Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N. RL excuses skipped. Thank you for your patience and to those who checked in to see if I was still alive : )

This is longer than usual - needed to answer the question of why they are not together in this chapter because I said I would (to save face). I hope it is clear enough.

This was harder to write than I anticipated. I had major writer's block - that's what happens when you get an angst writer writing/attempting to write fluff :lol:

Waterworks probability - none to slim.

My apologies in advance.

XXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 38 - A Deathly Negotiation

Harry didn't want the night to end.

He gazed at the woman in his arms, her one arm draped lightly over his waist, the other up against his chest. Hermione, his fiancée; he couldn't help the smile on his face as he gently stroke her hair. It still felt unreal that she said yes.

"I love your Mum's ring," she said to him as she rolled the gold band in her finger.

"That's good," he chuckled softly, "Because it is yours now."

That made her laugh too.

"Harry..."

"Uh-huh?"

"I was just wondering. Why the rush?"

He had anticipated this line of questioning. This was typical Hermione, over thinking everything and he had a ready answer.

"I've known you for more than half my life and been through hell and back with you. I've actually wondered why it took me so long to do it," he replied, studying her face for traces of cold feet, "Why? Do you feel rushed?"

"Maybe 'rush' wasn't the right word to use. This is just very unexpected," she explained, still curious, hopefully just curious, "When did you decide?"

"This morning."

She shook her head disapprovingly, "You were always a bit impulsive."

"I prefer to think that I'm quick thinking," he joshed and then reassured her, "It felt right."

"When exactly?"

"I was watching you sleep," something within him warmed up as he remembered the moment, "I was thinking it was time to tell you how I felt about you and I didn't want to give you a moment to doubt how much you mean to me."

"Was I that obviously insecure?"

"Kind of," he kissed her gently then continued, "There was that and I figured that would be the best way to discourage the poachers you've been attracting."

"Poachers? Who? Warren?" she had an incredulous look on her face.

"He's working you and you don't see it," he warned her, concerned at how unaware she was .

Harry recalled his frustration of her attentiveness to Warren at the meeting and at the party. There was something about how they were now that was quite different from how they were before and it irritated him that she had a platonic 'male friend' who defended her. If this was how Ron felt about him being around, he had renewed respect for his best friend for not telling him off.

"Give me a little credit. I would know if someone was 'working' me," she replied confidently, "And I never figured you to be the jealous type. "

"I'm not jealous. I'm just…annoyed," he instantly denied but that was met by her trademark all-knowing look that he had to confess, "Okay fine - I'm jealous."

"You have absolutely no reason to be jealous about," she scolded him.

"You don't find him attractive?" he asked a rhetorical question, rhetorical in a sense that even if she did, which wouldn't be surprising, she would never admit it to him or to herself.

"Oh, please," she answered dismissively, not really answering, "Where is this coming from?"

"I have a list, a long list," he joked, thinking this goofy approach to making her aware of his insecurities about Warren was loads better than acting like the possessive prick of a boyfriend he was tempted to fall into.

"You have a list," she chuckled as she repeated, "Since when did you make lists?"

"Must be your influence," he accused playfully, making Hermione to break into a wide grin.

"Well, I'd like to hear it."

"It'll take us all night."

She laughed easily again. He loved it that he had this power to make her laugh.

"You're going to have to prioritize then," she moved from the warmth of his embrace, lay on top of him and brushed her lips against his, her bare breasts pressing against his chest. Their kiss deepened and his arms naturally wrapped around her, pulling her closer while her fingers caressed his hair. His insecurities melted away. She smiled in the end, breathless and dreamy eyed like he was and reminded him impishly, "Your list?"

""You're purposely distracting me," he pointed out the obvious.

"I'm helping you prioritize," she reasoned innocently.

"Where to start. Let me think," he squinted his eyes as she looked on with interest, "He's taller, richer, far more attractive and interesting."

"Size and money don't do it for me and that last part is so not true," she rebutted.

He knew that. He just wanted to hear her say it.

"You react to Warren the same way you reacted to Ron."

"That's precisely why you have nothing to worry about. We both know what came out of that."

It was a relief that she felt that way about it too.

"You agreed to be his pretend wife."

"That's work. Arguing the point further would be a total waste of time."

Should he point out that the pretending was kind of how this thing between them started? He wondered how far the Hag pushed them during the training . On second thought, he really didn't want to find out.

"You - um - danced with him."

"You're jealous because we danced?" she asked with an amused expression.

"That and because he can actually dance. I can't dance and knowing that you like to dance and danced with him absolutely kills me."

"You're being silly."

Silly but also absolutely honest. He had the perfect opening to get an important message across.

"I'm sorry but I gotta draw the line. You can't dance with him anymore. In fact, you can't dance with any other man without my expressed consent. Is that unreasonable?"

"A tad unjust but I guess open to discussion," she jumped in and encouraged his absurdity, "So, who can I dance with?"

"Let me see - Mr. Weasley for sure."

"Anyone else?"

"Ron I think I can live with."

"Interesting choice."

"Dean but not Seamus," he qualified, surprised at how he felt that way, "And Teddy."

"Now that's really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Teddy's five."

"Yeah, well only until he hits puberty so you've got about seven or eight years. I wouldn't trust raging hormones around you."

They both laughed.

"I am serious about Warren, though," he said to her as their laughter died down. "I preferred it when you hated him and hexed him. Can you start doing that again?"

"I still hex him when he's being a prat," she tried to reassure him, "Warren is harmless."

"He's as harmless as an elephant in an antique shop. I know him well enough. I just didn't know he could dance," he added begrudgingly.

"Dance camps," she explained, finding something funnier in it than he did, "The woman who raised him sent him to dance camps when he was a kid."

Something ugly within him smelled blood and wanted to rip Warren's head off, the exact same feeling he had when he saw them dancing, "I won't even ask how you found that out."

"I think I know what we'll do on our next day off," she teased.

"Evil witch," he punished her with a searing kiss, "If you do that you know you'll only pay for it with sore toes. And you know how much I love your feet."

"I'd sacrifice anything just to get you to dance with me," she kissed him back then looked at him, her brown eyes filled with tenderness and joy, and said, "I love you."

"I love you."

He looked at her and marvelled at how he felt at that moment. Hearing her say 'I love you' was an absolute rush. It was a mystery to him now how he could have lived without it for the past three months and he would remember not to take the three words for granted ever again. It felt surreal but it was all true. They were going to get married. They were going to have children (she agreed to two but it was an ongoing negotiation).

