one, and with effort and large
clinging from the rest of the keys, the sound of an ancient lock opening reverberated in the
cavernous hall. The door squealed loudly as it opened, and Belcher stood aside.

“My office,” he gestured at his charges, “enter ahead of me.”

Muttering their gratitude, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny filed through the doorway. Belcher
followed, but just barely - he was nearly a wide as the door.

“Alright,” he said with a hint of annoyance, “we can finish this quick and be done before lunch.
Who would prefer to be first?”

Indecision met him, as the other four shared uneasy glances.

“Mr. Potter, away with you,” the official said loudly, and beckoned Harry to a second inner room
that was divided by a door.

Harry raised himself to his feet and followed Belcher into the second room. He was still
slightly wracked with the thought of whether a bond could be removed without consequences, but he
hoped it would be for the best.

“Mr. Potter,” Belcher said seriously, once he had closed the door behind him, “the process of
removing a magical bond is not a long one, although it can be painful, and will leave you with some
mental consequences for the few days following.”

“What kind of mental consequences?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“You will have conflicting mental settings - emotion, rather than reason will be the method by
which you make decisions for the few days following. The symptoms typically are urges to see your
former spouse, followed by intense hatred for that person, and then there can be long periods of
excessive self-confidence and doubt,” Blecher recited further - he seemed to have memorized a
definition from a book.

“And when will it become better?” Harry inquired again.

The official went on, reciting from memory.

“Within a few days,” he said, “you will feel reason finally being to take hold - mood swings
will decrease significantly, and you can expect normalcy in your daily life to return soon
thereafter.”

“Right then...”

“Alright, Mr. Potter,” Blecher replied with a tone of finality, “I'll need you to close your
eyes, and be prepared to endure a rather uncomfortable spell of pain.”

Internally cringing, Harry prepared for the worst of possibilities…marriage seemed more painful
than Voldmort…

“Do it,” Harry said forcibly through clenched teeth.

He heard an indistinguishably spoken spell, and then felt the bright light of wand fire that
permeated his eyelids. In the next second, his breath was sucked out of his lungs, as intense waves
of pain ripped through him.

As if nails were being jabbed inside his body, Harry bit down harder, trying to endure the
continuing struggle that urged him to scream out…

And then it suddenly ended. Startled by the sudden change, Harry's eyes flew open, and he
looked, bewildered, at the Ministry official - he, however, appeared to be merely bored.

“Standard procedure,” he shrugged. “Close your eyes - round two.”

“What!” Harry exclaimed.

However, no answer was supplied. Harry closed his eyes once more, as the bright light from the
spell blinded him temporarily. This time, the impact was not quite as surprising, but still quite
painful, although not as much as before.

This was repeated several more times, as each progressive became less and less intimidating,
until finally, Harry felt no more than a twinge when the spell came hurtling towards him for the
last time.

Finally, he opened his eyes.

“Mr. Potter, you are finished,” Alphard Belcher told him. “This is the only way to end the
magical bond. Now, remember what I have told you, and please bring in whoever is next.”

Agreeing, and thanking the man for his services, Harry walked out in the general waiting
room.

“Mate,” he told Ron, “Belcher wants to see you next.”

“Does he?” Ron said nervously. “Well then…”

Shakily, he rose off the chair, and hesitantly progressed towards the inner office. Just as he
closed the door behind him, Harry collapsed, exhausted, in the chair next to Hermione.

“Alright?” she asked him wonderingly with wide eyes.

“Oh…yes,” Harry answered, his voice somewhat slurred; the effects were already kicking in.
“Except…we'll be out of our minds for the next week or so…”

He could feel a strong headache preparing for a full assault on his head.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Hermione asked him urgently; she gripped his arm tightly.

He struggled to keep her in focus.

“The aftereffects…” Harry slurred his words. “Blecher said…mood swings…”

The world was slipping away - nothing he tried to keep a grasp on consciousness was
working…Hermione's face shifted out of focus, became a blur, and finally, darkness took him
over.

“What did he do to him!” Hermione shrieked, turning to Ginny.

“Oh, don't worry, Hermione,” Ginny replied quite calmly, to Hermione incredulity. “Once a
magical bond is broken, you're bound to be crazy for a while. You and I will be too,” she
laughed slightly.

“Ginny, this is not by any means funny,” Hermione admonished her.

“Hermione, it will be difficult to adjust, but it won't be impossible. It's only going
to be for a few days.”

Hermione looked at Harry, leaning back against the chair, and breathing evenly and deeply. From
within the room, she heard Ron's muffled scream as the same spell impacted him, and braced her
own self for what would come once she went inside the chamber.

They waited in silence, anticipating Ron's return. Minutes passed slowly, torturously
slowly, and an eternity seemed to pass before the door to the inner office creaked open.

Ron stumbled out, dragging his feet, and looking quite tired.

“Aye, it is a workout in there, enduring that blasted curse,” he said quietly and
contemptuously. “Hermione, you're next.”

Fearful, and not without hesitation on her part, Hermione tentatively walked in the office. Just
before she passed the threshold, she noticed Harry finally stirring from his sleep, but could do
nothing, as the door finally closed behind her.

“Ron?”

“Yeah, Harry?”

“Feels good to be finally free,” Harry cracked a smile.

“Don't say that,” Ron snapped back. “I want Hermione back.”

“You…you do?” Harry replied in amazement.

“Of course not!” Ron's angry retort came.

