The Lost Daughter of Potter

Ava

There was no denying who the mother was of the two and a half year old who was running around clad only in a diaper. Her hair was brown, curly, and almost bushy, but her eyes were not those of her mother. Her eyes were green, like two pieced of green glass set in the chubby little face. The child's laughter pierced the night air, her joy apparent as she ran with hands wide open to catch the lightening bugs that flickered and sparked in the night sky.

“See? Look at the stars,” A woman's voice called from over the darkness, her own bare feet tickled by the cool summer grass. The child ran to the blond haired woman and laughed as she tried to reach up and touch the star.

“Shhh! Bugs, yes, it is bugs,” the child replied in her infantile speech. He felt his heart soar as the child was still for a moment before tearing across the lawn again in search of her sparkling prize.

`This is what she took from me,' Harry thought bitterly as he stood just out of sight, watching the child stop to examine a piece of stick laying in the grass. The child picked it up and waved it around.

“Alakazam! Hocus Pocus!” The child screeched as she brandished the stick as if it was a wand. It would be years before the child would get her letter from Hogwarts, and her very own wand. Harry felt his heart go stone cold. This child should be with him, learning the ways of their people, not being raised by a muggle woman in a cottage outside of the city without a proper father.

“Ava, come inside now, dear,” the woman called as the child took to throwing the stick towards where Harry was hiding. The child seemed to look directly at Harry and smiled, her tiny white teeth shining in the half-lit moon. The child's name was Ava. Harry wondered if her muggle mother had named her that or had her witch mother named her Ava. The chubby toddler ran full speed at her mother, was scooped up, and was taken inside the quaint cottage for bath and bed. Harry had followed, not wanting to let go of the scene.

“Ava, it is time to go to sleep, we pray the lord our soul to keep. A prayer for your mother-dear, and a prayer for your mother-here,” The woman prayed with the child, touching the child's heart as she said the prayer. “A prayer for your father strong, a prayer to keep you all night long. Amen.”

“Amen,” the toddler chimed. The blond woman kissed the toddler's forehead and lay her down in the wooden crib. She stood there, unaware that Harry was there, watching over the child as her eye lids began to fall and all that seemed to be left was the dark eyelashes on the child's cheek.

Harry followed the blond woman, watching her intently. He was certain that she loved Ava well enough, but she knew nothing of the world that Ava belonged in, his world, their world. He knew he had to talk to Hermione about this, to get her reasoning. He knew he would have to forgive her one day, but he knew he didn't have to rush that forgiveness.

The woman, he decided, was nice enough, and he felt secure leaving the little girl in her custody for now. He turned and disappeared from the spot in the blond woman's bedroom. The woman looked up, certain she had heard a noise, but assuming she was hearing things she headed off to bed.

Harry found himself outside of his best friend's house, looking at the old, careworn building that he was using as a sort of bachelor pad since they had both separated from their current mistresses and wives. Harry couldn't help but be angry for a moment at her. She had kept his daughter a secret this whole time.

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Hermione's House

Hermione heard the bell and looked at the clock. It was nearly nine o'clock on a Tuesday evening. Who in their right mind would be calling at this hour? She rose out of her bed, abandoning the thick book she had picked up earlier that day in Diagon Alley. She sighed, wondering who was so blatantly abusing her door bell, the chime echoing in the house. She pulled her robe on over her sensible sweat pants and tee shirt, tying it around the waist, and slipped her feet into rather care worn bunny slippers.

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” She shouted finally sick of the bell. She flicked her wand at the chime silencing it at once, though it didn't seem to stop the assault on the switch outside. She peeked out the peep hole, surprised to see Ron and Harry standing there. She pulled the heavy oak door open and bade them entry. “Really, Harry, did you have to press the bell so many times?”

Hermione was looking rather disapproving at the bell as it hung limply by its wires. She turned her wand on it and it repaired itself immediately. She closed the door behind the two late night visitors and gestured for them to follow her to the living room. Harry and Ron took their usual seats on Hermione's over stuffed sofa bed and looked at her expectantly as she sat in her usual arm chair.

“What are you guys doing here? Don't you know what time it is?” Hermione asked as she slipped her slippers off and pulled her feet up onto the chair.

“Mione, it's like nine o'clock,” Ron retorted as he checked his watch. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the clock on her mantel.

“Yes, and I have to be at the ministry early,” Hermione said rather crossly. Hermione glanced at Harry, who was looking rather sulky. She frowned.

“Your shift starts at nine, like the rest of us,” Ron said. Hermione looked at him with questions in her eyes.

“Certainly you two didn't come all the way to Mondatta Rowe to discuss when my shift is or isn't,” Hermione said as she looked to Harry. “We all know that Harry is our leader, and if you want me there at a different time an owl would have sufficed.”

“We're not here about your shift, Hermione,” Harry said with cold overtones in his voice. Hermione glanced at Ron but found that Ron was staring out the window at Hermione's patio garden.

“When did you start calling me Hermione?” Hermione asked as she narrowed her eyes, turning back to Harry. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the various things in her living room. He had been in this room a dozen times; seen many of these pictures, but it occurred to him that he had no idea who any of these people were.

“Were you never going to tell me?” Harry asked after a few minutes of silence. He was standing now at her fire place, his back to her. He was holding a framed picture of them taken their first year of school. That seemed like ages ago, more than the decade that had really passed.

“Tell you what?” Hermione said. Her voice was even, if not a bit confused. Ron looked at her, as if trying to talk to her with his mind. Ron had never been a subtle one and Harry had seen Ron's bizarre twitching in the reflection of the mirror over the mantle.

“You said you didn't know anything about it, Ron,” Harry accused as he rounded on Ron. Ron jumped up immediately, his hands up in a defensive move.

“I don't,” Ron implored.

“Then what the hell was that little head jerking thing?” Harry asked. Ron shrugged.

“I was just trying to get her just to tell you whatever,” Ron grumbled as he stalked off to raid Hermione's fridge. “See if I come along anymore for moral support.”

“Moral support? You are raiding the enemy's fridge,” Harry called to him. Hermione jumped up at this rather angry.

“Who in Merlin's beard are you calling `the enemy' Harry Potter?” Hermione said waspishly as she pointed her wand at him in a rather threatening manner.

“So now we are on full name basis, Hermione Granger?” Harry accused. She narrowed her eyes.

“I think you need to say your peace and leave,” Hermione said crossly. “You and I are friends, but you aren't acting very friendly and I am not above cursing you were you stand. It would be worth a meeting with Shacklebolt.”

“Are we really friends, Hermione?” Harry asked her with his own bright green eyes narrowed. Hermione's eyes widen with disbelief.

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione said. “I wouldn't have fought beside you and Ron against he-who-must-not-be…”

“Just call him Voldemort, already, ok?” Ron snapped from the kitchen, his mouth full of tuna.

“Fine, Voldemort, I wouldn't have fought Voldemort if we weren't friends,” Hermione snapped. She couldn't believe that Harry was questioning her loyalty after all of these years. “Oh, and Ron, that is Crookshank's cat food you are eating.”

Ron audibly spat right into Hermione's sink and nearly drowned himself under the faucet. On any other day, they would have been laughing together, Harry and her, at Ron, but the tension was so thick not even this bit of highly amusing comical display could crack even a slight smile.

“Is that so?” Harry asked.

“Yes, that is so Harry,” Hermione snapped at him. Her patience was waning. She was tired, she had that book she had wanted to read, and he just wasn't getting to the point fast enough. “What is it that you are accusing me of exactly, Harry?”

“Tell me about Ava,” Harry said. He was looking her straight in the eyes. She stood absolutely still, not making a sound. He tried to read her face, but she had been getting so well with the poker faces he couldn't read anything that was going on behind those big, brown eyes.

“Ava?” Hermione said as slight confusion slipped across her face. “Is she a witch at the ministry?”

“No, Hermione, and you know that,” Harry snapped.

“I don't know an Ava,” Hermione retorted. Harry was inches from her now, breathing in a hard, angry way that made Hermione just the slightest bit nervous. After all, he was known for his temper and his short fuse, and while she had never been on the receiving end of one of his tirades, she knew that they could be nasty.

“Come off it, Hermione. You know Ava, though you might have called her something else,” Harry snapped. “She's my daughter.” The silence was deafening. Ron had stopped his choking and gagging to stare at Hermione and Harry standing just inches from each other. Harry looked ready to kill, and Hermione looked confused.

“You… you have a daughter?” Hermione asked slowly. Harry was even more enraged.

“Yes, and you knew it, Hermione,” Harry spat. Hermione shook her head, denying it.

“No, Harry, I didn't even know you were seeing anyone that seriously,” Hermione protested as she stepped away from him. He was about to erupt and she wanted to be clear of that volcano when it exploded.

“I'm not, but I needn't be dating anyone to have a child,” Harry snapped rudely. “Especially when I have you so near and dear,” he added with a cold chill in his voice.

“What is that supposed to mean, Harry?” Hermione asked with her own annoyed look on her face.

“Don't pretend you didn't know we have a daughter, Hermione,” Harry growled. “I may be a guy, but even I know you wouldn't have been able to ignore the symptoms.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Hermione demanded.

“Ava, Hermione. She is our daughter, as in yours and mine,” Harry screamed at her angrily. “You kept her a secret and hid her in the muggle world! I just want to know when! When did you trick me?”

“I never slept with you, Harry!” Hermione yelled.

“That is what I thought, too, but I know how skilled you are,” Harry accused coldly. “A potion, a spell… poof… memory erased!”

“How dare you, Harry Potter,” Hermione screamed at him, enraged. “You can leave now, and if I never see you again, fine by me!”

“Fine!” Harry said as he stormed through the door she was now holding open. “But this is not over, Hermione Granger! I will find out what you did to me!”

Hermione slammed the door behind Ron, the sound reverberating and setting off car alarms of cars parked along the street at Mondatta Rowe. The door remained closed, despite Harry and Ron standing outside of it, glaring at it with all the hatred that Harry could muster. He turned and found himself outside of the house at Grimmuld Place, needing a safe place to cool off.

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Trading Down

“Master, Kreatcher wasn't expecting you home,” The small house elf cackled, dipping a low bow. Harry pushed in, tossing his jacket on the chair. “If Kreatcher had known, Kreatcher would have had dinner ready or turned down your bed.”

“Not now, Kreatcher,” Harry growled as the house elf attempted to assist Harry in ridding him of other unnecessary garments. Harry was tempted to kick the house elf, but he knew it wasn't Kreatcher's fault that Harry was in such a foul mood.

“Would master like a drink?” Kreatcher asked as he hung Harry's jacket on the coat tree.

“Please,” Harry forced as he threw himself on Sirius' old bed. He looked at the picture of Sirius, Remus, Peter, and his dad on the wall. Had his dad been in the same situation with his mum, would James Potter have nearly lost his temper as Harry very nearly did? Harry didn't know. He never got a chance to know his father, and now there was this child out there, Ava, who had lived all these years not knowing him. Kreatcher brought Harry a smoking goblet of something from the store room. Harry had an idea what it was, but didn't care. He knew he would pay for it in the morning, but right then, fire whiskey sounded like a damn good cure to his anger.

Harry was angry, looking a bit rough and slept in, when he arrived at the ministry over an hour late. Kreatcher had just been able to wake him and Harry hadn't even bothered changing or attempting to brush his hair. He ignored the looks as he stormed through the front doors at the ministry, soaking wet from the rain that seemed to follow him from the arrival station to the actual ministry. He had forgotten his badge and he was forced to summon Kreatcher, who so willingly brought it to him.

“Potter, you're late,” Shacklebolt said as Harry stormed into the meeting room. A trail of water followed him, followed by the maintenance personnel who were rather disgruntled by the lack of consideration by the young Auror.

“Sorry,” Harry grunted as he took his seat beside Ron. Ron gave him a look, and attempted to dry Harry's clothes, only to set them on fire.

“Only you would be able to set wet clothes on fire, Ron,” Harry remarked as he put out the fire and simultaneously drying his clothes. Ron grumbled something that sounded rather rude, but it went ignored. Harry hadn't intended on looking for her, but his eyes fell right on Hermione. She was looking a hell of a lot better than he was, her clothes neat, clean, and not smelling now of burnt and damp. She wasn't looking at him, but at her notes. Her quill was the only thing that seemed to move as she scribbled notes. As usual, she had been elected to take the meeting's minutes versus having an unsecured ministry secretary do it.

“As I was saying, there have been a lot of rumors flying around that the Transylvania Vampires are recruiting,” Shacklebolt said. “I need my alpha dog team on this, Harry. Do you think you and your team can break away from your other projects for the time being and check into this?”

Harry normally would have looked to Hermione, her judgment was always great about these sorts of things, but she was focused on her notes, and he wasn't going to admit he needed her. He didn't. He was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Chosen One. He needed no one.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied. Shacklebolt nodded and continued talking. Hermione continued to take notes, but her face was scrunched up a bit in a rather displeased manner. At the end of the meeting, Hermione didn't mingle with the other Aurors but headed straight to the office that she, Harry, and Ron shared. Her desk was always much cleaner than either of Ron's desk or Harry's desk, and today, Harry found that really irked him. Harry and Ron entered the office, and Ron immediately went to his own desk, not wanting to set either of them off in another shouting match.

“So,” Harry said as he sat down at his desk with the file Shacklebolt had given him.

“So,” Ron repeated. He was looking at Harry, but glanced over at Hermione. She was working silently on something on her desk. Harry was uncertain. Normally, when they were assigned tasks, Hermione took over and organized. He was the muscle of the team but Hermione was by far the brains. He refused to ask her for help though. He was still pissed as hell, and how dare she keep something like that from him, anyway? She was still maintaining her innocents, but the truth was written on that fat little toddlers' face.

“Any ideas?” Harry asked hopefully. Ron looked a little constipated as he racked his brains for a shred of a decent idea. Hermione continued to work on the neat little files on her desk, not even acknowledging Harry.

“Nothing, mate,” Ron said as he shook his head. “Not a damn thing in there.”

Harry could tell that Ron was trying to be funny, but things were too tense in their office for anything to be funny. Harry made a kind of grimaced face and flipped through the file. The basic information was in there, but there was absolutely nothing that seemed to help Harry out. Shacklebolt walked into the office with Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley.

“Harry, a word please?” Shacklebolt said. Harry was thankful for the interruption and he placed the file on his desk. He rose and joined Shacklebolt at the door, catching the pile on his desk consume the file out of the corner of his eye. He thought to himself that he might want to think about removing a few layers, soon.

“What can I do for you, minister?” Harry asked as he took a seat inside Shacklebolt's plush, private office. He glanced at Ginny and Draco who were standing outside of the office, not looking at each other, not saying a word.

“I need to replace one of your team members for this project,” Shacklebolt said as he flipped through the ever increasing stack of papers on his desk. Even Shacklebolt's desk was cluttered. Hermione's desk seemed indecent in its spotless, orderly ways.

“Hermione,” Harry answered. Harry would show her. She had to be in everything, know everything. He was certain the thought that he was out doing something great without her would show her. You don't hide Harry Potter's child from him and lie about it.

“You didn't even hear what the task would be,” Shacklebolt said rather alarmed at the swiftness of Harry's response.

“I can spare her,” Harry assured Shacklebolt. Kingsley Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows but nodded once.

“All right, if you think you can spare her,” Shacklebolt said. “Ginny will be joining you then, taking her place.”

Ginny seemed to have been summoned and joined Harry and Shacklebolt in the office. Together, the three headed back to the Aurors' Alpha office. Hermione wasn't even there.

“Where is Hermione?” Harry asked Ron, trying not to sound too demanding. Ron glanced at Ginny and shrugged.

“She said she was taking an early lunch,” Ron said. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Figures,” Harry said unsympathetically.

“Well, when she gets back in, please send her to my office,” Shacklebolt said. Harry nodded and pointed Ginny toward Hermione's desk. Ginny took it without word or question. Harry searched his desk to find the file.

“Ron, have you seen the file?” Harry asked. Ron shook his head quickly.

“No,” Ron said. He was fighting with something that had taken up residence in his desk drawer, apparently it and Ron wanting the same old sandwich.

“Damn,” Harry growled. Today was just not his day. Harry spent the next thirty minutes digging through papers and posts, looking for the file that Shacklebolt had given him. He was starting to panic, thinking how disappointed Shacklebolt would be if he was unable to even keep-up with a simple folder.

“Still haven't found it?” Ron asked as he nursed a bit finger. The creature that was living in his drawer had not only won the sandwich, he had decided that Ron's finger would make a delicious treat.

“Obviously not,” Harry snapped. Ron scowled at him but didn't say anything. Ron could tell that Harry was in one of his moods. It made him a bit unbearable.

“What is she doing at my desk?” Hermione demanded as she stood in the door way of their office.

“You are off the case,” Harry said coldly, tossing the words over his shoulder. He barely glanced at her, turning instead to his desk. He took his shoe off and started beating something that looked like a giant slug that had taken up residence behind a stack of old journals Harry had been meaning to read.

“You took me off the case?” Hermione asked. Ron looked up at her, her anger evident on her face.

“Yes,” Harry snapped. “As the leader, I have to select a trust worthy team.”

“Some leader,” Hermione puffed as she walked to her desk. Ginny smiled smugly up at Hermione, almost as if taunting her. Hermione rolled her eyes and flung her desk drawer open, smacking Ginny in the knee.

“What the hell, Granger?” Ginny snapped as she stood and drew her wand. Hermione looked at her with a mirrored rage.

“You replace me with this?” Hermione directed at Harry. “An intern?”

“That's my sister,” Ron retorted.

“I don't care!” Hermione yelled at him. She was shaking with anger and rage. She bounded on Harry. “Is this about that garbage you were spewing last night?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Harry snapped at her. “I just can't have someone I don't trust on my team.”

“So you kick me off the team while I am at lunch?” Hermione shouted at him. She was so angry, though unlike Ginny, she had not drawn her wand, at least not yet.

“Speaking of lunches, you are only allotted a thirty minute break and you have been gone for longer than that,” Harry said snidely. “Shacklebolt wants to see you in his office.” Hermione was enraged.

“The lifts are down and I had to take the stairs, all thirty-three flights from the café to this department. I am late? This coming from the wizard who can't even make it to work on time,” Hermione said. She opened her bag and started thumbing through the files and papers contained in it. She handed the missing file to Harry, shoving it rather roughly into his hands. “Shacklebolt made a huge mistake making you the leader, and Harry Potter; I hope I am there when you fall!”

“You stole my file!” Harry accused. “First you steal my kid, then this file. Is there anything you haven't stolen from me, Granger?”

“Oh,” Hermione said with a sarcastic look on her face. She had finally drawn her wand “Oh, I steal from you? Ok, how about this? Notikius Destructikus. Figure this out for yourself. You aren't riding my coat tails any longer. Sink or swim, I don't care. Personally, I hope you drown.”