Harry drew her in closer as she found a comfortable place to rest her head against him. She fell asleep. He loved watching her fall asleep. He loved watching her sleep. He loved the feel of her soft feet and how she always rubbed them against his just before dozing off.

He loved her. He loved their baby. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together. He was going to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved and the woman he loved truly loved him back. And as much as he did not want today to end, he couldn't wait for tomorrow to begin.

XXXXXXXXX

Saul Gumonhisshoe was dozing off at his post. Being his 4th graveyard shift in five days he was bone tired and having a two week old baby at home made restful sleep a luxury these days.

He was contemplating a nap. There were five other MLE's stationed at Hogwarts with him that night, an overkill considering they were protecting some grave. Those detailed there were beginning to wonder what it was they were really protecting and from who. The mystery surrounding it was wearing thin.

A sound startled him. He heard footfalls to his extreme right and promptly investigated. It was that Canadian Auror stationed as a temp potions teacher doing his own rounds. From his seat under his invisibility cloak he watched the lanky Canuck cross the small field and past the row of trees.

Saul spoke into the comm. pod, "Teacher just went past the wards. I'm following him."

Maintaining a safe distance, he went out to the edge of forest and saw the Canadian stop in front of the tomb they were guarding. There was something wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

He made a move to call it in to HQ but something stopped him.

"The Aurors will think you are idiots if you sound the alarm for this," an unfamiliar voice in his head chastised, "It's time to show them you are capable of a simple task."

The voice was right. The Aurors thought of them as idiots already.

"Aren't you curious what's so important about this tomb that they need five people guarding it constantly?"

How did he know that?

"Come closer," the voice commanded, "Let me show you."

One by one four other figures appeared out in the clearing. What were they doing?

"You too, Saul."

No. This is not right.

"Don't be stubborn now. I punish insubordination severely."

He reached for his comm. pod again but was struck by a hex from behind. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, as the wizard who cursed him hovered, moonlight shining on his face. Saul had seen him before at the Ministry. He was supposed to be on their side.

"Watch. I never tire seeing this," his foe said in a cold tone that sent shivers up his spine, "Kill each other. And put on a show will you?"

The Canadian Auror beside the tomb raised his wand and was immediately annihilated by four beams of intense green light. Saul let out a scream, imploring his colleagues to stop, to wake up, to not listen, but it was all for naught. It seemed as if they couldn't hear him or they could but couldn't stop. They killed each other all too quickly. The best dueller, the last man standing alone, did himself in. And before Saul knew it, he was crying, begging for his life.

"I have three children...one still a baby...I'm all they have…" he sobbed, "Please, don't kill me."

"Okay," the man replied, a manic glimmer shining through his eyes, "But remember, you asked for it."

Saul could only follow with his sight as the wizard split Dumbledore's tomb in half and removed from within it a wand, evil laughter echoing across the lake as he brandished it with flourish.

"Now let's see if the hype about it is all true. Capio mentis!" the dark voice spoke again, invoking an obvious but unheard of spell that was meant for him, "I will release you from the bindings now and you will come closer to me."

He felt the restraints come off and found the suggestion to approach compelling. Unable to resist, he walked over and stood beside the foreigner who was nodding with approval at the wand he had in his hand.

Saul said to him, "Who are you?"

"Names and faces are so easy to change," was his answer, "But with this I finally can be someone. Well, soon."

That was the beginning of the end for Saul Gumonhisshoe. He took the murderer to his home and watched his wife perform acts on another man no husband should ever witness. Then Saul was ordered to kill his wife and his children.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione swore to herself. The wand was gone. As she had thought, it was only a matter of time before it would be stolen again and it was stolen again just a couple of hours ago. The detail of five MLE's provided token resistance and all of them failed to sound the alarm.

There was one survivor. Harry was interviewing the Hit Wizard at St.Mungo's that very second, hoping to gather information about what really happened and find clues about what the perpetrator was planning next.

She was awakened by the page Harry received from Humptail about the incident half an hour ago. Falling asleep after that was impossible. She didn't have to meet Warren until six but she decided to go to the Ministry earlier and find out if there was something she could do to help. It was strange that only Harry got a page but she was sure there would be plenty to do at a time like this.

Without second thought, she put the moleskin pouch with the Resurrection stone into her purse. Then her phone rang just as she was about to leave. Her mother?

"Mum?"

"Not quite, Waterloo."

It was Warren. She had to check the number again but it was as she thought the first time.

Confused, she asked, "What's going on?"

He said quickly, "I'm out front. Open up."

The line went dead.

In that brief phone call her heart rate jumped exponentially. She didn't even remember opening the door and letting Warren in.

"Put the wand away," he said impatiently as he crossed the entrance and past the foyer.

Although almost certain it was him she couldn't just assume.

"Prove you are who you are."

He glared at her, exasperated at the necessity.

I am who I am.

You can do better than that. The sooner you say it, the sooner we move on, the less I'll be tempted to hex you.

Fine. I am Warren Gates, son of a dark wizard who I will forever refuse to mention by name because he doesn't deserve being mentioned at all.

Where is he now?

In hell, where I sent him.

They really should agree on a simple safe word, except Warren kept sniggering every time she mentioned 'safe word'. Why was he here? She lowered her wand and led him into the sitting room. He chose to stand.

"The Elder wand was taken, but you know that already."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm in deep doo-doo. My wand was found at Hogwarts and you can guess what it was used for."

The murders. You were set up.

"As obvious as that is many find it difficult to believe," he was accepting of it more than she thought he should have been, "The witness, Gumonhisshoe, fingered me in more ways than one."

Was it Gaunt?

Likely. He wants me out of the picture. Harry was right. He is up to something big and soon, which can only mean he knows more than what we think he does. He probably knows Harry has the cloak and suspects the stone is somewhere close by.

"You don't know that!" she exclaimed reflexively, the thought quite disturbing.

Warren replied with rebuke in his tone, "No, but we're professionals. We don't get excited about stuff like that and we discuss possibilities calmly, right?"

"Fuck off," she settled down; he was right, "How did your wand end up with him?"

"I lost that blasted thing at the Bat Cave months ago. One of his vamps must have had it all this time."

"Just tell Kingsley and John the truth."