And then Harry understood - the effects of the spell were manifesting themselves upon Ron sooner
than they would on himself. Hopefully Luna would know about it, and if luck was on his side, he
could hopefully keep a clear mind, until he and Hermione managed to arrive safely back home…it
would not be safe for them to be bickering and crying at the same time and not find their way to
Harry's flat otherwise…

Ron's rant continued on, but neither Harry, nor Ginny answered him. Harry was beginning to
doubt whether this decision was for the best, but he reminded himself about the onset of the
symptoms that followed his treatment. Unfortunately, he grew ever more sullen and depressed, and
his mind continued to replay scenes of his and Ginny's life early on, that made him long for it
again…

Hermione finally came out, and without a word, beckoned Ginny to take her turn. Silently, Ginny
acknowledged Hermione, and stood confidently, striding in the office much easier than her
counterparts.

The bushy-haired member of the quartet scowled for no apparent reason, and sat in her seat, not
sending a glance at neither her former husband, nor current lover - she sat, staring straight
ahead, her jaw set, and internally fuming about a reason, Harry, nor Ron could fathom; and they
were wiser than to try and find out at the current time.

Mysteriously, Ginny's treatment was much shorter than any other person's. She exited the
office, still having a tired appearance, but she had been through quicker than Ron, Harry, or
Hermione. In her wake, Alphard Belcher walked out, looking marginally happier than when they had
first come in.

“The magical bonds have at last been broken,” he announced with bravado. “Your cases were much
less severe, compared to others I have been required to deal with.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said politely. “And I am sure my friends would love to thank you too, but I
think their minds have already been consumed by the effects of the spell.”

“You're welcome,” Belcher replied, regaining his professional tone once again. “I have
arranged for a Ministry transport to return you to your respective residences.”

Ginny expressed gratitude on behalf of the other three in the company, and Belcher showed them
out of his office, and also accompanied them to the Atrium. Near the lift, a driver seemed to be
waiting for them, and Belcher did indeed point them to him.

Luna and Draco were already waiting with the driver, and the others grudgingly joined them.
Still not uttering a word, they crammed inside the lift, and slowly, it raised them to the
surface.

**

The afternoon slowly transpired into the evening, but the situation had been awkward ever since
they had arrived home. Harry was in a constantly depressed mood, and Hermione kept shouting and
angering herself, and Harry, with her desire to see Ron again.

Harry had been forced to listen to her, but he was also still under the influence of the spell.
Dark thoughts about mistakes and his stupidity plagued his brain, but he also knew that it would be
over in a few days, before life returned to normal.

Sighing deeply for the consecutive time that day, Harry stretched back on the sofa, and drowned
out Hermione's words with his thoughts, as he wished for time to travel faster…

**A/N: There it is…there's one chapter to go, and then the epilogue…in the meanwhile,
reviews are also welcomed. :D**

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10. Burning Love
----------------



**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. :D And in the meanwhile, there's been a change of
plans…one more chapter and an epilogue will follow this one…so here's chapter 10, and
enjoy.**

**Chapter X: Burning Love**

Draco walked in agitation into the backyard, towards the grove of trees that marked the boundary
of the grass clearing. He had not been able to catch a respite for the last several days.
Ginny's constant pestering had made him impatient and irritable. Even if he knew her behaviour
was induced from the severing of the magical bonds, he found the task of showing patience and
understanding for a longer period of time quite impossible.

Ginny had been shouting for the past day and fortnight about the most trivial of matters, at
least in Draco's view, and he could not help, but feel the injustice, with which his flaws has
been expounded indefinitely to define him as a lowly, deceitful and horrible character. Yet, he had
reminded himself constantly about the effects of the spell exercised on Ginny, and he was
determined to see the end of it.

“Malfoy!” Ginny's voice reverberated loudly from the open back door. “Drag your sorry behind
back in this house! I am not finished with you!”

There was, however, nothing powerful enough in this world to induce him to return. Despite being
informed that Ginny would suffer much more lightly than the others, he could not help, but feel
mislead.

A vase flew out of the door, and its speed and trajectory surprised him greatly - he knew anger
and magic were a potent combination; only to be proven correct, as the vase shattered against the
trunk of the tree, mere feet from where he was standing.

Only, finding the resolution within him to face his much distraught beloved once more was not an
easy task to accomplish. Still, with wand held aloft in front of him, ready to cast a shield charm,
and with cautious steps, he progressed slowly through the clearing, back towards the house.

No noises came from inside, as if Ginny had suddenly disappeared. As he drew closer, Draco heard
muffled sobs. Dropping all precaution, he rushed through the door, and his eyes landed on
Ginny's form, stranded face down on the floor, and bawling her eyes out. Why she was crying,
was something he could not determine, but presently, decided that helping her up, and trying to
talk to her, was perhaps the best choice he could make.

He made to grab her arm.

“Don't touch me!” came a wail from somewhere within the mess of red hair covering
Ginny's head.

“But…but Ginny,” Draco tried to argue, sighing with frustration.

“I'm sorry,” Ginny gasped out, as she turned her tear-streaked face to look at Draco. “Help
me, please.”

Utterly confused, befuddled, and wondering if he might be the one losing his mind, Draco hoisted
Ginny off the floor and led her to sit on the couch.

Ginny's sobs subsided after a while. The entire time, her head was bowed, and her hair
obscured her face. At a loss for what he could say, or do, Draco had wrapped his arms around her
and rocked her gently, hoping this madness would stop sooner than later…

“Feeling better?” he tried hesitantly, once Ginny's breathing had slowed.

“Draco, why are you holding me?” she asked him with stiffly.

“Err…did you not want me to? Because I definitely do not plan on releasing you until you come to
your senses,” he countered more bravely than before.

“Is that so?” Ginny's tone had risen sharply.

“Y-yes, it is,” her silver-haired half replied with attempted finality.

Only, his resolution was short-lived. Suddenly, the air was blasted from his lungs, as Draco
felt himself flying backwards, and seconds later, impacting the wall rather hard.

Face contorted with pain, he let himself slide to the floor, barely able to breathe. Silently
cursing the effects Ginny's procedure was producing, he decided to remain lying down, hoping
against hope that his angered partner would not notice him, and set her rage free upon another
object.