Hermione turn around abrupt and left the office, taking the air out of the room with her. Harry's face dropped as the tiny notes that Hermione had written all over the file slowly faded. She had taken the file, but only to help him. He sank into his desk chair as two rather angry looking Weasleys looked at him.

“Whatever you did, you better put it right,” Ginny said to him. “Hermione and I haven't been friends in a long time, but you screwed us real good with this.”

Harry looked at the file sitting in his lap and thumbed through it. He ran his fingers over the page, thinking. Realization swept over him like a lead balloon, whether she had lied to him or not, Hermione never did anything unless it was for a good reason. He really had screwed them. With Hermione, his job was a breeze. Now that he had kicked her off the team, traded one of the brightest Aurors for an intern, he wasn't sure this was a job that he could do on his own.

“I have to go talk to her,” Harry said as he jumped up. File still in his hand, he ran out of his office and went to the lifts. He pressed the button a half a dozen times before another witch kindly informed him the lifts had broken down and that the ministry didn't know when they would be back on line. Harry headed to the stair well and ran the stairs two at a time.

“Shacklebolt, please,” Harry panted to the Kingsley's secretary.

“I'm sorry, Harry, but Mr. Shacklebolt is in a meeting,” The witch said as she continued to file her nails. Harry pushed through the door and into Shacklebolt's office, startling him and the ancient wizard he was speaking with in hushed tones.

“Harry, what is the meaning of this?” Shacklebolt snapped rather angrily. He wasn't used to people bursting into his office unannounced and this was the fifth time today.

“It's Hermione,” Harry panted with a cramp in his side. He hadn't been quite that active since Quidditch, and he certainly was feeling it about this moment.

“Oh, well, I have already dealt with that issue, Harry,” Shacklebolt said as he round his desk and guided Harry out of his office.

“You have?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Shacklebolt said. “She has been reassigned.”

“What? Why?” Harry demanded. Shacklebolt raised an eye brow at him. This insubordination seemed to be spreading among his Aurors like a wildfire. At the next Aurors meeting, he really was going to have to bring it up and put an end to it.

“Harry, she demanded to be reassigned,” Shacklebolt said as he nudged Harry the rest of the way out of his office. “Now, if you don't mind, I am going to return to Lord Von Dilworth while I still have his undivided attention. Miss Franks, if you will please no more interruptions.”

“Yes Mr. Shacklebolt,” The witch replied as Shacklebolt slammed his office door. Harry glanced at the door. He had been kicked out! Not only was he kicked out of Shacklebolt's office rather unceremoniusly, he had lost Hermione and had no idea how to get her back.

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Inman Park

Harry decided he needed a reprieve, and quick, otherwise he was going to explode. While flying had always provided him with an escape, it had been years since he had been on a broom. He contemplated a quick ride but knew that he really just couldn't pick up a broom and fly off into the distance. He had the Transylvanian Vampire case to deal with, and with Hermione gone, he was on his own.

`You did it now,' Harry thought to himself as he headed back to his office. He was angry; angry with himself and angry with her. What else was she hiding from him? Harry hit the wall with his fist as he rested in the stairwell a moment. He knew Ron would still be waiting in the office, waiting for Harry's guidance. It was seventh year all over again. He had little idea what he was supposed to be doing, and no idea how about going and getting it done.

Harry knew that it was unlikely that the answer would just a fall in his lap. He couldn't expect luck like that to last forever. He growled and yanked the door open, stalking back to his office. Harry ignored the way that people were looking at him, a little concerned and a little curious. He wanted to scream.

“Harry, did you talk to her?” Ron asked with hope as Harry stormed into the office. Harry threw himself into his chair, spinning so that he was facing his desk.

“She's been reassigned,” Harry said. Ron made a noise of displeasure. “She asked. We are on our own with this one.”

Ron wasn't happy to hear that. He, Harry, and Hermione had been friends for ever. He already knew he was the comic relief. He had come to that conclusion years ago, though the way he was bulking up he might give Harry a run for his money in the muscle department. Harry, naturally, was the muscles. Ron had seen him as few had, and knew it was not without reason that Harry was the muscles. Hermione had always been the sweet, sensible brains of their little operation.

“What are we going to do?” Ron asked as Harry began doodling on the outside of the file. Harry sighed, unable to concentrate. He stood.

“Look, I am going to go on home and mull this over a bit,” Harry grumbled as he picked up the folder.

“We're still on for drinks at the Enchanted Mistresses, right?” Ron asked as he watched Harry shove the folder in his messenger bag. Harry looked up at him.

“Yeah, eight right?” Harry asked. Ron nodded.

“Yes, and please tell me that we are getting somewhere with the vampires by then. You know how the sight of blood makes me queasy. The sooner we finish this, the better,” Ron groaned as he took out a stack of reports that he had been meaning to get finished. Seeing as Hermione was going to out of the department for the time being, Ron figured he had better get working.

“Hey, I am doing my best,” Harry snapped a moment. Ron made a disgruntled sound but didn't say anything further. Ron watched as Harry left the office and disappeared into the stair well.

Harry ran the stairs, deciding running down was a lot easier than running up the stairs. Someone fell into step next to him and Harry couldn't help but cringe as the familiar point face, toe-head Draco Malfoy descending the stairs at the same break-neck pace. Draco hadn't acknowledged Harry, and Harry was decidedly fine with that. There was nothing they needed to say to each other. Harry pushed ahead, getting to the door first and exiting it without as much as a word or sound.

Harry had headed home, but found that he couldn't focus. There were too many things that distracted him everywhere he turned. On his desk, a picture of him, Ron, and Hermione, the three of them grinning madly, covered in debris from the raid they had lead three years before. Harry sighed and picked up the framed picture. That raid had made their names in the ministry, or it would have if they hadn't already made their names during the war.

Harry poked the picture, causing Ron to cower to the side and Hermione to look at him with a little disapproving look. They had gone out to celebrate that night, getting wildly corrupt. Harry remembered the memos that had gone out the next morning, causing him to smile a bit. Hermione had been a hell cat that night, very un-Hermione-like. Harry had embraced that Hermione that night, in a very un-we're-just-friends way.

“Damn it,” Harry swore as he threw the picture. The sound of glass shattered the silence. He shoved away from his desk angrily and paced his office. He was agitated. Nothing had happened that night, not that he hadn't wanted it to, but nothing happened. She had laughed, not at him but with him. Harry squeezed his eyes shut tight bring his clenched fists to his temples. He didn't want to think about that. Not right now, because he was over it. He had to be.

They had been, what, eighteen years old and still feeling pretty high on life at that point. Harry shook his head. No! Damn it, he didn't want to think about it, no now, and it seemed to be the very thing Harry's mind clung to, despite his wishes. They had just succeeded in a raid that had put a good many bad witches and wizards away. He had been the leader, yes, but she had stood proudly beside him. She had been so proud of him. She had always been there, when no one else would stand beside him. A primal, tortured growl erupted from Harry and he struck the wall beside him, the plaster crumbling away.

Harry glanced down, distracted by the blood that was oozing from his hand. How many times had he shed blood for unrequited love? Harry laughed rather bitterly. He didn't love her. He grabbed a towel from the powder room and dabbed at the blood on his hand. He was going to have to start watching his temper. He wondered if Ava had his temperament or if she was more like Hermione. Harry felt his chest constrict. He had a child with Hermione, a child he never knew about, and he couldn't remember ever being with Hermione.

How could Hermione have been so unremarkable he wouldn't have remembered? Everything about her was amazing and extra-ordinary. Harry paced the study, deep and lost in his own selfish thoughts. What had she done to him? He couldn't help but feel angry and resentful towards her. If she had done this to him, why not let him remember? He would have done right by her, no questions. They could have been happy together, the three of them.

“Kreatcher?” Harry called out loudly. He knew he didn't need to be loud. Kreatcher could be summoned with a whisper, if need be.

“Yes, master?” Kreatcher said as he bowed to his master.

“I am going out for a while. You don't need to wait up,” Harry said as he pulled on his jacket.

“Yes, sir,” Kreatcher said bowing deeply again. Harry slammed the door to the house on his way out. He really didn't need to, but he had been slamming everything else and forgot that maybe he should treat his property a little more gently.

`Were you gentle with Hermione?' Harry thought. He looked startled for a moment. This was one of those things he had no answer. Had he been gentle with her?

Harry knew he could get a little aggressive from time to time, and many of the women that had come and gone in his life had either loved it or hated it. He couldn't think of a time that he hadn't been dead set on leaving his mark on a woman. He couldn't imagine being that way with Hermione, but then again, he couldn't imagine ever actually being with Hermione. No, that wasn't right. He could imagine being with Hermione.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Harry shouted causing quite a few people to turn and look at him rather curiously. His behavior was starting to make him come off as a crazy person. He caught his reflection in the window of a muggle bakery. He barely recognized the person looking back at him, causing him to look behind him momentarily. He looked terrible, still in the same clothes from the day before. He hadn't even thought to change. His hair was wilder than it had been in recent years. He looked like a mental patient escaped from Milledgeville. What was wrong with him?

Thinking that maybe a walk in the park would be good, Harry tried to smooth his hair down and to straighten his clothes. Maybe the fresh air and nature would revitalize him and center him. He crossed at the light and headed into Inman Park. It took him no less than ten minutes to realize that this was not the best place to be in the early hours of the afternoon.

“Daddy, push me,” a little girl called as she pulled a man by the hand to the large swings. Harry leaned against a tree, watching as the girl, maybe five or six, climbed onto the swings. Her father pushed her higher and higher, causing squeals of delight to shatter Harry's thoughts. At that moment, he could think of nothing else than the children in the park, playing with their parents.

“This was such a mistake,” Harry murmured as fathers tossed daughter in the air; sons and mothers chased each other. Of all the places Harry could have chosen to walk, he had to walk right beside a playground. He thought of Ava.

Ava, who was but two years old, would never ask him to push her on the swings or run to him when she fell. Harry felt his anger boiling up inside himself again. He would never get the chance to chase away the monsters in Ava's closet; he would never get a chance to kiss away her tears. How could Hermione do this to him? How could she keep from him the one thing he had never had, and that he had ever wanted: his family?

Harry felt a bit like crying, feeling the sting of angry tears on lids that never cried anymore. He crossed his arms and headed out of the park. He walked blindly for a few hours, not really having a direction. He found himself outside of Hermione's building. His face was oddly damp, and he wiped his face on his sleeve. He wanted answers. He looked up to the windows of her unit, thankful to see the lights on, and he took the stairs two at a time.

Harry felt like it took her forever for Hermione to answer the door. She looked genuinely surprised to see him, though it may have had to do with in part that he still looked like hell. He didn't wait for her to bid him entrance into her home, just stepped around her and entered. She looked at him with concern as he began to pace her living room.

“Mione, who's here? Is it Diggers?” A voice drawled from the kitchen. Harry froze and his eyes slid to Hermione, really seeing her. She looked nice, really nice. She was wearing a light blue dress and her mother's pearls. She bit her lip a second, as if contemplating something.

“No, Draco, it's Harry,” Hermione called as Draco entered the room. Harry felt his rage boiling up as realization swept over him like an icy wind. Draco was wearing nice slacks, and while he was wearing a button up shirt, the first buttons unfastened. He had his sleeves rolled up, and the house smelled like food. Not the take-out kind either. It smelled like home cooked food.

“Harry,” Draco said with a light of mild surprise in his eyes. “Are you ok, mate?”

“We are not mates,” Harry growled. He turned to Hermione. “What is he doing here?”

“We are having dinner, Harry. Would you like to join us?” Hermione said in her normal, quiet voice. She narrowed her eyes at him, concerned.

“Why are you having dinner with Draco Malfoy?” Harry barked at Hermione. She jumped, not expecting the coarse tone.

“I am allowed to have dinner with anyone I choose,” Hermione said crossly. She walked to her front door and opened it. “I want you to leave.”

“What? Now I can't stay?” Harry mocked cruelly as he glared at her. Draco stepped forward.

“Look, Harry, maybe you and she should talk after you guys have had a chance to cool off,” Malfoy said quietly. Harry rounded on him, fire in his eyes.

“Shove it, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “Like usual, you have no idea what you are messing with.”

“Harry! That is completely uncalled for!” Hermione yelled at him, her temper breaking. Harry punched Malfoy in the face, Hermione crying out in shock, and walked out the door. The door slammed behind him and Harry stood for the second time in twenty-four hours incredibly angry at the top of Hermione's front stairs.

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Falling Apart At The Seams

Harry wasn't really listening to Ron talking up a pair of really pretty witches. Harry had wanted nothing more than to just go home and drink away his worries there. He glanced down in his glass, unsatisfied to see that there was just but a sip left. He wasn't above chewing the ice, but Harry wasn't in the mood to be there at the Enchanted Mistresses. Everyone here was too happy, too care free.

He tilted his cup, swirling the clear liquid inside. His hand was aching, and he was fairly certain he had broken it when he hit Malfoy. He chuckled. Malfoy hadn't seen that coming, and while he knew he would have to deal with it in the morning, he had to say it felt pretty good hitting Draco like that.

“Are you listening, Harry?” Ron asked laughing as one of the pretty girls leaned forward to whisper something in Ron's ear.

“Nah, what?” Harry said looking up at him.

“Cheyenne and Rebecca said that we could come back to their place if we want. It's a little quieter, and they would love to hear more of our stories,” Ron said. Harry hesitated, looking at the girls. They were very pretty, indeed, and the thought of throwing himself into the bed of a semi-strange woman was tempting. The thought of Hermione floated into his mind, causing his insides to squirm. Harry glanced at his wrist watch.

“You know, I would love to,” Harry said as he gathered his jacket. He down the last sip of his drink and placed it back on the counter. “I actually think I am going to head to Saint Mungo's and get this hand checked out.”

“Do you want me to come?” Ron asked though it was more of a reflexive thing than an actual offer. Harry shook his head.

“Nah,” Harry said. He nodded at the two girls. “Pleasure meeting you ladies.”

Harry figured he had already told Ron that he was heading to get his hand checked; he might as well go get it checked. He walked the three blocks to Saint Mungo's and entered through the doors. It was maybe eleven, eleven-thirty but the place was quiet. Apparently it was a slow night. Harry walked to the counter and signed in, taking a clip board. He sat and began filling out the paperwork, hesitating only when it asked for his emergency contact. Hermione had always been the one, but Harry didn't think that she would appreciate a call in regards to him.

“Does it look bad, Mione?” A rather nasally sounding voice asked as two people rounded the corner.

“Yeah, Draco, it does,” Hermione replied hesitating when she saw Harry sitting there, filling out his forms. He had looked up and he saw her with Draco again. He felt a stab in his chest.

`Must be anger,' he thought although it felt a lot like jealousy. He saw that Draco's face was pretty swollen, his nose broken. He had managed to bleed all over himself, and Hermione had a good bit of his blood on her as well.

“Let's just go,” Hermione whispered to Draco as she hurried them out of the waiting room.

`If you hadn't been a prick, she would be comforting you,' Harry thought bitterly as he jab the quill into the paper at the end of his signature. He hated that his mind was mutinying against him. He dreaded the thought that if the mind could, so would the body.

Harry left the hospital a few hours later, and feeling rather low, started walking home. He was one of the few people who were out at this hour, and he found himself wishing that someone would have missed him enough to notice that he hadn't arrived home yet. Sad realization flooded over him. No one would miss him right away. How long would it take someone to realize that he was missing or gone before anyone looked for him? Kreatcher was used to him disappearing for days on end and wouldn't notice if he hadn't returned. It wouldn't have concerned the house elf.

Hermione would have cared enough. She was always worrying about him. Harry couldn't help but smile as he thought about her. She had been the one who had encouraged him when everyone was tearing him down. She had always clapped the loudest for him, cheered the hardest for him. Harry found himself outside of her house again, gazing up at the windows. He knew which one was her bedroom, mentally walking room to room in his mind. He wondered what she was doing up this late, the light still on behind her curtains.

He felt a wave of jealous and betrayal he saw a pair of silhouettes embrace before his eyes. He closed his eyes tight, hoping to erase the sight from his mind. He looked up, and he felt sick. She kissed him, and she was still kissing him. He turned away, hot tears threatening to tear him down on her sidewalk. He wiped his eyes on the back of his arm and fled the sidewalk.

He blinked, uncertain for a moment where he was. He hadn't planned on it, but he was standing outside of Ava's house. It was dark, and obviously everyone in the house was asleep. Harry wasn't thinking, but instead, as if in autopilot, he climbed the stairs to the porch and reached for the knob of the door. He was surprised to find it unlocked. Silently, he glanced around before ducking into the house. The neighbor across the street had seen him and already she was calling for assistance.

Harry remembered where Ava's room was and he took the steps as silently as he could, hesitating when the top step creaked horribly. There weren't any sounds of movement, so Harry continued. He had no idea what he was doing inside Ava's house but he knew he was there for a purpose. He could feel himself drawn to her.

Ava's room was dark, and he had a hard time making out the crib until he walked into it. The jolt woke Ava and she whimpered. Harry didn't have his cloak, and he knew he looked like hell. If someone found him in her room, he would definitely be in some serious trouble. Without a second thought, Harry scooped Ava up in his arms. She looked at him, her green eyes looking into his identical green eyes. He bit his lip, not wanting to start wailing like a baby. He hugged her, the child looking a little uncertain of this stranger in her room.

“Ava, I'm your daddy,” Harry whispered to the child as he brushed her hair out of her face. She smiled slightly as she patted his cheek. Already, she was drifting back to sleep.

“Da-da,” Ava murmured as she tucked her face against his neck. Harry bit back a sob, continuing to rock her in his arms. Tears streamed down his face, splashing soundlessly on his daughter and his clothes. He probably had never loved someone as completely as he did Ava. He would have stood there all night, if he could. He could tell he was about to lose it so he placed Ava back in her crib and covered her with the blanket.

He fled her room and barely made it to the covering of the woods before he broke down. He fell to his knees, his hands covering his face. He didn't hold back; his tears and his sobs echoed in the silence of the night, interrupted only by the sirens of the police. Harry stood up, realizing someone must have seen him enter Ava's house. He couldn't let himself be caught by the muggle police, and he turned, disappearing from Ava's house back to his own house.

Harry found his house silent and he didn't bother breaking that silence with his tears. He shook his head, ashamed. He fought his tears, ripping them with open hands from his face as quickly as they appeared. He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, pausing only long enough to set the taps for his shower. Harry tore the clothes from his body and willed himself to look at his reflection.

Shame washed over him as he glanced at his bandaged hand. He trembled as his eyes swept his body, and he felt his heart shatter when he finally met his own eyes. He didn't even bother to wipe away the tears that seemed to be never ending. He turned away, unable to stand before himself any longer.

He didn't flinch as the hot water poured over his skin, reddening it. He felt cold inside, as shivers shot through him. Ava's face flashed before his eyes. He cried out. Hermione floated into his mind and he placed his head against the cool tile.

“What is wrong with me?” Harry cried out in agony. He brought his fists to his temples as he curled himself into a ball, hoping to drown in his own bath tub. He shook with the sobs that seemed to rattle his body. He had felt lonely before, but this was so much worse. He felt abandoned, discarded.