"They know the truth. It's not them I'm in trouble with. The Hit Wizards want my ass and Kingsley's hands are tied. A formal inquiry has to be launched and fuck it I'm not spending a single second in any jail. I'm being pulled off the case and being told by my superiors to disappear."

That meant there was a huge fall out and the Canadians would no longer be involved. The MLE protected their own, sometimes with less need for proof and with a swiftness that could be unjust. The secrecy of Warren's call and visit was necessary for it wasn't beyond reason for the MLE to tap her phone and see if the Canadian Auror would get in touch with her.

"So why haven't you disappeared?" she asked, concerned that the longer he stayed in London the more sophisticated and broad the plan to catch him would be.

He gave her a piece of parchment with a nine digit number.

"Memorize this just in case. Call me from a different phone if Gaunt makes contact," she quickly committed that to memory, "Keep the call under twenty seconds and don't tell anyone you have it, not even Harry. There are spies; my Unspeakables, your Unspeakables, Gaunt, the next door neighbours, the guy on the street, you get my point? I hope you won't ever have to use it."

"You're not making sense," she gazed at him intensely but she drew a blank and Warren looked away. She hated it that he could easily kick her out of his thoughts at will, "Just tell me."

"If it goes the way I think it will you have to figure it out and do what you think is best. I can't be a part of how you get there," he tried to explain but she still couldn't understand, "Get Humptail on your side, he'll be the easiest. Don't take it against Harry if he disagrees with you; he will have his reasons. Remember that Gaunt is more skilful and more powerful now than he was the last time. Make the arrest as soon as you confirm identity and do not hesitate to kill him if he gets an edge. And if you get a moment today, can you pick up my favourite shirt at the dry-cleaners?"

He was joking about the last one.

I'm not actually. You know that green one with blue stripes...

We have no time for a to-do list! Stop talking in fucking riddles like the Hag and tell me what I need to know!

It didn't make sense. If Gaunt knew Harry had the stone and the cloak as Warren suspected, why would he still want to meet Jean Peverell?

You already know, you just don't realize it yet.

He made for the door, "I have to go."

She followed him, her mind reeling from what he just told her. What did she know? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he dug deep into his robes inside pocket and handed her a small item.

"What's this?"

"I believe it's called a gift bag."

"What for?"

"Concealing gifts?" he replied; she rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Aren't congratulations in order? Or is it condolences? Nice ring. I must say it was predictable and disappointing. I expected more of you, that you wouldn't be prone to the delusion that marriage is the ultimate declaration of love and all the eternal happiness crap that supposedly goes with it."

He made this quoting motion as the word "love" stumbled awkwardly out of his mouth.

"This is so thoughtful of you," she retorted with their now familiar and friendly sarcasm, fishing the object from within the bag.

"I didn't really get it for you. It was more for me and my peace of mind," he bantered back, "I still don't know how you can live with yourself."

It was book, a very old and worn out one with thinning and brittle pages, about twenty of them.

"Munimentum by Damoclesthenes," she read the words scribbled across the cover.

Munimentum. Her Latin was rusty but roughly it translated to...

Mental defences.

She looked up to thank Warren properly but when she did, the front door was open. He was gone.

XXXXXXXX

Harry hurried up the hall and into the Auror offices. She was still there. He knew because they just spoke on the phone. The thumping on his chest hadn't let up since finding out from Gumonhisshoe what exactly happened. He went to the Hit Wizard's house to see for himself the atrocity Gaunt was capable of. It was definitely Gaunt posing as Warren to meticulously implicate the Canadian. It was a good way to get rid of the Auror who knew him the best and Harry had a bad feeling that Gaunt was about to do something huge. He could still hear the Hit Wizard screaming his lungs out, pleading for someone to kill him.

There she was, at her desk, radiant as she carried their baby in her womb. All throughout his talk with Gummy all he could think about was that he couldn't let her, not after what happened to the other Hit wizards, to Gummy's wife and to Gummy's children. And she'd listen to reason. She had to.

"We need to talk," he said in her ear and motioned her over to one of the secure meeting rooms. He wasted no time getting to the point as soon as he shut the door, "I have a problem with you continuing with the Gaunt case."

"What?" she was not expecting this.

"It's too dangerous," he said with urgency.

Hermione was still confused and not pleased, "I thought we sorted that out yesterday."

"Yesterday the Elder Wand wasn't missing, four MLE's were still alive, one still had his sanity," Harry replied, "Allowing him into your mind - it's too risky."

"Risk is something we all know about when we sign on for this job."

"Gaunt made Gummy kill his entire family..."

"And that's why he needs to be stopped."

"He's now too powerful to go head to head with."

"I can handle this," she said what he knew she would say, "What is this really about?"

He was not getting through to her. She was not getting it. He felt frustrated at the fact that she couldn't see it as clearly as it hit him. His voice got louder.

"It's about drawing the line about what you are willing to sacrifice for your job!"

Her voice got louder too, "Drawing the line? Let's see, we put our lives on the line every day. Compare this to that. What line are you talking about?!!"

"That's different!"

But she wasn't listening anymore,

"Have you ever drawn that line?!" she challenged; he hadn't, and admittedly probably never would. She got him there, "You of all people know that this job isn't just what we do! It's who we are! It's not just a job!"

They paused, frustrated at the other. Yes, it wasn't just a job but maybe it should be; at least this one time, because it could matter. In his heart he knew he was right about this.

"I want you to give up Jean Peverell," he continued as she protested, "I want you to tell Kingsley you want off the Gaunt case. I'll take over as soon as the Harpies leave London."

She was absolutely livid to the point of speechlessness; outraged even. It was then when he felt the conversation had spiralled out of control. He could feel her digging her heels and he would stand his ground too.

She asked him harshly, glaring at him, "Are you out of your mind?!"

"Listen," he said in a controlled and quiet voice, hoping she would calm down too, "There are other ways. This way is too dangerous."

"It's my job! Not doing it doesn't make it less dangerous! Not doing it only means someone else will have to! It means you have to!"

"There's not only you to think about!" he heard himself say.

That didn't sound right, that it had to come from him. And perhaps it was an unconscious choice to bring up their unborn child in this but he had no regrets. One of them had to and maybe that would put things in perspective for her. What was the case worth?

Her jaws were set and she was shaking her head slightly, in disbelief that he said it maybe, in disappointment probably and in anger most definitely that he did. She went off on a tirade.

"That's not fair!"