Alas, his peace was not meant to be. He heard Ginny stomping in his direction, and braced for
another spell of pain - the current amount he was experiencing prevented him from effectively
standing up and defending himself.

Strangely, she stopped over him, but he still did not dare move. Her voice rose to a dangerous
pitch again, and her tirade began once more. Draco, however, permitted her words to wash over him,
and he did not register their meaning.

After several minutes, he felt sufficiently capable of moving, and slowly, gingerly, he sat up
and leaned his back against the wall.

Ginny suddenly ceased shouting. Draco looked up with a dead gaze, expecting more harsh treatment
from her, but it didn't come. She seemed confused, disoriented, and not entirely aware of her
surroundings; Draco was confused himself - she had been focused enough to steam at him for the past
several days.

“Wh…what happened?” Ginny's unfocused gaze met Draco's, as she said this and then raised
her hand up to her head.

“You don't remember?” Draco asked her, much more cautiously.

“I have a pounding headache,” Ginny answered, closing her tightly. “What was I doing?”

“I think we can talk about it later,” Draco said quickly - he did not wish to endure another
angry outburst, nor provoke it; though he had the suspicion that Ginny's emotional
unpredictability had ended.

“Later?” Ginny repeated faintly; she kept her eyes closed, but swayed dangerously on the spot,
where she was standing.

“Yes,” Draco affirmed, as he rushed forward to catch before she fell. “Right now - sleep,” he
added.

“Mm,” Ginny's voice came - she might have wanted to say something, but couldn't, as she
was now indeed fast asleep in Draco's arms.

“At last,” he muttered in relief, and proceeded to carry his beloved up the stairs and to the
bedroom.

**

Even Luna, as much as she could stand rage and not become involved in it, she also could not
endure past a certain point. The reason - Ronald Weasley; he had been wholly confusing in his
behaviour.

As Luna also knew about the uncertainty of the effects the braking of the magical bond could
have, she could certainly not be prepared for the naturally temperamental second youngest
Weasley.

“It was a mistake to part with Hermione,” he shouted at her. “With what mind did I ever choose
you over her! Loony Lovegood!”

Despite knowing his insults were not intentional, Luna still felt hurt by them. For the third
time this week, Ron had expressed his displeasure of their relationship, but her patience with him
was also rapidly thinning.

Deciding another jibe at her might push her past her breaking point, Luna walked over to Ron,
and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, scowling angrily, but Luna was not
intimidated.

A loud slap echoed, as Ron's head was twisted to one side, and Luna's hand flew through
the air.

“Never, *ever*, question my love for you, because I know you don't mean any of it,” she
said through clenched teeth, her voice and features losing their dreamy quality, to be replaced by
their angry counterparts.

Ron simply stared at her, bewildered. Expecting another round of verbal attack, Luna raised her
hand again. Instead, she nearly lost her footing; unexpectedly, Ron had kissed her out of the
blue.

Not that this action of his had not happened previously. Often, a spell of rage would be
replaced by a session of romance, aimed at repairing damages he may have caused to their
relationship. Right afterward, his angry demeanor would return, and he continued his tirade about
Hermione's value in his life, and the mistakes he had supposedly made in giving his heart to
Luna.

“Ronald…” Luna whispered against him, as the situation between them suddenly seemed to warm
up…

“Let go of me!” Ron's voice rang out loudly, startling Luna abruptly out of her
thoughts.

“What?” she asked, but her mind quickly refocused on Ron's unpredictable mood.

He gave her an especially cold stare, and stalked off towards the kitchen in silence. Still
confused, Luna followed after him, and entered the aforementioned room of the flat on his
heels.

“Talk to me, Ronald,” she pleaded with him.

Ron leaned his hands on the countertop, his back hunched, and his eyes looking down in
thought.

“Tell me, Luna,” he asked quietly, “did I make a mistake?”

“No, no,” Luna replied quickly, and stepped forward, embracing Ron from behind.

“I am still not sure,” he said in the same tone of uncertainty. “Hermione and I - we were meant
for one another.”

“This is what you thought, love,” Luna told him softly.

Her embrace seemed to be having an effect on Ron - she could feel him becoming less and less
tense.

“Why did I fall for you? For what reason?” his voice increased with frustration. “Why do I love
you?”

“Because I love you too,” Luna tried to argue in vain; no matter her efforts, her irritation
with Ron's repetitive reaction of doubt and anger was beginning to show.

“Is it something within me? Do I have an irreversible fault that caused Hermione to hate me so?”
he asked anxiously.

Luna was on the point of denying Ron's proposition about himself, but stopped short when she
realized the essence of the question.

“We are not perfect, Ronald,” she chose her words with care. “You and Hermione did have
different outlooks and desires, which caused you to part ways.”

“So it's me, isn't it? All my fault?”

Ron's voice raised another octave. As if burned, Luna jumped away from him, feeling another
verbal onslaught coming on. Only this time, Ron did not question her worth, but rather, his
own.

“I am one horrible person,” he was saying to himself mostly, “oh, why Hermione hates me? Well,
the answer is obvious - I am just an inconsiderate, selfish git, with absolutely no sensitivity,”
he continued to mutter under his breath, quickly and harshly.

Luna was helplessly observing him from afar, and could do nothing, but wince, as Ron, in his
anger, kicked the leg of the coffee table in the living room, and gasped as it flipped over. Her
redheaded significant other grimaced in pain, and his face was contorted with even more rage.

“My table,” Luna moaned quietly, as she watched Ron pummel the offending piece of furniture with
his fists, and use a select choice of colourful language to express his anger at it.