He didn't bother drying off, instead trailed water from the shower to his bed. Harry threw himself across his bed, not bothering to dress. He figured he had a few hours before he needed to get ready for work. He let the bed swallow him slowly as he lay down upon it face down, his arm cradling his head. He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment let his mind wander carelessly back to three years ago when things were promising between Hermione and him.

Back then, he knew he loved her. He could deny it, but it would like denying his lungs needed air to breathe. She had been his world, and for a moment, he had been hers. He could almost feel his finger tips on his flesh and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to revel in the chills that seemed to rack his body when she touched him.

He let a smile cross his lips slowly; he could practically feel her now. In fact, he could feel her now. He wrenched his eyes open to find the night had stolen away and daylight, more specifically late morning light, had filled his room. He turned his head to the person who was touching his arm, and looked right into Hermione's worried filled eyes.

“Harry, I need you,” Hermione said as a tear slipped out of her eyes.

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A/N: I know that it is taking me a while to get chapters up on this, and I am sorry. I hope this chapter answers a few questions (and creates some new ones). The story reads a lot better continuously.

Redeeming Oneself

Harry sat up with a start. His heart was pounding in his chest and he looked around his room. The sun was just rising and he was as he had been when he fell asleep, alone. He sighed, rubbing his face as he climbed out of bed. He glanced at himself in the mirror, and shook his head. The sadness and shame that had been there the night before had faded some and had left behind the Harry that stood looking at him.

“So, what are you going to do about this?” Harry asked himself in the mirror. He almost expected his reflection to respond, or at least shrug. He shrugged and pulled on his boxer shorts. He had to admit that living alone did have its advantages. If he had lived with anyone, he would have had to care that he had slept bare in his bed with his door wide open. Hermione's brilliant, smiling face slowly slipped before his eyes, causing his stomach to do somersaults. Then again, certain company might have been welcomed.

`What is wrong with you?' Harry thought as he slid his slacks on, buttoning them and belting them. He pulled his shirt on over his head and slipped his feet into his shoes. He shook his head, knowing there was nothing he could do about his hair. He glanced at himself one last time in the full length mirror. He forced a smile as he nodded at his reflection.

Harry waited out of sight of Hermione's door, waiting. He had contemplated what he was going to do. Coffee had seemed like a nice peace offering. He held back as he watched her come out of her house, locking the door with a swift tap of her wand. Harry was frozen to the place he hid. He had seen her, but today, he really saw her. She had her hair up in simple clip, but already some of the strands had escaped her, curling. She was wearing slacks and a dress shirt, the top buttons loosen. He had always known she had a figure, but the cut of the shirt was very suggestive.

“Hey!” Harry called as he chased after her. “Hermione!”

Hermione turned as she came to the crosswalk. She saw Harry jogging toward her. He pulled even with her and handed her a cup of coffee.

“Harry,” Hermione said stiffly. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Harry said. He glanced over at her. “Look, I am really sorry about my behavior, Hermione. I was out of line. I was just in shock, that's all. I am sure you had your reason.”

“For the love of Merlin, Harry,” Hermione said turning to face him. “We never had a child, Harry. We haven't even slept together, yet, or anything. We shared a few mediocre kisses three years ago. Kissing doesn't cause kids.”

“Yet?” Harry asked, unable to help himself. A smile crossed his face and his eyes betrayed him as he took a sweeping look at Hermione. Hermione flushed, the heat rising to her cheeks.

“No, Harry,” Hermione said shaking her head. “We tried this, and it got too awkward.”

“When?” Harry asked. “We never even went out.”

“Look, Harry,” Hermione said slowly. “Don't you think there is a reason you don't want to remember it?”

“Couldn't the same be said to you about Ava?” Harry said. Hermione smiled at Harry, as if she expected no other response from him. She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice so that he would have to really focus on what she was about to say. It was something she had recently learned during her new assignment. When you yelled, people stopped listening, but when you lowered your voice they strained to catch your every word. She let her smile play on her lips.

“Look, Harry,” Hermione said as her fingers went to his collar, adjusting it down where it was trying to flip back up. She smiled at him. “You are an amazing guy. I know it and you know it. If you and I ever slept together, I am sure it would be unforgettable. I have heard the stories.”

He looked down at her with that smile toying on her lips, and he forgot what he was going to say to her. He was disappointed when she pulled away from him. They continued in silence on the way to the ministry. He had never actually walked there, but he could see why she would want to walk. It was very relaxing and peaceful.

“How is Draco?” Harry asked. He didn't really care how Draco was, but figured it might score him points. Hermione saw right through his attempt.

“He is fine,” Hermione said rolling her eyes. She continued down the sidewalk a few more feet then stopped. “You know, you shouldn't have hit him. He's trying to prove to us, all of us, that he has changed.”

“A leopard doesn't change its spots,” Harry said as he threw his empty cup in a refuse bin.

“Don't you mean cheetah?” Hermione said. Harry laughed.

“Either way,” Harry said. Hermione shot him a playful look at the headed through the front doors of the ministry.

“Well, this is where we part, Harry,” Hermione said. “Good luck with your meeting with the Transylvania folks today.”

“Today?” Harry asked slowly.

“Yes, it is in the file. Please tell me you read the file,” Hermione said with a little bit of her bossiness etching back into her voice.

“Oh, yeah, yeah I read it,” Harry said quickly. He forced a smile and looked at his watch. “Oh, I have a meeting with Ron and Ginny in like ten minutes. See you later, Mione.”

“You too, Harry,” Hermione said waving him off as she headed toward the Hall of Records. Harry impatiently jabbed the up button to the elevators, hoping the urgency would make the lift get there faster. Harry tapped his foot rather agitatedly while various witches and wizards got on and off on each of the floors. He nearly screamed as an ancient witch held the elevator while giving directions at a turtle's pace.

Finally on his level, he sprinted to his office, grateful to find Ginny was waiting already. She looked a little miffed, but he didn't have time for the drama. Ron nearly mowed him down to make it to his desk with a stack of books and papers.

“What's that?” Harry asked out of pure curiosity. Ron hated reading and for him to be willingly toting books and papers must have meant only one thing: Ron had a new girlfriend and he was trying to be interested in the same things she was. Harry had to give it up to Ron; he really did try at his relationships. They just always seemed to fail.

“Ronny has a new girlfriend,” Ginny teased.

“Is it that girl from the bar?” Harry asked. Ron nodded.

“Yeah, Rebecca,” Ron said. “You should have come home with us, it was… well, anyways, I'll tell you sometime when my innocently little sis isn't around.”

“Oh, yeah, Ron, right,” Ginny laughed. “I am real innocent.”

“I don't want to know, la…la… la…” Ron said putting his fingers in his ears. Harry laughed, but then remembered the meeting they had that afternoon and he stopped.

“Look, we have that meeting this afternoon, and I am at a complete loss at what to do,” Harry said as he fished the folder out of his bag. The spread out the contents of the folder on the conference table and went through each piece of information in hopes of pulling together something.

“I wish Hermione was here,” Ron mumbled as he checked his watch. The hour was creeping up on them. Ginny made a face.

“Always turning to Hermione for help, Ron,” Ginny grumbled as she rubbed her forehead and continued to read more. “You know, she's not perfect, and she doesn't have all the answers.”

“What an odd thing to say about me, Gin,” Hermione said curtly as she entered the room carrying a stack of papers. She dropped them at the end of the table.

“What's this?” Harry asked. Hermione smiled at him, a pity-filled smile.

“Ah, well, you know I have had something of a soft spot for pathetic boys,” Hermione said.

“Gee, thanks Hermione,” Harry and Ron both said. She laughed as Draco came up behind her.

“Hey,” Hermione said in a sort of out-of-breath way when she saw Draco. “I'm almost ready.”

“Oh, ok,” Draco said looking at Harry. He smirked at Harry and took Hermione's hand, raising his eyebrows.

“Draco!” Hermione snapped as she pulled her hand out of his. She pointed to the outer office. “Wait for me over there, ok? I'm coming.”

“Fine, but we have a long ride, ok?” Draco said. He made a face at Harry. “You know how these Muggle-born witches are, so demanding!”

Draco laughed and headed away from them. He had made his point and intentions very clear. Ginny smiled an almost cruel and sinister smile. She had leaned back in her chair in a rather comfortable way, finger tips touching as if bringing her finger tips together; she was bringing the pieces to a puzzle together.

“So, you are dating Draco after all,” Ginny said snidely. “I thought that was just a rumor.”

“Anyway,” Hermione said loudly, blatantly ignoring Ginny. “My original notes are in there, and well, you should be fine. I will see you next week boys.” Hermione looked at Ginny, raising an eyebrow at her. Almost as if she was warning Ginny something. It was something about her expression that had Harry and Ron confused.

“Uh, ok,” Ron said looking rather confused. Hermione started away. Harry jumped up and chased her down.

“Hey, Hermione?” Harry asked as she turned back to look at him.

“Yes?” Hermione said.

“If he makes you happy,” Harry started nodding toward Draco. He felt a little like vomiting. “I am happy for you.” Hermione rolled her eyes, imagining what it must have taken him to actually conjure those words in his mind and speak them.

“I will see you next week, Harry,” Hermione said with a smirk on her face. She patted his arm and entered the elevator lift with Draco. Harry stood at the door as the door closed, but not before he saw Draco take Hermione's hand.

The meeting couldn't have gone better, and Harry was terribly grateful for Hermione's notes. He even got a smile and a nod from Shacklebolt, who didn't dole out that type of praise very often. Not when he expected greatness from like Harry Potter. He hung back while Harry answered a few remaining questions and shook plenty of people's hands.

“Very good, Harry, very well done,” Shacklebolt said as he patted the boy's shoulder. “Here I was thinking I had made a mistake letting you replace Hermione, but it seemed to work out fine.”

Harry nodded. He knew he should have told Shacklebolt that very minute that Hermione had, indeed, been a very vital part of his presentation, that if it wasn't for Hermione, Harry would have fallen flat on his face with this. He opened his mouth to say something but Ginny came up beside him and squeezed his hand. Harry shot her a look and pulled his hand away.

Shacklebolt was signaled to by another ministry official and was gone before Harry could tell him. He was tempted to push Ginny down and run after him, but that just wasn't something he could do. For one, Ginny would hex the hell out of him, and he would have to explain to others how he ended up with a tail or something. Hermione wouldn't have held him back as he seemed to insist on doing to her. Harry walked away from Ginny and towards Ron. He shouldn't have removed Hermione from his team. She was great. Harry made a face.

“What's the matter?” Ron asked as they walked back to the office. Harry shook his head.

“Nothing I can't deal with,” Harry murmured.

“No one said you couldn't deal with it,” Ron said as he took his usual laid back position in his chair, his foot against the filing cabinet.

“You know, you shouldn't put your feet up,” Harry reminded him. Ron grinned and rolled his eyes.

“You sound like my mother,” Ron said. Harry laughed and put his own feet up on the filing cabinet.

“Now, if Downy walks in here and catches us with our feet up, we are trying to keep our upset Boggart contained. Got it?” Harry said. Ron laughed and nodded.

Ginny stalked into the office and gave Harry a rather disturbing look. Harry glanced at Ron, but Ron was searching through a drawer for something to eat. Harry thought that if Ron wasn't careful, one day Ron's metabolism would catch up with him and he was going to balloon up to a size of a small whale.

“Since we did so great, do you guys want to grab a drink?” Ginny asked. Ron was quick to his feet, Harry rising slowly next to him. Harry smiled. This was something he loved about Ginny. She was such a party girl. If it hadn't been for Ginny, Hermione would have never gone out with them, and if she hadn't gone out with them, Harry wouldn't have gotten to kiss her. God, three years seemed like forever ago.

They sat at the bar at the Leaky Cauldron. It had been Harry's idea after the last time Ron and he went out for some serious celebrating. Ron hadn't been able to get home and Harry had to carry him all the way. It wasn't until Harry got to Ron's flat that he realized that would have been the perfect opportunity for Ron to go home on the Knight Bus. He had himself a good laugh over that one.

Harry and Ron weren't light weights when it came to drinking, but Ginny out drank them by a long shot. She tried to get them to dance with her, despite the absence of music. She was very amusing, and when they all left, she intended on go home with Harry. She help Harry get Ron up into his flat and walked home with Harry. He didn't tell her that she could spend the night, but he never told her that she couldn't either. He shut his bedroom door after showing her to the guest room and locked it with a spell only he could remove. By the jiggling door knob at three-thirty in the morning, Harry knew he had made the right decision.

Harry got up early the next morning and left for work, avoiding Ginny. He had heard her attempt the door quite persistently before she gave up and went back to her own bed. Harry cringed. She wasn't a pleasant person when she didn't get what she needed or wanted. He had remembered how she would hex the heck out of people who even mildly crossed her. Harry didn't want to think too highly of himself, but he wasn't stupid. It wasn't a secret that Ginny still held a candle for him.

It had been sweet while they were in school, and during the very short time his sixth year when they dated, that had been fun, but he was a man now. He was out for more than rolling around in the Forbidden Forrest or behind Hagrid's house. That had been fun, yes, but he was thinking about settling down, starting a family.

“Ava,” Harry murmured as he opened his top desk drawer. He took out the parchment and reread it, though he had read it so many times that it was committed to memory. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he recalled the events. It had been, what, a week ago, maybe two? Harry had been sitting at this very desk, Hermione was out to lunch, and Ron had been sleeping with his feet propped up on the filing cabinet. Downy had already caught Ron once sleeping, and was threatening to have actions taken if Ron couldn't stay awake.

“Harry,” a voice had drawled in that slow, sophisticating and annoying way it did. Harry had looked up from the journal he had been reading.

“Draco, what brings you by the Aurors office?” Harry had asked. He had known that Draco hadn't been able to pass the licensing test for Auror and had been rather unceremoniously dumped in the Hall of Records. Harry had thought it was sad, because Draco did have potential.

“I was asked to give this to you and you alone. Shacklebolt wants this to be a one man operation, very hush-hush, from what I overheard. He did tell me to tell you that you needed to handle this personally,” Draco said quietly as he handed Harry a sealed envelope. Shacklebolt's seal was on the back. Draco looked over at the sleeping Ron most unpleasantly. “He says that there is no room for mistakes.”

Harry had broken the seal himself and read the orders. It was a simple case of underage magic that needed to be confirmed, thought to be rather dark magic though, and Harry was to use extreme caution. Observe, but do nothing. The subject's name was Ava D'Agostino. Shacklebolt said to keep it quiet and that he would come to Harry when the time was right. Harry had done as he was told, and found the only thing that was not to par was the fact that some muggle woman was raising his and Hermione's child.

Shacklebolt still had not debriefed him, and that irked Harry. If Hermione was unwilling to give him answers, perhaps Harry would have more luck getting them from Shacklebolt. Obviously, Shacklebolt wanted Harry to find out about Ava. Harry wanted to know why. He had so many questions that needed answers.

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Hall of Records

Harry looked up as Ginny walked into the office. She looked a little put off, but she forced a smile and sat down at Hermione's desk. Harry could see her out of the corner of his eye and she seemed to be busying herself with paperwork. He knew she would be cold and distant as long as he didn't acknowledge her. The pansy in him wanted to just that, but as the leader, he was responsible for his team, and that meant keeping them pacified.

“Are you mad about something?” Harry asked as he turned to her. Ginny looked up from her paperwork, slightly startled.

“No,” Ginny lied. Harry couldn't help but smile. Ginny was a terrible liar. They both were. That was probably one of their greatest downfalls as a couple. She had asked him if he loved her. He had said yes, but he wasn't in love with her. Not the way she meant. He was fond of her, greatly fond of her, but there was more to a relationship than fooling around and loving her. Aside from Quidditch and a few other things, they had little in common and little to talk about.

“Ginny,” Harry said as he raised his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes.

“Its only, you could have woke me up before you left,” Ginny stated. “I was trying to come and talk to you last night, nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” Harry challenged. Ginny blushed and smiled.

“Harry, you know I won't lie to you,” Ginny said as she touched her collar. Harry's eyes instinctively went to her fingers, seeing a rather healthy amount of her cleavage peaking from the shirt. He pulled his eyes back to her face.

“I know,” Harry replied.

“The offer always stands,” Ginny said shrugging. Nothing more needed to be said between them. They had known each other long enough and quite intimately enough to know exactly what that meant. Harry shook his head slightly with an apologetic look on his face.

“I am so sorry I am late,” Ron said breathlessly as he ran into the room. He sat down at desk and began searching through his bag for something. “Rebecca didn't wake me on her way out this morning.”

“There seems to be a lot of that going on,” Ginny grumbled as she turned back to her files. Ron looked at Harry pointedly, but Harry just shrugged before he too turned back to his own paperwork.

“So, when do you think Hermione will be coming back?” Ron whispered as he threw a glance in Ginny's direction. Ginny was working away at a huge stack of papers and didn't seem to hear him. Harry shrugged.

“I can ask about her when I ask Shacklebolt about a case he sent me on,” Harry whispered back. He glanced at Ginny, who seemed to have paused in the middle of writing. She still had her back to them, but Ron glanced at Harry in a way that they both knew that she was hearing them. “I'll be back in a little while, ok?”

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Ron said. “I'll keep Ginny in check.”

“Hey, Gin?” Harry said. Ginny turned and looked at him.

“Yes?” She said almost hopefully.

“Oh, keep Ron in check while I am gone,” Harry said as he retrieved the letter from his top drawer and placed it in his pocket. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned back to her work. Harry glanced at Ron before he headed out of the office.

Thankfully, it seemed like the elevators were working just fine and Harry was thankful he didn't have to climb all of those flights. He didn't want to be huffing and puffing in Shacklebolt's office as he questioned him about his daughter. The doors slid open to an empty car and Harry quickly got onto it. He glanced at the button for the floor that Kingsley Shacklebolt's office was on, but instead of mashing it, he hesitated.

The Hall of Records seemed like a better place to go. Harry pressed the button for the ground floor and with a jolt, the elevator car started descending to the ground floor of the ministry. The door slid open soundlessly and Harry climbed out of the elevator. He saw the huge doors that led to the Hall of Records and headed toward them, stopping just to wave at a random colleague.

“Harry!” A voice called from behind him. Groaning, Harry turned to see Neville coming towards him. Harry waved back and waited for Neville to catch up with him.

“Hello, Neville, how are things in the research department?” Harry asked casually. Neville scowled.

“We just can't manage to hang on to our interns!” Neville said with mild amusement. Harry raised an eyebrow at them.

“You aren't getting them eaten by anything sinister, are you?” Harry asked. Neville grinned.

“It is, after all, the research department,” Neville teased. He shifted the box he was holding on to his other hip.

“What's that?” Harry asked curiously. Neville glanced around and then signaled for Harry to come closer and take a peak. The box contained a ball, perfectly round and the color of tarnished silver; it was cuddled among some towels.