"I'm not being unfair…"

"I can't believe you said what you just said!"

"I'm just saying that..."

"You better not be thinking that I love our baby less because I'm choosing to do my job!"

"Calm down! That's not what I meant!"

"Oh, I know! You're saying that it's okay for you to do your job but I can't because I'm pregnant!"

"Of course not!"

"I am not sick!"

"I'm not saying that you're sick!"

"Pregnancy does not make me incompetent!"

"I'm not saying you're incompetent!"

"Women have worked through pregnancies for centuries! "

"Your job is different! I can't have you and our baby anywhere near that monster! I'm asking you to be reasonable! Compromise just this once! I'm asking you to do this for me and our baby!"

She was in tears, her face showing a mesh of pain and conflict and he was only seeing that part which she couldn't keep to herself. She heard what he said and she was thinking about it. He moved closer and embraced her as she sobbed into his chest. After some time she pulled away and gazed up to look at him.

"I'm sorry Harry but I can't. It's not right," she decided, her quiet words echoing in the room, words he was finding very hard to accept, "We can't live in fear of what might happen, we can't afford to, not in this job. And I don't want to have to explain to our child why I wasn't involved in putting Gaunt behind bars. I don't want my stories to be about how I stayed behind because I was pregnant and how I didn't want to be in harm's way. I want my child to be proud of me, to look up to me, just as you're proud of what your parents did. And I can't believe you're asking me this."

He wanted to say he understood where she was coming from. He did. He really did, so much so that he couldn't bring the point up for fear she would use it to convince him to let her go on with this.

But there were other things to consider that she was refusing to acknowledge. She was missing the point. It would take a split second for something bad to happen to them and he would never forgive himself if something did.

And she got it wrong about his parents, too. Yes, they defied Voldemort and were in the Order, and he was proud of them because of that but when Voldemort killed them they were in a Fidelus Charm protected house, hiding to keep him safe. There was bravery and there was just plain foolishness.

It was maddening to him that she would choose this and he let his instincts take over. He heard himself say things he didn't think he was capable of saying.

"I can't allow it."

She stepped back, looking at him like she had never before, "What do you mean you can't allow it?"

"You're not going anywhere near Gaunt."

She took another step back, widening the gap between them.

"What are you going to do? Order me not to like one of your men? You forget, I'm not a subordinate anymore."

"No you're not but John made me lead Auror on the case. I'm shutting Jean Peverell down."

"You've gone mad!"

"You're not giving me a choice!"

"No, you're the one who's not giving me a choice!"

"You're going to be my wife, you're carrying our child, and I have the right to protect my family. Don't force me to do this. Tell me you'll stay away," he pleaded with her.

But she was not budging one bit, "No."

"Then I will write you up for insubordination, recommend a suspension if I have to."

"Do what you think is best!"

She turned her back and left him in the meeting room. He left soon after, making his way to John's office.

XXXXXXXX

In a posh upscale hotel in downtown Muggle London, Morpheus Gaunt sat in the middle of his Penthouse suite sitting room with his eyes closed, cup of tea in hand, listening to Fur Elise. Classical music brought him a sense of calm. It was something that settled him down after the high of being the cause of someone's death. He needed the pause to gather himself for his meeting with destiny. It was almost time to acquire the final pieces of the triad he had been seeking and make history. In less than twenty-four hours the Hallows would be united and for the first time Death would have a master.

"Mr. Gaunt," Caractakus Burkes, the shady magical artefact businessman he had invited for breakfast addressed him, "I've been trying to locate Kooper Dodgey as you requested but there has been no response."

"Try again."

Gaunt laughed inwardly. He should be relatively free now. And he'd never see it coming.

"Does it have to be him? We can use someone else," Burkes suggested.

"True, but it'll be much more fun if Dodgey comes."

He dismissed the old man. Free help was always just a beck and call away. It was now boring having the power to capture minds and wills. Mere killing was mundane; an imaginative murder against worthy adversaries thrilled. There was nothing like a good game of chess when you know exactly what your opponent was up to. Everything else was a walk in the park.

The Hallows were special. He didn't want to be complacent about that for he was sure Death was not keen on having a master and would sabotage his acquisition plans any chance it would get . After all, these were items offered as a ruse to trick humankind into more deaths. He was smart not to take this particular journey for granted.

Gaunt took out the Elder wand and studied it carefully. It looked ordinary enough but the power that surged through it with his each use was unmistakably more than what coursed through his old wand or Warren's weapon. He did not know if it considered him its true master. He was banking on the fact that the wand had not been possessed in a long time and its loyalties were hopefully up for grabs.

And if all went as planned today, tomorrow same time he would have all three Hallows. He would be Master of Death.

XXXXXXXXX

Harry did speak with John. She didn't know what he said exactly, but it didn't matter. Harry officially pulled the plug; the formal notice was on the crushed parchment on John's office floor. She didn't read it. She didn't have to. John just told her that Jean Peverell was going to go back to her fictitious form and be allowed to die a natural death.

With Warren gone the cover was deemed unsecure and that while somebody would continue to monitor channels of communication, verbal or physical contact with the suspect was prohibited. John mentioned Harry's key words - risk, danger, not worth it. She had been tempted to lash out at him too but she did not waste her breath. It was decided. If they wanted her input they would have asked for her opinion before deciding. They didn't. Harry was lead on the case. He would have final say on all matters concerning Gaunt and all teams in the central quadrant were expected to aid him in any way possible.

Hermione quietly left John's office seething, livid at Harry's blatant overstepping of the boundaries of sense, sanity and respect. Worse was he wasn't even there to tell her herself, which to her meant an admission of guilt. He was a bully. She never thought she would think of him that way but that was what he was. He was a fucking bully.

She stomped down the corridor with a scowl and headed for the briefing room. How could she think he was different from all the other men she had known in her life? As her friend and lover he had given her the freedom of her own convictions with no exception but as her fiancé and the father of her child he could not afford her the same treatment. In the end their relationship was just like any other; without compromise there was conflict. It just took them three months to have one really important one that neither of them could compromise about. And when push came to shove this was how he chose to resolve the conflict.

Auror or not, this wasn't going to be one of. There would be other cases, other situations and asking her to compromise 'this one time' was the same as asking her to compromise each and every time he deemed her work unsafe. He might as well have asked her to quit and find an unimportant Ministry desk job where no one cared what she did. And the next time they disagreed on an important enough point he would resort to the exact same thing.