Ron finally seemed content with punishing the coffee table, and left its splintered wooden
carcass, as it was, lying on the floor. He directed his steps towards the kitchen once more,
clearly set on doing something more dangerous to calm himself, but unfortunately, misjudged his
step. A stray piece of wood he stepped on caused him to lose his balance quickly, and with a
resounding crash, he landed face down on the floor.

Luna gasped in horror, and ran towards Ron's unconscious form to see whether he was severely
injured. She kneeled beside him, and grabbed his wrist, feeling for a pulse. A sigh of relief
escaped her when she found it, beating strongly. Upon closer inspection, the only impact Ron had
suffered was to his head - a shiny bruise was prominent on his forehead, where his head had
impacted the carpeted floor once he fell.

Luna rose to her feet, and a sigh of relief escaped her. She proceeded to repair the damaged
coffee table to its original state with a wave of her wand. After that, she gently levitated Ron
from the ground, and transferred him onto the couch, where he resumed his deep sleep.

“I'll see you in the morning, love,” she whispered to his slumbering form.

**

Yet, the situations Draco and Luna were being faced with in their respective relationships could
be considered mild, compared to the intense emotional turmoil that was happening between Harry and
Hermione.

As they were both in am impaired state of mind, and with no one being able to reconcile, or keep
them apart for that matter, their relationship had turned to a bitter chaos.

Harry had continued brooding, closed in his own mind, and insensitive to his surroundings,
especially Hermione. She, in turn, had blown up at him on several occasions, cried rivers for
reasons unknown, and finally settled in a depression of her own, treating Harry suspiciously and
with contempt.

“Hermione!” Harry snapped at her suddenly - he had been constantly alternating between
depression and anger.

“Don't you dare speak to me!” answered Hermione in a shrill voice.

Harry only glared at her - he knew arguing with her would be a futile effort.

“I want Ron back,” Hermione said into the awkward silence.

“Do you?” Harry asked her.

“Yes - at least with him, life was more interesting,” Hermione replied rather obtusely.

“Are you implying I am a bore to you?” he said, outraged.

“Oh no,” Hermione said. “You are simply riveting,” she went on to patronize him.

“If that is going to be how we'll understand one another, I think it would be wise I
returned to Ginny,” Harry snapped back heatedly.

“No, you don't!” Hermione raised her voice. “You're mine now!”

“Am I? Or are you?” he told her.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” she snapped, frustrated with Harry's consecutive attempt
to philosophize.

“I thought it would be clear to your oh-so-brilliant mind,” he smirked at her.

“Are you implying that I am not smart?”

Hermione's fiendish glare fixed him, as she said this in a deadly quiet.

“You read my mind,” Harry replied with bravado, as if he was blissfully ignorant of the tidal
wave of fury waiting to bear down upon him.

“You insensitive, worthless, no-good *idiot*!” Hermione insulted him loudly, before turning
around and staring out the window in cold silence.

Something clicked within Harry - a glimmer, a hint of *something*, but he could not quite
place it.

“Really? Well, straighten your priorities - whom do you want to be with? Because I certainly
have no feelings for you,” he declared.

Hermione simply continued to stare outside at the passing cars.

“Is that so?” she asked in an offhand voice.

“Yeah, afraid it is,” replied Harry again, with conviction.

“Then pray tell,” Hermione flared up once more, “what are we doing under the same roof!”

“My sentiment exactly!”

“Look,” Hermione tried to reason in her impaired state, “it's apparent we should not be
together. I want Ron, and I really don't know which girl you are after, but it would be best to
part ways right now.”

“Best idea you've had all day,” Harry agreed, still maintaining his tone of bravado, “In
fact, you can pack your belongings, and leave this flat right now.”

“Don't mind if I do,” Hermione said with false cheeriness.

Yet, neither moved; instead, they stayed rooted on their feet and stared at one another
suspiciously.

“Well?” Harry asked her expectantly.

“Well what?” Hermione queried him.

“Weren't you leaving?” he tried to remind her.

“No, I'm not,” she told him with finality.

“*Why?*” frustration took Harry's demeanor over once again.

“No reason,” Hermione simply replied.

“I cannot understand you,” Harry began to rant, “you want to go back to Ron, and you cannot
leave here. Make up your mind!”

“My mind cannot be made up - it is too complex,” Hermione replied with a slight smile - she
seemed to be enjoying riling Harry out of his skin.

“No, no,” he said. “You have to go. Here, I'll help you.”

Harry did indeed begin rushing around the flat, collecting articles of Hermione's, and
throwing them inside a bag he was also carrying around in his hand.

Several minutes of hectic activity later, and the bag was nearly ready to burst from the
overflow of objects packed into it. Harry held the bag out to Hermione and beckoned her to take
it.

She had not moved while Harry was doing his best to send her on her way, but she did walk over
to him once he was finished, and the expression on her face was unreadable.

Hermione stood inches from him. Inexplicably why, she leaned into him, and her lips caught his
in the briefest of kisses, and then, she slowly parted from him.

Harry, dumbfounded, simply managed to stare at her, but nothing could prepare him for what came
next.

A slap resounded in the air, as Hermoine's hand made contact with his cheek, and Harry
nearly toppled over from the force is produced. Immediately, he straightened back up, and shocked,
looked at Hermione.

“Goodbye, Harry,” she whispered, and taking the bagful of belongings, she directed her steps to
the door.

He watched, irresolute, as the door closed behind her, and heard her descending down the
staircase. For the first time in a while, Harry's head felt light, and suddenly, there was that
something he felt earlier, but seemingly forgot about.

A thought suddenly hit him with the force of a thousand repelling jinxes. Was he going mad?
Where had his reason fled? Hermione - Hermione was the woman he loved!

Grabbing his jacket from the rack, and hastily putting on a pair of shoes, he dashed out of the
flat, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Running down the hallway, he crashed through
the door at the end of it that led to the staircase, and literally jumped down the steps, several
at a time.