“It is our newest little disaster, I fear,” Neville said as he shut the box. He shrugged.

“What is it?” Harry asked. Neville shook his head.

“You know, I can't tell you. God, if Mott even knew I showed you he'd have my head. You know how secretive we get in our little departments,” Neville said rolling his eyes. Harry had to laugh. If Neville had it, it couldn't be that much of a secret. He hadn't been able to keep track of the passwords in their third year. He knew that they would never trust him with something that was a dire secret.

“Yeah, I know how it is,” Harry said as he inched toward the Hall of Records door. Neville took his hint and waved him off before Harry could say another word.

“You have to come by and see the place Luna and I have downtown,” Neville shouted as he stepped onto the elevator. Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled. Neville and Luna were probably the two strangest, yet sweetest people he knew.

Harry pushed the doors open to the Hall of Records, kind of expecting that it would look like the library at Hogwarts, full of huge, dusty bound books and a crotchety old caretaker. He hesitated as he stood just inside the doors, looking around. The place wasn't dark and dusty, as he had expected. Tons of natural light poured in through skylights and there were rows of desks and lots of happy looking witches and wizards running here and there.

“Can I help you?” A woman's voice pulled Harry from his thoughts. Harry turned to see a witch, probably ten years older than him standing there with a clipboard and quill in his hand. She was smiling at him, but her smile did not seem to continue up to her gray eyes.

“Yes, I was looking for some information,” Harry said suddenly nervous. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. She looked at him blankly, that same polite smile plastered on her face.

“This would be a good place to start looking for information,” she stated plainly. She looked down on her clipboard. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I am from the Auror's office,” Harry said weakly. She smiled again at him, almost though she pitied him slightly.

“I gathered that from your badge, Mr. Potter,” She said referring to his badge he had swinging from a lanyard around his neck. Harry looked down at it momentarily, before looking up at her again. “You have to make an appointment so that we can have a clerk at you beck and call, Mr. Potter.”

“Well, I don't have an appointment,” Harry said quietly. “I don't really need someone to sit and watch me do my research.”

“Sorry, it is department protocol,” she said though she really sounded like she was rather enjoying telling him so and not sorry at all.

“I just have to look up one fact,” Harry protested.

“I can make you an appointment,” she said. She sounded like she was forcing the niceties but that she really was loosing her patience with the raven-haired wizard that stood before her.

“You can't make an exception? For me?” Harry said in a rather sick-sounding sugary voice. She made a face and smiled.

“Just as I am sure that the Aurors have their policies and procedures, so do us lowly record keepers,” she said. Her voice dripped with loathing for the Aurors and Harry knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. “So, how about that appointment?”

“Sure,” Harry sighed. She pulled out her wand, placing the clipboard on the counter behind her. She drew what seemed to be an invisible box in the air and proceeded to flick her wand as if flipping pages.

“I can do three weeks from today at nine thirty with Draco,” she said. She raised an eyebrow at him to see if he would protest.

“Do you not have one soon, preferably with someone other than Draco?” Harry asked hopefully. She didn't even smile.

“Take it or leave it, Mr. Potter. We are very busy, and if you do not show for your appointment, you will have a three year ban to the department,” she said with annoyance evident in her voice.

“Three years? Isn't that harsh?” Harry asked.

“No,” she said flatly. “It was seven, but the ministry made us shorten it. So do you want the appointment or not?”

“Yes, sure, please,” Harry said as politely as he could muster. He rolled his eyes while the witch wrote in what seemed to be thin air his name and badge number. “So this is it? This is the only way to go about getting the information I need?”

“Unless Shacklebolt himself gives you permission, yes, I am the final word,” she said with that same pathetic fake smile. She guided him out the door and closed it on his face. Harry stood at the door for a minute.

“What a witch,” he murmured. He laughed to himself and waited for the elevator. This time, the elevator was brimming with witches, wizards, and memos. It was quite claustrophobic in there. At each stop, people would either get on or get off, and Harry was quite certain that they had already met their weight load after the third portly witch had climbed aboard.

Harry stepped off the elevator and took a deep breath. He felt like he had been holding his breath the entire ride and his chest burned a bit. Coughing a moment, he waited a moment. He tried to convince himself it was because of his inability to breathe freely on the elevator and that it had nothing to do with the nerves that seemed to be stirring his insides like a cauldron.

Shacklebolt's secretary was not at her desk, and Shacklebolt's door was open. Harry walked to it, seeing the man sitting behind his desk. Harry knocked softly on the wood. Shacklebolt looked up and signaled for Harry to have a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He was in the middle of writing something and finished before addressing Harry.

“What brings you to my office, Harry?” Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he looked at the young man that sat across from him. Harry hesitated before fishing the well-folded letter from his pocket. Harry slid it across the desk towards Shacklebolt and waited a moment as the man picked up the letter and read it. Harry watched his face.

“I am here for my debriefing, sir,” Harry said hoping that he came off sounding even and balanced. Shacklebolt proceeded to stand and to cross to his office door, shutting it. Harry watched as Kingsley returned to his seat and pushed the letter back to Harry.

“I didn't write this, Harry,” Shacklebolt said quietly. Harry looked at him a moment, as if it took him that long to comprehend what Shacklebolt was saying.

“Wait? What? What do you mean you didn't write it?” Harry asked with confusing written on his face.

“Well, son, I mean I didn't write you that letter, and I certainly didn't send you to look in on the suspected dark, under-age magic of Ava D'Agostino,” Kingsley said flatly. Harry looked at him, but Kingsley fell short of meeting Harry's gaze.

“Do you know who Ava is?” Harry asked. Kingsley met his eyes this time.

“An under-aged witch?” Shacklebolt replied weakly. Harry's eyes narrowed.

“No. Kingsley, Ava is my daughter. Well, mine and Hermione's daughter,” Harry said as he watched Shacklebolt's expression. Shacklebolt didn't respond instead he stood and walked to his windows.

“I wasn't aware that you and Hermione were in a relationship,” Shacklebolt said quietly.

“We weren't aware, either,” Harry said with a slight annoyance creeping into his voice. “I take it you are standing behind the position of not knowing anything?”

“How could I, the minister of magic, know about the relationship of every witch and wizard I am responsible for?” Shacklebolt defended. Harry made a noise of outrage.

“We're not talking about any witch or wizard,” Harry snapped. “We are talking about me and Hermione, and about us having a daughter that we know nothing about. We are talking about you sending me on a mission to find her, and now standing her and denying it.”

“Harry, I assure you I did not send you on that mission,” Shacklebolt said as he crossed to his office door. He opened it and looked at Harry. “If you don't mind, I am quite busy.”

“But it was your seal on the letter!” Harry exclaimed. Shacklebolt shook his head.

“I really am quite busy, and I again assure you that it must have been a mistake or perhaps a cruel joke, I didn't send you on that mission, I didn't know about your relationship, and I don't know about any daughter that you would have had,” Shacklebolt defended. Shacklebolt tilted his head at the door, signaling the end of the conversation.

Harry stood and went to exit through the door that Shacklebolt was now holding open for him. Harry stood just outside the door, facing the man that he once thought of as a person worthy of his trust and admiration with a look of almost contempt. Harry knew that Shacklebolt was hiding information from him. He had enough experience of that as a child; he didn't need it as a man.

“Fine. You say you don't know about Ava, Hermione, or me, fine,” Harry said as he stared the man down. “Just give me a pass that allows me access to the Hall of Records. I can prove Ava is mine if I look up her records.”

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Shacklebolt said as he denied Harry's request. “Perhaps you should make an appointment, though I doubt the records will clear any additional information up for you.”

“Thank you for your time, minister,” Harry said with loathing dripping from his voice. Harry stalked away from Shacklebolt without another look or word. He was fuming. So, Shacklebolt was denying that he sent Harry on the mission. Harry paced in front of the elevators, occasionally mashing the button rather aggressively.

“Hey, they're not working again today,” a wizard from the accounting department told him as he brushed past Harry on his way to the stairs. Harry growled and headed toward the stairs.

`I have to find out who gave Malfoy this damn letter then, or why he lied about it,' Harry thought patting his pocket as he took the stairs two at a time on his way back down to his floor. `Damn, he and Hermione are gone on a trip together and won't be back until next week. What does she see in that creep? I can't stand him.'

-->

Ministry Employees

Harry was surprised to find Hermione waiting for him at home that evening. Kreatcher had let her in and she was waiting for him upstairs in his room. She had dumped her stuff on his bed and was looking intently at the pictures of James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter. Harry stood there watching her for a moment. She reached and touched the front of the picture, trying to make a connection with the past.

“It doesn't feel the same,” Harry said. Startled, Hermione spun and looked at him. He had to admit she was as pretty as ever. She looked a little sad, he thought, but that had to be his imagination.

“Sorry,” Hermione said gesturing to the bed where she had placed her stuff. “Kreatcher said that I could head on up and use the restroom. It has been a long trip.”

“You and Draco back already from you holiday?” Harry said surprised. She hadn't been gone but a day or so, if even. She nodded but didn't elaborate. Harry's heart soared. Perhaps she and Malfoy were having a fight. He pushed, “Is everything ok between you guys?”

“We are fine,” Hermione said with an almost breathless way about it. Harry found himself annoyed with her response. He had been hoping a bit of anger from her or even a tear or two. She sounded tired, but nothing more, as she turned her back to him to study the picture a bit more.

“I don't like you dating him,” Harry said in a not so much angry way. It was more of a possessive statement. Hermione turned to him, a look on her face. She was biting the inside of her lip, the way she always did when she was thinking hard.

He rushed her, before he knew what he was doing. His mouth crushed down on Hermione's, his tongue touching hers ever so gently. He couldn't stop and he couldn't control himself. He knew she was going to smack him, and it was going to be well worth it. He felt his body urge her to release to him, and Harry held Hermione tight against him. She felt warmer than he ever remembered; her hands touched his face, diving into the wild hair as he felt the urge to consume her there in his bedroom.

He pulled away after a minute, dropping his arms from around her. He backed away, giving her a little space. Hermione looked up at him, her fingers to her mouth. She was shaking. Harry stepped closer, watching her with his eyes. She wasn't angry or upset, not that he could tell. He had never seen the look she had on her face. She bit her lip, and he thought that maybe she was going to cry.

“Harry,” Hermione said. It was then that he realized that she was breathing as hard as he was. She looked a little bit like a starved woman, in need of a substance she knew only Harry could provide. She stepped forward a second, then stepped back.

“Oh, Mione, sorry,” Harry said as he turned his back to her. He could see her in the reflection; she was looking at him with that same damn look. He let her make eye contact first, her hand to her mouth, not in shock but perhaps admiration. He knew that look, and she had a look similar to that look.

“No, Harry,” Hermione said shaking her head. Her face went from a look of awe to one of quiet sadness, her eyes closed. It was nearly in slow motion, the lost of lust that was written on her face.

“Mione, listen,” Harry said as he turned to her. He took her wrist in his hand and he looked right into her eyes.

“No, Harry,” Hermione cried. She twisted away from him roughly, though he would have let her go without the movement.

“I love you,” Harry said. She looked like she was going to cry.

“I love you, too,” Hermione said. She looked like she was wrestling with herself on the inside. She closed her eyes and sobbed.

“No, no, don't cry,” Harry exclaimed. He rushed to her, held her against his chest while he smoothed down her hair with his hand. “No, Mione, it's ok. I understand. You are with Draco. I know that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. It was wrong.”

“But I wanted you too!” Hermione wailed as she brought her had to her face. She wiped her eyes. “I kissed you back!”

“But, you are with Draco, Mione,” Harry said softly. “You aren't that kind of girl.”

“When I am with you, even if just for a moment, I want to be that kind of girl,” Hermione said wearily as Harry pushed a handkerchief into her hand. “Thanks.”

Harry held her against him, thinking if this was all he could have; it would have to be enough. He loved her too much to lose her because he got greedy. There were unanswered questions, yes, but none of that mattered at the moment. She had been family to him since he was eleven. He had always had a family, whether he chose to see it or not.

“It's getting late,” Harry murmured as his hair smoothing had turned to patting on the back. “Draco will be wondering where you are.”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said as she wiped her eyes again. She pocked the handkerchief. “I'll wash it and bring it back to you.”

“Don't worry about it,” Harry said smiling at her as she gathered her belongings of his bed: her purse, her laptop bag, and her gym bag. He couldn't help but hope that she would one day be in that bed with him. He silently shook the thought from his head. It would do no good to think of her in such ways.

“Thanks for being such a good guy, Harry,” Hermione said as they stood on Harry's front door step.

“You make me want to be,” Harry confessed as he adjusted her scarf. Hermione nodded once.

“I do love you very much,” Hermione said as she forced a tearful smile. He brushed the rogue tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“I know,” Harry said. He leaned toward her and brushed his lips across hers. “Take care and I will see you at work.”

Hermione's departure made for a very tense Harry Potter. He thought about a shower or a pick up game of basketball in the park. That is what the other early twenty-something year olds did. Harry pressed his lips together, still able to taste her cherry lip-gloss. She was always so sensible, that Hermione, to let her natural beauty to shine through, where, as other girls would hide behind all of that make up. Harry knew he was uncomfortable, but the thought of relieving his discomfort himself, alone, was unappealing, even with his imagination and with having just kissed Hermione.

“Master, dinner?” Kreatcher asked. Harry nodded and joined his house elf in the kitchen. He watched Kreatcher serve him, thinking of Dobby. Had Dobby lived, he would have sat down at the table with Harry as his equal and eaten. He knew it would insult Kreatcher to even suggest it. Dobby would have had some advice, even if only foolish advice.

Everyone he loved seemed to slip from his life one by one. Harry wished that he didn't love Hermione so much, and he felt worse confessing it to her when she was already in a relationship with the man that had, as a boy, been his arch nemesis. Harry rolled his eyes at his own pathetic self-pity. Hermione had always supported him and he should do the same.

Harry went to bed contemplating what had done, now and three years ago. He couldn't imagine just falling into bed with Hermione. Well, he could, but she was too sensible to just sleep with him, even if he was the great Harry Potter. He laughed at himself for that one. His name had gotten him a few one night stands over the years, but no one relationship worth holding on to. Imagined a relationship with Hermione would have been one really worth fighting for.

“Why can't I remember?” He asked no one in particular. He was alone in his bed, and he knew that there would no answers there in his bedroom. He sat up right, suddenly. He had an idea, a brilliant one that bordered on Hermione's genius. He threw his blanket back and climbed out of bed. Dressing quickly in the jeans and shirt off of the floor of his bedroom, he opened his closet and pulled out his Cloak of Invisibility.

Harry found himself standing outside of the Hall of Records minutes later, completely invisible. If they wouldn't let him see the records, let him have the information, he would just go in there and get the information himself after hours. He pressed the door open; thankful it did not creak and alert the night watch men. He stepped into the room quickly and shut the door, all undetected.

Where the Hall of Records was bright during the day, it was darker than the night without the daylight. Harry felt a chill run the length of his spine as he stood in the eerie darkness of the room. Harry removed his cloak and lit his wand, looking at the room. It occurred to him, he had no idea where to even start looking. He walked along the wall of the room, looking at the tablet-sized books that were tucked neatly in each row. They seemed to be in year order, and Harry went to the year Ava would have been born, not certain of her exact date of birth. She looked two, so he started at the front of the book and found her entry about a third of the way in:

Ava Jean D'Agostino- March 3, 2003- 3.5 kilograms- 50.8 centimeters long-alert and healthy in appearance-no known complications- brown hair- green eyes- mother: [see file 14734] father: [see file 13723] Place of birth: Sydney, Australia. Resides with: Angela D'Agostino at 133 Bevier Commons- Likely magically gifted: Highly Probably and strongly expected due to parental levels of magic. Evaluate at age 3,6, and 7. Number of obliverations/dates: 1- 03-03-03: parental erase [see file 82347].

Harry touched the words with his fingers. While answer few of the questions he had (if any), it answered questions he had not thought to ask. His daughter had been a healthy baby. He scratched the three file numbers down on a slip of parchment and placed her book back where he had retrieved it.

Curious, he retrieved his own book. He found his entry quickly, finding that his parents were listed in his book, unlike in Ava's where his and Hermione's names were not listed. Most of the information was new to him. He looked down toward the end and read the lines several times, letting the information seep into his mind:

Number of obliverations/dates: 8- 01/03/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 02/03/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 03/03/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 03/23/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 05/03/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 06/10/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 09/11/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 03/03/03 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified.

Harry was in shock, to say the least. The ministry had modified his mind eight times between January 2002 and March 2003. The last day was his daughter's birth. That couldn't have been an accident or coincidence that he had his memory modified on the same day that Ava was born. He contemplated looking it, looking the information up, to see if it matched his dates, on Hermione's page but found that her page had been ripped from the book, it's tattered edging the only thing that hinted that her page had ever been there.

“I hate working early morning,” a voice said from behind Harry. He spun around to see the witch from the other day coming in to the Hall of Records. She was backing in, obviously talking to someone. Harry panicked, shoving the book harshly back into it's slot and summoning his cloak. He slipped it on just at the witch turned around. She glanced in Harry's direction but didn't say anything. She sat down as an owl soared into the room through the owl chute.

“What does Shacklebolt want so damn early?” She snapped crossly as she pulled the rolled parchment free of the bird. She read it and puffed angrily. “What does he think I am? Stupid? I know I can't let him see those damn files!”
She was scribbling an angry response as Harry crept closer to the door, wanting to escape without being caught. She pulled her wand, and for a second Harry thought that he was in for it. Instead she drew the box in the air, like she had done previous. She flipped ahead and made a noise of satisfaction as she had found the page she had been looking for. She made a wiping motion from the invisible book and wrote something new on the page.

“Sorry, Harry, but you have just banned from the Hall of Records for life,” She said aloud, cackling in a wheezy sort of way. Her laughing made it easy for Harry to slip from the hall, but not for him to loose that lead feeling he had gotten when she walked into the room. Shacklebolt had requested Harry be banned for life! Harry could help but feel outraged at this. Not remembering he had the cloak on, Harry ran over Neville as he was stepping on to the elevator.

“Ahh!” Neville shouted as he mashed the buttons.

“Neville, it's me!” Harry shouted over Neville's shouts. Remembering the cloak, Harry pulled it off and stored it in his bag. Neville looked a little pale.

“I hate when you do that!” Neville said as he caught his breath. He peered at Harry. “Why are you sneaking in, anyways? It's like seven in the morning.”

“Oh, I wasn't,” Harry said. “Not really, anyways.”

“Um, ok,” Neville said. He looked at how rough Harry seemed to look these days. It was evident he wasn't sleeping well, and Harry looked like he had slept in his clothes and didn't bother to shave that morning. “Come and eat dinner with us tonight. Luna and I are having a few people over and while I am sure your house elf makes some great food, Luna's been dying to have you over. Some of the old DA is going to be there, and you'll have a great time. Bring a date, if you want.”