She barged into the room and caught the tail end of his final instructions to his team about the Harpies game tonight. Standing by the door with her arms across her chest, she thought about what to say to him as his Aurors filed out of the door beside her.

She still couldn't believe he followed through on his threat. How could he do this? What gave him the right?

I have the right to protect my family.

His family. His wife. His child. His. They belonged to him and that gave him the right. Belonging to him was so much better before when it was unspoken, when it was a mere emotion and lacking the formality of what was concealed on her ring finger. With the ring she no longer just belonged, she was his possession, at least it felt like it, branded to keep poachers away, carrying his baby and soon to carry his name. It was the ring that gave him the right to ignore her wishes and make an executive decision that the Gaunt case was too dangerous, just like he made rules about who she could and could not dance with, and Merlin only knew what else. He was asking, forcing her into a mould, to conform, to be someone she wasn't.

By the time they were alone, she had worked herself up to contained rage. The bully in front of her wasn't even acknowledging her presence.

He said as he gathered parchments of security plans for the game. "Let's talk about this later tonight."

He had never used this dismissive tone with her before, not in recent memory anyway. It hurt and she struck back.

"No, let's talk about it now."

"I have no time for this."

"Neither do I," she retorted, "What are my team's orders for the Gaunt case?"

She knew the answer to that.

"None at the moment," he replied stoically, "Didn't John tell you? Your team has been assigned to help the HW's with their case load until the dead can be replaced."

HW duty. That was sure to keep her out of real harm's way.

"Must have slipped his mind. whose idea was it?"

"Mine."

"I see," she bit her back and sarcastically responded, "That was sweet of you. Appreciate it."

"Let's talk about this after the Harpies game.."

He was infuriating. She couldn't stand this. A voice within her admonished - if you love him you will do as he wishes, if you love your child you will stay with him.

That tore through her gut. The measure of ifs. How pathetic was it to think that way now. If she stayed she would prove two things she was already certain of; she loved him and she loved their baby. She didn't need proof to know that and she only had to convince herself of it. This wasn't a test of whether or not she loved him. It was a test of whether or not they would be happy together. And she couldn't be happy with this. Letting him do this to her would be giving up who she was. She would eventually hate him and she didn't want to hate the father of her child. She had to get out before that fairy tale nightmare happened.

Trembling and with tears in her eyes she lifted the concealment charm and loosened the ring on her finger. The green jewels sparkled but like his eyes at the moment they no longer had the lustre she remembered them to have.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

She shoved the ring into the palm of his hand.

"You're overreacting," he judged.

"Am I?" her answer to her question ripped her heart out, "You obviously rushed into this."

She obviously did too. They weren't ready. She loved him and she knew he loved her but the ring had nothing to do with how they felt for each other. The ring was about commitment and compromise, it came with a lot of expectations and a high price. It wasn't just a symbol of love as she had mistaken it to be all her life.

Her love for him was unconditional. The ring, marriage, living together, wasn't. Wearing the ring would mean compromising her independence and needing to change who she was for him. If there was one thing she couldn't do it was to not be true to herself. And if Harry couldn't accept her for who she was, including her decisions however different they were from his, then it would be wrong for them to stay together.

"Don't use this as a pawn to get what you want," he said icily, leaving the ring in his open palm.

She stared at the piece of jewellery, thinking about what he just said. Did he really think that? Did he not know her well enough to know that she would never do something like that? That felt like a slap to her face and it pushed her over the brink.

The statement was a dare. Even if she changed her mind which she wasn't, taking the ring back under those circumstances was admitting he was right and she couldn't have him think he was. Her face grew hot, her mouth went dry and there was a heaviness inside her chest that made her eyes burn with tears.

"I don't do empty threats. You must mistake me for your ex-girlfriend."

What she just said hurt him too, she could tell, but it was too late to take it back now. The flash of anger in him was hard to take but she steadied herself for what spiteful words he was going to hurl back. Tit for tat.

"I would never mistake you for my ex-girlfriend. She actually listens to what I say."

She nodded and couldn't help but continue to speak her mind, "You know, you're just like her. You're expecting me to be someone I am not some fragile flower that you send away because you're afraid I'm going to get trampled on. I will not be that girl who gets left behind because she's not supposed to fight. I survived on my own long before I was with you. I don't need your protection. I am not Ginny and will never be like Ginny. If you haven't figured that out about me then you proposed to the wrong girl. It's not me that you want. Give that to her. I'm sure she'll be happy to wear it. She'll be happier than I ever would be. You'll be happier with her too."

She bit back the emotions that wanted out and walked out of the briefing room, decided not to let him witness her fall apart, the discomfort in her chest now a crushing and excruciating pain. Pesky persistent tears blurred her path but her feet automatically took her back to her desk. Dean saw her and noticed the obvious.

"What happened?"

Hermione didn't want to talk about it. She grabbed the case file Dean had in his hand and hid her face behind it as she tried to compose herself.

"What are you working on?"

She trained her sights on the first line of the file but couldn't go past it.

"Nothing important," he said what she already surmised, "What happened?"

"Not now."

"Did you and Harry..."

"Back off," she said firmly.

Dean nodded, "Aren't you supposed to go back under?"

"Change of strategy," she retorted, finally ending the pretence of reading through the document in her hand, "So Burkes is filing a complaint against Borgin for threatening his life. Some people have too much time on their hands. What are we doing about this?"

"Borgin's in Interview room 3."

She made her way to the interview room, resolved to do anything to keep her busy for the rest of the day. She didn't want any idle time to think about what was next.

It was difficult enough to breathe and not cry.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry watched Hermione leave, both hands clenched, teeth gritted and fuming mad. He just wanted her and their baby safe. She was so stubborn! Why couldn't she understand?! Why couldn't she just listen to him this once?! Was that too much to ask from her?!

And she was wrong too! He wasn't like Ginny! He wasn't expecting her to change for him. He just wanted her to...ugh! He swore as he came to the realization that she was right. He did. He did expect her to roll over and play the obedient pregnant girlfriend who would keep herself out of harm's way just because he asked, to be someone she was not. He expected her to do it for him and for their baby and he was miffed at her about not doing as he expected. He was so like Ginny.