He ran out onto the street, and skidded to a halt in the middle of it. Looking left, and then
right, he turned again and again, looking for any visual sign of Hermione. Failing to find one, he
dashed forward to one place, where he knew she might go.

Harry sped through the Leaky Cauldron, with the hastiness of a hurricane, and out into the
dirty, small backyard that led to Diagon Alley. Tapping the appropriate bricks, he willed the
archway to Diagon Alley to arrange itself faster.

“Mr. Potter!” Tom, the old barman, shouted after him, but Harry did not pay heed.

Instead, he ran tirelessly down the Alley, and at last, seemed to catch a glimpse of a familiar
cloak.

“Hermione! Hermione!” he shouted, directing his gaze on the mane of curly hair, progressing
through the crowd.

She did not turn around, but instead, hastened her walk. Dodging people, laden with goods, and
watching not to upset anyone, Harry at last managed to catch up with Hermione.

“Wait a bit, won't you,” he gasped for breath, simultaneously grabbing her wrist to make her
stop.

“What do you want, Harry?” Hermione snapped at him, as she struggled to pry herself free of his
hold.

“Sit still for a minute, and I'll explain,” he attempted to calm her once more.

“Fine,” Hermione said coldly, “you have one minute. Talk.”

“Magical bonds!” Harry said quickly. “That spell - don't you remember?”

“No, I don't know what you're talking about,” Hermione replied evenly, but there was a
hint of interest in her eyes about Harry's declarations.

Frustrated, Harry ran his hand through his hair, and tried to think of another way to remind
Hermione. Coming up with no new ideas, he sighed, and tried a last resort that was more instinctive
than thought-out.

He placed his hands on both sides of Hermione's neck, and after a second's hesitation,
he pulled her towards him. Letting his lips do the convincing now, he kissed her - hungrily,
passionately, in a way that was uniquely *theirs.*

She did not force him away - completely oppositely in fact, she melted into the kiss and even
responded.

People passing them merely smiled and pointed at them, but Harry did not care - Hermione was all
that mattered at the moment.

At last, they drew apart.

“Nothing?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Harry?” Hermione said faintly, looking dazed.

“Yeah?” Harry answered, a bit more calmly.

“Oh, Harry,” she said with a bit more strength, and dropping the bag she was holding,
Hermione's arms flew around Harry.

Words failed Harry, and he embraced Hermione tightly, and with conflicting emotions swirling
inside him, hoped that the worst of the turmoil between them was over…

**A/N Wow, that was a long chapter…hope you liked it, and reviews are more than welcome. :D We
wrap it up next chapter, and then there'll be epilogue to look forward to. ;)**

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11. Peace of Mind
-----------------



**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed previously. And now, this is where all roads converge
for an end to this journey…**

**Chapter XI: Peace of Mind**

Calamity, and sanity, had returned at last. For the several weeks following, relationships had
strengthened, mutual attractions grown, and a new, unrestricted, appreciation of love had
fostered.

There remained one very important aspect, however, that neither Ron, not Harry, had bothered to
initiate - from fear, awkwardness, or the prospect of creating more enmity than before, they would
not reveal. Yet, the matter of reconciliation with the Weasley family, or specifically, Mr. and
Mrs. Weasley, as well as the Grangers, would not be able to resolve itself without the needed
intervention.

The sense of responsibility, and the ever-increasing reminders that bearing a conscious
produced, had at last forced the two best friends to meet in the Leaky Cauldron - by now, their
traditional setting for settling important issues, both personal and professional - to discuss the
proper coarse of action in persuading the Weasley and Granger families into accepting the changed
reality of the significant changes in love and loyalty that had manifested themselves over the
previous weeks and months.

Many words had been exchanged between them, plans drawn and rejected, but so far, one critical
fact was well established - they were clueless about a good way to approach the daunting dilemma.
Harry and Ron had, as a result, fallen into an uncomfortable silence, each attempting to think of
better ideas to propose.

“Ron,” Harry broke the silence thoughtfully, while spinning his glass of butterbeer on the table
slowly by the handle, “what if we are more direct with your mum?”

“No,” Ron replied after a minute's pondering, and took a sip of his own drink before
continuing, “you know how my mom is, and how well she takes shock - we best let her anger subside
before we talk to her,” he finished and put his glass down.

“How long can her anger possibly last?” Harry asked in sudden frustration.

“I won't be surprised if it ends at the grave,” the redhead in company replied
seriously.

“Then we have to hurry - I don't want to be on bad terms with her,” said Harry
agitatedly.

“You're not the only one, Harry,” Ron muttered quietly. “So what I propose,” he said a bit
louder, “is that we summon the Grangers together with my family, and we tell them the whole story -
because frankly, they were quite pissed at me back at the hearing.”

“Oh, they were,” Harry echoed with a smirk, “but it's our responsibility to make relations
between us and them good again,” he added solemnly.

“So? Do you think it is a good idea?” Ron asked hopefully.

“Coming from you - surprisingly yes.” Harry told him thoughtfully.

“Don't Hermioneize me, Harry,” his best friend said with a hint of annoyance. “I've had
enough of it the last five years.”

“Hermioneize you?” Harry said in confusion.

“Yes - patronize me,” Ron explained, “it's what Hermione does all the time.”

“Alright, then, I won't,” answered Harry, while containing a sudden urge to laugh. “I
won't, ah…Hermioneize you.”

“Right, well,” Ron cleared his throat, “tell Hermione about it, and I'll inform Ginny.”

“I will,” Harry affirmed, “and the sooner we do it, the better. So let's finish up here and
go about this business.”

Rapidly downing the rest of their butterbeers, Harry and Ron rose to their feet.