“Sure, Neville,” Harry said distracted as he reached into his pocket and felt the slips of paper in there. “Hey Neville?”

“Yeah?” Neville said looking at Harry's reflection in the elevator mirrors. Harry pulled the slips out and held them to Neville.

“I have been banned from the Hall of Records and I need to know this information,” Harry said slowly. “It is very important that no one finds out about it. Do you think you can help me?”

“I can see what I can do, Harry,” Neville said slowly as he took the papers from Harry and stored them in his own pocket. The elevator came to Harry's floor and Harry got off.

“Thanks so much,” Harry said waving at him. Harry walked to his office; thankfully it was empty for the moment. He looked down at his clothes and realized that he really did look a little like hell. His jeans were fine, but his shirt was wrinkled and he had stubbly growth on his chin and face. He pulled out his wand and unwrinkled his shirt the best that he could. He couldn't do anything about the face, and figured that right now was a great time to claim to be growing a beard.

“Hey, what are you doing here so early?” A familiar voice said from behind him. Harry turned to see Hermione walking into the office and glancing at the mess that Ginny had left all over her desk. Hermione made a face, picked up the trashcan, and swept Ginny's refuse into the metal cylinder.

“Are you back?” Harry asked as she sat her purse in the drawer. She threw him a smile over her shoulder.

“You didn't really believe you had gotten rid of me that easily, did you?” Hermione asked. Harry laughed.

“No, of course not,” Harry said as he sat in his own chair and turned it to her. “Ron will be happy to have you back, as am I. Ginny's not going to take it well. I guess she will go back to the Hall of Records?” Hermione frowned at Harry.

“But, Harry… Ginny doesn't work for the Hall,” Hermione said as she closed her drawer. “She works for Shacklebolt.”

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Neville's Party (Part One)

Harry was quiet through out their Auror's meeting, Shacklebolt going on about some new danger that normally would have Harry's undivided attention. Normally, yes, but Harry felt like his life was spinning out of control. Hermione had said Ginny worked for Shacklebolt. That didn't make any sense. Harry and Ginny had met for lunch a few time in the beginning of her career and she worked in the Hall of Records. He felt like his head was going explode from the confusing information that seemed to spin and twirl in his mind.

“Sir, is it true that the Prime Minister of the Transylvanian Vampires really was killed shortly after he arrived home?” One of the Gamma Aurors asked. The minister looked at him warily.

“Yes, unfortunate accident, though I wasn't aware that the Transylvanian government had released any details, yet,” Shacklebolt said. Harry looked at him and thought that Shacklebolt looked rather nervous.

“My cousin works for their ministry,” The Gamma Auror said. “They seem to think it is an assassination.”

“Really? An…an assassination,” Shacklebolt said with his eyes wide. He resumed his composure quickly. “Well, I hope that the government solves the case quickly. Nasty business.”

“Yes,” The room agreed.

Harry glanced at Hermione as she wrote, but she seemed to be shaking, trembling ever so slightly. He was glad that she was in his line of sight and a sight better to look at than say Ron. He found that he really enjoyed watching her write; it was rhythmic and a little hypnotizing. Ron elbowed him sharply in the side and found that Shacklebolt was looking at him for a response.

“Sorry?” Harry asked. Shacklebolt raised an eyebrow at him.

“What I was saying is that at the end of the month new Aurors will be testing and I was wondering if you would be willing to take on another teammate under your wing,” Shacklebolt said. “Gamma and Zeta both agreed.” Shacklebolt had nodded to two other teams, who responded with enthusiastic head nodding. Harry looked to Hermione but she shrugged. Some help she was with this.

“Can I reserve my judgment until I meet the candidate?” Harry asked carefully. He had a hopeful look on his face, but Shacklebolt seemed neither amused nor swayed.

“I need an answer,” Shacklebolt said.

“Sure, why not,” Harry said flippantly. He added under his breath, “Otherwise I will just be modified into saying I agree.”

“What was that?” Shacklebolt said loudly, looking rather alarmed.

“Oh, um,” Harry stammered. “I said `otherwise I would be mothered into agreeing', you know, by Hermione?”

Shacklebolt looked at Harry a moment, but shrugged and agreed that it must have been what Harry had said. Hermione probably would have mothered Harry into wanting to help the new Aurors be as great as he was. It did make a plausible excuse, and Shacklebolt let it drop. Hermione, though, looked at Harry with a look of slight shock on her face. She had heard him, but she kept her mouth shut.

Harry was grateful for the quietness of the rest of the day. He left the ministry early and appirated to Ava's house. He threw his cloak on and hid out in her yard, undetected. He waited by the edge of her sandbox, hoping she would come and play. His wish was granted when the screen door slammed and Ava bounded out of the house, followed by the woman. Ava pulled at her romper and the woman took a seat at the stairs to the porch.

“Hi,” Ava said loudly. The woman looked up but saw no one there. She shrugged and assumed Ava was just vocalizing to herself.

“Hello,” Harry whispered. The girl laughed as she sat down across from Harry in the sandbox. Her little green eyes sparkled. Harry watched in amazement as the child played in the sand box, pretending that she was a monster and crushing the primitive mounds she created with sand and twigs.

“I see you,” Ava squealed as she hid crouching below the rim of the sandbox and popping up. She laughed and repeated about a dozen times before moving on to the slide. She was a very happy, active child, and Harry was grateful for the time he spent watching her play.

“Ava?” A man's voice called over the yard, causing Harry and Ava to pause. Harry looked up to see a man standing there, looking much like himself, though his hair was a bit lighter and tamer, and his eyes were brown. Ava shrieked.

“Daddy!” Ava screamed at she ran full force into the waiting man's arms. He scooped her up and spun her around, much to the delight of the child. The woman stood off to the side a bit and watched them. Harry froze. She, his daughter, was calling another man her father. Harry wanted to tear his cloak from his shoulders, race down the yard, and snatch Ava from the man's arms.

“Now, Tom, please remember to give her a bath, and lay off the sugar,” the woman said as she pulled an overnight bag from the porch.

“Angela, I think I know just as well as anyone how to care for my daughter,” Tom said firmly as he carried the small child and her bag to his car. Harry watched as Ava kissed her mother a wet, sloppy kiss and allowed to be placed in her car-seat in the back of Tom's car. Bag stored, Tom turned and looked at Angela. He didn't seem angry, just hurt.

“I will expect her back here on Sunday in one piece,” Angela said as she crossed her arms.

“I wish you would reconsider this divorce, Angela. I forgave you already, really,” Tom said quietly pleading with her. “I love you. I don't care that you cheated on me.”

“I still say I didn't cheat Tom,” Angela defended as she waved him off. Tom rolled his eyes and left in the car with Harry's daughter. Harry followed Angela on a whim as she entered the now too quiet house. Angela sat on the couch and pulled a thick album from the space under the coffee table. Harry stood behind the couch and watched as Angela looked over dozens and dozens of pictures, mainly of Ava. There was a box next to Angela and began pulling recent pictures out and pasting them into the album.

The phone rang somewhere deep in the house and Angela left the couch. Harry reached down and scooped up a picture of Ava, storing it under his cloak before Angela came back into the room. Figuring that there was nothing more that Harry wanted to see since Ava was no longer there, Harry appirated out of the house and back to his own home.

Harry glanced at his watch. It would be dinnertime soon, and Harry had promised to Neville he would come to dinner. Harry took the picture out of his pocket; glad to see he didn't wrinkle it. Ava looked much as she looked now, big green eyes and nearly untamable brown hair. She was smiling, her little pearly white teeth sparkling. She was absolutely beautiful in Harry's eyes.

He wished that the picture was a wizarding picture instead of a muggle picture. She was still in the picture and not waving and playing like others usually did. Harry reached inside of his desk drawer and pulled out a picture that his parents had sent to Sirius of him. He placed them side-by-side, amazed on the similarities between his daughter and himself. She had Hermione's chin and nose, though, and of course her hair. It was the same color.

Harry sighed and placed the picture in his wallet. He may not have his daughter, but now he could look at her whenever he desired. Harry pushed away from his desk and headed up to the showers. He was determined not to look so homeless and forlorn as he had on previous visits with Neville. Harry didn't want his few close friends to think that he was cracking up under the pressure of his job and life.

Harry stood naked in front of his mirror in bedroom; his clothes were lain out and pressed on the bed. It was Kreatcher's doing no doubt. Harry could help but look at himself critically. He hadn't been working out as much as he had once worked out, and he thought that he was getting the beginning of gut. Harry looked lower and wondered if others saw him the way that he saw himself. Shrugging, he pulled his clothes on and fought to smooth down his hair.

Standing outside of Neville's house with a bottle of wine (he didn't quite know what else to bring), Harry felt a little nervous. He could hear a lot of talking inside, and Harry knew Neville and Luna were planning to have friends over. He was curious who else would be in attendance, wracking his brains over the previous members of the DA that Neville would have still been in contact with. Harry rang the bell and waited.

“Harry! You made it,” Neville said grinning as has guided Harry into his house. “Look everyone! Harry's here!”

There were cheers of welcome from the living room and Harry was glad that he saw some people he recognized. Luna threw her arms around Harry and kissed his cheeks before floating off to a refreshment table she had conjured. Harry rolled his eyes when he saw Draco and Hermione sitting off to one side, talking with Ginny. Ginny looked furious and her eyes fell right on Harry. She glanced back at them and shook her head, getting up from her seat, and walked over to Harry.

“Hi, Harry,” Ginny said as she hugged him. Harry quickly patted her back and pulled away.

“Hey, Gin,” Harry said. He looked at her a moment. “How's the Hall of Records treating you?”

“Ah, you know, work is work, as they say,” Ginny replied. She spotted someone on the other side of the room and excused herself quickly. Harry smirked. She really was a bad liar. Harry watched Hermione for a few minutes before he headed over towards the two who seemed like they were deep in conversation. Draco looked up first, followed by Hermione who jumped up and placed herself between Harry and Draco.

“Hermione, really,” Harry said as he looked at her. “I told you. If he makes you happy, I am happy. Well, no, that's a lie, I am miserable, but I am not going to hit Malfoy or anything.”

“Do you promise?” Hermione asked quietly as she touched his arm, picking lint off his shirt. “Do you promise not to hit Draco ever again?”

“Mione, really,” Harry grumbled. Hermione crossed her arms and looked at him with an expression of solidarity.

“Take it or leave it, Harry,” Hermione said firmly. “Promise me you won't hit Draco again. Swear it, Harry.”

“Fine, if it will make you happy. I promise, I swear I won't hit Malfoy again,” Harry said sighing. Hermione rushed him, throwing her arms around him unexpectedly, catching him off guard. They fell backwards onto the couch, Harry neatly underneath Hermione. She laughed light heartedly, as she hadn't laughed in a while. She placed her hand on Harry's chest and pushed herself up off him.

“You would think it would take more than a light weight to knock you off your feet,” Hermione teased as she extended her hand to Harry. Harry took it but used much of his own effort to right himself so that he was leaning against Neville's sofa.

“Well, who would have thought the likes of you would be able to knock me off my feet, but there it was,” Harry laughed as Neville joined them by the hearth. Neville wasn't a fan of Draco's, but Luna insisted on inviting him, since they both worked in the Hall of Records together.

“Hermione and I are thinking of vacationing in Nepal. Isn't that where you took Luna on your honeymoon?” Draco asked rather smugly. Harry felt himself clench with anger but his smile stayed plastered to his face.

“Oh, yes, it was lovely,” Luna said loftily. “I especially liked the secret voodoo witches that Neville and I met. Gave me a curse of some sort, though, and I haven't been able to hiccup since. Rather interesting.” Harry couldn't help but smile at Luna. She really wasn't all there, in his mind, but she was great. He would take her as a friend over Malfoy any day.

“Hey, Harry, did I show you my Sneakoscope?” Neville asked Harry. Harry made a face and shook his head. He knew what a Sneakoscope looked like; he couldn't imagine that Neville's would look much different from his own, wherever he last placed it.

“No,” Harry said. Neville handed Luna his drink and gesture to Harry for him to follow him. Shrugging at Hermione and Draco, Harry followed Neville up the winding steps of the apartment to the second level. Neville looked behind Harry a moment then pulled a book off the bookshelf in the hallway; a door way appeared from behind the shelf.

“Cool, huh?” Neville said grinning. Harry nodded. Harry had to admit it was pretty cool. A hallway hidden behind a bookshelf was actually very cool. Neville lead the way into the space, and permitted Harry to follow him. It was dark, but Neville lead the way, Harry hanging onto his shirtsleeve. Harry felt a little foolish and apprehensive, but didn't say anything.

The room flooded with light and Harry blinked the lights out of his eyes, momentarily blinded. As his eyes adjusted, Harry found that he must be in Neville's personal lab. Neville had walked over to an empty cage and proceeded to drop little pieces of shredded cabbage in it.

“What is that?” Harry asked curiously as the cabbaged disappeared.

“Uh, well,” Neville said carefully as he grinned. He scratched the back of his head rather nervously. “It is an invisible hamster. Happened by accident, and he is really quite sweet. I just couldn't terminate the project when the hamsters went invisible. They are crawling all over the ministry.”

Harry laughed, thinking about the thing in Ron's drawer. Harry wondered if the thing that had bit Ron and stole his sandwich could be one of these rogue invisible hamsters. Neville moved away from the cage and headed to a small table where two chairs were situated. There were papers stacked neatly.

“Here are copies of the information,” Neville said. Harry blinked at him and his gaze went to the stack of parchment.

“You mean?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“The information you have been looking for. Luna helped me get them. I know you said to keep it between us, but do you realize how difficult it is to get an appointment there in the Hall of Records?” Neville said rapidly. He sighed. “Anyway, Luna said she would keep it quiet, doesn't want to get into trouble, you know. Plus she is one of your biggest fans, and she considers you a dear friend.”

“Thanks, Neville,” Harry murmured as Neville gestured to the chair.

“I'll be downstairs. Take as long as you need,” Neville said as Harry sat in the chair. Neville left Harry alone in the hidden lab to look over the documents that had been previously unattainable.

By the time Harry put the last sheet down, he felt a little sick to his stomach and really angry. The handwriting alone was enough to drive him insane. He glanced down at it again and Malfoy's face floated into Harry's conscious mind. Harry felt the old rage begin to boil. Harry folded the information up and stored in his pocket and headed downstairs to re-join the party.

`Breathe deeply, you don't know what this means,' Harry told himself as he forced a smile at Neville and wove in and out of the others toward where he last seen Hermione and Draco Malfoy.

`You're a fool and an idiot if you don't know what this means,' Harry replied to himself. Harry shook his head sharply. The last thing he needed was for his mind to become embattled when he was about to kill Draco Malfoy.

-->

Neville's Party (Part Two)

Draco saw Harry well before Harry saw Draco, and while he and Harry weren't friends, he had already been on the receiving end of Harry's temper enough to know that look. Draco, though not scared of Harry, decided it would be best not to have Harry confront him there in the middle of Neville's party. Draco was trying really hard to like her friends and something told him, no matter who were at fault, Hermione's friends would side with Harry over Draco any day.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked as Draco darted away from the hearth at a break-neck speed. She chased after him, the two of them ending up in Luna and Neville's small but cozy kitchen.

“I just, eh, needed something to drink,” Draco lied as he poured himself a glass of water from the tap. Hermione narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

“I know you better than that, Draco,” Hermione said. Draco rested back against the counter top and looked at her. He hated admitting that despite his prejudice, and despite his beliefs, he really was taken with her. He shook his head, not wanting to think about that. Hermione would never, could never, be his. She had made that clear over and over again, and the one time they were together…

`No! Don't humiliate yourself by thinking of that night again. She cried out for him, not you, and she didn't even know she could cry out for him that way,' Draco screamed at himself enraged while a smile crossed his face. He crossed his own arms and smirked at her.

“You boyfriend Potter,” Draco said simply. Hermione's mouth made a little circle and she shook her head.

“Damn it, Draco. This is not a good time for him to be doing this. Not when we are so close,” Hermione whined. She slumped forward into his arms, Draco willingly taking her. He patted her back soothingly.

“Shh, I know,” Draco said softly. “Soon, this will be all over.”

“Do you really honestly believe that?” Hermione said rather frustrated. She wiped her eyes with her hand for good measure, incase the tears that she was bottling up had spilled over their levies.

“I hope so. I have to,” Draco said quietly. “Do you think I like things the way that they are? This is hell.”

“Well, at least we know this is it, right? After this month, there are no more chances, none more,” Draco said. He tilted her chin back so that she was looking at him. “You have been great. Phenomenal. I know this is it. I can feel it. The end is near, and you have been better than great. I know I couldn't do it without you.”

“I know, but it hasn't been easy,” Hermione said softly. Draco nodded in agreement as he felt himself drawn to her mouth.

“Nothing worth it is easy, Mione,” Draco said breathlessly as his mouth met hers.

“What the hell!” Harry screamed as he burst into the room.

Draco had the perfect time to draw his own wand and duel with Harry, but instead chose to finish the kiss he had been itching to have with Hermione all evening, well for a while to exact. Harry threw his wand to the side as Draco moved Hermione quickly behind him. Harry was enraged, his fists clenched in bitter anger.

“Harry!” Hermione cried out rather guiltily.

“You git, I am not here to hurt her, I am here to hurt you,” Harry yelled. The apartment became rather quiet for the number of people that were in there.

“Maybe you and I should step out side?” Draco drawled slowly as he retrieved his wand. Snatching up his own wand, Harry growled a response and the two stalked out the front door

“Since you seem so fond of muggles and muggle-borns, perhaps we should duke this out like the muggles do,” Harry growled at him as the two men stood at the street. Hermione couldn't take it any longer and placed herself between Draco and Harry, her hands on their chest.

“Please, please don't do this,” Hermione cried. “Harry, Draco, please don't do this.”

“Afraid I will hurt your boyfriend?” Harry sneered, a look worthy of Draco Malfoy. Draco's own smile became more corrupt and sinister.

“I'm game if you are, Potter,” Draco said as he held his wand out to Neville. Nervously, Neville took Draco's wand. Harry hesitated. “What? Scared Potter?”

“You wish, Malfoy,” Harry replied. It was their second year all over again. They were going to duel in front of a group of their peers, this time Draco didn't have the advantage of more magical knowledge. Physically, they were equals. Harry handed his want over to Neville as Draco removed his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

“Damn it, Draco! Don't do this!” Hermione swore. He refused to look at her. She turned to Harry. “Please, Harry, don't do this.”

“Move,” Harry barked. Hermione looked as if he had slapped her, but she stepped aside. She crossed her arms and stood between Neville and Luna, both of which wrapped their arms around her shoulders.

“You shouldn't talk to Hermione that way,” Draco warned. Harry scowled at him.

“So now you are all Mr. Manners,” Harry laughed bitterly. “After you called her a Mudblood in our first year?”

“Wasn't that our second year?” Draco mocked. Harry swung first, hitting Draco hard in the face. Draco swung back, hitting Harry.

“You promised!” Hermione shouted at them. “Stupid boys! You both promised me!”