But he was right about this. He hated that he had to do what he did but the moment he decided he was sure it was the right thing to do. It was too dangerous and the risk wasn't worth it. However, this was Hermione. There was no forcing her to do something she didn't want to do and no preventing her from doing something she wanted to do. Why did he think she would act differently because they were together? Shutting her out of the Gaunt case would only mean she'd find other ways to get involved, likely expose herself to more danger.

He unclenched his hand as he felt the stones on her ring began to cut through skin. The sight of it took him aback - he may be right but where did that get him? In a matter of minutes he had lost her and he had lost his child. The reality of their lives not being a part of his hit him as her words echoed in his thoughts.

She'll be happier with you than I ever would be.

If she wasn't going to be happy with him then what was the point?

He put the ring in his pocket as his phone rang.

"Potter."

"Harry, it's Quince," replied the Auror who was on the other line.

"Yeah. What's up?"

He had assigned the Auror to sweep the stands on the south side of the Flamers Quidditch Pitch.

"I may have something," his man replied, "The Anti-apparition wards have been tampered with."

"I'm on my way."

The game opening tip was eight hours away. The craziness had begun.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione stood by the bar at Finnigan's watching the crowd celebrate the just concluded Harpies-Flamers game. It was a close game. The Harpies won by sixty points based on another inspired performance by Ginny and the team had designated Finnigan's to be their post-game party place. Guests were by invite only but the pub was packed.

Dean was standing beside her, a mobile magical MIR in hand. She and Dean were off duty but were helping the detail assigned to the pub with last minute security measures. In truth she didn't want to go home and being there was better. She had counted on the game going on forever and was disappointed that it didn't. She had hoped that when the team finally got there she'd go home and would be too tired to wallow. The longer she put off thinking about Harry the less emotional she'd be about it, at least that was her theory.

There was a burst of screaming and commotion just outside the main entrance where fans were waiting to catch a glimpse of their favourite Quidditch heroes. The Harpies had arrived. The double doors swung in and the team, the coach, the manager, the trainers strolled into Finnigan's welcomed by cheers, the company of Aurors protecting them unobtrusive and well blended in.

In the midst of all that was Ginny, all smiles and waving to the crowd outside. Harry was beside her, providing a physical and magical shield against the collapsing sea of humanity. It was too painful to watch him, especially with her. She had to look away and motioned to Dean she was leaving.

She manoeuvred her way to the kitchen with the intention of Disapparating from the back door. The music was turned up, drowning the buzz of conversations as drinks flowed freely and bodies converged onto the dance floor.

Walking past the kitchen doors, she found herself face to face with Harry.

"Leaving already?" he asked.

They were in danger of being run over by the constant stream of waiters, waitresses and cooks that they had to stand shoulder to shoulder against the wall. There was bustling activity in the mess and everybody was too busy to notice them.

"It's been a long day."

"Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry."

She found it hard to look at him as they spoke. There was concern in his voice and she was afraid that she would cave the moment she confirmed that he cared, that he wasn't all bad, that he didn't want to break up with her. Her intention to leave was difficult to put into action.

Panicky voices of reason plagued her, little by little corrupting her resolve.

But you love him. How can you choose not to be with him? You can't just give that up!

Then he lightly brushed the back of his fingers against hers. The pull of his gaze was overwhelming and she had no choice but to meet it. One look at him and she was gone.

They held each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. He didn't have to say he was sorry. It wasn't even important to her what he was sorry about. Just the fact that he was was enough. Nothing else mattered. She slid her hand into his and felt him squeeze it gently.

"We'll talk," he said simply.

"We'll talk," she answered.

He walked her to the Disapparition point and watched her disappear. For her, it was like a thorn had just been pulled from her chest. She barely noticed getting home. She would wait up for him. She was too excited thinking about what he was going to say to her and what she was going to say to him.

When she got into her bedroom a phone began to ring.

Jean Peverell's.

It rang four or five times before she answered.

"Hullo?"

"Ms. Peverell?"

"Yes?"

"Gregory Pasturin," the man replied, "Is this a bad time?"

"No. It's perfect actually."

"I know it's short notice but I was wondering if we could meet tonight. I wouldn't rush but my company wants me out of London by the morning. A late dinner or a night cap perhaps?"

It was nine. Why the hurry? Why the pressure to meet now? This didn't make sense for if she was Jean Peverell she would immediately decline.

That was it. Gaunt knew Jean Peverell did not exist. He knew who she was. Fuck...

"Ms. Peverell?" the voice nudged her back to the moment, "Are you still there?"

What Warren said this morning started to make sense. Warren suspected that Gaunt knew of the sting and that he would be in touch with her. She could only think the obvious that Gaunt was planning to use her to get the other Hallows. The decision that Warren had said she had to make was a no-brainer.

"Yes…um…I don't know…it's quite late," she played the part.

"I promise not to keep up you."

The call trace came up with nothing just as expected.

"My husband is away. Would you mind if I brought a friend along with me?"

"No, not at all."

Gaunt knew who she was but he didn't know that she knew. This could work. She'd need at least half an hour to make phone calls and set everything up.

"How about ten o'clock? There's a place on Worthy and Klein, it's called Kaleidoscope," she suggested what she and Warren had predetermined.

"Actually, I'm at this place at Diagon Alley..."

XXXXXXXXXX

It was five minutes before ten. They had the place surrounded by Aurors and anti-Disapparition wards were in place. Everyone was where they were supposed to be.

Harry followed Hermione and John closely as they walked into the Jugular, a respectable pub a couple of blocks down from Finnigan's. John and Hermione were in disguises. Harry was under his cloak.

Less than an hour ago, Hermione was back at Finnigan's. She told Harry that Gaunt had made contact and she had a plan. He listened. She was very convincing and the plan was a good one. Warren would be there, and John, and him if he so chose to be. Once Gaunt was in custody she promised to discuss the possibility of lying low until she had the baby. It was a concession, a compromise, so he wouldn't worry too much. For his sanity, she said, unless something as important as Gaunt came up. And she was so convincing he crossed the line he had asked her not to cross earlier.

It's a good plan.

He sent the real Harpies back to Holyhead discreetly, replacing them with Polyjuiced versions, to make the appearance that the party was still on. He tasked a Polyjuiced Humptail to hold the fort at Finnigan's as him so he wouldn't be missed. Dean was back-up, and would monitor the situation from the now closed dress shop next door.