“I'll see you later,” Harry said expectantly, “and keep in touch.”

“Will do,” agreed Ron, “Take care, Harry.”

With that last exchange, each departed on his way - Harry towards the Muggle street outside, and
Ron in the direction of Diagon Alley.

**

A very irritated Hermione greeted Harry, once he walked through the front door of their flat.
Streaks of black residue contrasted against her cheeks, and her hair was slightly singed around its
edges - all the more reason for sparks to be flying from her eyes, as she stomped back inside the
living room, muttering mutinously under her breath.

“Hermione?” Harry ventured cautiously.

“I *cannot* believe her!” Hermione exclaimed, turning towards her Harry and flailing her
arms. “How does she expect me…*us…*to come to terms with her now!”

“Who are you talking about, Hermione?” Harry tried to reason calmly with her.

“Molly!” she snapped.

“What has she done?” Harry asked, confused by the whole exchange.

“She had the decency to send me *a Howler*!” Hermione said deliberately slowly, putting a
furious emphasis on her last words.

“A Howler?” Harry repeated. “About what?”

“Nothing significant, really,” Hermione replied waspishly once more, “just another diatribe
about me hurting Ron, and the other accompanying nonsense.”

Harry sighed, and put his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes in frustration at the prospect
of dealing with another confrontation that he would very much rather do without.

“Hermione, listen,” he said patiently, “Mrs. Weasley is upset by this whole affair, but it's
us that have to be more understanding, and keep our resolve to make her accept the new
arrangements. It's not going to be easy, but we are obliged to see it through - after all, Mrs.
Weasley is nearly family to us…”

Hermione sighed in defeat - Harry's words had succeeded in persuading her.

“I know, Harry,” she replied to Harry's slight smirk, “but why does she have to make it
difficult?”

“Simply because dealing with the Weasley clan is never easy,” Harry answered with a chuckle.
“Now go and clean up a bit, because we have to meet with them later today.”

“Today!” Hermione exclaimed. “Why didn't you tell me earlier?”

“Well, Ron and I discussed it today at the Leaky Cauldron, and we decided it would be best if we
gathered everyone at the same place to settle our differences…otherwise it would be too difficult
to arrange it,” he explained guiltily.

“Everyone?” Hermione quizzed him further.

“Yes…including your parents,” Harry mumbled.

“My parents? Whatever for?” she was incredulous.

“Hermione,” Harry's voice grew more impatient. “They are at odds with the Weasley's,
because of Ron, and you and him will certainly not stop associating…it's better to iron the
rifts between us.”

“Alright, you made your point,” Hemrione conceded, “but I'm still not happy that you
didn't tell me about this earlier.”

“Ah, don't worry, Hermione,” Harry told her with a smile, “we'll come out on much better
terms than what we're going in with. It's worth it.”

At his words, Hermione rolled her eyes, and departed in the direction of the bathroom to set her
appearance in order for this event of such great importance - yet, the mere thought of confronting
her parents sent unwelcome chills down her spine.

**

Night was swiftly approaching by the time Harry and Hermione arrived at the Burrow. The last
bloody red hues of sunlight were sinking behind the horizon, and stars were becoming prominent
against the dark sky; the moon, a sharp serpent tonight, only managed to add to the anxiousness
that was currently wracking Harry and Hermione.

“What if they hold a grudge forever?” Hermione was saying in a worried, rapid whisper.
“We'll be shunned out of their circle for the rest of our lives! Oh!”

“Hermione,” Harry fought to keep his voice calm, “nothing of that nature will happen. As long as
we explain everything properly, all will end well.”

If only he could believe his own words of reassurance. Harry did not admit it, but Hermione had
voiced fears that had taken root within him as well in the past fortnight.

In the space of time that had been required for their last worrisome exchange, before they faced
their purpose for tonight, Harry and Hermione were already standing at the front door of the
Weasley home.

“You knock,” Hermione ushered Harry forward.

Silent, but resolute, Harry guided his fist to connect twice, in slow intervals, with the wooden
substance of the front door. Time stood still, as they heard hurried footsteps from the other side,
and watched the knob turn counterclockwise.

Ginny's anxious face met them, once the door had swung fully open.

“You're nearly late,” she hissed. “Come on!”

The youngest Weasley scurried in the direction of the sitting room, leaving Harry and Hermione
to catch up to her. Oppositely to Ginny's hurriedness, they cautiously walked in to the roomful
of people - Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood expectantly in the center of the room, the Grangers sat
stiffly, glaring, from the couch, or at least, Mrs. Granger; Ron and Luna were also retired to a
corner of their own - Ron's nervous gaze was darting back and forth between his mother and Mrs.
Granger, and Luna seemed at ease, lost within her own mind. Draco had also shown up, but his
haughty demeanor revealed that it was not his wish to be present - Ginny, now returned to his side,
must have persuaded him to come.

The air was thick with awkwardness, as dense as custard. No one party made an effort to initiate
the conversation. With each passing second, the tension between them grew more pregnant.

Reaching his tipping point, Harry could not stand the silence any longer.

“Mrs. Weasley,” he addressed the family matriarch loudly and clearly, “why are you mad with
Ginny, Ron, Hermione and me?”

Molly drew in a deep breath, and looked around furiously, as if to assert her dominance again,
before she replied with carefully chosen words.

“Harry, dear,” she began, constrainedly, “I am not mad with you, Hermione, or my children,
exactly. I have a different feeling about you, but madness isn't it.”

“Merlin's beard, she isn't seething with anger…right,” Hermione whispered sarcastically
in Harry's ear. He, however, ignored the jibe.

“Then, pray tell, Mrs. Weasley, what is it you feel?” Harry asked her calmly, gazing into Mrs.
Weasley's hard-set features.