Harry could hear her, and he felt bad about going back on his promise to Hermione. After all, he knew he loved her beyond even his own life. He knew she was right; he shouldn't be fighting Malfoy. It wasn't like him to loose control so badly, but each time his fist came in contact with Draco was one more happy moment in his life.

They were probably going to kill themselves, and Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. By this point, there were wrestling on the ground, in a duel head lock, their blood mixing and tingling with the dirt and gravel of street. Hermione had enough; she walked to them and almost effortlessly removed them from their angry embrace.

“That is enough!” Hermione shouted. Her face was red from anger, and she held them apart with her bare hands. They weren't struggling to get back to fighting: bloody, beaten, and bruised. Hermione looked as if she was about to start crying.

“Mione,” Harry and Draco both said. She pushed them further away from each other.

“No! That is quite enough. Are you happy now? You both fought, and you both are stupid,” Hermione said angrily.

“You don't know what he did,” Harry shouted at her, unable to take it any longer. He pointed at Malfoy, as if he was pointing a wand for an evil spell. “He modified our memories, Mione! He did it. He is the reason I can't remember being with you, and he is the reason I can't remember Ava.”

“Harry,” Hermione said sympathetically.

“No, damn it Hermione, listen to me,” Harry said nearly frantically as fat rain drops began to fall from the sky, adding to the murmurs that seemed to erupt among Neville's guests.

“No, you listen to me Harry,” Hermione snapped. She had her hands on her hips and her back against Draco, as if holding him back. “You broke your promise to me. You just promised, you swore you wouldn't hit Draco.”

“So now you are defending him?” Harry demanded. Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears.

“You don't know what you are talking about, Harry,” Hermione said angrily. Draco dropped his gaze from Harry and instead focused on Hermione.

“You and I were once in love. I know we still are,” Harry choked out. His throat felt like it was closing up. “You can't choose Draco.”

“You think I want to choose Draco?” Hermione cried incredulously. “You can't begin to even understand. When I am with him…”

“Hermione,” Draco murmured as he pulled her into his arms. She shook in his arms and Harry had his answers. He felt his heart shatter into a million pieces and the piece fell into his stomach. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“Just so you know, Hermione, when you want to know the truth about you and me, and what he did to us, come find me,” Harry said callously. He took his wand from Neville and smiled apologetically. “Sorry for this, Neville.”

Harry disappirated back to the front step of his house and stood there a moment as the hot tears that were streaking down his face mingled with the cool rain that had become a steady down pour. Harry didn't care that he was getting soaked, rather hoping he would get chilled so to distract him from the anger and hurt in his heart. Maybe some one would take pity if he up and got sick, or maybe even died.

`You are pathetic, Potter,' Harry growled at himself. He pushed the door open finding that the vacant feel of the house mirrored the vacant coldness of his heart. Kreatcher was there, waiting and it seemed to Harry at the moment that the house elf was the only person in the world ever happy to see Harry come or go.

“Kreatcher, a drink if you will,” Harry growled as he pulled his wet clothes off there in the hall. Kreatcher gathered his clothes and scurried to fetch Harry something that would warm him. Kreatcher found Harry alone in his bedroom, wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. The air was cool, and Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed. Kreatcher pressed the cup into Harry's hand and made short work of starting a fire in the fireplace.

“Thank you Kreatcher,” Harry said after the room began to warm. He had sipped his drink, but not wanting to look like hell or not be able to make it to work in a timely manner the next day, Harry did not finish the drink. Kreatcher bowed and took the drink from him.

“Anything else, master?” Kreatcher asked hopefully as he looked at his master's bruised and battered face.

“Nah, I'll live with these,” Harry murmured as he lay back on his bed. He closed his eyes a moment, thinking maybe if he willed himself to sleep and never wake, he would be just as happy. Harry felt pathetic for feeling so sorry for himself. He opened his eyes and looked up at his father's picture. It was ridiculous. His father certainly never pined for anyone like Harry was pining for Hermione.

Harry tried to push the thoughts of Hermione out of his head and tried to think of anyone else, including Ginny, anything to wash Hermione's lips from his lips. He wished someone would come and obliviate him right then and there. There was no sense in him wanting Hermione if she wanted to be with Draco. There was nothing good to come of how Harry felt.

Harry knew he needed to go to sleep if he was going to be of any good to anyone that next morning. He had planned to visit the Burroughs soon with Ron, and they needed to catch up their department a bit before they decided to do that. He was curious to see how Molly was getting along after Arthur had passed away. Harry rolled to his other side, hoping to shut his mind off, but yet it twisted and spun in the silence of the night.

`Hmm… it is really coming down hard out there,' Harry thought as he listened to the rain pelt the glass paned windows. Harry sighed and climbed out of bed. It was now too hot in his bedroom, he could feel the heat in his cheeks and arms, and his legs felt constrained in his shorts. Harry slid out of his gym shorts but opted to keep his boxers on, for reasons unknown to even him. He felt vulnerable enough without everything hanging out in the open.

All Harry wanted to do was sleep, so it seemed not to surprise him when he was still awake another hour later. He tossed and turned in his bed, tangling his covers. He got up and shook the sheets, thinking about the undetectable crumbs that seemed to irritate him to know end. Sighing he sat in the window seat, pressing his face to the cool glass as he looked out over the yard. He wondered what Ava was doing right then.

`Sleeping you idiot, like you should be,' Harry replied to himself with a rather irritated thought.

`Huh, and Hermione was probably asleep, too?' Harry asked himself. Figuring if he was finally cracking up, at least he would get some answers.

`Probably with Draco.' Harry replied taunting. `She is probably laying there in his bed, underneath them, clothes forgotten on the floor...'

`I don't want to know this,' Harry growled to his inner voice. The little taunting voice in his head laughed.

`So, you don't want to know how he is kissing her deeply, like you used to,' the voice teased his mind.

`Rather not, actually,' Harry moaned as he brought his fists to his temples, squeezing his head between them.

`Does it hurt to know your enemy, the one who took all memory of her out of your coconut, is probably screwing her right there in Malfoy Manor?' The voice taunted laughing coldly.

“Damn it!” Harry shouted as he tapped the sides of his head with his wrist to silent the voice that was torturing him within. It wasn't fair. His body betrayed him and he had kissed Hermione there in the bedroom. Now his mind was taunting him with images of Hermione and Draco in the throws of passion. Each scene was different, more graphic and a cruel reminder to Harry what Draco had, and what Harry did not.

“This is not fair!” Harry shouted at his reflection as he stood in front of the mirror. He heard a laugh and saw his reflection laughing at him. Harry shook his head. “Well, it's not! I love Hermione, and I was with her! We could have been a family this whole time, but Draco removed all memory of her from my mind. It's just not fair!”

The mirror continued to laugh, so Harry did the only thing he could think of doing and punched the mirror, the glass splintering from the impact. Harry felt bad immediately, knowing the mirror had belonged to Sirius and Harry had gone and broke it. He hoped that Kreatcher would be able to mend it. Harry was on his way to get a towel to soak up the blood from his hand, his third or fourth time shedding blood for unrequited love, when he heard a sound down stair.

`Must be the rain,' Harry thought as he got the towel and wrapped it around his hand. He headed back to his room, when he heard the sound again and then a quiet knock. It was the knock of someone who wasn't trying to intrude, but still to gain access. Harry tip toed downstairs, curious. It had to be two or three in the morning. Nerves twisted as his hand reached for the wrought iron handle of the clapboard door and he pulled it open.

-->

The Killing Curse

It wasn't clear to Harry why she was there. He had opened the door, the rain beating against the door, the floor getting soaked in the moments it took for Hermione to get inside the house. He wasn't mad at her any more, just concerned. She had been acting out of sorts for days, since she took her holiday with Draco, and she had been furious that he and Draco had fought. Now she was there, alone in his house soaking wet and never looking more beautiful. Harry didn't want to think about it.

“Hey,” She said a little huskily as she waved her wand over her clothes, drying them. She had apperated straight to his doorstep, but the rain was coming down just that hard. She managed to get soaked in the moments she resided on his front step.

“Hey,” Harry said, hoping that his voice seemed even. He couldn't tell, but he thought that she might have been crying. It could have been the rain, though, so he chose not to say anything about it.

“I know you are mad at me,” Hermione started. Harry shook his head.

“I am not mad anymore. What good was it being mad, other than to make me, well, not hate you but really resent you,” Harry murmured as he lead her to the kitchen. Kreatcher was awake now, aware that there were guests in the house of his master and he put the kettle on for tea.

“I think, Harry, it is time for me to explain,” Hermione said quietly as Kreatcher pressed a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “Thank you Kreatcher.”

“What do you mean that it is time to explain?” Harry asked as he took his place across from her at the table. She was silent a minute as she observed him from the top of her tea.

“I know about Ava, Harry,” Hermione said slowly. She watched his expression remain unchanged, as if he had expected her to come to this point eventually. “I know about Ava in theory, at least.”

“How long have you known?” Harry asked after watching her drink a few minutes.

“Since the night that you hit Draco,” Hermione said. “Well, not until a while after it, when we were in the hospital getting his face fixed up.”

“That night? How? How could you know?” Harry asked her slowly as he turned her words around his mind.

“Well, I asked Draco,” Hermione said. She placed the cup down on the table and took Harry's hands in her own hands. He looked at her hands on his and then she looked back at her face.

“What does Draco have to do with it, Mione?” Harry asked. She looked away a moment, contemplating how much she needed to tell him. How much did Harry really need to know about all this?

“He and I, Draco and I are partners, Harry,” Hermione said carefully. Harry's face twitched slightly and he frowned at her.

“I really don't need to know about you and Malfoy,” Harry said in a voice he hoped came off as indifferent. Hermione smiled for a second.

“No, Harry, it's not like that. Well... it's, no, that's irrelevant at the current moment,” Hermione said as she let her smile slide from her face. “When I say he is my partner, I mean we are a team. We work together at the ministry.”

“I don't understand,” Harry said slowly as he pulled his hands free of hers. He raked his hands through his hair and leaned back from the table slightly. “You are an Auror at the ministry. Draco works in the Hall of Records as a clerk.”

“True,” Hermione said. She watched him, uncertain as to what he was turning around in his head.

“When I had you removed from my team and you were moved to the Hall of Records to replace Ginny down there,” Harry said slowly as the words came to him. “That wasn't the first time that you and Draco have worked together, was it?”

“No, Harry, it wasn't” Hermione admitted. She fiddled with her bracelet a moment, trying to decided what needed to be said and how it needed to be said, so that the least amount of people were implicated.

“How long have you two been working together?” Harry asked curiously. Hermione glanced at him a moment before looking back at the table. She seemed awfully nervous for such a simple question.

“A while,” Hermione said as she met his eyes again.

“How long?” Harry pressed.

“Well, almost four years,” Hermione said softly. “I always wanted to be an Auror, and I was thrilled to be on your team, but then this other opportunity came up, and it was great, Harry. Stuff dreams are made of, really. It just sounded so wonderful; I took it on the spot. I didn't know Draco was my partner until we both showed up for our first meeting.”

“Mione, really, this is fascinating, but what does this have to do with anything?” Harry asked a little impatiently.

“I am getting to it, Harry! You really are the most impatient twenty-something year old I know,” Hermione said rather exasperatedly. He nodded in agreement. “Well, Draco and I had to sign into an unbreakable vow, and he and I were bound to the job. In the early days, it wasn't bad. We drew two paychecks and rarely had to see each other. Then came our first mission, and then our second, and our third. Before long, he and I were both so in over our heads. We were drowning, and there was no surfacing.”

“What were these missions?” Harry asked curiously as Hermione's face held a look of sheer disgust.

“I can't really say,” Hermione said quietly as she averted her eyes from his.

“The vow?” Harry asked. She nodded.

“The fact that I, we, have managed to find a loop hole to tell you this much is probably pushing it,” Hermione explained. She stood up from the table and began pacing the kitchen. Kreatcher signaled to Harry about his own tea and began filling the cup.

“Hermione, I wouldn't want you to break your vow but I still don't see what this has to do with you, Ava, and me,” Harry said quietly. Hermione didn't look at him immediately.

“Harry, listen to me carefully when I say this,” Hermione said as she lowered herself back to the table. “There are departments in the ministry that no one speaks of, departments that the ministry pretends don't exist.”

“The department you and Draco worked for,” Harry said as the knowledge was absorbed into his brain. “It was one of these ministry departments, wasn't it?” Hermione neither denied nor confirmed.

“There are things out there that only a death eater would have access to, dark magic and uprisings,” Hermione said slowly.

“Draco is still marked, isn't he?” Harry asked. Hermione didn't respond again.

“There are people that the ministry employees to diffuse situations with extreme prejudice,” Hermione said slowly. Harry was watching her. She was tapping her fingers on the table a moment before she stopped and looked directly at him. “There are things that boarder on that Morally Questionable gray area.”

“I know you are trying to tell me something, something very important,” Harry murmured to her softly. “I am just not following you. I am really confused.”

“I know,” Hermione said frustrated. She took a page out of the book of Potter and forced her hands through her hair. “Draco warned me it would be a challenge. Not that he thinks you are dim, but to keep from breaking the vow, we have to be vague.”

“Ok,” Harry said nodding. “Ok, I get that. So can I ask direct questions?”

“You aren't bounded by the vow,” Hermione reminded him as a smile crossed her face. He laughed, and for a moment they were the carefree kids there had been back not too long ago.

“So, you and Draco have been working as a team, unbeknownst to anyone other than select ministry officials, for four years,” Harry said. Hermione smiled at him.

“When I told you a while back that Draco would make a great Auror, it was from personal knowledge, which I hate to say is extensive as of the past few years,” Hermione said frowning slightly.

“So you have been on a lot of missions with him,” Harry said, understanding slowly. His face lit up brightly. “That is why you and he keep going on holiday together.”

Hermione positively beamed at him. For a moment, he smiled back, wishing that she would never stop smiling like that at him. She had always been so supportive, and he loved having her in his cheering squad. She slowly let her smile fade and she rummaged around her purse for a moment. She pulled out a set of muggle keys and placed them on the table.

“It is interesting, Harry, that every key here has a place where it was recorded into a book at it's creation,” Hermione said slowly as her fingers touched the keys. She looked up from the keys to Harry's face. “Did you know that? Every key that was ever made is written in a log book, kept on record.”

“No, I didn't know,” Harry said to her slowly as he shook his head. “I don't understand.” Hermione sighed. This really was harder than she thought it would be, and she knew it was going to be hard.

“Ok,” Hermione said as she bit her bottom lip, deep in thought. “Harry, is it wrong to steal?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry said immediately.

“Ok, is it wrong to steal a loaf of bread to feed a starving family?” Hermione asked.

“Uh,” Harry said slowly. He had no idea where this was going, and it was giving him a little bit of a headache. “Well, in that case no.”

“You just said that steal is wrong,” Hermione reminded him.

“Yes, but there are instances where it is…”

“Less wrong?” Hermione completed.

“Yeah,” Harry said nodding.

“So, things are sometimes done because they are less wrong, for the greater good of the people,” Hermione summarized. She smiled at him. “I learned a lot during that time you banished me to the Hall of Records, they are incredible precise and exact.”

“The Hall of Records?” Harry asked slowly. His mind turned it over, the keys still between them. Every key ever created was recorded in the muggle world. “Hermione, what other kinds of information do they archive in the Hall of Records?”

“Everything you could ever want to know about any witch or wizard in our world,” Hermione said slowly.

“Births and Deaths?” Harry asked. Hermione nodded.

“Yes,” Hermione said.

“Do you remember what happened between us three years ago?” Harry asked her suddenly. Hermione's smile faltered.

“No,” she replied. “Neither do you, though?”

“Why is that? Why did they obliviate our memories?” Harry asked. Hermione had already risen to her feet to leave.

“There are things that we do, that we feel compelled to do or forced to do that we shouldn't have to live with the memory of,” Hermione said slowly.

“Have you ever done anything that you wished you could forget?” Harry asked her as she turned again to leave.

“Yes, and still, they won't let me. Then there are things I wish I could remember, but that they have taken from me,” Hermione said quietly as she sat back down. She looked at the tea that had since turned cold. She pointed her wand at it and heated it. She tasted it, deciding whether Kreatcher was trying to be nice because Harry insisted.

“Can you talk about it?” Harry asked. It was his turn to take her hands in his. Hermione looked up into his eyes with an almost pained look.

“I wouldn't want to if I could,” Hermione admitted.

“Does it have to do with the jobs that Draco and you do?” Harry asked. Hermione looked away. “We all do things Hermione, that we regret. It doesn't mean we are bad people.”

“I have done some pretty bad things, Harry. Things you could only imagine doing,” Hermione said as a teardrop rolled down her cheek. She pulled free of Harry's grasp and wiped her eye. She laughed bitterly. “All for `the greater good'.”

“Have you ever used the killing curse?” Harry asked hesitantly. He expected her to turn away and deny it. She looked right into his eyes, her own filled with the sadness and horrors she had to witness and be apart of. She closed her eyes for a second as more teardrops began to fall.

“Please, Harry,” Hermione said slowly. Harry pulled his hands free of her.

“Have you?” Harry pressed. His voice was getting a little higher than he would have liked it to be.

“Please don't ask me something I can't answer,” Hermione begged softly.

“Can't or won't?” Harry asked. Hermione turned away from him as she rose from the table.

“Harry, please,” Hermione murmured as she headed out of the kitchen. Harry went after her, catching her easily in the hall.

“This whole time, you let me believe you were with Draco and I supported you, though I can't stand him,” Harry said as he held her loosely by the wrist. “Even when I came to your house and saw you kissing him, and it killed me inside, I supported you.”

“What?” Hermione interrupted him. “I never kissed Draco, not there.”

“Yes you did. I saw you. The night I punched him,” Harry said. She shook her head.

“No, I didn't,” Hermione said. “I hugged him, yes, but he is my friend. I used to hug you all of the time, remember? I only let you believe what you wanted to believe because it made my job easier. It was easier that way, spending all that time with Draco without being questioned. I didn't kiss him that night.”

“Regardless, I stood by you,” Harry said quietly. “You have always stood by me, and I will always stand by you. There is nothing you can tell me that would make me turn away from you.”
“Don't be so certain, Harry,” Hermione said in a whispered voice.

“So, what? You and Draco went around killing people?” Harry said with a growing annoyance. Hermione looked at him, frightened.

“It was for the greater good,” Hermione cried. He dropped her wrist in shock, releasing her. Hermione fled out of his house to the street and apperated to Draco Malfoy's apartment. Harry didn't move to close the door at first; instead he stared at the spot where he had last seen Hermione.

After a moment, Harry closed the door and headed to his study. He sat down behind his desk and looked at the picture he had previously thrown. Kreatcher had repaired the glass and placed it back on his desk. He ignored Ron and himself in the picture, instead focusing on Hermione. He studied her face, and could see where her eyes weren't nearly as bright and happy as they had been when they were younger. By the raid, she had been in this secret department already a year.