They kept people in the know to a minimum, suspecting there was a leak amongst them which they couldn't plug right now. Throughout the hour he went in a couple of times to check the place out. There were not a lot of patrons that night, maybe about thirty or so, mostly older couples having a good time. Gaunt had not shown up yet but through the MIR detectors he planted in key locations, they knew that 'Kooper Dodgey' and Caractakus Burkes arrived a few minutes ago. Why Warren chose to show up as the wanted thief was a mystery but he was in place if it was indeed him. Hermione said she would confirm once they got there.

And between John, Warren, Hermione and himself, there would be enough magical power to get Gaunt once he showed up.

It's a good plan.

"I'm Jean Peverell. One of your guests, Gregory Pasturin is expecting me," Hermione said to the hostess that met her and John.

"Right this way."

They followed the hostess into a private function room, a good thing. They could keep civilian casually to a minimum, maybe avoid it altogether. They got to the table and the two wizards at it stood up.

"Perimeter clear. Burkes and Dodgey are the only known assholes in the vicinity," Dean announced to the team.

"Ms. Peverell, Mr. Pasturin just stepped out for a second. Nature called. My name is Caractakus Burkes and this is my assistant Kooper," she shook hands with them.

"It's a pleasure," she responded, "This is a family friend, Frank Fines."

John shook hands with them too as he kept an eye on 'Kooper'. Hermione was on it.

"Forgive me if I'm being rude," Hermione addressed 'Kooper', "But you have the exact same shirt that my husband has."

"Your husband obviously has good taste," 'Kooper' replied, as the group chuckled, "This is my favourite."

Dean made a gagging sound.

Hermione smiled at John, a signal that 'Kooper' was indeed Warren.

Harry scanned the vicinity for signs of the crook. He picked up a magical being approaching the room they were in just as Dean announced someone was coming.

John asked Burkes, "How do you know Mr. Pasturin?"

"A colleague of mine asked me to show him a good time while he was here," the wizard answered, "And you're a long lost relative?"

All eyes were on Hermione.

"Apparently so. Since I decided to use my great grandmother's maiden name I've been contacted by a few others like Mr. Pasturin," she rattled off, "It's good. I think it's important to know our history, where we came from, who our family is."

Dean adlibbed, "Stop it you're making me cry."

"Ah! Mr. Pasturin, there you are," Burkes exclaimed at the figure who just joined them, "Ms. Peverell and her guest have arrived."

A middle aged wizard who looked nothing like Gaunt was shaking Hermione's and John's hand. Dean said the MIR couldn't identify him.

Legilimens specialis.

Harry quickly scanned the man's recent memories. Warren and John would be doing the same. It wasn't Gaunt but a patron who walked into the bar minutes ago. Just as they thought, he would send a decoy. But if this guy wasn't Gaunt, he was being controlled by Gaunt. Gaunt must be close.

"Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice."

'Gaunt' took over and then went on the talk about how he found out he had ancestors in Britain and how he wanted to connect with them. Harry was restless, John was too but less obviously so. The longer they stayed the more worried he became. What was Gaunt waiting for?

"…Caractakus here has been kind enough to help me track these jewels. I've already bought a few. Some others didn't want to part which I totally respect."

John pushed the envelope, "Jean, that black stone that belonged to your great-grandmother. Was that from the Peverell's side?"

"I think so."

"Well Mr. Burkes here is an expert. Maybe he can take a look at it and confirm," John suggested, "That is if Mr. Burkes doesn't mind working overtime."

Mr. Burkes laughed out loud, "Of course not."

"Do you have it with you?" 'Gaunt' enquired.

Hermione reached for the chain around her neck and pulled out a necklace, the black Peverell stone dangling invitingly at the end of it. Burkes took it in his hand and examined it with a ready jeweller's magnifying spectacles.

"This is cracked badly," the appraiser noticed the obvious, "What happened to it?"

She shrugged, "Not sure, it was that way when I got it."

Burkes mumbled to himself as they all waited anxiously for the verdict. Dean was talking to himself too.

"I'm tired. I want to go to the loo. Where the fuck are you, Gaunt?"

"I think I do see faint Peverell markings on it, but it's too damaged to really tell," he said to Hermione. "It's a pity to leave it broken like this. If you want I can have someone repair it."

Hermione took it back, "Oh no, I think the crack lends a charm to it."

"May I?" 'Gaunt's' eyes glinted as he asked.

Hermione handed him the piece of jewellery as he took a peak at his mind again.

Legilimens specialis.

Shit!

"Fuck!" Warren cursed, "It's him!"

'Gaunt' was Gaunt!

Mayhem ensued. The Canadian transformed back to himself, bolting straight up from his chair as he drew out and discharged his wand at Hermione, who just fired a curse and missed his head by an inch. Harry reacted, casting a shield to protect her. He shot a warning at Warren.

"What are you doing?!" Harry took off the Invisibility cloak and bellowed at Warren.

"He's got her!"

"No, he's got him!" Hermione raised her wand at Warren and fired again, "He's not himself ! Get to Gaunt!"

"Yeah! Do that! I can't be responsible if I hurt her!"

"Morpheus Gaunt is in the building, I am not fucking around so get your asses inside ASAP!" Harry heard Dean sounded the alarm in the background.

He didn't know who to believe. Warren and Hermione duelled. John and Gaunt were locked in a battle too. Hermione was doing fine on her own although Warren did seem to be holding back. There was no time to think. Harry aimed his wand at the Dark Wizard.

Capio Mentis!

Harry got thrown back a few feet, smashing against a wall. Gaunt had some sort of a shield on and laughed at him. He picked himself up quickly and was about to help John when he got hit by a full body bind curse from behind. He could only watch as Dean did the same thing to John and to Warren.

Gaunt muttered two successive curses.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Dean's body fell beside him. He wasn't sure who the other one was meant for but he was relieved to see Hermione still standing.

"Warren," Gaunt taunted, "You are a worthy adversary. Here. Have a seat. Um, you too Harry."

He was levitated, his bindings loosened and he was placed in a sitting position opposite where Warren was. Standing in front of them Hermione stood listless beside Gaunt, necklace with the stone around his neck and the invisibility cloak draped over his shoulder. From the sounds of fighting outside the room, back-up had arrived.

"I wouldn't even hope for that," he told them straight. "They are not getting in here."

Harry wasn't hoping and was already working his way wandlessly against the tight bindings. He had his eye on his wand a few feet away. Warren was doing the same.