“Confusion and uncertainty, Harry,” she said with conviction, “as every parent, magical or
Muggle, does when their children re-arrange their lives so suddenly, with the possibility of ending
up worse than before.”

“Mum,” Ron interjected, “sometimes changes are for the better, and that would be the case right
now.”

Mrs. Weasley's eyes snapped towards Ron - he gulped in fear, but needn't have to; his
mother simply said, “If that's what you believe Ron, then that's fine.”

Flabbergasted at his mother's lack of argument, Ron opened his mouth to say something else,
but seemed to think better of it, and remained silent instead.

A most unlikely member of the congregation grasped the word next - Hermione's father.

“Mrs. Weasley,” he said in a low, calm baritone voice, “what of the five wasted years out
daughter suffered with your son?”

The directness and clarity of the question took Mrs. Weasley by complete surprise.

“Wasted?” she repeated faintly. “What could possibly make you think those years were
wasted?”

“Because it's too long,” Mrs. Granger piped up snappishly, “five years of my daughter's
life gone! And all because of a marriage she could not end in a timely manner!”

Hermione, however, felt the need to address the assumptions that were being drawn about her.

“Mother,” she said rather loudly and assertively, to gain Mrs. Granger's attention; she did
indeed turn her eyes towards her daughter and immediately fell speechless. “My marriage with Ron -
it was not for nothing; it was what I needed to affirm my heart's desire, and strengthen my
friendship with Ron. He and I, we are always going to be friends, while at Hogwarts, there were
long periods of doubt about our friendship. And he has helped me mature emotionally and in mind,
and ultimately figure out that it's Harry I belong with.”

Hermione's last words rang out in confidence. She looked on defiantly, silently challenging
anyone to counter her argument. As expected, nobody rose to that challenge, instead, continuing to
ponder the seemingly finalizing circumstances.

“I think,” Mr. Weasley spoke up at last, and quite diplomatically too, “it is pointless to
continue arguing about this. Evidently, friendships and alliances have changed - for better, or
worse, only time will tell, but what we should focus on, is accepting this new reality.”

“And I will agree too,” Mr. Granger voiced his assent, “that there is no purpose to continue
quarreling. My wife and I - we are going to have to adjust to Ronald here, and accept him for who
he is, despite the…conditions. As well, we should consider warming up our relations, because our
families have already been connected and reconnected, and we have to come to a friendly
understanding between ourselves.”

Both aforementioned husbands looked at Mrs. Weasley expectantly, prompting her to also affirm
her dedication and acceptance.

“Honestly,” she said after looking around the room uneasily, “I did not expect confronting such
a sudden change. I may have overreacted, slightly, but that is only because I'm having immense
trouble adjusting as well, but I will work on accepting this new arrangement, despite past problems
and dislike…” she trailed off, sending a pointed glance in Draco Malfoy's direction.

Finally, Mrs. Granger also took the word, and she admitted her willingness to put differences
aside and focus herself on accepting the Weasley family as her own.

Not immediately after, but soon enough, the atmosphere seemed to lighten considerably. Nervous
smiles were exchanged, and everyone broke off to either grab a bite to eat, or exchange small talk
with a nearby partner - because one important foundation for unity and sense of family acceptance
has been established between our temperamental characters, and it was indeed a cornerstone
development.

“Oh, cheer up!” Ginny was heard admonishing Draco at one point - he was still standing rather
awkwardly, possibly battling with his preconceived notions and current confusions about what he had
enthralled himself into…

The night itself passed well - toasts to family were common and frequent, Mrs. Weasley's
cooking had proved its legendary status once again, and love had found its way at last.

Because a strike upon the hour is just that - a new beginning, towards a better future of love
and happiness.

*Fin.*

**A/N Wow…this fic is officially finished, with the exception of the epilogue, which will no
doubt delight you…in the meanwhile, reviews are welcome. :D**

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12. Epilogue: Wait and Hope
---------------------------



**A/N: I think this is a good time to say the name of the song that inspired me to write this
story…Whitney Houston's “I wanna dance with somebody”. Listen to it, as you read the epilogue
of “A Strike Upon the Hour”…please enjoy. :D**

**Epilogue: Wait and Hope**

The sun's rays shone bright and warm, but the refreshing coolness that permeated the air,
foretold of the impending oncoming of fall. A sudden gust of wind picked up and swirled the leaves,
which had already fallen on the rails and around the station, As it happened, the air was also full
of another noise - that of a chattering crowd, moving chaotically on the station beside the
Hogwarts Express

A man, seemingly in the latter part of his third decade of life, was leaning against the wall,
looking out towards the scarlet steam engine he remembered from his youth. The wistful gaze in this
man's green eyes, framed in circular glasses, was following the movements of a teenaged boy,
being hassled by his mother about something - probably a pair of socks he had forgotten to
pack.

Yes, Harry Potter's life had taken a turn for the better, as he himself reflected, looking
on to his wife, Hermione, and his son, James. Then, quite unexpectedly, a pair of flailing arms
over the crowd caught his eyes.

“Daddy!” a girl of approximately fifteen shouted at him. “I love you! See you at Christmas!”

“Love you too,” Harry called out and waved goodbye to his daughter, as she hopped onto the
train, closely followed by several girls in her year.

Harry strode quickly over to where Hermione and their son were still arguing.

“Mum,” he was saying vehemently, “I will not break the rules, I promise! Will you let me
go!”

“I don't want to hear about you scaring the Bloody Baron out of his wits again, understood!”
Hermione's strict voice continued talking on.

“I promise, I promise,” James replied hurriedly. “Now let's go, or I'll be late!”

“He should hurry, love,” Harry said complacently to Hermione, as the conductor on the station
called for the train's departure in ten minutes.

“Go say goodbye to Andromeda,” Harry told Hermione, “before the train leaves, and I'll help
James with the trunk.”