Harry gathered his jacket and messenger bag. He was going to go to see Draco. Since he had found that Shacklebolt denied writing the letter, Harry had been itching to speak to Draco. After all, it was Draco that had brought him the letter. Surely there had to be some information. The man was the one who had started all of this, and had yet to talk with him about it. Harry regretted fighting with him earlier, he should have just talked to him, for all of their sakes. Harry shook his head, knowing it was no good. He couldn't change the past, but he could shape the future. He just needed answers. Harry wanted answers, and he was going to get them. Tonight.

-->

Down Under

Harry couldn't believe he couldn't find either of them. He had gone to Malfoy's house, thinking that he could talk with Draco but Draco's mother only shook her head saying that she hadn't seen him. Talking with Mrs. Malfoy had been odd, since the last time she had really spoken to him (well, really the only time) she had been laying over him, her hand on his chest and lying to Lord Voldemort. Harry thanked her and moved on to Hermione's house, thinking that perhaps he was there. Harry had felt a little relieved that Draco wasn't there, but concerned that Hermione wasn't there either. After all, if she was the type to go off killing people, he wasn't sure he really knew neither her anymore nor what kind of trouble she was getting herself into on a day to day basis.

Harry resounded that he wasn't going to find them until they wanted to be found. That was, after all, Hermione's style. He could walk right by her and if she didn't want to be found, he would never know. Freshly showered, shaved, and dressed, Harry headed to the ministry for another day of work. He wasn't surprised by the amount of sound in the ministry, as it was normally rather bustling on the morning influx of witches and wizards, but he kept catching whispered snippets of information. Harry shook his head, clearing it and headed up to his office. He was surprisingly the first on to arrive, beating Hermione into the office.

Harry began penning a letter to the maintenance department about a flickering fluorescent bulb he had noticed in the far corner of his office when Ron walked in, all in a rush. Harry glanced up at him; surprised that Ron had not only beaten Hermione into the office, but that Ron was just too upset to talk. Harry went to say something to Ron when Hermione and Draco rushed into the office, slamming the door behind them. Harry frowned, thinking that this was highly unusual behavior.

“Look, Harry, we have to talk,” Hermione said quickly.

“I have nothing to say to you, Hermione,” Harry said coldly as he turned back to parchment, quill in hand. Hermione made a face that was a mix between shame and rage.

“Harry, we have to talk, now,” Hermione said. Harry continued to write with the greatest effort not to look up at her. He saw her out of the corner of his eye look to Draco, who was standing with his back against the door. Hermione crossed to the door, tapping it with her wand.

“Perhaps if you tell Ron, Harry might hear you,” Draco suggested as he stepped away from the door.

“Nah, I am not about to get into the middle of this with any of you,” Ron said quickly. He was shaking his head adamantly. “This time, this has nothing to do with me.”

“Harry look at me!” Hermione demanded as she took his quill and snapped it into two pieces. Harry glared up at her.

“I needed that to write my letter,” Harry growled rather childishly. His eyes fell on hers and try as he may, he couldn't make the anger stay in his gaze.

“Harry, I need you,” Hermione said. She flicked her wand at the windows, metal blinds falling into place and covering the windows. She barely glanced at Draco before she took Harry's face in her hands and kissed him, long and slow. Heat rose from the core of his being until his flesh was too hot to touch. Harry broke the kiss, pulling back and putting distance between them.

“What do you want from me? You can't kiss me and sleep with Draco,” Harry shouted at her. He was angry and felt a little foolish.

“I am not sleeping with her,” Draco said calmly as he passed his wand playfully between his fingers. “I mean, we have, but you know, it didn't work out. Apparently you can't always obliviate everything from someone's mind.”

“What?” Harry asked a little dumb-founded.

“Harry, it is time for you to know the whole truth, and since I don't know it all, or at least I don't anymore, Draco is here to tell you exactly what happened,” Hermione said as she sat down at their conference table. Draco sat to her one side, and reluctantly Harry took her other side. Ron remained at his desk, not really certain he needed to get any closer. He had heard about the brawl last night, and both Draco and Harry had opted not to heal their wounds.

“And he is going to give it to us straight?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Why wouldn't I?” Draco demanded as he lost a little of his calm demeanor.

“Because you are Draco Malfoy,” Harry said as if that explained everything. Draco shook his head.

“Just because you haven't changed much since school doesn't mean that no one else did. Look, Harry, you saved my life, and I am forever indebt to you because of that, though I loath the thought. I do like you and I love Hermione. I am going to tell you everything straight forward and some of it may seem… unlikely… but you have to know, we did everything we did to protect us all,” Draco said as he glanced over to Hermione, who was nodding in encouragement.

“So I am supposed to just believe what you tell me?” Harry said angrily. “I know what I read.”

“And it is all true,” Draco said quietly. “I took the memories of Ava from you. I took the memories of Hermione and you together.”

“But why?” Harry implored. “What benefit could it have been?”

“Let me just start from the beginning,” Draco told him.

“That probably would be for the best,” Hermione agreed nodding as she patted Draco's arm. Harry made a face, unwilling to dole out tenderness to someone who had nearly brought him to his end.

“Just get on with it,” Harry said crossly as he crossed his arms rather childishly. Hermione crossed her arms as well but couldn't help the urge to smile at him.

“Fine,” Draco snapped. He took a deep breath and began, “The raid on the Tember Warehouse, as you remember, was a very big deal, right? You really impressed on the higher-ups your complete willingness to do the job and your ability to get it done.”

“Yes, yes… I remember that entire event just fine,” Harry growled. “We all went out for drinks afterwards, celebrating our victory over yet another dark group trying to cause a stir in our world. Get on with it!”

“Be patient, Harry,” Hermione chastised. Harry glared at her a moment but didn't retort.

“Well, there was more, actually,” Draco continued. “We know that was the night that you and Hermione… uh… became closer.”

“No it wasn't,” Harry defended. “I remember that night. We kissed a bunch, a little high on Fire Whiskey and Adrenaline. We didn't do anything else.”

“Well, actually, you guys went home together,” Ron interjected from his desk. He wasn't trying to look interested.

“We did?” Harry asked him. “But that doesn't mean that we… you know…”

“Had sex, Harry? Come on, we are adults now, we can say the word,” Hermione laughed. “Well, we did, Harry, and that I do remember.”

“You do? Why can you remember and I can't?” Harry asked. Hermione looked at him guiltily.

“I didn't want for it to come between our friendship,” Hermione said slowly. She looked away from him and down at her hands that were now folded in her lap. “You and I had a lot to drink and I didn't want that to be the only reason that we slept together.”

“You could have just talked to me instead of making me think we just kissed,” Harry said. He rubbed his forehead, the beginning of a headache coming on.

“Well, I panicked, ok? We all make mistakes, and we can't change that,” Hermione snapped. She took a deep breath, regaining her composure. “Sorry, look, if I could, I would change things. I would go back and not remove that memory from that night.”

“Was I any good?” Harry asked curiously. Ron and Draco laughed, the tension seemingly crackling around them up until that point.

“I am not going to answer that right now,” Hermione said as she refused to meet his eyes. “Do you remember when we were in Belsgrade?”

“Was that when we took down Ortman?” Harry asked slowly, vaguely remembering. Hermione nodded.

“That is when I got pregnant with Ava,” Hermione said quietly. She blushed. “I… we weren't drinking that night, but you were dating Ginny then and I wasn't going to break you two up. I thought that you were in love, and she was my best friend.”

“Is that why you and she are so un-friendly now?” Ron asked from his desk. Hermione nodded.

“Can we just keep this moving? It seems like this has been going on forever,” Draco said as he impatiently cracked his knuckles.

“It was hell, living with the intimate knowledge I had, so I asked Draco to obliviate the memories from me. Only Draco didn't do it right,” Hermione said as she looked at Draco pointedly.

“Thus the reason I never applied to the Obliviator's office, Mione,” Draco laughed as she rolled her eyes at him. “I told you I didn't think I could do it.”

“So, what? The memories didn't stay erased? You are starting to remember them?” Harry asked hopefully. Hermione sighed and smiled softly at him.

“Yes,” Hermione replied. Harry beamed, thinking then soon, his memories would start to come back as well. Hermione, as if sensing his thoughts and hopes, shook her head. “Draco did mine, Harry, but I couldn't bear to let him touch your mind. I obliviated you, but had Draco to record them in the book. I couldn't be the one to admit to the ministry that I had been illegally tampering with your mind. It wouldn't look so weird to have Draco, a Hall employee, recording information in the books.”

“But Shacklebolt found out,” Draco continued when it became apparent that Hermione wouldn't. She was buried in a handkerchief that looked rather familiar to Harry.

“Why would Shacklebolt care if Hermione were sleeping together?” Harry asked. Draco made a face, not one of pain but one of uncomfortable irritation.

“You were working against the ministry, Harry,” Draco said sympathetically. Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I know it seems unlikely, but you were mounting an opposition to overthrow the government. There were rumors that you were close. Hermione and I were called in to take care of the problem, since she was the closest to you and could gain access to you like no other person on our side could.”

“By take care of the problem, you mean me. What exactly were you supposed to do?” Harry said in disbelief as he looked to Hermione. She refused to look up at him, just kept her eyes lowered and focused on her hands.

“We…we were told we needed to get rid of you,” Draco said simply. He didn't look apologetic, just uneasy.

“Assassinate Harry?” Ron shouted jumping up. He looked to Hermione angrily. “He is our best friend! How could you?”

“Obviously I didn't, Ron. He is still alive,” Hermione snapped at him. She turned to Harry. “I never wanted to kill you. I never wanted to kill anyone. I was locked into the vow when I begged for your life.”

“What does this have to do with Ava?” Harry asked Draco, ignoring Hermione's teary explanation. He wouldn't look at her.

“Well, I erased Hermione's memory and I had to replace it with something,” Draco said. He looked at Harry a second, contemplating what he was about to tell the man that had now on two occasions, beaten the hell out of him. He figured Hermione was worth at least a few more. “I modified her memory to think she and I had been together. I didn't know she was pregnant.”

“So…” Harry murmured as his eyes fell on Hermione. “You thought you were pregnant with Draco's baby?”

“Yes, but… see, I didn't understand. The memory seemed foggy and when I replayed it in my head, it didn't make sense,” Hermione said quietly. “Then, when I was with Draco, it seemed off.”

“Gee, Mione, way a stick it to a man when he is down,” Draco mumbled. Hermione ignored Draco.

“Harry, I would never do anything to hurt you, but when we were in Sydney…” Hermione began.

“So, I was there at Ava's birth!” Harry exclaimed as he jumped up. He paced back and forth for a moment.

“We were all there, Harry,” Draco said quietly as he watched Harry pacing the floor of the office. “You, me, Hermione was over due, Ron, Ginny… we were all there. Hermione and I were there on a tip, and things were a mess, but you came with Ron and Ginny to be supportive of Hermione, thinking we were there to have the baby.”

“Did you stay in the room?” Harry asked. Draco made a face, like not understanding. Harry elaborated, “Did you stay in the room when Ava was born?”

“Everyone believed that I was the father,” Draco said simply. Harry made a face, a mixture of jealousy and disgust, but didn't say anything. “Anyway, Hermione was supposed to fake going into labor, not actually go into labor. We were supposed to be there to see if the rumor was true, that another dark soul was being born.”

“This is crazy!” Ron exclaimed.

“Shh,” Harry hushed him. Granted, it sounded like a load of bull shit but Harry wanted to see how it played out and how he ended up without his daughter. Harry took his seat in the chair next to Hermione, but was leaning away from her, as if subconsciously trying to distance himself from her.

“Well, D'Agostino was there, and she gave birth to a baby boy,” Draco said. “By that time, you all were there and Hermione really had gone into labor. I kept trying to go check the baby the D'Agostinos had, but the nurses kept dragging me back to Hermione's side,” Draco said. He paused. “I didn't mind, you know, the blood and stuff, but it really bothered me to see her in so much pain. It was like torture the way that she begged for it to end, for the pain to cease. Then Ava came and Hermione only cried happy tears. It was one of the most amazing things to witness, the birth of a child. I cut the cord and I held the baby.”

“That was my daughter!” Harry yelled at him. Draco flinched.

“I know, and I knew that this day may come,” Draco said as he fished a picture out of his pocket and pushed it towards Harry. It was of Harry holding the baby. It was a wizarding picture, the slight movement of the baby as Harry peered into her oddly familiar eyes.

“I held her?” Harry asked frustrated as he raked his hand through his hair. Draco nodded.

“Hermione was suspicious when Ava was born. God, she looked like you, just like you. I almost expected her to have a scar on her forehead,” Draco said quietly. He stood a moment. “Everything I ever did was because I love Hermione, and everything she has done to you was for your best interest. She loves you more than she could ever love me.”

“Enough, Draco, move on,” Harry said coldly.

“Fine,” Draco said. “We were there to check on the D'Agostino baby, so we walked our baby down to the nursery and we saw him while we were there. There was no way that the baby could have been anyone other than we expected.”

“What? Lord Voldemort's baby?” Harry sneered sarcastically as he leaned further away from the table.

“It was!” Hermione cried out. “Even as an infant, he had an evil glint in his eyes and with a few revealing charms, it was apparent that his parents had a baby with a bit of his soul in him.”

“Yeah, ok,” Harry snorted as he shook his head.

“You weren't there in the nursery, you didn't see that baby, and you didn't know what we have been forced to do,” Draco said as his voice strained against an unleashed emotion. “If it wasn't for you, we probably could have gotten out of the department before we got so far in we couldn't get out. She had to swear allegiance to the ministry's secret department for life because she didn't want you to die. She traded her freedom for you!”

Draco was on his feet now, shaking with rage. His face was red, the color pinking all of the way into his scalp. Harry watched him curiously as Draco stood there, his palms on the table. The room was silent.

“So?” Ron finally asked when it was apparent that no one else intended to speak.

“I had a job to do, just like the Transylvanian…”

“You guys killed him?” Harry implored.

“Yes,” Hermione said simply. Her eyes were closed, as if fighting from seeing the image. Harry looked at her curiously.

“You killed him? He was only a baby!” Harry exploded, jumping up from the table.

“We had to,” Hermione moaned. Her eyes were still closed, obviously tortured by this memory.

“No! He was just a baby!” Harry exclaimed angrily.

“He was just a few hours older than Ava,” Draco admitted. He looked over to Hermione with concern in his eyes. “Hermione was a mess after she did what she did.”

“You mean when she killed an innocent baby?” Harry taunted. Draco made a face, as if he had to swallow something quite unpleasant.

“Hermione couldn't stand to look at Ava; guilt consumed her and Hermione knew she couldn't leave those parents with a dead baby. She was confused that I was the dad and she looked just like you,” Draco continued on ignoring Harry's looks of disgust and rage.

“So what happened next?” Ron asked almost breathlessly. Sure, it was captivating when it wasn't you involved.

“Ginny took the baby and disposed of it, and Hermione did what she thought was best. She modified the D'Agostino's minds and passed Ava off as their child,” Draco said. Hermione sobbed.

“And you remember?” Harry asked.

“Some of it, yes, the parts that I have never been allowed to forget, and the parts that Draco's memory charm has worn off. It isn't sharp, though, as memories fade over time,” Hermione whispered.

“What happened after that?” Harry asked out of sheer morbid curiosity.

“Your memory was modified,” Hermione said quietly. She finally looked up at him, her eyes swimming. “Draco and Ginny went back to the ministry first and recorded the birth so that no one else would know about it. I mean, the ministry knew but we had to follow protocol.”

“On whose orders?” Harry demanded. He felt a bit numb, finally sitting down in the chair next to Hermione. It seemed so unlikely, but Hermione had always looked out for his best interest. He couldn't imagine she would have done anything else aside from that.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt,” Hermione said stuffily as she wiped her nose.

“No. He told me that he didn't know anything about it,” Harry said weakly. “He said that he didn't send me to find Ava. Draco, you sent me to find her. Why? And aren't you guys bound by an unbreakable vow? You can't be telling me this.”

“Harry, Shacklebolt is dead,” Hermione said as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Harry frowned. “Draco had you find Ava to fight something evil. He knew you would go looking for answers and you would have figured out this by now.”

“But I just saw him. When did this happen? I mean, who would kill him, aside from me right now,” Harry asked as he looked to Hermione than Draco for answers.

“It happened early this morning,” Draco said quietly. “Ginny did it. That is why we are here.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed.

“We think that the bit of soul that was in the baby possessed her when she disposed of the baby,” Hermione choked as she cried harder.

“We don't know how to help her,” Draco said as he went to wrap his arm around Hermione. Hermione shoved his arm off her.

“We think… we think we have to destroy her. He knew her soul as a first year and gained entrance to her easily,” Hermione moaned.

“If he got in, he can get out,” Harry said feeling rather righteous.

“There isn't much time, Harry. Ginny has Ava,” Draco said

“We have to choose my sister or his daughter?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Surely, there is another choice,” Harry demanded. Hermione nodded slowly, almost hesitantly.

“Yes, only I can't do it. To kill him but not her, you have to rip him from her soul. It can only be done by someone who loved her,” Hermione said. Harry nodded. He knew what he had to do.

-->

(It Ends) Tonight

The sun was setting behind the trees, casting the forest in a strange glow. The rain had ceased and the ground was still damp. Tall trees surrounded the small child who sat with a damp bottom on a rock, watched at a distance by a woman with fire red hair. There was silence all around them; the woods were eerily quiet. There was stillness about the air as the red head finished the last marks on the parchment and fastened it to the leg of the large barn owl before it took to the sky in a hurry to return to the ministry where Harry would be waiting. The red head pursed her lips displeased at the notion that Hermione would probably be there, holding his hand.

“Your mum and dad will be here soon, Ava,” Ginny called to the toddler who had taken the opportunity to pick up a leaf that had fallen next to her. The child looked up, hopeful.

“Ma? Daddy?” The child inquired. Ginny laughed; her laugher warm as she crossed the clearing to where the child was perched on the boulder.

“Yes, you mum and your dad,” Ginny said coaxing as she waved her wand over Ava's grass stained jeans, the stains dissolving instantly. Ginny had barely been able to snatch Ava from her yard, the mother had looked away for just a moment and Ginny had scooped her up and appirated there to the forbidden forest. It seemed fitting that the place that Ginny had once feared now brought her so much strength and comfort.

Ginny continued to circle the child, murmuring slightly as the child watched her with curious eyes. Ginny knew it would be long. The letter should be arriving at the ministry and she knew it wouldn't take long until Harry and Hermione arrived at the gate of Hogwarts. Ginny waited. She had gotten used to waiting. She waited in school for Harry to notice her. She waited when he, Ron, and Hermione had gone off to fight the Dark Lord. She laughed. They thought that they had won.

“They thought that they were smarter, better, just because they were older,” Ginny murmured as she picked at a small scab on her arm, the blood rising to the wound and spilling over on her skin like a red tear drop.