"Here's an idea," Gaunt continued to taunt them, "Wouldn't it be fun to watch her watch her baby die? Wouldn't it be even more fun if she killed it herself?"

His insides screamed as he watched Hermione point her wand at the still non-existent bump on her tummy.

Hermione! Fight him off! Fight him off!

He yelled at her in his mind as he continued to work on getting himself free. Just a few more release spells…

"Come on, Granger. You know the spell. I know because I see you thinking it. Come on, say it. Mortuus parvulus. Mortuus parvulus."

Hermione, don't do it. It's our baby .

"You, shut up," he shot and hit Warren with an electrical Stinger, "I'm the only one allowed in her mind right now. Hermione, we're wait..."

Hermione cursed Gaunt, a Stunner from the looks of it but Gaunt blocked it off and pointed the Elder wand at her.

"Bitch! Avada Kedavra!"

With desperation Harry found himself free. He knew he wouldn't get to his wand in time so he did the next best thing. He propelled himself towards the flash of green light. Then there was nothingness.

XXXXXXXXXX

Death was in St. Mungo's waiting to reap its final harvest for day. It should have known to bring a book. Every time this particular wizard's time came up there was always some hold up. Today was no different. Harry Potter was being difficult as always. Hopefully this would be the third and last time

"You're Death," somebody was speaking to it, a young woman with brown hair and eyes, all cut up, blood seemingly all over her.

Death knew who she was.

"How did you know?"

"You mean aside from black hooded cloak and the farming implement?"

"I don't even know why I have to carry this scythe around. It's not that I use it to harvest."

She asked tentatively, "Who are you here to harvest?"

"I've taken lots tonight. Him, her, him, him, him, him, her…" Death pointed at her belly.

The woman's face scrounged up like a prune and tears flowed down her face as she clutched her now empty womb. Human emotion, from its knowledge of it, was complex. She looked like she just remembered what happened.

"I'm not dreaming," she whispered to herself.

"I guess you feel that's a bad thing."

"Dean and John?"

"Dean Thomas and John Dawlish? Already harvested. I'm all set except for this hold up."

"What about Harry Potter?" she asked.

"Harry Potter is the hold up," Death motioned with his scythe over to where the centre of the chaos was. "Hmm, I guess that's one thing this can be for."

"Is he going to make it?"

"I'm here, unable to leave until he does. Not likely."

"He was hit by a killing curse. Why is he still alive?"

"I don't know what it is with this kid," Death raised his arms up in exasperation, "The killing curse always seems to have a strange effect on him. He's slipped by me few times."

"Maybe you're not here for him."

"No, this time I think I have him," Death was certain, "I'm to get twenty-two. He's number twenty-two and the only one in imminent death in the vicinity. Actually, he should be dead already. Bloody humans are doing extra-ordinary measures because he's some local hero. They don't want him to die."

"He is a hero. He saved my life. The curse was meant for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that.," Death read in a book somewhere that humans liked hearing shit like that.

"My baby, the one you took, was his."

"Bummer. I don't really want to hear this. This is causing me a lot of discomfort," the faceless figure admitted, "I'm not supposed to hear things like this."

"I love him. Please, don't take him. Not yet," the human pleaded.

Death couldn't put up with this. It was beyond its job to deal with such matters. He had to put an end to the whining.

"I'm afraid that will be a problem. I'm supposed to reap twenty-two. I only have twenty-one. Unless someone else dies within the next few minutes, I will have to take Mr. Potter."

The woman seemed wise for her age, "What happens if you reap one less that you're supposed to?"

Death answered melodramatically, "Disorder, mayhem, loss of balance, nobody really knows. Death happens for a reason. Harvesting one less soul is just not done. It is not spoken of."

"No need to explain. I understand the need for rules," she replied, "Then take me instead of him."

Death was confused; this human sacrificial practice was still a mystery to it, "But why does it matter?"

"He is a true to life hero. He represents a lot of things to a lot of people. Our world needs him more than it needs me."

"How you could know that for sure is impossible," really and truly, that was the reason for the randomness of death, where everyone was number, "But I can't take you."

"Why not?"

"Two things," Death explained, "The Healers patched you up in time. There is no scientific reason for you to die and If you did die it would be a cause of medical confusion."

The woman found a cutting instrument from a nearby tray and stabbed herself in the chest with it.

"Are you disturbed?!"

That was obvious.

"There," the woman challenged, the object protruding from her chest, "Reason enough?"

Over at the gurney where her physical body was alarms went off like crazy and healers rushed to her aid.

"You don't understand," Death continued, pulling out the object that pierced through her heart, "There's the other thing. You can't die."

"What do you mean I can't die?"

It guessed she would find out sooner or later, "You're my Master - well Mistress. You're the Mistress of Death; I haven't had a master or mistress in - well actually never.. It would be considered self serving if I took you and I believe it's a direct violation of the Deathly Hallows contract signed between the Death then and the Peverell brothers."

"I see," she was calculating her options and finally figured it out, "Since I am your Mistress then you will do whatever I want."

"If that was a question the answer is 'yes', with the exception of direct violations to the Death Bill of Rights."

Her tone changed into a bossy, annoying one, "I don't care what you have to do. I want Harry Potter to live. Make it happen."

Death drew an intake of air even though it had no lungs to do it. It could already see that having her as mistress would make life as it knew it a living hell. Why must it be the one to suffer for that stupid Death of long ago who made the deal with the Peverells and unleashed the Hallows?

"I will have to take something back with me in exchanged for his soul," Death negotiated, "Bill of Rights states that we are not to be forced to reduce our quotas and any exchanges have to be something of equal significance."

"No such thing exists."

"A life for a life."

"You can't take my life."

"I can't take your soul," Death corrected, "There are other ways to take a life."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Oh, not much."

"Name it and it's yours."

"Three months worth of memory, all his most recent memories of you," Death felt particular proud of coming up with that. If its Mistress was upset, she didn't show it this time, "Do we have a deal?"

"I can live with that."

"We'll find out soon enough."

Death figured that since she was going to make its life hell, it was only fair that it make hers the same.

XXXXXXXXXX

A/N. I am Death - you can hate me although I should remind you it was JKR who wrote the Epilogue - yes - I am attempting to deflect flames her way.

I'm sure it isn't original but I hope it lived up to expectations. Their break-up wasn't their fault - that's kind of what I wanted to go for.

Next chapter - I know you want Hugo back.