“Alright,” Hermione agreed, “but don't you hurry off with him either!”

Harry smirked mischievously, and levitated James' trunk with his wand. “Come on,” he
said.

They weaved their way to the crowd, James in front, towards another group of third years.

“There you are!” another boy, about James' age said, “thought you weren't showing
up.”

He had bright red hair, a trademark of the Weasley family - and it was, indeed, Ron and
Luna's son, Sirius, named to honor Harry's long passed godfather.

The youngsters delved into their own discussion, and Harry did not bother to follow it, as he
saw his best friend and Luna coming in their direction.

“Harry,” Ron greeted him with a smile, “it's that time of year again.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry responded with an equally large grin, “hey, Luna.”

“How are you, Harry?” she said serenely.

“I'm well…very well,” he answered happily.

Ron and Luna had aged with time too. White streaks of hair appeared in Ron's mane, but
Luna's blonde hair had retained its shine. Their faces were more lined, but also looked wiser.
Regardless, they still were brilliant in appearance - instead of exhausted, tired and grouchy, Ron
was just as he had always been - still jovial, full of life and immaturity. Luna had also kept her
dreamy exterior, and her character remained as vague as before, though she also exhumed an attitude
of focus and attention.

Hermione had, in the meanwhile, arrived to join Harry.

“Ron! Luna!” she exclaimed in delight. “Hello!”

“Hello to you too, Hermione,” they answered her jovially.

“Hermione,” Harry asked her, “is Andromeda alright?”

“Yes, she is,” she told him, “and on her way to fifth year.”

“Good,” Harry smiled.

“Luna,” Hermione said, a glint appearing in her eyes, “do you remember what we talked about the
other day?”

“Ah, yes, I do,” the serene blond replied with the same purposeful tone of voice.

Hermione nodded, and the plan she and Luna had previously arranged, and of which the author had
never even received a hint, was given a start.

“Oh! Sirius! James!” Luna suddenly called out, just as they were boarding the train.

An audible groan of annoyance sounded from the troop of third years.

“Go ahead,” Sirius told the rest of their friends, “and save us a seat,” he added, before he
turned to his mother. “Yes?”

“I forgot to kiss you goodbye,” Luna said sweetly, and bending down, she kissed him on both
cheeks, to the sound of the group of snickering friends.

“See you later, mum,” Sirius said through clenched teeth, and pulled himself free. “Oy, shut
up!” he called to James, as they were turning around to go back to the train.

Only, Hermione caught James' arm and stopped him in his tracks. He turned back to Hermione
questioningly.

“It's your turn,” she said, just as sweetly as Luna had.

A minute later, thoroughly embarrassed, James and Sirius boarded the train without a word,
looking mutinously towards their friends, and not daring to send a gaze backwards.

“Mission accomplished,” Hermione said with mirth. “We'll see them at Christmas.”

Luna nodded in agreement, and smiled, while Harry and Ron were also smirking in the rear. They
felt it was necessary for the boys to appreciate their mothers, and purposefully did not intervene.
As well - Mrs. Weasley bestowed with a similar ritual during their Hogwarts years, and the
tradition could be continued…

There was a sudden commotion behind them, and Harry turned around, scanning the crowd for the
source of the disturbance. It soon manifested itself, in the shape of one Draco Malfoy, quickly
ushering Ginny and a boy of about sixteen, in front of him. Behind him, an elderly Mrs. Weasley was
advancing rapidly, and Mr. Weasley was behind her, striding as quickly as he could at his age.

“Three minutes to departure!” called a magically amplified voice over the crowd.

The Malfoy son had inherited the best features of his parents; he had Draco's eyes, but
Ginny's hair, and he was not quite as pale as his father - all in all, a handsome lad who had
already attracted considerable attention from Hogwarts' female population - and other girls
around the station could be seen sending covert glances in his direction.

“Hurry now,” Ginny was saying to her son, “don't forget to write and for Merlin's sake,
pluck up the courage to ask Andromeda on a date, won't you!”

“Mother!” he answered, scandalized.

“I love you, dear, and so does your father,” Ginny said rapidly, but with affection. “Go now,
quickly.”

“See you, father,” Regulus replied, and turned towards the train.

“Take care, son,” Draco called after him, “and listen to your mother!”

Regulus, however, did not have the time to turn back, as he managed, barely, to jump through the
door of the car, right before it closed. Standing at a window, he waved goodbye, as the train
roared to life, and slowly began to roll forward, incrementally gathering speed and momentum.

Seconds later, they were facing an empty station. Eyes were set on the trail of white smoke that
grew fainter as it traveled further, tracing the way of the Hogwarts Express towards the magical
school. Silently, they stood, watching the plume shrinking towards the horizon…

When, at length, no hint of the train remained, the company of eight that was left behind,
turned to leave King's Cross.

“Harry?” Hermione said quietly.

“Yeah?” he answered her somewhat distantly.

“Do you really think they'll be alright this year - you know, after that close call last
June?” she went on anxiously.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, and sighed. “Yes, Hermione, I do. After all, all we can do,
right now, and in the future, is hope they can deal with the trouble fate throws at them - just as
we did once.”

“Of course,” Hermione agreed. “They'll always have us on their side.”

“Definitely, and we will do all we can to protect our children.”

“Yes, Harry,” Hermione said, more calmly. “That is all we can do.”

“Hmm, yes…” Harry replied thoughtfully, and taking Hermione by the hand, he led her to through
the Muggle side of King's Cross.

It was indeed all they could do…*wait and hope.*

**A/N: Yes…we are done this adventure at last,** **but…****there is this idea of a next
generation sequel brewing in my head, and I am wondering about it…this epilogue would lead nicely
into it, or it could stand by itself as the end of this story…tell me what you think. :D**

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