Ginny heard movement in the woods around her and she froze, her wand raised. The child didn't notice Ginny's movement, instead transfixed on the leaf as a tiny green inch worm crept across it.

“Ginny?” A voice asked just beyond the shadows of the trees. Ginny felt her heart soar. She would have known that voice anywhere. She watched as he slowly walked out from behind the trees, his hands raised in an unthreatening manner.

“Harry!” Ginny said unable to suppress her excitement. She wanted to run at him, but she remained at the rock, next to the child. “Where is Hermione? I know I told you to bring her. By now you know why she is here.”

Ginny nodded her head toward the brown haired girl who seemed to look right at Harry. Deep with in his own soul, he felt the pull of his paternal instincts though up until recently he hadn't even known he was a parent. He stepped forward, arms reaching for the child but was stopped by Ginny, her wand raised.

“Ginny, you are sick, you need my help,” Harry murmured.

“Where is my dear old best friend? Hermione?” Ginny called into the darkness. The child looked up at Ginny with a curious look on her face. Hermione stepped out of the woods and for the first time laid eyes on her daughter. Memories flooded Hermione like a tidal wave causing a sob to escape Hermione's body, echoing over the night filled woods. The area seemed to glow around them, and Harry could see that the fireflies had swarmed in a giant circle around their heads.

“Ginny, please,” Hermione said as she stepped forward.

“No, damn it! He was mine!” Ginny screamed at Hermione as she flicked her wand, sending Hermione ricocheting off a trunk of a tree. Hermione fell to the ground and groaned, struggling to stand.

“Ginny, let Ava go and you and I will talk,” Harry said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm as he inched forward.

“No, I can't stand the thought of you and her ending up together,” Ginny cried out. The child's bottom lip began to tremble and Ava begun to cry. “Shut up!”

“Ginny. Hermione and I aren't going to end up together,” Harry said as he stepped closer to Ginny. “Hermione is with Draco now. Remember? They were holding hands in the ministry?”

“Stop talking to me like I am a child, Harry,” Ginny said angrily as Draco and Ron stepped out from the woods. She became enraged. “I told you to come alone. Do you ever listen?”

“I know,” Harry murmured softly. “I tried to tell them to stay, but you know how people always stop to look at a car accident, same thing. I guess that they are hoping you will off me so that they can slide in and take my spot.”

“Ginny, don't do this or I will tell mom,” Ron threatened. Harry cringed as he heard Ron join Hermione against the ground at the base of the tree. Harry was at a loss. At this rate, he, Ginny, and the now silenced baby were going to be the only conscious ones.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked her quietly as he sat down where he stood just moments before. He racked his brains, not sure where he was going with this. Ginny looked at him uncertainly before she sat down on the rock next to the child who seemed to be getting redder and redder with anger and tears.

“What do you want to talk about?” Ginny asked. She still had her wand pointing at Harry.

“Why did you go to Sydney?” Harry asked as he took his own wand and created a little ball of light that he began bouncing on the end of his wand.

“Hermione was my best friend,” Ginny said simply. Harry didn't look up at her. He continued to bounce the light ball, making it twinkle and spark.

“What are you hoping to get out of taking Ava from the muggle woman's house? What do you hope to accomplish?” Harry asked. He let his eyes fall on her face.

“Do you know what they did, Harry? They lied to you, they lied to you about all this,” Ginny said as she swept her hand in front of her.

“Ginny,” Draco drawled as he came closer. Ginny's fury flared.

“Don't get me started on you,” Ginny snapped as she stood and pointed her wand at Draco. “I told you to do one thing and you manage to fuck it all up, Draco. I even showed you how to do it, and you couldn't get that right. You are a terrible wizard. No wonder you never made Auror.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco asked as he stepped back, not wanting to be too close incase Ginny's wand went off.

“Do you really think you could have created a memory like sleeping with Hermione all by yourself?” Ginny said laughing. “Come on. You are a Mudblood-hating, pure blooded wizard. You and a Mudblood? That's too rich. I bet that your Mummy and Daddy have a laugh about that one.”

“Ginny, please lower your wand,” Harry coaxed as he, too stood.

“Stop Harry,” Ginny said frustrated. “I know I am never going to have you, am I?”

“No,” Harry said closing his eyes. “Look Ginny, you are sick. You have a part of Lord Voldemort's soul attached to your own.”

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of,” Ginny growled. She shook her head. “No, look Harry, this is all me. This is who I am. I loved you. I waited for you, and you used me and cheated on me with her.”

“Did you know Hermione was pregnant?” Harry asked as he stopped moving towards Ginny.

“No, that actually came to a surprise to me,” Ginny replied, the anger escaping from her voice. “I thought that Draco had actually managed to get her, but then the numbers didn't add up, and the memories were vague and vapid. When I saw her, I knew. I didn't want Hermione to keep it, because I knew you would put two and two together if you saw the baby on a daily basis, so I filled that bushy head of hers with horrors and drove her insane.”

“What do you mean you filled her head and drove her insane?” Harry asked as his arms crossed his chest. He glanced over at Ava who was sucking her thumb now, watching Ginny with keen interest.

“Do you think that nerdy little book worm could actually go through with all those murders?” Ginny laughed callously. “She couldn't even stand up to you when you were obviously wrong.”

“I was wrong?” Harry asked as his temper flared. “You killed a baby and made her believe she had done it all.”

“Yes, and I would do it again. You were mine, Harry, and she contaminated you with knowledge and understanding. Hermione couldn't kill anything if her life depended on it,” Ginny said infuriated. She strolled over to the child and touched her head with her hand.

“Ok, so all of this was you?” Harry asked as he wracked his brains. They were in a sticky spot and he had no idea what to do. He had to keep her talking while he tried to figure out a plan. He glanced at Ron and Hermione unconscious in a heap behind him, and he hoped that they were ok.

“She may be the brightest witch of her time, but she and I are no longer equals. I bested her. She is going to die tonight, so are you, Harry, and so is Ava,” Ginny told him as she brought her wand down to the child's face. The end began to glow hot.

“Wait!” Harry yelled.

“Well, what is it?” Ginny asked crossly as she pulled back a moment, releasing the child's hair from her grasp. The child slowly slid away.

“Well, aren't you going to tell me how you did it?” Harry asked as he thought about every villain movie had ever seen. They did their evil monologue thing, stalling, and the hero always prevailed. Harry's heart fell, this wasn't a movie, and this was real life.

“What does it matter?” Ginny snapped as she stepped toward the child.

“I have to know, did Draco and Hermione ever kill anyone?” Harry asked quickly. Ginny turned back to him and laughed.

“I already went over that. Weren't you listening? God, you are stupid and pathetic,” Ginny said unsympathetically. “Just ask what you really want to know. You want to know if they ever slept together, don't you?”

“Well,” Harry hesitated. He had rather not really have that information confirmed. Ginny laughed and seized Draco with her wand and brought him between Harry and her own self.

“Draco, once cast now release, thoughts and dreams, say your peace,” Ginny murmured as she waved her wand in a big circle over Draco's head. Draco looked at Harry a moment; his eyes slid out of focus and then back into focus. Ginny looked at Harry, a cruel smile on her face. “Did you ever sleep with Hermione Granger?”

The silence was deafening. Harry could feel his heart thumping in his chest, echoing coldly against the walls of his rib cage. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, despite the coolness of the air.

“No,” Draco said quietly. He looked like a crushed man and the past years memories, real and false, flooded his mind. It looked rather painful and Draco's face reflected.

“That can't be true!” Ginny screamed as she flung Draco against the tree. She forced her gaze at Harry, her breathing coming in gulping breathes. “I set it up perfectly. He should have been able to complete the plan perfectly.”

“Maybe your plan isn't so perfect,” Harry suggested. She looked like she could shoot flames out of her eyes.

“My plan was brilliant! You would think Hermione and Draco were together and you would come running to me!” Ginny shouted as she began to pace.

“What happened? Why make Hermione and Draco think that they had killed?” Harry asked as he watched her. “Why make them think that that D'Agostinos' baby was possessed by the soul of Lord Voldemort. I killed him; he can't come back, Ginny.”

“I know that, Harry,” Ginny sneered at him as she tapped her wand against her thigh, deep in thought. “I didn't know what else to do, and they still couldn't kill him. Weak, pathetic, unimaginative…”

“So you killed the baby?” Harry asked as he edged closer to the toddler. She looked at him, her eyes trained on him. “Then you made them believe Hermione had done it.”

“I had to, I needed them to be bound to each other,” Ginny said. “Why do you think I made them think that they had signed an unbreakable vow with Shacklebolt? I modified their memories so that they would modify yours, only I had to go back behind them, and do it right. Neither Draco nor Hermione were very good at obliviations.”

“But what about Ava? Draco sent me to find Ava,” Harry said as he came with in reaching distance of Ava.

“Apparently I was off my game a few times and the spells broke,” Ginny said as she realized that Harry was too close for comfort to Ava. Ginny summoned the child as Harry dove for her. “You can't win this one, Harry.”

“Listen, Gin, give Hermione the baby and you and I can just go,” Harry said quietly as he watch his daughter squirming in Ginny's grasp. Ginny looked at Harry hopefully.

“No,” Ginny decided. “You only promise to stay as long as it takes you to kill me.”

“No, Ginny, I am not a killer,” Harry said coldly. “You are.”

“I only did what I had to do to ensure my love,” Ginny said with an almost pleading voice, wanting Harry to understand she did this all for him.

“Do you have your love, Ginny? No. And do you know why?” Draco moaned as he pulled himself straight. He cradled a broken arm but still had his wand pointing at Ginny. “Because you over estimated your own powers and underestimated other people's powers.”

“Give me the child, Ginny,” Hermione said as she stepped forward, her arm stretched out for the child.

“Let Shacklebolt's death be the last blood you spill,” Ron begged. Four wands were fixed on Ginny, her own wand on the child.

“Kill me,” Ginny taunted. “Azkaban or death, it is all the same.”

Ginny raised the wand again, pointing it at the small child who now looked at her as she hung by her arm from Ginny's hand. Her bright green eyes mirrored Harry's and Ginny could feel herself shaking.

“Stupify!” The four shouted in unison. Four stunning spells hit Ginny head on, sending her flying back. Ava tumbled to the ground, her cries piercing the once eerily silent night. Harry gathered the child up in his arms; trying to comfort her while Draco bound Ginny with ropes that seemed to snake from his wand.

“Mum is going to flip out when she finds out,” Ron murmured as he looked over at his sister. Harry nodded, having quieted the toddler. He walked over to Hermione.

“I remember everything,” Harry said quietly as he passed the child into her mother's arms. Hermione held the child to her, fighting weakly against the tears that poured down her face.

“I remember everything, too,” Hermione whispered as she stroked the child's soft brown curls.

A/N: Ok. That is it. That is the end, in all its flawed imperfection. That is all I wrote, and while a good many of you thought it sucked and I suck at writing, this isn't for you. This is for those of you who have stuck with it from start to finish. I am not sure if you want an epilogue, so for now… I will pass on one. Maybe if enough people want to know what happens next, then, maybe I will write one. It has been… an experience, to say the least. Thank you for reading.

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A/N: For those of you who have requested the epilogue, it is below. I hope it wraps everything up in a nice little package for you. Thank you for your on-going support.

Epilogue

Harry sat at his desk in the early evening hours, and for the moment the house was silent. He smiled at the thought that in just a few hours the house would be bursting with people and the noise level would be unbearable. However, Harry would bear it, though. It was something in the sounds that his house made when it was full to the rafters with people. It made him really feel at home. Harry looked down at the sheets of parchment resting on his desk. This had been Hermione's idea, him writing his memoirs. He had laughed when she had mentioned it, thinking that he wasn't but in his thirties and it was very premature to be writing his memoirs.

Sometimes what we want most out of life is never realized until we have to make decisions that are neither easy nor desired. Sometimes what is right is hard and undesirable. Hermione and I had to make many decisions like this over the years, but the hardest decision we ever made was to return Ava to Angela and Tom D'Agostino. By then, she had been missing a few days; after all we didn't rush Ava back to them after Ginny was hauled away to Azkaban Prison in the North Sea. We had spent three glorious days in the house at 12 Grimuld Place, Hermione, Ava, and me. While keeping Ava was an option, we knew it would not be for the best. We created Ava, but Tom and Angela had been her parents.

Harry ran his fingers over these difficult words to write. At one point in those early months, both Hermione and Harry had both changed their minds at least half a dozen times. More than a thousand tears were shed. In the beginning, neither Harry nor Hermione were certain that they were going to be able to survive the heartbreak. Luckily, they had plenty of work to keep them busy in the early months and Ava, while always on their minds, had slipped from the newest hurts to the hurts that only haunted them at night.

Harry had gone to Ginny's trial, stood beside Mrs. Weasley, and held the woman when her daughter was sentenced to fifteen years in Azkaban. Ron and Harry, Draco and Hermione, and dozens others went to her defense pulling out studies of post-traumatic stress disorder. In the end, it was Harry's plea to the high court that Ginny be spared the kiss that had swayed them.

“She fought beside me in the war, and she is a hero,” Harry had said. “War changes people, warps their minds and destroys their reasoning. To have her be kissed by the Dementors is not only bad practice, but also bad publicity for the ministry. It is true, a lot of lives were destroyed at her hand, but this is the time for forgiveness.”

Harry hadn't visited Ginny in Azkaban and he knew that she would be getting out in a few years. He knew he and everyone else would have to face her, but he didn't need to rush things. Everything would happen in its own good time. He could hear Kreatcher at the door and he heard Neville's voice. Harry couldn't suppress his grin as he pushed away from his desk. It was Neville's suggestion that Harry leave the ministry, and Harry had never been happier. He had stay on with the ministry just long enough for Shacklebolt's replacement, Henry Downy, to be settled.

“Hullo Harry!” Luna crooned as she embraced him, kissing his cheek. He glanced down at the newest little Longbottom, nestled in her arms.

“How's Quidditch? Are we going to give the Belgium team a run for their money this year?” Neville asked as he reached down and caught two identical Longbottoms by the arms. “No running inside, do you understand? Star? Skye?”

“Aye, we got it dad!” The twin girls shrieked before running off toward the back of the house and out the back door.

“Twins! Seriously!” Neville sighed. Harry smile grew larger.

“Tell me about it,” Harry laughed. The Longbottoms were up to five kids now. Two sets of twin girls and the newest baby. Harry peered at the baby. “Boy or girl?”

“Alas, another girl. Harry, I am out numbered in my own home,” Neville groaned with a huge smile on his face. “Even the damn hamster turned out to be a girl and now the place is crawling with invisible hamsters. Thank god Gram insists we travel to her place. She'd die!” Harry laughed as Ron and Rebecca entered the house.

“Ron!” Luna had squeaked as she hugged and kissed Rebecca and Ron. Ron had finally made a relationship work and the half dozen kids proved it. They all looked like little miniature versions of Ron.

“Did you find out if Draco is coming?” Ron asked making a face.

“Come on, Ron,” Harry chastised gently. “He's not that bad, and luckily he never made Auror, so you don't even have to work with him.”

“I know, but we're not even friends really,” Ron moaned as he watched his kids exit out the back to join the Longbottom children in the yard.

“That just hurts, Weasley,” Draco drawled as he entered. His family was smaller than the other families, only having two children. They looked like Draco so much it was scary, but their mother looked a lot like Draco, too, so that was probably why.

“Here we are,” Harry heard her say before she had even seen the person whose voice brought him to his highest highs, higher than even playing Seeker on the England Quidditch team. “Harry, they are here.”

Harry went towards the front door, following the voices. Hermione stood, looking more beautiful than she had ever looked. Harry felt his heart swell with pride and pleasure. Her hair was a little shorter than it had been in previous years, probably for the best as it was being pulled quite a bit as of the past few years. She was wearing slack and stood near Tom and Angela D'Agostino. Harry's eyes fell in awe on Ava. Now nearly sixteen, she was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

“Uncle Harry!” She screamed as she took off into his arms. He embraced her tightly and felt a lump form in his throat. He loved her so completely.

“Ava, wow, you sprouted up over the summer,” Harry choked out as he grinned.

“Yeah, and she finally got boobs and a boyfriend,” a boy said as he stepped around his father and mother. Tom and Angela had reunited after Harry and Hermione explained everything to them. They had gone on to have three boys.

“Tell him what else,” Tom pressed proudly.

“I got a letter!” The boy screamed excitedly as he waved his Hogwarts letter up so that Harry could see. Harry had high-five-d the boy as he headed toward the back yard and the masses of other children.

“It really explains so much,” Angela said smiling as she shook her head. He would be the fourth D'Agostino to head off to Hogwarts. The other two boys were already heading toward the yard to join their schoolmates and friends. Tom and Angela joined them, leaving Harry and Hermione.

Hermione stood there with Harry, a smile playing on her lips softly. They were inviting and Harry strolled up to her lazily, his own smile warm and playful. He glanced at the young man who was up until that moment silent beside Hermione and embraced him.

“Dad, come on. If you do this every time we come home, I swear, one day, I might just not come home,” the boys said rolling his eyes. “Why don't you go hug Sirius or Remus like that.”

“They are napping, and the triplets are still out visiting their muggle friends up the block. Sorry, James, you the one that gets the hug,” Harry laughed as his nearly thirteen year old son pulled away.

“Maybe this is why they all run when you come, Dad,” James teased as he took his sister from his mother's arms and pushed her toward Harry. “Just kiss Lily so that you give a well rounded welcome and I can go talk to Henry Malfoy about our plans for Hogwarts domination this year.”

Harry planted a kiss on the chubby little girl's forehead as she went to grab for his glasses. Harry laughed and took her from James a moment. The boys were all like him in looks, just as Lily was, but Lily was his kindred spirit. At just a few months old, she was already stubborn and determined. Harry couldn't help but think of Ava for a moment before he laughed and passed Lily back to James. Ava was nearly grown and they had made the right decision. She was perfect.

“Harry,” Hermione said as Harry took her into his arms, planting light little kisses on Hermione's face and lips.

“Mmm?” Harry murmured as he held her in his arms, his mouth touching her neck slightly, causing Hermione's heart to race just a little bit.

“You know how we said when we finally got Lily that maybe seven was enough?” Hermione moaned slightly as she felt herself slipping under the spell of her husband's touch.

“Yeah, twins and triplets, us being exhausted, school costs and the boys getting too big for the house, I remember the whole conversation,” Harry breathed as his mouth met hers.

“Yeah, well…” Hermione said pulling away from him. She placed her hand to her stomach slightly and looked at him uncertain. Harry's eyes slid from her face to her stomach and back. He felt his heart swell to a bursting point and pulled Hermione into the deepest kiss he could muster with a huge smile on his face. “You're not mad?”

“Having children with you is the only thing I ever wanted to do, Mione,” Harry laughed as he rested his hand on her stomach, thinking below her clothes and flesh, deep within her womb, another sweet little Potter grew.

A/N: So that is how I leave you. I hope you enjoyed, and thank you.

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